of accounting for its extraordinary effect. We have seen it put down
to the beauty of the spectacle, harmony of colors, perfect natural
setting, and so forth. It is true that one failed to find any jarring
note in the acting; that the cañon, running down to the Pacific, seen
through the pillars of the Greek temple there, is a piece of landscape
thrilling in its beauty, for the like of which you must go to lands
where nature is at her most beautiful, and where there are the relics
of mighty builders of old, that give a focal point to the natural
beauty, and an inspiration to all artists. It is true also that there
was a perfect art in the color scheme of the dresses--an absolute
justness, balance and harmony of colors in themselves exquisite; that
one could imagine no improvement in the grouping; that the enunciation,
movements, and gesticulations, were in all cases just, clear, simple,
natural, and graceful. But I am convinced that one might see and hear
all that, and come away conscious that there was more to be said. None
of these things, either considered separately or _en masse_, are enough
to account for the enthralling effect of the play.
Generally speaking, again, it is true that "the play's the thing." In
this case I think it is not true. There is, in the ordinary sense,
hardly any action or _dramatic_ thrill. We underline dramatic, because
thrill of some deeper and hitherto unexperienced kind there was; action
too, there was--the action of a people on the World's stage; in that
sense it was all one deep thrill, and the action of real life. But the
dialog was mainly philosophic discussion, deep thought, art criticism
from the Greek standpoint--just, sound, basic, noble; but not fiery or
dramatic, as we commonly understand the terms; and there was none of
that brilliant play of wit which in some modern plays compensates for
the lack of a plot.
Here indeed, you may say that plot there was none. The Athenians are
holding their Flower Festival, to which the Satrap Pharnabazus is
welcomed as a guest. He is desirous to learn the secret of Athenian
brilliance, and one by one his hosts give utterance, in response,
to the principles of Athenian art, philosophy, etc. While they are
speaking, the herald of Sparta is announced; here there is, indeed, a
central incident of most stirring dramatic effect in the declaration
of the Peloponnesian War. Socrates prophesies the downfall of Greece,
and the rise of a new Athens in the west of the world in after-ages;
after which follows an effect which, for mystic beauty and thrill does
certainly stand out, so that you do know exactly why you are moved
by it--a procession of scarlet-draped women with torches, that comes
winding up the cañon, through the temple, and across the arena through
clouds and volumes of colored mist, a wonderful bit of Katherine
Tingley's art work, an incident impressive to the last degree, which
were it done just so on any stage in the world, and by any actors,
would create a sensation. But indeed, it is safe to say that such an
effect has never been produced before, on any stage in the world.
But be it noted that the enthralment of _The Aroma of Athens_ began
long before this; and that even this was rather a visual glory than a
dramatic _coup_ according to the received canons.
Of spectacular value, too, was the archaic dancing of the children;
and let it be said that there was something about these children which
is never to be seen on the stages of the world, nor with any other
children than those of the Râja Yoga College at Point Loma. And yet,
when one has said that they were perfectly classