out. There is no name for the next type I am just thinking of except
in Eastern lands, where they call him “The Enlightened,” the Buddha.
In the West that name is constantly connected with the last of those
manifestations, with the great Being born into the world nearly six
hundred years before the Christian era. He is called the Buddha. But
among the people of the faith that He gave to the world the belief is
that there were many before Him, that there shall be many after Him; that
He is only one among the great host of revealers of the divine, and that
one of those is born in every world, in every Root Race. So that in every
world there are seven of such Beings, one manifesting in every Race; but
when He has appeared, then He passes away from earth, having finished
even the superhuman evolution, and passes on, as those that I mentioned
passed in other worlds, in other times, in order to unite Himself as
the Son with the Eternal Father, so that in a world later than our own
such a one may return as an Avatāra, one who descends. But note that the
Buddha, mighty as He was, climbed to His greatness through the humanity
of our own globe. Climbing step by step up the long ladder of human life,
of superhuman unfolding, He touched the last rung of that ladder when
He was born as Gautama into India some twenty-five centuries ago, and
then, having finished His work, passed onward into what is there called
Nirvāna, the highest condition available for the superhuman, that of
union with the divine, though without loss of the centre of which I spoke.
Considering that great Teacher, let us ask what He was before He became
the Buddha, and then passed away from earth, His teaching work being
over. Before He took that last and greatest of the Initiations along the
line He followed, He had manifested several times before on earth, and
manifested in the same great Root Race, the Aryan Race, to which we all
and so many others belong. For before that last step was taken there was
another high office that He filled for thousands and tens of thousands
of years. I do not want in any way to confuse you with unfamiliar names,
and yet it is a little difficult to avoid them, because I want a name
that stretches back to manifestation after manifestation; and our own
fifth sub-race, the Teutonic, has been on earth so brief a time, living
in the western world, that it has not yet created the general name which
we can use with regard to these past manifestations. The eastern name
is a word which translated means “the Wisdom-Truth,” the Bodhisattva;
the name matters little provided that you take it for the moment that
it signifies an office, and the office is that of the Supreme Teacher,
not only teacher of men, but teacher, as they would say, of Gods, as
you would say, of Angels and Archangels. For you must remember that the
Shining Ones of the East are the same as those to whom over here you
give the names of Angels and Archangels. The East calls them by a name
which merely means “the shining”; and though it is often translated over
here as “God,” much confusion of thought thereby is made as regards the
great eastern faiths. For they, like Christianity, proclaim the unity of
God, the one all-pervading life; and those whom they call the Shining
Ones, the Devas, are but manifestations of that light, the Angels and
Archangels of Christianity or of Islām. And He who is the Supreme Teacher
has for His pupils Archangels and Angels as well as men; He is the one
who is the Teacher of all, whether in the body of flesh or outside of it
as spiritual intelligences; there is no other Teacher in earth or heaven
above that mightiest One who fills this supreme office.
Now, such a Teacher, the Supreme Teacher of the worlds, makes Himself
manifest as man at the beginning of every sub-race. I have talked to you
so much of Races and sub-races that the terms will not be unfamiliar;
and if I remind you that we are all of one great Root Race, the Aryan,
whether you take the first sub-race in India; or the second along
the basin of the Mediterranean in the ancient days; or the third in
ancient Persia; or the fourth giving birth to the ancient Greeks and the
Romans, and then spreading westwards through Spain, France, Britain,
up to the North of Scotland, and then across to Ireland, the mighty
Keltic sub-race; or the fifth, the Teutonic, now peopling Germany,
Britain, America, and their offshoots—if you think of those, the one
Race including all the divisions, you will be able readily enough to
follow the manifestations of the Supreme Teacher. Just as in the larger
cycles there are manifestations of great Beings, so has every successive
sub-race the appearance of this great Teacher as man, to give it the
religion under which the civilisation shall develop, to give it the
benediction which starts it on its evolution in the world.
Looking backwards to the sub-races that preceded the fifth, the Teutonic,
to which the greater part of you who are present here belong, we can mark
in each the appearance of the Supreme Teacher, taking a different name,
but ever the same immortal Individuality under the veil of that name.
One name that is known to all of you who are students of the past was
the name He took when He led forth from Central Asia the second of the
great emigrations that passed westward, which āryanised large numbers of
the people dwelling in Arabia, in Northern Africa, in the whole great
basin of the Mediterranean. He then bore the name of Hermes, a name
familiar to every student of antiquity, especially to the students of
Egyptian thought, for it was largely in relation to that that this mighty
manifestation was made, and in much of the so-called Hermetic literature
the name of Hermes, the Thrice Greatest, is preserved. It was a name
first worn in Lemuria, but in this case was used by the Supreme Teacher
manifesting for the second sub-race.
Let me pause a moment to say one word of explanation, to meet a
difficulty that may readily rise in the minds of the more scholarly
amongst you who have looked back to these past tales. You find the same
name appearing from time to time along the same tradition. That has ever
been so in the past. The name of the great teacher himself has been
taken up by his successors, who renewed his teaching and carried on the
tradition that he left; and so in the vast spaces of time that have
elapsed since that Hermes first appeared in the second root-race of the
Aryans, others took up the tradition, carried on the teaching, and the
name was ever repeated. It is the eastern way. No disciple dreams of
teaching there under his own name; it is under the name of his Master
that he gives his wisdom to the world; and that not to conceal, but
because it is held that to the teacher the credit belongs of that which
the pupil may be able to expound, and so, in humility, in veneration, in
gratitude to the mightiest, those who follow Him write under the name
that they worship, and so hand on His wisdom, although in generations
much later than Himself. It causes much of confusion, much of difficulty
when the people with the western historical sense go turning over these
ancient writings and applying their own canons of interpretation to
people who were ancient long before those canons were invented. What is
called the historical sense is a very different thing in the East from
that in the West. Historical sense here means a sequence of names, dates,
persons, and that is what is regarded as important; in the East it means
the God unfolding in the various types of humanity that may appear; and
that which they are interested in is not a special individual who has
written this, that, or the other, but the teaching, the tradition, handed
on from age to age, and ever marked out from the first Revealer, the name
of Him who gave the knowledge to mankind. I do not want to dispute which
is the better way. I only mark the difference that you may realise that
in the likeness of the name there is no attempt to deceive the reader,
but only to mark the line of the tradition.
In the second sub-race, then, appeared Hermes. Ages rolled on. The third
sub-race was to be born; the emigration to found that sub-race rolled
westwards into Persia. Once more the “Wisdom-Truth” led the emigration.
To that people he was known as Zarathustra, more often called among us
Zoroaster. Fourteen of those are known in the old story of Persia, but
the first, the eldest of them all, He alone was that one Supreme Teacher,
coming down to His disciples, building the policy of Persia, handing down
to those who came after Him the tradition that went by His name; and
every great high-priest of that religion worthy to bear the mantle of the
great One, he also is known in history as Zoroaster; and, as I have just
said, some fourteen of those are named.
The time came for the fourth sub-race, the Keltic; the same great Being
came forth again under another name, the name known to every student
of Greek thought as that of Orpheus. The Orphic Mysteries, the Orphic
tradition—these are phrases familiar to every student of the mighty past
of Greece. But the scholars, as a rule, with regard to him will say,
as was said in regard to Hermes: This is not an individual; it is only
a name for a succession of individuals. There is a truth in that, for
there was such a succession. The blunder lies in not realising that such
a succession must have an originator, and that the first and mightiest
of the teachers, to whom everything ran back, is not necessarily a myth
merely because He is so great. Those who started the Sun Myth have done
a great deal of harm in clouding the story of the past, and it is only
as the buried remains of that past are brought up and studied by the
scholars of the time that people find that many of the so-called Sun
Myths were mighty Teachers and mighty Kings in the childhood of our race.
That has become more and more palpable as the excavations go into deeper
and deeper strata, uncover more and more ancient civilisations; so that
those who have been made into myths are now taking on again a semblance
of humanity, but humanity so great, so divine, that it seems scarcely
possible to believe that such Beings lived in the guise of men on earth.
But you can trace down that Orphic tradition through all that was
mightiest and most beautiful in Greece; you can trace in by the Mysteries
I mentioned, by the names of the great Greeks who declared that they took
their inspiration from that tradition. So we come to the last of the
incarnations of that great Being until He appeared as Gautama, became the
Buddha, passed away as teacher from the worlds.
Now I have mentioned those mighty ones of the past because without that
it might seem only a dream when I speak of such possibilities in modern
times as well. I have traced the four latest appearances of Him who is
the “Wisdom-Truth,” the last of the four manifestations before, appearing
to take His last Initiation as the Buddha, He passed away and became the
Son united with the Father, no longer Teacher, no longer Guide of our
humanity. But there is never a break in the great succession; in that
mighty succession of religious Teachers the chair of the Teacher never
remains unfilled; there is ever a wise one to fill it, the wisest who is
living upon earth; and when one lays down the sceptre of the Teacher,
which is the symbol of His rule, another is waiting by the steps of the
Chair of Wisdom to take that seat of Supreme Teacher as His predecessor
passes away from earth. For never is the world left without its Teacher;
never is mankind left orphaned, without the mighty One to guard and save;
as one passes away, His function over, another steps in to fill the seat
and carry on the teaching of mankind.
When Gautama was initiated as the Buddha, another then became what I
have called the “Wisdom-Truth,” the Bodhisattva. His first manifestation
upon earth was at the beginning of the next sub-race. That you will very
readily see, and for that reason I have been tracing down those names,
sub-race after sub-race, that you might realise the relation between the
new departure of mankind and the manifestation of the Supreme Teacher. So
when the fifth sub-race was being born, when there was the slow growth
of the Teuton in the forests of Germany, when the germs, the seeds of
that new sub-race were being sown over Northern Europe, then was made
manifest again the Supreme Teacher, and He came to the world once more
to found a new religion, once more to bless a dawning civilisation. The
religion that He founded, the civilisation that He blessed, gave to him
the Greek name, the Christ. Let us pause for a moment on that western
name—name, again, of an office. For it was not the name of the Buddha
that He wore; it was not the name of an individual. As we look at the
dominant Greek thought of the time we find that that thought embodied its
highest triumph in a certain institution known as the Mysteries. There
were Mysteries in ancient Egypt, in ancient Persia, in ancient India, in
all the countries of that elder past; and among the Greeks also there
were Mysteries—the Orphic Mysteries, to which I alluded, and many others
known to the students of Grecian history under many names of Grecian Gods
and Goddesses, as we call them, of the Teachers of the past. In those
Mysteries there was a certain grade marked with the name Christos; these
Mysteries the reflexion on our earth and in our poor worldly mirror of
the great Initiations that belong to the Occult Hierarchy that guides the
religious destinies of men, a shadow of those supreme Initiations thrown
down upon the mirror of earth for the helping of ordinary humanity. This
kind of reflexion is indicated, for instance, in the Christian Testament
when it is said that Moses, the great leader of the Jews, made all things
according to the pattern shown to him in the mount—a well-known ancient
phrase, the Mount of Initiation—an indication to the people who followed
him as lawgiver that the temple which he outlined, which for a time
was seen in the tabernacle that accompanied the Jews in the wilderness,
and then received its more gorgeous presentment in the Temple of King
Solomon, was formed after the pattern of the heavenly things. So the
heavenly and the earthly are thus related as object and image, and the
object, which is the great Initiations of the Hierarchy, was imaged here
in the civilisations of the past in the Mysteries, by which, by many
ordeals and in many difficult ways of training and of discipline, the
best men and women of the older civilisations were guided upwards from
the human to the superhuman path. In those Mysteries there was this
grade, the Christos, the anointed one. It was the grade of the Initiate
who had triumphed over suffering, the grade of the Initiate who had
carried the cross, the grade of the Initiate who was to know no more
compulsory death or compulsory birth, that which marked him as having
crossed the threshold of the superhuman, and being ready to enter on that
higher grade of manifested life. Natural, inevitable, that in a time
when Greek thought was marking the highest point of human attainment and
dominating Europe, the Greek name should be taken to describe the mighty
One revealed as Teacher upon earth. What nobler name could be chosen,
what title more significant, what symbol more instructive, than to call
the teacher who appeared and was slain by the name of the Christ?
In the early days of Christianity, as most of you probably know, a
difference, which is being revived in our own day, was drawn between
Jesus the Hebrew and Christ the anointed Teacher. Look back to all
those schools of philosophic and learned teachers in the early days of
Christianity, who, when ignorance triumphed after the fall of Rome and
Constantinople, were branded with the name of heretics—those who were
called the Gnostics, the knowers. A significant name. If you turn over
the pages of Origen, one of the greatest teachers, remember, in the early
Church, you will find many passages in his exposition of Christianity in
which he says that it is necessary for the Christian Church to have in it
many Gnostics, who should serve as the foundation on which it should be
built, as the pillars on which it should be reared. He used the word in
the sense of knowers, not alluding to the many schools classed together
under that name. In a famous passage Origen points out that, while it is
true that Christianity is for the unlearned, while he says it is medicine
for the sinner, it is not out of the sinners and the unlearned that the
great Christian Church could be builded; and he goes on to say that,
while that is true, and there is medicine for the sinner, the Church
must be buttressed by the Gnostic, not by the sinner, by those who know,
not by those who are ignorant. That was well provided for in those early
centuries of Christendom, for they also had their Mysteries, just as
had the older religions around them. Turn over the pages of those early
Christian bishops and doctors of the Church, the pages of S. Clement of
Alexandria—canonised as saint for his learning and his holiness—turn over
almost any of the pages you will of those earlier Christian teachers,
who learned from the lips of those who had received their teaching again
from the lips of the followers of the Christ Himself, and you will
find continual references to the Mysteries of Jesus. You will find the
rules laid down by which alone admission to those Mysteries could be
won; you will read in the pages of S. Clement the proclamation of the
hierophant to whom the candidates presented themselves, he who had in
his hands the key of that kingdom of heaven, and you will find that as
they stood before him he told them that only those who for a long time
had been conscious of no transgression might come and learn the teaching
which Jesus gave secretly to His disciples. Those were the old words of
challenge ere the door of that kingdom of heaven was flung open, and only
to such men and women was admission to the Mysteries possible. There
they learned the inner secret teachings, those that are indicated in the
Gospel story; for you remember how it was written of the Christ: “For
without a parable spake He not unto them”; you remember how, when the
disciples asked for explanation, His answer was: “To you it is given to
know the mysteries of the Kingdom of God, but to others in parables.” You
may remember, again, how it was said that when His disciples were with
Him in the house, then He told them things which to the multitude without
He refused to reveal; and you may remember the further promise that He
left, when He knew that His own earthly life was drawing to a close:
“I have many things to say to you, but ye cannot bear them now.” The
Christian tradition of the Mysteries declared that those many things were
told afterwards, when the disciples were more ready to receive, when the
pupils were fitter to be taught. Origen tells us that all those teachings
were kept in the Christian Mysteries, and made the secret teachings of
the Church, given only to those who were worthy.
In those days when many knew, when many understood, a distinction was
drawn between Jesus and Christ. I alluded to it, you remember, in the
first of this course of lectures; and I did so deliberately, intending
to return to it when, having dealt with the many intermediate questions,
I should arrive at the lecture on the Coming Christ. For there was a
difference between the human body of the mighty disciple Jesus, born in
Bethlehem, and the divine Power that came down upon that body at the
point of time marked as the Baptism, when it is written, the Spirit of
God came down upon Him and abode with Him; there you have marked the
Coming of the Christ, the consecration of the Supreme Teacher. That
distinction you find recognised in the Epistles, though no attention is
drawn to it further in the Gospels after that startling and suggestive
statement; but if you take the Pauline epistles you find yourself in
quite a different atmosphere from that of the history as told in the
Gospels; you find there the name of Christ in a new meaning, a mystical
meaning of profoundest import; you find S. Paul declaring that he does
not ask to know Him after the flesh, it is the inner Christ he seeks;
you find him saying of that mystic Christ that He has to be born in the
believer—a statement that could never have been made of the physical body
of Jesus. You find him declaring that that mystic birth of the Christ in
human souls is to be followed by a growth of the mystic Christ within
the believer, until at last he has reached the measure of the stature
of the fulness of the Christ. That is the mystic Christian life, the
Christ born in the soul, unfolding His divine powers as the Christian
grows in wisdom and in love, showing Himself more and more manifest
as the human life unfolds to the divine, until the perfect Christ is
manifest and the Son of God is seen again on earth. But that old mystical
idea slipped out of the Church teachings, and only remained in the
Testament, marked but not understood. And so He who was the inspiring
Spirit, the Supreme Teacher, the all-pervading life of His Church, became
the outside Saviour, who by a physical sacrifice was said to have made
atonement between God and man; and you had a vicarious atonement, a
legal substitution, instead of that identity of nature which made the
Christ and the believer one. That is the change which came over Christian
teaching in those long ages of darkness that followed the vanishing of
the Mysteries that had kept the flame of knowledge alive, until there
were no longer pupils willing to be taught, and by the absence of the
pupils the teachings of the Masters were withdrawn.
So we realise that with the revival in our own days of the mystic
teaching and the realisation that there is a life in Christianity which
is rightly marked out by that holiest of names, we begin to see in that
spreading new life in Christian churches, in the revival of that idea
of the possibility of the divine growth in humanity, we see one of the
signs of the coming of the Christ, preparatory to His next manifestation
upon earth. For it would scarcely have been worth while merely to amuse
you for an hour with the story of the past if it did not bear on the
present and the future, on the repetition of the old-world tale, of the
remanifestation of that mighty Son of God. For that reason, to make, as
it were, the gulf less wide between the ordinary thought and the thought
of the Occultist, I spoke about the earlier manifestations, marking each
successive sub-race of man; and if you have followed along the line of
what I have been putting to you Sunday after Sunday of the stage at which
the world is standing now, of the transition age in which we are, of the
closing age that is passing, of the opening age that is coming, of all
the signs which show the ending of the one, of all the signs which show
the beginning of the other, then without shock or jar should come to you
the present idea that we may well be looking again for a manifestation of
the Teacher, the Supreme Teacher of the worlds, who was last manifest as
the Christ in Palestine. Let us see what that would mean.
Unless all that I have been telling you during the past five weeks is a
mere dream; unless the very facts that I have pointed you to are utterly
without significance, you ought almost to have thought yourselves into
the point to which I fain would lead you now—that we are on the threshold
of a new manifestation, and that the mighty Teacher again will appear as
man among men. Now, to say that to any people may only make them think:
“But why for us?” So might the Jew have questioned when last He came on
earth. That a thing so great, so transcendent, and so rare, should come
to earth at any particular time, to be measured by only a few years of
mortal time—that that should be now seems too strange, too beautiful, to
be true. And yet He came before; why not again? If at the birth of the
fifth sub-race, why not at the birth of the sixth? Some must be on earth
when any such manifestation takes place; some generation of men and women
must be born around the coming of a Christ; and there is no valid reason
that any one of you can give why this age should not be such a time, and
the people of this age the recipients of the new flood of spiritual life.
Strange, because it happens seldom, but sure, because it happened at
similar crises in the story of the world; and the strangeness of it does
not mark it as untrue when you see the signs of the coming all around
you, if your eyes should be open to recognise what they mean. For an
expectation is spreading everywhere of the coming of some mighty Teacher,
and here and there on earth the expectation has taken voice, nay, has
even had a human messenger and herald to proclaim it. In Persia such a
messenger came in the one who was called the Bāb, who declared the coming
of a mighty one, followed by another said to be yet greater than himself,
and yet a third, the Abbas Effendi of the present time, certainly a great
spiritual teacher, but one who still declares that the mightiest is yet
to come, who is to bind together the eastern and the western worlds.
Not only along that line has this expectation shown itself, but among the
people of Islām in a strange combative form, natural to their fighting
races, showing itself, therefore, as leader in battle to be ruler in the
future; and through Africa you see it in this expectation of the Mahdi,
which has given so much trouble during our own time.
I only mention these to show you that the thought is spreading and
the expectation growing; for ever the world grows expectant before the
mighty One returns to reveal Himself on earth. Such a coming of the
Christ the occult world is looking for—for the same great Being who
appeared in Palestine, for He is still the Supreme Teacher, the same
individual. Who may say what name He will bear? But what is of import to
all of us is: Shall we recognise Him when He comes, or shall we be as
blind of vision, as hard of heart, as were the Jews among whom His last
manifestation occurred? It is so easy for us looking back through the
glamour of the centuries in which the great Christian Master has been
the head of Christendom, and seen as perfect man with the irradiation
also of the Christ upon Him—for the Church has made no distinction
between the two all these later years—it is so easy for us to look back
through all those centuries and say we should have known Him had we
been there. But that has happened so often. Was it not His reproach to
the people of His day: “Your fathers slew the prophets, and ye build
their sepulchres”? There are always plenty of people ready to rear the
sepulchre of honour to the name of the prophet of the past; how few in
any age of the world have recognised the prophet of their own day! That
is not only true of the Supreme Teacher, but of others a little beyond
the knowledge and the power of their own day; ever they have been met
with hatred, ever the world has cast them out, has tortured or has slain
them. Why should we in our own day, then, be any wiser? Why should the
fifth sub-race, the most combative of all the nations, the most critical,
the most sceptical, the most unwilling to recognise the higher, the
most self-assertive—why should we have eyes open to see a greatness that
has never been recognised in the past? That is the problem that may well
exercise our minds, in order that we may try to develop in ourselves the
power to recognise should He come in our own day. For one great rule
runs all through nature: that you can only recognise that to which you
can respond. It is true of the outer nature and our physical eyes. We
can only see each other because in the retina of the eye there is the
ether that answers to the external waves of light. Similarly in moral
characteristics, and, above all, in the spiritual nature, we can only
recognise in proportion as we reproduce. If in ourselves there is some
opening up of the spiritual nature, if in ourselves there are some of the
qualities which shine out so gloriously in Him, if in us there is some
touch of that nature which in Him has risen to divinity, ah! then it is
possible that we may throb responsive to Him when He comes, hidden, as He
ever has been, beneath the veil of flesh. But that that may be so we must
go outside the thought of our time to that of the time that is coming;
not the combativeness of the fifth, but the compassion of the sixth
sub-race must find its home in our hearts. And if one may judge from the
past, when He comes He may again be despised and rejected of men, for the
spiritual ideal is not an ideal to which the heart of our own age quickly
responds. You can see it in the characteristics of the Christ: “when He
was reviled He reviled not again; when He suffered He threatened not.”
But amongst you that would show great poverty of spirit. Not to revile
back when you are reviled, in the mind of the modern day, is to mark the
reviling as true. That is the spirit of the time. If you are slandered,
libelled, abused, go into court and drag the slanderer there; if not, you
are guilty. That is the common opinion of the time. One who has learned
the lesson of the Christ, who before His accusers answered nothing,
that man is condemned by the popular mind of the day. He would answer
if he could, because they would answer if they could; but the measure
of the Christ is not the measure of those who bear His name in the
combative civilisation of the time. And so when He comes again, reviled
and slandered as He must be if He be far beyond our knowledge and our
understanding, the common verdict will go against Him as it went against
Him before. We may not murder; that is too merciful in these modern days.
We prefer rather that the victim shall live to be tortured than to give
him the mercy of a swift, a ready death.
And so, looking over the world at the moment, there seems little
likelihood that when He comes He will be welcome. A few will recognise
Him as they ever have done, and maybe, as the characteristics of the
coming race are those of spirituality, there will be more to welcome
Him, for the spiritual life is spreading to-day, and those who are of
the Spirit will know the law of the Spirit; and I would fain leave you
with the thought to-night that that is a truth, that the Supreme Teacher
will again ere very long be incarnate upon earth, again made manifest
as Teacher, again walking and living amongst us as last He walked in
Palestine. Splendid as is the hope, mighty as is the inspiration, there
is nothing too glorious to be possible for the ever-unfolding Spirit in
man, and the hope of to-day is that that spirit is spreading, despite
the characteristics of our time; that men are becoming more liberal,
more tolerant, more ready to recognise that which is true and just. And
it may well be that we have reached such a time of evolution that the
popular mind of the day will be transcended by large numbers of the more
spiritually minded, and that when He comes again He will be able to stay
amongst us more than the three brief years that marked His last ministry.
That, then, is the word, the thought I leave with you: to develop in
yourselves the Spirit of the Christ, and then at His coming you shall
recognise His beauty. Learn compassion, learn tenderness, learn good
thoughts of others rather than evil, learn to be tender with the weak,
learn to be reverent to the great; and if you can develop those qualities
in you, then the coming Christ may be able to number you among His
disciples, and the welcome that the earth shall give Him shall not again
be a cross.
Lecture VII
The Larger Consciousness and its Value
Friends: During the whole of the lectures, of which the discourse of
to-night is the last, I have taken for granted the existence of a larger
consciousness in man than that which we know at the present time as our
physical or waking consciousness. Over and over again I have had occasion
to allude to it, once or twice I dwelt for a few moments upon it, but I
could not interrupt the course of what I had been putting to you by any
detailed description of the larger consciousness, or of the instruments
of that consciousness, the body or bodies of man. It seemed to me that
the work I had been trying to do would remain somewhat imperfect unless
I tried to place before you, ere quitting the subjects I had been
dealing with, something with regard to this larger consciousness in
man; a consciousness which exists in every one of us; which functions
intermittently in all of us; which is in course of unfolding in humanity
at the present time. And side by side with the unfolding of the
consciousness there goes a continual evolution of the bodies in which
that consciousness expresses itself, and it is that subject that I want
to deal with to-night, trying to put before you clearly and definitely
the theory which is studied by Theosophists with regard to this matter, a
theory which some of us have proved to be true by our own investigations,
and—which is a far more important thing—confirmed by the great Scriptures
of the world’s religions, the testimony which has been given to man by
seers, by prophets of the highest, the most inspired, order. Sometimes
we are inclined to lay more stress on contemporary evidence than on the
evidence that comes from the great Scriptures of the world. It seems
to me as though that were a little along the line of hiding the sun by
holding a plate quite close to the eyes. For it is quite clear, when
you come to think of it, that testimony which may be given nowadays by
half-developed students cannot in the nature of things be nearly as
valuable as that of the great prophets and seers of humanity, embodied,
however mystically and allegorically, in the great Bibles of humanity.
In fact, the testimony of the modern-day investigator should be checked
and governed by those mightier and wider revelations, and it is always
a point of satisfaction, a point of confirmation to the modern and
partially developed seer when he finds that his own investigations
throw light on some of the statements of these Scriptures, and that the
Bibles of the race become more illuminating in some of their obscurer
passages by the light that he may have been able to gain by his own
investigations. I am not, then, pretending for one moment that anything
I put to you now is comparable in value with what you might find out
for yourselves, if spiritually illuminated, in these great Bibles of
religions. But I do think that the investigations of to-day help us to
understand those great revelations, though much that is there said is
necessarily obscure to us because of the immense difference in knowledge
between the speaker and the student; therefore, though we may call our
knowledge to-day a farthing light, it may be of value in the deciphering
of these great manuscripts of the past, so that even a little knowledge
of our own may enable us to go more deeply into those great wells of
truth which have come down to us from antiquity, which have been given to
us by the Saviours of the world.
In order to make what I have to say clear to you, I shall have to ask
you to pardon me if I go in the beginning a little into definition and
detail. If you want to study your own body, comparatively simple as that
is, you must be willing to learn the difference between a bone and a
nerve, between an artery and a vein, and so on through the whole of the
more or less familiar terms which the physiologist uses in explaining
the anatomy and the physiology of the body. No person can have clear and
definite ideas if he is not willing to study the mere nomenclature of
that which he wishes to understand; and while it is quite possible to
avoid using words of other languages, it is not possible to avoid some
demand on the consecutive thought-power of the student if he desires to
be anything more than a mere superficial hearer, without any definite
understanding of the subjects which he supposes himself to be studying.
There is a very good and simple description of man’s constitution in
one of the Pauline epistles, where a triple division is given, and a
perfectly accurate division, although subdivisions again are possible
and practicable; but for my purposes now that division into three, and
then certain subdivisions of each, will be sufficient to give you a very
clear and definite idea of consciousness in man; and then by your own
experience you can decide how much of the larger consciousness comes into
your waking consciousness, or how much of you is still without vehicle of
expression, still without the power of manifesting in worlds related to
our own.
That division, as all of you will at once know, is Spirit, Soul, Body. It
is curious how indefinite the mass of Christian people are with regard to
the meaning of the first two terms, Spirit and Soul. I am not quarreling
with the fact that different definitions may sometimes be given; I am
quarrelling with the fact that most Christians have no definition at all;
that they use the words interchangeably; that they constantly talk of
man as a duality, always using the word body; sometimes using the word
Spirit, and sometimes soul, for all that which they exclude from the
body. Thus you hear people talking about spirits manifesting in various
ways; sometimes you hear about the human soul and its immortality, and so
on. But a clear, distinct definition of what is Spirit, what is soul—that
for the most part is wanting among even the students of theology. Let
us see if it be not possible to define them in a way which may at least
be clear. You may, of course, differ with the division for the reason
that you may think some other dividing line is better; I am concerned
chiefly, for the moment, with giving you a clear definition, and then
you may correct or amend it according to your own thought or your own
knowledge. The definition will, of course, govern me in all that I
say to-night. First of all, then: What is Spirit? Spirit is a germ of
Divinity unfolding itself gradually in human evolution, appropriating
certain kinds of matter which it gradually organises into an instrument
for self-expression—we may shorten that by saying a germ of Divinity
encased in matter. That germ of Divinity, as you might naturally expect,
shows out in itself the triple division of its Divine parent. Just as
you find God, manifesting in a universe, ever manifesting three supreme
attributes, sometimes personified into what is called a Trinity, so you
would naturally expect to find in the germ that which you find in the
parent—that the triple nature of Divinity should show itself out in the
triple nature of the Spirit which is man. And that is so. You find Spirit
showing itself forth in full Divinity, taking for a moment the Christian
names as most familiar, in the form of Power in the Father, in the form
of Wisdom in the Son, in the form of creative Activity in the Holy
Spirit. If you will take those names for the time as being most familiar
to your own thought, and therefore introducing nothing of difficulty to
you—if you will remember those accepted ideas for the time, and translate
them into terms of consciousness, limited, because these are not all
fully unfolded in man, you will be able readily to distinguish in man’s
spiritual nature, and even more distinctly for the moment in the lower
reflexion of that with which I will deal presently—you will be able to
distinguish the threefold division, and so to obtain, as it were, a
clear picture of your own spiritual nature. That which in Divinity we
call Power, the Will by which the worlds exist, shows itself out in our
own spiritual nature as Will. The Wisdom which upholds the worlds shows
itself out in the human Spirit also as the pure and compassionate Reason,
which is the Wisdom, the Christ, in man. The third, creative Activity,
shows itself in intellect, the highest, the noblest form of creative
Activity—the intellect, the pure intellect in man is the third reflexion
in man of the creative Activity of God. And if you link what may be less
familiar with the familiar, it will be very easy for you to keep the
thread of that which I desire to put before you. Think first of all,
then, that the Spirit, the germ of Divinity in man, has to show out in
the gradual unfolding of its hidden powers these three supreme attributes
with which you are familiar in the thought of Divinity itself.
Then, passing from that highest part of our nature to what S. Paul calls
the soul, what is the Soul in relation to the Spirit? It is the temporary
reflexion in grosser matter of the eternal Spirit; the image of that
which is the eternal object; the reflexion in the mirror of a world of
that eternal life which passes from world to world, unfolding, but is
never subject to the transitoriness which marks the ever-changing worlds.
The soul in man is the Spirit working in grosser matter; and hence in
our own natures, so familiar to us—for now we come into a region that
psychological science deals with and tries to define and understand—we
have, when we look at our own consciousness, the soul, the reflexion
of the Spirit in grosser matter. We have the mind reflecting the pure
intellect with all its activities—imagination, judgement, reason—all
these powers of the mind. Then we find a part of our nature that we call
the emotional; there we have the reflexion of that pure and compassionate
Wisdom that I spoke of which shows itself in the lower worlds by Love,
the highest and loftiest of the emotions, the root whence all virtues
spring. For the same principle of unity which expresses itself as
Wisdom in the spiritual world expresses itself as Love, which draws the
separated lives together in the world where matter has overcome Spirit,
where Spirit is blinded by matter. The unity that the Spirit knows the
soul seeks by Love, which is the attribute that draws toward unity,
and that which in the spiritual world is known, in the lower world is
sought by this exquisite attribute of the soul. And that which in the
higher world we call Will becomes Desire in the lower. For the difference
between Will and Desire is that Will is self-determined, whereas Desire
is determined by the attractiveness of objects outside the consciousness.
You are moved by Desire when some pleasure attracts you, some pain
repels you, when your activity goes along the road that is determined
by an outer attraction, an outer repulsion; you are moved by Will, the
spiritual attribute, when the whole of your inner nature, drawn up to
a single point, self-determined, sends that nature along the road that
within yourself you have chosen, whether it leads to pleasure or pain,
whether it leads to gain or loss in the lower world. Will is determined
from the spiritual Self; Desire is guided and stimulated by objects in
the lower world. Hence that which is Will in the Spirit is Desire in the
soul. And so you find the soul represented by these three well-known
attributes: Mind, with all its powers; Emotion, the root emotion being
love; Desire, the reflexion of the determining power in this lower world.
When you come down into everyday life you find the whole of these make
up your waking consciousness, showing itself out in the denser matter
of the brain; in your waking consciousness you know the working of the
mind; in your waking consciousness you know the working of the emotions;
in your waking consciousness you know the working of desire; so that
the waking consciousness, the limited, the conditioned, the smaller
consciousness, is that which is within the limitations of your brain or
physical body, but is none other than the larger consciousness which
shows itself in the subtler worlds as soul, in the spiritual world as
Spirit. If you realise clearly that outlining, with its subdivisions,
you will find that consciousness is a unit, and the differences are
differences of the material in which it is working rather than in itself.
The triple division is the only one, whether you look at it in the brain,
in the subtle body, in the matter of the world where the Spirit rules.
Everywhere consciousness is one, expressing itself in three modes, by
three qualities, but everywhere a unit, yourself, the reality within you.
What is Body? For there is a third factor in S. Paul’s definition of
man. Naturally the body also has in it the same triple differentiation
as the consciousness. And so we find a spiritual body, the clothing of
the Spirit in the highest worlds of consciousness. We find also what S.
Paul, again, calls a natural body. There is a natural body, he says, and
there is a spiritual body. But that natural body divides itself into
two—the subtle body in which the soul is working; the dense body in
which the waking consciousness is working, the reflexion of the highest.
Those two naturally go together, and might well be classed roughly as
the single natural body, for it is transitory, impermanent, belongs to
the three worlds of change—the physical world, the intermediate, and the
heavenly; has a certain life through which it passes in the three worlds,
and then gives back its elements to the worlds to which they respectively
belong. Whereas the spiritual body is a relatively permanent thing, lasts
through the whole of the long life of the individual, passes through
birth after birth, death after death, knows neither birth nor death in
its own nature, passes through them, but is not affected by them—the
spiritual individuality, the real man, is eternal in his own nature,
and has a permanent clothing of the matter of the spiritual world,
unfolding his powers, organising his matter, but remaining ever the same
in essence, the consciousness ever living in those worlds, the matter
the same, only becoming more and more definitely organised. In that
spiritual body remains the memory of all the experiences through which
you have passed; in that spiritual body resides your true individuality,
that knows neither birth nor death; in that spiritual body which is ever
yours all the experiences of the past are gathered up, and part of those
experiences is put forth, birth after birth, in order that the soul may
clothe itself in new bodies for new experiences and new developments. So
that the part of you that lasts is the Spirit in the spiritual body; the
part of you that changes, the soul in the temporary body, whether you
take the subtler or the denser parts.
Supposing you accept that definition of man in his triple division, it
will be easy enough then to follow out step by step what the higher
consciousness is as apart from the lower, the larger as apart from the
smaller. You will start with the great conception of a living Spirit
coming down into denser and denser matter, with the object of acquiring
that matter and subduing it to his own purposes, appropriating it,
wrapping himself up in it, and temporarily blinded by the veil, but a
veil that he is going to turn into an instrument, so that by it he may
know all the worlds, and come into contact with every portion of the
universe. For that he appropriates the matter of every world; for that
he wraps himself round in these material garments; and working upon
these, he turns them to his own purposes, shapes them by his own will,
moulds them in order that he may use them for that which he desires to
effect—contact with matter, the condition of his becoming master of the
worlds; and by making matter his servant and his instrument, all the
worlds become open before him, and he can function in any one of them.
That the pure spiritual being cannot do. He can only function in worlds
of the Spirit, those lofty eternal regions where Divinity itself resides
and manifests without the blinding effect of the denser matter that we
wear. But just as Divinity emanates these coarser forms of matter in
order that the spiritual germs may be sown therein, and therein gain the
experience by which their powers will be unfolded from within; just as
Deity is manifest in matter, so must the germs of Deity grow therein,
until matter is subject to them as it is to the Father of light, whence
they come.
So, in looking at this consciousness unfolding and these bodies becoming
organised, we can trace throughout the purpose of that long unfolding—to
make the Spirit master of matter, to enable him to act in every world;
and when we catch a glimpse of that great purpose, we realise how perfect
is the plan, how complete our triumph will be. First we notice, when we
are looking at the lower forms of consciousness in ourselves, that we
can understand a certain relation between matter and Spirit which we are
told exists all the way up to the highest spiritual world. And so far as
investigation has been carried by the students of to-day, they find that
relation in each successive world that they enter and finally subdue.
It is a relation, then, that runs right through between consciousness
and form, between Spirit and matter; it is this: that every change in
consciousness has a corresponding vibration in matter, and that every
vibration in matter has a corresponding change in consciousness. We are
told that that relation is imposed by the Logos Himself in His first
shaping of the matter side of His universe; that all the vibrations of
which He makes the atoms capable answer one by one to changes in His own
consciousness, and that throughout the whole of His universe, in all
the mighty realm of spirit-matter that He rules, this correspondence
is universally, unchangeably found—for every change in consciousness
a corresponding change in vibration, for every change in vibration a
corresponding change in consciousness.
Let us see how that would work if anyone whose eyes are a little opened
looks at the aura of a person—the lowest part of that aura, if you will,
in etheric or astral matter: let us say, astral. You will notice a large
number of colours continually flashing through it and changing; and if
you examine those colours, every one, as you know from your ordinary
study, representing a certain definite vibration in matter—every colour
is nothing more than a certain vibration in matter, a vibration with a
definite wave-length—if you watch those changing colours in the aura you
will find that they are either generated by a state of consciousness or
give rise to it. Suppose, for instance, you find a person in a mood of
devotion, engaged perhaps in prayer—you can see them by the score in any
Christian church. Watch the astral aura of that person, and you will find
that the whole of it is vibrating in a way that gives you the colour of
blue, blue everywhere predominating, the whole of the aura suffused with
that colour. But you will also find, if there is in that congregation
a quiet person who was not feeling devotional when he came into that
congregation, that gradually his astral body will be affected by the
vibrations in the astral bodies near him, and that those vibrations
imposed upon him from without will produce a devotional mood within him.
You can start it, then, at either end: either the mood producing the
appearance, the vibration, or the vibration producing the mood. Take it
in another form: have you never felt when you yourself were perfectly
good-tempered and some very irritable person came up to you, have you
never felt that you yourself were becoming irritable?—not that you had
anything to be irritable about, but merely because the other man was, and
it needs considerable control, control over the astral body, to prevent
the irritation of the person who comes near you from affecting your own
previously placid mood. If you have not observed this, keep watch over
yourself during the coming week, and you will find how continually you
reproduce the emotions of the people with whom you come into contact.
What is the mechanism of it? Very simple. That person’s astral body is
vibrating in consonance with the emotion he is feeling. Those vibrations
of his astral body set up vibrations in your astral body, a perfectly
mechanical thing. But because it is your astral body, the matter you have
appropriated, those vibrations in it produce in you the corresponding
mood of irritation. Hence the common ethical precept given by every
great teacher, to return good for evil. That is by a deliberate effort
of the consciousness to throw yourself into the mood which is opposite
to the evil mood of the person with whom you come into contact. If
you do that, then your own mood will overbear in your astral body the
vibrations imposed upon it from without, and your astral body will begin
to vibrate in correspondence with your own good emotion instead of with
the evil emotion imposed from outside. The further result of that, if
you be strong enough, will be to correct the bad vibration in the astral
body of the man who is near you, and so, by correcting that vibration
into harmony with your own, to produce in him your own good emotion,
instead of having your emotion controlled by his. That is the ordinary
science of the emotions that every aspirant for the higher life is set to
practise in his daily life. He is first told the theory, so that he may
understand what he is doing, and then he is set to the practise, so that
by the practise he may realise the truth of the law that his teacher has
explained. Sometimes the ethical teacher only says: “Love your enemies,
do good to them that hate you.” With the unspiritual hearer the question
will very readily arise, “Why should I give love when hatred is given
to me?” Only knowledge will enable you to understand the wisdom that
underlies this precept of all the great teachers of the past. Speaking in
an age when authority was valid, and when people were willing to accept
the precept from one whom they recognised as greater than themselves,
they only proclaimed the law, and the docile hearer tried to obey. In our
own more critical and combative age it is necessary to justify wisdom to
a more critical and carping generation, and so the full explanation is
given which shows you the scientific truth which underlies the ethical
precept.
That runs through the whole of the working of our bodies, the whole of
the changes in our consciousness. You can work it out step by step,
or you can read the working out which has been made by a thoughtful
student,[3] and so you will have a veritable science of the emotions, and
you will go out into the world a source of peace, a source of blessing, a
source of all good emotions, helping the weaker by your own knowledge and
your own strength, and so enabling them to climb more quickly by giving
this helping hand out of the knowledge that you have learned.
By that fact, then, we have power over matter, we can throw it into the
vibrations we desire. We can do more than that: we can shape it into
organs of expression for the consciousness that is unfolded within us.
Understanding these laws, we begin to realise that by these bodies we may
come into touch with the various worlds around us. Let us see, again, the
method. When first the spiritual germ descends into matter, gathering
round itself the matter that it needs, that matter is like a mere cloud.
It is still so in the highest regions for most; it is becoming organised
into definite instruments of consciousness in the three lower worlds
in all the more advanced members of our present race, to a very large
extent in all of you. If you pause for a moment on the physical body,
you will see exactly what is meant by the phrase: the organising of the
body. You have here now in your physical body a valuable instrument,
first for acquiring knowledge of the outer world, and then for acting on
that world, carrying out the knowledge you have gained. You have, as you
know, in your body two sets of nerves, called sensory and motor: by the
sensory you gather knowledge from without; by the motor you act upon the
outer world, utilising the knowledge you have gathered to bring about
the results that you desire; and your physical body is well organised
for its work. By the evolution of the senses, by the gradual growth of
the whole nervous system, by the development of your brains, you have
largely become master of this densest world, the physical world, to which
your body is related. All that is needed further is a comparatively small
evolution—the development of the other two senses, the conquest of the
realm of ether, that which science is now investigating. So far, then,
you have one instrument, the instrument of your waking consciousness.
Through that, spirit and soul alike are working, the powers of the soul
showing out as far as the density of the matter will permit. Coming into
denser matter is very much the same as if you brought a light through
thicker and thicker glass. The light would remain the light, but that
which would show out through the glass would be less and less according
to the opacity of that glass. So with the light of the spirit shining
through the soul and the body. Your next work is the organisation of the
next finer body of matter, that which I called the subtle. In that your
emotions are working, in that your thoughts are working, and to a very
large extent your mental and emotional bodies—we call the emotional the
astral—are organised at the present time. But here more variety comes in.
Some of you will have your astral body so well developed that it is fit
for separate working in the intermediate world. Some of you will have it
well developed so far as consciousness is concerned, but not so far as
the reception of impressions from the outer intermediate world. That is,
your consciousness will be working there in that finer matter that has
not yet sufficiently organised the astral body to receive impressions
from without.
Gradually, as evolution goes on the organisation of the astral body
will go on in everybody, but it is possible, as I suggested to you a
few Sundays ago, very largely to quicken that evolution, and gradually
to make the astral body what it ought to be, as perfect an instrument
for contact with the astral world as the physical body is for contact
with the physical world. That is, of course, what a very considerable
number of people have done, and they are able to act either in or out
of the physical body. We will take both cases in a moment. Take the
finer part first of the subtle body—the mental body. In most of you
that also is fairly organised, but, again, it is organised for working
within yourself, but not receiving from the outer mental world all that
hereafter it will be able to receive and utilise, and only a few of you,
comparatively, would be able to leave the denser and the astral body
behind, and live in the heavenly world, in full consciousness, working
there as thoroughly as you can work in the physical world.
What signs are there by which you can judge how far the organisation of
the astral and the mental bodies is going on, so that if you work to
quicken their organisation you will be able partly to judge how far your
work is effective? Let us take the working in the body, the physical
body, first. As these other higher forms of consciousness begin to become
co-ordinated with the physical, and to hand on to it the impressions
that they receive, the mental body is becoming highly organised; when
the person possessing it is strong in science, physical science, above
all in the grasping of principles, in the power of observation, in the
ability to draw conclusions from the observations that have been made,
organisation is improving. Among the scientific men of our own time
that mental body will be very highly developed, chiefly for use in the
waking consciousness, very imperfectly as yet for direct reception on
the higher planes. The higher development of the astral body will show
itself in forms of art and of high emotion, and just in proportion as
those are transmissible to the waking consciousness may you realise
that the astral body is becoming more definitely organised. When the
body of the intellect, the lasting body, part of the spiritual body, is
becoming organised, then it is that you find fine metaphysical ability,
great philosophical profundity of thought, the highest conceptions of
idealistic art, the highest achievements in idealistic literature. Those
are the faculties that belong to the beginning of the spiritual body
in man, transcending the transitory, beginning to shape the permanent
instrument of the Spirit. Where you have great talent, where the mental
body is highly organised, where you have the highest genius, there the
spiritual body is beginning its organisation. For that highest genius is
the flashing down from the organised spiritual body into the lower nature
of knowledge which in those regions alone can be gained; and when art and
literature become illuminated by the Spirit, then you have the mighty
geniuses of history that outlast the passing generations and shine out in
the world of thought.
What signs may we find other than those of the organisation of these
bodies through which the larger consciousness will work? Genius is the
highest of all, save that which I spoke of as the manifestation of
the Christ, the Wisdom Spirit in man. But if we leave those loftiest
manifestations of the larger consciousness alone, what signs may we find
amongst ourselves of the growing organisation of those higher bodies and
the unfolding of the larger consciousness? There are very many signs
to-day of the organising of the astral body, and it is in the lack of
discriminating these from genius that we find a great absence in power in
the new psychology. You find the organisation of the astral body showing
itself forth in the power to receive impressions directly from the astral
plane, and the power to translate them into the waking consciousness.
In the body those first signs are seen in telepathy where it is well
developed, where people are able to communicate with one another without
the ordinary physical means of communication, and that is not so very
infrequent a thing among the more thoughtful of our own time. That is a
power you can develop, if you like, by definite and regular practice;
only remember that all development of power means regular practice and
patient and reiterated experiment. One finds, for the most part, that
after a few weeks or months of practice people are apt to drop the whole
thing if they have not in that time gained startling results. That
is not the way that powers grow. The law is sure, that if you choose
to concentrate your mind so as to make a clear image, that will be
reproduced in astral matter. Then by an effort of the self-determined
will you can send that astral thought-form to whomsoever you choose; and
if you practise that day after day, week after week, nay, even month
after month and year after year, you will find that you will ultimately
develop the power of sending thought clearly and definitely, so that
you will be able to communicate with the absent as surely, as certainly
as any physical-plane communication can be sure and certain. Practice
along these lines can do you nothing but good. It increases the power
of the will, it increases the concentration of thought; but remember
that without concentrated thought and fairly strong will you are bound
to have a very long practice before you will have results tangible in
the outer world. The person who cannot keep his mind steady for a couple
of minutes at a time, the person who cannot concentrate definitely on
one thought, such a person certainly cannot transfer that which he is
unable to create; and for a very considerable time people will have to
practise by creating the thought-image before they will have anything
to be definitely sent to another. But that is one of the means of
organising the astral and the mental body as an instrument of the larger
consciousness. Some people, of course, have it by nature, as you say, but
what does that mean? Only that they have practised it in previous life.
No one gets anything for nothing from nature. On the other hand, nature
is a good paymaster, and pays the exact wages that we have earned, never
withholding anything. If you can do it easily, it is because you have
done it before; if you find it difficult, it is because you are beginning
that definite kind of work. But no one obtains it without labour, no one
can develop it without long and continued practice. But there is one form
in which the astral body shows its organisation when you are out of the
dense body and not in it, in the form of dream. Whenever you go to sleep
you leave your dense body behind. Some dreams belong only to the brain;
it is because people do not distinguish dream from dream that so much
foolish ridicule is sometimes cast on the dream-state altogether. It
is perfectly true that there are dreams which grow out of conditions of
the physical body, where a little change in the circulation, a momentary
block in some vessel of the brain, will cause a dream, incoherent,
senseless, without meaning or illumination. That is the physical dream;
it may be caused by any disturbance of the body—indigestion, a hundred
other things. The dream that shows that the astral body is becoming
organised is a dream in which some definite knowledge is conveyed, in
which some definite warning is given, in which something is added to you
that you had not before, or in which you come into contact with someone
who has passed out of the physical conditions through the gateway of
death, and whom you may meet in the astral world when you yourself have
temporarily dropped the dense body. Those dreams are coherent, rational,
sometimes illuminative. Remember how many dreams have now been put on
record in which a man has gained in the dream-state knowledge that he
had not in the waking state. How often that knowledge gained in the
dream-state has enabled him in the waking state to cover over some
gap that he was before unable to bridge. You will find in Myers’ book
on _Human Personality_ some of these dreams given, although not very
definitely explained, and if you find in your experience that those are
becoming more frequent, then you may be sure that your astral body is
becoming a vehicle of consciousness, an instrument by which consciousness
can work in the other world. It is true that in some dreams, especially
of warning, the thought may be thrown into your mind from without when
you have not found it out for yourself, but have been informed of it
by another. Such a warning may come through, given you by some friend,
some helper, someone whom you love, who may have passed onwards, and so
has the advantage of the astral vision. But in all those cases there
comes into the waking consciousness something from the larger, and as you
perfect the astral body all those come more and more within your control.
As it becomes organised there is less and less need to leave it in order
to exercise its powers. You will find yourself seeing, hearing, while the
physical senses are active, while the consciousness is working normally,
the waking consciousness in the brain; so that slowly and gradually
you will unify the physical and the astral bodies and live in the two
worlds continuously at one and the same time, finding those worlds
intermingling and interworking; and so you will gain that much of the
larger consciousness which belongs to the expression of the soul through
the subtle astral body.
Exactly on the same lines with the heavenly worlds, the mental world,
your evolution will go on, and for this there is one condition regarding
the consciousness, there is one condition regarding the instrument for
the unfolding of consciousness—regular and steady meditation. There is no
other way. If you find anybody telling you that by any physical means you
can really unfold your consciousness, tell them that they do not realise
what they are talking about. You can start a little astral consciousness
on the lowest parts of the astral world by causing vibrations in matter
in the physical that affect the astral, and so bring about a change in
consciousness in that lowest part of the astral world, but you can
go no further. I have seen in India men who, by the use of difficult
physical means that none of you would care to use—for they bring about
the gradual spoiling of the physical body—I have known them able to leave
the physical body and live for the time being in the astral, but in that
astral body they were unconscious, not conscious; they were not coming
into touch with the astral world, nor using the larger consciousness
at all. They had only forced themselves into that world in the astral
body where it was not organised enough for the reception of impressions,
nor the consciousness unfolded to understand them, and they had injured
the physical brain and rendered that practically useless for physical
utility; so that they had lost both worlds instead of gaining the higher
that they sought. When one has seen that happen in India one realises
that those methods are not methods that it is desirable to spread in
the West; and it is along that line that so many of those pseudo-occult
books are going which come to us from America, promising that if we
follow those practices we shall be able to get the better of other people
in business transactions, and hypnotise them for our own advantage and
our own gain. Wherever you find that the method of working and that the
object aimed at, be sure that you are dealing with a form of unfolding
and of evolution that can only injure; it cannot really serve. The worst
of it is that those forms tend to atrophy the parts of the brain that
you want to bring things through after a higher consciousness is active
and the higher body is organised. By this means you injure the brain,
and with the brain the connecting link between this world and the next,
so that you injure yourself along that line as well as along the other,
and make yourself incapable, until you have a new body, of that higher
unfolding at which you aim. There you have the danger of people picking
up fragments of an ancient science of the East, without realising all
the protection with which in the East that science is surrounded; and
if even there one finds occasionally such cases as I have mentioned, of
the ruined physical frame and the undeveloped astral body, then how much
more dangerous it is when given to people of different physical heredity,
without the conditions which in the East are ever imposed! Meditation,
then, is the one safe way of unfolding the consciousness, and thus
organising the vehicle; and the other condition is purity of thought,
purity of desire, purity of physical life. That is the matter side of the
training. Your thoughts must be pure, otherwise your mental body will be
unfit for higher development; your desires must be pure, or your astral
body will not be fit for that unfolding at which you aim; your physical
body must be pure, otherwise when the developed mental and astral pour
down their power on the physical, the physical will be unable to answer,
and you will have hysteria instead of the wider consciousness you seek.
Those, roughly, then, are the conditions: meditation for the
consciousness, purity for the evolution of the instrument. If you are
willing to accept those conditions, then the path of the higher evolution
opens before you, and according to your courage, your perseverance, and
your ability will be the rapidity with which you can tread that path.
The object before you should be the helping of others, the gaining of
these powers in order that you may be more useful, not in order that you
may be greater than your fellow-men. Of the purity of your motive there
is only one test: are you using the powers you have now for the helping
of your race? If you are not, then no profession that you will use the
higher powers for good will be effective in bringing you help in their
unfolding. I have met many a man, many a woman, who is anxious to be
an invisible helper—that is, a worker on the astral plane—but I do not
always find that those people are visible helpers as far as their present
powers go. And I do not understand why people should want to go about in
astral slums when they keep carefully away from the physical slums which
are already within their reach. So far as you can go by your own power
you have the right to go, but if you ask for help from those more highly
developed—from the great Teachers of the race—then you have to bring
in your hands the proof—and that proof is life, and not words—that as
you are using well the talent you have you deserve to be helped in the
gaining of others. There is the underlying meaning of those strange words
ascribed to the Christ, that he who has much, to him shall be given.
Those who have used well that which they have, those alone have claim to
be helped in gaining more; for by their life they have shown that they
do the best with what they possess, and that is the guarantee that with
more they will utilise that also for the race. And so in the old rules of
discipleship it was said that when the disciple came to the Teacher he
must bring with him in his hands the fuel for the fire; it was the fire
of sacrifice, and the fuel was everything that the pupil possessed in
mind, body, and estate; and he brought that in his hands as offering to
the Teacher, and then alone was he accepted by the one who knew. And so
in these days also that higher evolution, quickened by the power of the
great Ones, can only be opened up to those who bring in their hands the
fuel for the fire of sacrifice; you must be willing to give up everything
you have, and own nothing, material or immaterial; you must hold
everything you have and everything you are at the service of the great
One from whom you ask the gift of knowledge. When that is brought the
gift is never refused; when that door is thus knocked at it never remains
closed. True it is that the gateway is narrow; true it is, now as of old,
“Strait is the gate, narrow is the way, and few there be that find it.”
But the fewness does not depend on the grudging of the Teacher—it depends
on the want of self-surrender by the disciple. Bring all you have and all
you are, lay it at the feet of the Master of the Wisdom; He will open the
gateway, He will guide you along the path. But dream not that words are
heard in that high atmosphere where the Master lives and breathes: only
high thoughts can reach Him, only noble acts can speak the thoughts you
have conceived; for voice there is the life that is lived, and only the
life that speaks of sacrifice can claim the teaching at His hands.
Lecture VIII
The Place of Theosophy in the Coming Civilisation
_A Public Lecture delivered in the Queen’s Hall, London, at the British
Convention, July 2nd, 1909._
It has been my lot now for many years to visit England either every
year or every other year, in order to try to spread throughout the
country the truths of the ancient wisdom which in these days we call
by its Greek name of Theosophy. This year it has been my special
duty to place on record in the capital of the empire a certain line
of teaching with regard to the changing conditions of the times, to
draw the attention of the thoughtful to the signs all around us of a
changing civilisation—signs of an age that is passing—signs of a dawning
civilisation that may be seen on the far horizon of our day. And I had
thought that I should only reach as to this the few thousands that
may be gathered together Sunday after Sunday in a London hall, but by
the generous kindness of the _Christian Commonwealth_ these lectures
have been spread far and wide. To-night I am taking up something
of the thought that there has been more fully expressed, with the
special intention of showing you the part that Theosophy will play in
that coming civilisation, the nature of the work that it is doing in
preparation for the civilisation on the threshold. I have worked out in
those lectures in some detail what here I must only state, that just
as you can find in watching the evolution of a man that at different
ages of his life he is dominated by different parts, as we may say,
of his consciousness—as we find emotion dominating him in youth, mind
dominating him in his maturity, the wisdom of the Spirit in his age—so
we may see, in glancing abroad over the civilisations and the races
of men, that a similar succession may be observed, and that hence an
indication of the future may be obtained. For we can see in the race
that preceded our own, and still is living and active, the great Keltic
race, how high emotion is the dominant note, and how the expression of
that emotion finds itself best in poetry and in art. We can see that
in the Teutonic race intellect is the dominant note, and that mind in
all the spheres of its triumph shows itself out among the peoples who
grow from that stock, of which our own nation is a branch. That being
of the past and the present, it is not irrational to look now in the
unfolding humanity for the growth of the next principle, the next mark
in the opening consciousness, the development of the spiritual nature in
man, which succeeds the intellectual as inevitably as that succeeds the
emotional, and places the crown of wisdom and all-embracing love on the
brow of the humanity which has passed through youth, is passing through
its manhood, is going onwards to the full maturity of its evolution.
So in the coming civilisation we shall expect to find spirituality the
prevailing mark, dominating religion, dominating science, art, and
society, and we may rationally look, as spirituality grows, and shapes
and moulds the coming civilisation, that in the sphere of religion we
shall see ever-increasing unity; in the sphere of science we shall find
new methods of investigation, new powers to use in thought; that in the
sphere of mind we shall find nobler ideals, more inspiring power; and in
society we shall find spirituality showing itself, laying the foundation
of society in self-sacrifice, building it up by self-control, and marking
Brotherhood as its ultimate goal and achievement.
Such, very roughly, are the signs that we think will mark the coming
civilisation. What has Theosophy to do with that civilisation: what its
place, its part, its duty? That is the question that I am to try to
answer to-night. And fairly the questions might be asked in speaking of
Theosophy by those who know little of it save the name—and how little
of it is known we can often see in the allusions we find to it in our
daily Press—naturally the questions might arise: What is Theosophy?
Whence does it come? Briefly, those preliminary questions, then, should
be answered. Theosophy, in the first place, as its name implies, is the
declaration that man as a spiritual being can directly know God who is
Spirit. It is the proclamation of the ancient Gnosis as against the
agnosticism of the closing years of the nineteenth century. Secondly,
it is a body of doctrines which are common to all the great religions
of the world; doctrines which we find explained, more or less perfectly
and fully, in every great religion of the past as well as in every great
religion of the present; a collection of teachings, spiritual in their
nature, universal in their spread, endeavouring to guide man along the
way to perfection, training him in life, illuminating him in the hour of
death. It does not deal with any special rites, any special ceremonies,
any special part of the teaching of religion which is not universal,
which is not everywhere to be found. So far as those are concerned, the
specialties of every religion, it studies them, it explains them, it
shows the occult meanings which often lie behind the outer garment of
ceremony, behind the ordinary rites of worship, behind the symbols that
you find in every faith; but while it explains them, illuminates them,
enforces their real value, it does not strive to persuade people to
adopt one religion rather than another, but, instead of giving up their
own religion for another, it counsels them to find in that religion the
deep truths that all faiths have in common. Hence it endeavours, where
religion is concerned, to bring peace instead of war, to make religion a
healer rather than a divider, a peacemaker rather than a battle-cry among
men. And in searching out these essentials of every religion, and drawing
these out and setting them before the minds of men, it justifies its
claim to its name of the Ancient Wisdom, of that Divine Wisdom in which
all the great religions have their root.
Such, very roughly and briefly again, is Theosophy in its essence: a
Gnosis as regards the relation of man to God, a statement of fundamental
spiritual truths common to the great religions of the world. In a moment,
in dealing with its work in the religion of the future, I will mention
those doctrines one by one, so that you may see for yourselves how they
may be traced in all the scriptures, living and dead, and in all the
religions of the world. I put first the blunt statement of what Theosophy
is, in order, if possible, to clear away the clouds which ignorance and
prejudice have spread around it.
Taking it, then, that the coming civilisation is to be spiritual, that
this Theosophy is to have a definite place and work therein, let me
try to point out to you the nature of the work, the lines along which
Theosophy labours to prepare the way for, as well as to influence,
that coming civilisation for which we look; and when I say to prepare
the way for, it is because we believe that every great religion has a
civilisation attached to it, and according to the nature of the religion
the civilisation that it moulds will be; and because we also believe that
at the beginning of every civilisation a great Teacher appears in the
world to give the impulse to that civilisation and to shape the religion
that will mould it. Hence, with our looking for a coming civilisation, we
look also for the manifestation of a great, a divine Teacher.
But I said, people might ask not only what is Theosophy, but—Whence does
it come? It is the latest—I do not say the last—of the great impulses
which, one after another, in the long past of history, have founded the
great religions of the world. Those impulses ever come from a mighty
Brotherhood of Teachers made up of the past Founders of religion,
presided over by the Supreme Teacher who rules and guides and inspires
them all—a mighty Brotherhood of Teachers of the world, coming from time
to time to found a religion, to shape a civilisation. Such impulses were
often repeated in the past, to be again repeated in the century which now
is running its course amongst us, history in very truth repeating itself,
and bringing at the appointed time a new civilisation, preceded by a new
spiritual impulse.
That impulse on this occasion has differed from all that went before
it in that it founds no new religion, builds no new barrier, does not
mark out believers and unbelievers, does not try to proselytise, but
only to inspire. For, as I just said, Theosophy goes to all religions
as a peacemaker, and does not strive to draw away from any faith those
whom the law has brought to birth beneath its shelter. So its first work
in preparation for the coming civilisation is to try to bring about a
brotherhood of religions, not destroying any, not trying to make any
less potent than they were before, but endeavouring to transform them
from rivals to brothers, so that each religion may recognise its kinship
with other religions, and they may become one mighty family, instead
of warring and separate creeds. Now, to that high end it brings the
knowledge of facts which have largely been used against religion, but
ought really to be used in its service. Those of you who have reached
even middle age will remember how in the latter part of the nineteenth
century there grew up among the sciences of the time a science which
was named Comparative Mythology. You will remember how that science
grew; the oldest among you may remember its very beginnings. It sought
out of the past religions, as well as out of the present religions, to
prove that religion grew up out of ignorance, and only became refined
as it grew older and spread among more cultivated people. It used the
researches of the archæologist, the discoveries of the antiquarian,
as weapons against the religion which dominated Christendom, where
science was most powerful and most active. It took up doctrine after
doctrine of the Christian faith, and pointed to the existence of those
doctrines in other times, in other civilisations, among the religions
of the past, both living and dead. It brought information from the
open tombs of Egypt, and gathered together the fragments of Egyptian
knowledge as they were traced on the papyrus, on the leaf that was put
on the bosom of the mummy. It gathered them together, and out of those
scattered fragments it made what we know well as the Egyptian _Book of
the Dead_. It did the same with Chaldæa, the same with Nineveh, the same
with those replicas of Egyptian temples that were unburied in far-off
Mexico—temples thousands of years older than the Aztecs, who slew their
worshippers and destroyed their civilisation, the Aztecs, who themselves
were thousands of years old when Cortez and his Spaniards treated them
as they had treated their forerunners. It brought from those unburied
temples similar teachings and similar ideas. It gathered, again, similar
teachings from the books of China, with its immemorial traditions; from
the scriptures of India, from the fragments of the Zoroastrian tradition,
from the books of the Buddhist nations, from Greek and Roman. Piling up
all the evidence it had gathered, it made out of that the science of
Comparative Mythology. It was the deadliest weapon that was ever forged
against dogmatic Christianity, because founded on knowledge of facts
that none could deny. Then it was that it became the duty of Theosophy,
just then born into the world, to come forward to acknowledge the truth
of the facts, and to add many others to the store, but to point out
that instead of Comparative Mythology there should be built a science of
Comparative Religion, showing that that which had been universally taught
was truth, and not lies; was verity, and not delusion. It defended every
religion by the universality of religious beliefs; and it pointed out
that a truth did not cease to be a truth because it was ancient, did not
cease to be a truth because it ruled in ancient times as well as now; it
justified religion by the very arguments that were used to discredit it,
and traced it to a universal Ancient Wisdom, instead of to the ignorance
of the savage, refined in modern days. It brought to that contention
many an argument on which I have not time to dwell, but that you can
very easily read for yourselves, if it be unknown to you, in the many
publications that have been written along these lines. And now, in order
to utilise that for the coming time in the building of the Brotherhood of
Religions, we proclaim in every country, to every faith, among the people
of every religion, the common heritage, the spiritual verity, the primary
doctrines that are found in every faith. What are they? They are but few,
although far-reaching. They could be counted on the fingers of two hands,
and even than that, so few are they.
The first great doctrine that every religion teaches is the unity
of God; the second, that God in manifestation is ever triple. In
philosophy they speak of three qualities or attributes; in religion
they mostly personify, and speak of a Trinity or a triple form. But
whether philosophical, or personified in religion, you have ever Power
or Will, Wisdom, Activity, and you can find those in the Trinity of
every nation, whether you take in the Christian creed the Father, the
embodiment of Power, of Will, the Son, the Wisdom everlasting; the
Spirit, the creative Activity by which the worlds are made. Or you
might take it equally well in Hindūism, and there you would see the
order reversed: the Creator, who is the embodiment of Activity; the
Preserver, the embodiment of Wisdom; the Regenerator, the embodiment
of Power. And so might I take you to ancient and dead religions, and
to ancient and living religions, and show you ever the same. For those
primary truths of God are everywhere proclaimed, one in His nature,
triple in His manifestation. And then, after those first two truths,
you come to the third: the vast family of the Sons of God, the great
hierarchy of spiritual intelligences—archangels, angels, shining ones;
call them what you will—that mighty family of Sons of God, amongst which
humanity finds its own place in process of evolution. Then you come to
the fourth great teaching: that you have the unfolding of consciousness
going on continually, and shaping ever finer and finer bodies for its own
expression; that which science calls evolution, but which religion has
ever called reincarnation, the method of perfecting the germinal seed
of divinity into the divine man, when the human evolution is complete.
Then, fifthly, the worlds in which these changes go on: our earth, the
intermediate world, and the heavenly; and man, with bodies of matter
belonging to all the worlds, so that he may be in contact with each.
And then the sixth great teaching of universal law—law in the world of
mind as well as in the world of matter; law which builds character as
well as builds the outer world; law unchanging and inviolable, which,
because we can know, we can utilise to the building up of ourselves into
noblest ideals. And then, closing these doctrines that are common to
every religion, we find the idea of the Teachers who preside over human
evolution, who inspire religions, who guard the spiritual progress of
mankind. Those are the truths universal, those are the teachings which
every religion has had and has; and so we find in these religions,
by their unity of teaching, the reality of Brotherhood that we seek
everywhere to spread. For of what avail to change from one faith to
another if in the new religion you only find the same old truths,
though ceremonies and rites may differ? And we see in this Brotherhood
of Religions one value to mankind which one religion only could never
have given to us. Just as you see the light of the sun broken up into
many colours, and those colours giving all the beauty to earth which
you see in the nature around you; just as you know that those colours
that constitute white light can be recombined again into the white light
whence they sprung, so is it with religions. The great truths, the great
virtues are as one—the great white light of truth; they are broken up by
the prism of the intellect, and the many religions ray out, each with
its own colour; they are recombined by the prism of the Spirit, and once
again are blended into the unity of truth.
If you look at religions you will see how true that is. Every religion
has a note of its own, a colour of its own, that it gives for the helping
of the world. Go back to ancient Egypt, and you find the note of the
Egyptian religion is knowledge, so that Egyptian religion became the
mother of Egyptian science, and science spread from Egypt westwards
over Europe. Go to the Far East, and you will find in India that the
special note of Hindūism is the all-pervading nature of Deity, and the
all-compelling duty which is the law for every individual. Go to Persia
in her ancient days, and there the note of purity was struck—purity of
thought, of word, of act. Go to Greece, and you will find her note was
beauty—beauty in architecture, beauty in sculpture, beauty in painting,
beauty in the perfection of her philosophy, which made the Beautiful of
equal rank with the True and the Good. And in Rome you find the note of
law, law all-compelling; and in Christianity the note of self-sacrifice,
which has in it the promise of the future; and in Islām the proclamation
again of the divine unity. And so every religion with its own note, every
religion with its own colour; blended together they give the whiteness of
truth, blended together they give a mighty chord of perfection.
Now that you could not have had with one faith and one creed.
Human thought is too narrow, human brain cannot grasp at once this
many-noted chord of perfection; and so many religions, each with its
own characteristic, as though the Divine Name were to be spelt out by
the religions, and each gave a single letter, all the letters together
making the name of the Blessed One. When you look on religion in that
way you realise how mighty a thing it is, how its strength is in unity
expressed in diversity; how each religion should learn from others and
share with others that which is its own specialty. And surely that does
not lower religion, but makes it greater; surely it does not make it less
compelling, but more attractive. Is Christ less when He taught “Love your
enemies,” because we know that the Buddha said, six hundred years before
Him, “Hatred ceases not by hatred at any time; hatred ceases by love”? Or
is it not more beautiful to see in the Buddha and the Christ proclaimers
of the one eternal law, coming at different times to different nations,
but ever with a single truth, ever with one code to teach to men?
Now in trying to do this work—which, of course, is taken in detail when
one is dealing only with that side of thought—Theosophy is preparing for
that common spiritual religion, the one Divine Wisdom, of which all the
religions of the world shall see themselves as branches, while the trunk
and root of truth are one. That is the great work, then, in the coming
civilisation, which it is the duty of Theosophy to labour at; and hence,
in one of its early teachings, it was said it was to be the corner-stone
of the religion of humanity. For the religion of humanity will be the
Brotherhood of Religions that I have been describing, where no religion
can be spared, for each has something special, but where all religions
will be seen as one, because they give similar truths in different forms.
Let us pass from that, and ask what Theosophy is to do in the coming
civilisation, in the science of that time. Science in the coming days
will pass into subtler worlds, or subtler matter. It has practically
conquered the grosser, denser forms of matter; it is now going onward
to the subtler and the finer. And there lies its difficulty: that the
methods which did for the grosser, the apparatus that measured the
grosser, are not applicable for the subtler. And when I say “the gross,”
think how fine even its apparatus is, for quite lately I had sent to
me an article in a scientific journal which spoke of an apparatus that
could measure the forty-millionth of an inch, and yet that is coarse
compared with the subtleties of the matter that lies beyond that, which
science must conquer in the coming days. Now of what value can Theosophy
be there? It is bringing, by training, the possibility to man in our
modern days of quickening his own evolution, and running ahead of the
slow working of the laws of nature unguided by human intelligence. It
is bringing, and proclaiming everywhere, a system by which man can more
rapidly unfold the powers of his consciousness, and also may more rapidly
develop the organs of finer matter that are related to those worlds of
finer matter which science will soon enter and begin to conquer. It is
telling people how to develop the finer senses, and showing them the line
along which the very few have gone in the past, but along which myriads
shall tread in the future, the next great stage of human evolution, the
organising of the finer body in man. It is bringing that to the help of
science in order that by the evolution of the finer body the finer world
may become the object of observation, exactly on the same lines, exactly
by the same laws, that your grosser physical bodies to-day enable you
to investigate the grosser physical world around you. There are eyes
that are keener than these organs evolved from the pigment spots of
the medusa; there are ears finer and subtler than those of our body,
exquisite as they are in their mechanism and in their delicacy; there are
organs of sense transcending the physical. Within the physical brain is
an organ evolving which shall be the connecting link between those finer
senses of the finer body and the grosser senses of the body of flesh that
we wear; an organ that many of our scientists think is an organ that is
passing away, because it is larger in the earlier stages of evolution
than in the highly developed man; it is the pituitary body. It is not
a question of size, but of inner complexity of organisation; and that
organ is not simply what science calls it, a vestigial organ—that is,
one belonging to the evolution of the past—it is truly a rudimentary
organ, one belonging to the evolution of the future. And the fact of that
has been proved by bringing life-currents, electric currents, to bear
on that particular organ, so that the results of the finer senses are
communicated to the brain, and we bridge what some people think the gulf
between the world of physical matter and the world that is called that of
astral matter.
Those experiments are now so familiar to some of us that it is impossible
for us to agree with the notion that that organ in the brain has no
future, as we find it can be stimulated and organised more finely, and
used in this definite fashion; we know that what a few are doing now
many shall do to-morrow, and those who have done it are only a step in
front; others are treading on their heels, and may outstrip them soon in
evolution. But here comes the difficulty, especially for the nations of
western Europe, who, from climatic and other reasons, have taken so very
largely to a diet of flesh, in which also alcohol plays a large part.
Now flesh and alcohol are not suitable materials for building up the body
of our ordinary life, which is to be made sensitive enough to receive the
vibrations from the finer matter of which I have been speaking. Doctors
have just discovered what was published by Madame Blavatsky many years
ago—that alcohol has a direct effect on the pituitary body, and poisons
that body, tending to cause inflammation. Have you ever wondered why
it is that alcoholic excess leads to what is called delirium tremens,
in which people see things that do not exist to the ordinary people
around them? It is because they have poisoned that very organ by which
vibrations come from other worlds; and although what they see is largely
abnormal and irrational, it is none the less the result of action on
these irregular and poisoned bodies, which vibrate under the stress of
poison instead of under the stress of thought, as they should do. And
that which doctors now have discovered and are publishing as a warning
to people, that has ever been known in occult science, and one of the
conditions of giving the details of the methods whereby that body may be
rendered active, has been abstinence from alcohol, and for the simplest
reason. So long as you are not using any of these methods, it does not
so very much matter whether that body be poisoned or not. You may live
long with a poisoned pituitary body; but the very moment that you begin
to work upon it, to make it active, to throw into it new currents of
life and energy, then the poison and the energy together bring about
inflammation of the most intractable kind, causing severe pain, as well
as brain mischief. And it is for that reason that the methods have
not been publicly given, and are only given to those who are pure from
the taint of alcohol. Along those lines, then, you will very likely
come up against rules that many of you will not care to adopt. We do
not say adopt them; we only say they are the conditions of the finer
organisation. Natural laws do not change for people’s wishes and whims.
If you want electric sparks from a machine you must make the conditions;
you must have dry air, not air full of moisture. It is no good saying
that dry air is not so comfortable to breathe as moist air. You are not
obliged to have electric sparks, but if you want them you must conform to
the conditions laid down by nature, and not follow your own whims. And
that is true everywhere. Presently people will find that it is true when
they want to investigate some of the spiritualistic phenomena; they have
not discovered that yet. They think they can lay down the laws, and then
get the results which can only be gained by obedience. The other day I
was reading a rather curious report of investigation into spiritualistic
photographs; and when I saw they had not obtained any, I could not help
wondering how many physical photographs they would be able to get if they
made it a rule that they should not put a dark cloth over the camera,
and that, above all, they should not take the photographs away into the
dark room, because that gives all possibilities of cheating and of fraud.
Presently you will find out that finer nature has her laws quite as much
as grosser nature, and that you can no more get results without obedience
to those laws than you could get your photograph if your plates were
exposed to the light. When that is learned, progress may be more rapid.
Along that line, where these rules are laid down for the organisation
of the finer bodies, there is another matter that comes in: it is of no
use to develop the finer bodies, unless the consciousness of the higher
worlds is unfolded, and the only way to do that is by the old way of
strenuous and regular meditation. Theosophy brings to the Western world
the yoga of the East, by which the man who practises so trains and
refines his brain that he makes it sensitive without making it diseased.
There is where the difficulty is found in the West. Sometimes, when a
great rush comes down from the higher worlds into the body of some great
saint or some great genius, there is brain trouble and brain disturbance;
hysteria is found. Naturally, because you are overstraining your
instrument. And if you want to be able to receive those great downflows
from the higher world, then you must begin to tune your instrument to
vibrate to the swifter vibrations that come down. You can do it, and
there is no danger unless you go to excess. If day by day you would give
even ten minutes, or a quarter of an hour, to strenuous thought and
careful concentration, you would gradually make your brain constitution
more complex and finer than it is. Thought is really the creator of the
brain. As you think, your brain grows; just as if you exercise your
muscles, your muscles grow and develop. It is all law, and thought is
the force which renders the brain more complex in its organisation. The
Indian yogi practises that, and by practise year after year, builds up
the brain of the coming race out of the brain of the race that is.
He makes it finer, subtler, more responsive, and he does it without
the sacrifice of physical health; and that is a thing that any one of
you may begin, if only you will be moderate and not excessive. Never
concentrate to the point of making a feeling of dulness and heaviness
of the brain; never concentrate to the point of pain; dulness and pain
are the danger-signals of nature, that you are trying to change matter
more rapidly in its arrangement than is possibly consistent with health.
Therefore you need moderation; but, given moderation, nothing but good
can come out of the practise of meditation and concentration; and by
that you will not only make your brain more sensitive, but also keep it
sane and healthy, and you will have none of those miserable hysterical
symptoms which have so blurred the value of the knowledge that has come
through the seer or the saint. Along those lines, then, Theosophy works
with science to show the road of development of science in the coming
civilisation.
What has Theosophy to do with regard to art in that civilisation?
Glance at the results of your civilisation to-day on the beauty of the
land. Go to Sheffield, which is built in what was one of the loveliest
valleys of the Midlands; notice, as you come near it, the beauty of the
countryside, the wooding of the undulating land, the exquisite beauty
of rivulet, of forest, and of grass; and then, out of all that beauty
of Nature, you plunge suddenly into the hideousness of Sheffield. You
find the atmosphere thick with black smoke. No tree will grow in many of
the districts, no flowers even on the sills of the houses of the poor.
The atmosphere poisons vegetation; what do you think it does to the
men, women, and children who breathe it? And Sheffield is not alone.
Go to Glasgow; see the hideousness of that, the second metropolis of
Scotland. Go to Birmingham, to Manchester, to any of these great cities
that so largely make the wealth of England. But sometimes it seems to me
that what you pay in beauty is too heavy a price even for your wealth,
and that England was happier as well as healthier when she had fewer
millionaires, but also fewer stunted and deformed specimens of humanity
in her slums. Look at the faces of the men, women, and children of one or
two of those cities I have mentioned. Look at the faces of the Glasgow
crowd as it tramps back from its labour to the slum. Those faces are not
civilised; they are brutal, many of them—animal, more than human. Oh, you
who think that beauty is only a luxury, look at the humanity you breed,
where ugliness is the mark of the cities, instead of the beauty that
has been destroyed. You must learn to understand what beauty means. It
moulds the body, and ugliness does the same. Out of your hideous cities a
hideous humanity grows up. The restoration of art is a matter of life and
death, not a matter of luxury and of enjoyment. Artists are wanted in our
towns much more than on the walls of our galleries. Only a few go into
the gallery, but men, women, and children live in the town. Until the
town is beautiful, as in Greece it was beautiful, the coming civilisation
will lack one mark of the civilised man. And Theosophy teaches reverence
for beauty, whether it be natural beauty or beauty formed by the skilful
fingers and keen brains of men—reverence for the human body. No nation
has a right to breed the bodies that we see in the population of the
slums. It is all very well that in the richer, the upper classes you
find men and women healthy, strong, magnificent to look at; but if they
can be what they are, all ought to be able to share in the conditions
that create that beauty. And art will not do its duty until it holds
up for all to see the power that resides in beauty, and its moulding
influence on civilisation; art should be ever painting and holding up
to us the ideal in its beauty, for it is the ideal that makes the real.
The artist should show the ideal, and the craftsman should reproduce it;
and until your craftsmen honour their labour, there will be very little
hope for art to thrive amongst us. Art is no art when it only paints
the commonplace and the ugly. Sometimes, on the walls of a gallery, you
come across a picture made up perhaps of a piece of cheese, and a boiled
lobster, and a string of onions, and one or two corpses of birds thrown
in for the sake of their plumage. That is not art. Art is beauty, and to
paint things like that is to degrade art, no matter how well they may be
reproduced. “Oh,” I have heard a person say, “how beautiful that cheese
is. I could cut it!” You can cut cheese anywhere; and you don’t want to
go to a gallery, and an art gallery, so-called, in order to see it. Put
this beside the pictures of the ancient masters, and see what art means
and what the travesty of art. Theosophy has to try to breathe into the
artist the idea of the splendour of his calling, the divinity of his
power. He can see what we cannot see, and hear what we cannot hear; let
him give us what we cannot reach for ourselves, and be again the priest
of the Beautiful for men. Then shall the civilisation grow into beauty,
human as well as inanimate, and the right place of beauty shall come into
our civilisation, the place it held in ancient Greece.
And what shall Theosophy do in the coming civilisation for
society?—society as we see it to-day, which is a battle, not a social
order; which is an anarchy, not an organism. I know it is often thought
that changes will only be brought about by the menace of the starving,
by the dread of revolution. Oh, it is not thus that Theosophy looks on
man, in whom it sees the growth of a spiritual, a divine nature. You will
think me a dreamer, perhaps; and yet I tell you a truth when I say that
not by the uprising of the miserable, but by the self-sacrifice of the
comfortable will the future society be realised on earth. I know that
that is not the idea of to-day. I know that, amongst those who suffer,
such a sentiment would be met with ridicule and scoff; but it is not
those who suffer misery who can build a wise and happy social system.
It wants the best brains and the best hearts; it wants leisure to think
out and to plan, and love to carry into effect. You can make a riot,
you can make a revolution by starving desperate people, but there is no
stability in that which follows revolution. You cannot take, but you can
give; and the spirit lives by giving, and knows the joy of sacrifice.
Do you imagine that sacrifice is painful, that sacrifice means sadness
and gloom? I tell you there is no joy on earth like the sacrifice of
the lower nature to the higher, and the giving to others of the higher,
that asks nothing for itself. Along those lines our Social Redemption
will come, along the lines of those who are willing to give and willing
to sacrifice, for the gift that is compelled by law or force is always
resented, and is resisted as much as possible. Outer compulsion is met
by violent resistance, but the inner compulsion that is the compulsion
of love, that meets with no violence in resistance; it pours itself
out in joy. And there lies the future, there the basis of the coming
civilisation.
I said, in the beginning, it would be built on self-sacrifice, and that
was the thought that lay behind the words. I see, spreading through
the comfortable, through the rich, those who are well dowered with the
goods of earth, a spirit of noble discontent, not for themselves but
for others, not for themselves but for the poor. I come across the
rich and highly-placed who ask, “What can we do to relieve the misery
we see?”—who suffer by sympathy, not by compulsion; and it is from
them the redemption of society will come. It seems, perhaps, to-day a
far-off dream, but man grows faster than we are apt to realise. There
is nothing too noble, nothing too beautiful, nothing too divine for man
to achieve; for man is growing godlike, however slowly, and the seed of
Deity within him is beginning to flower in some hearts. Wherever one who
does not suffer is unhappy for those who do; wherever a human brain that
might amuse itself finds joy in labour for the helping of the nation;
wherever a human heart which has all that love can give it cannot be
happy, but goes out in love to the outcast—there lies the promise of the
future. Such brains and hearts were counted by units, perhaps, even a
century ago, by tens a little later; they are beginning to be counted by
hundreds now, and to be found in places where none may dream that there
are those who are longing to give and strive for a better social state.
In those who are growing into the spiritual life; in those who cannot
be happy while others are miserable; in those whose meals are rendered
bitter by the starvation of the poor; in those whose luxury is a burden
because of the want of the miserable—in those will you find the builders
of the new civilisation, those who shall sacrifice that others may be
happy. That is the future to which we look, that the future for which
we labour, proclaiming everywhere the ancient words that “joy lives in
giving, and not in taking”; repeating again the old message, “It is more
blessed to give than to receive”; saying once again the old truth, that
only where self-sacrifice is found, there is also found a religion and a
civilisation that can endure.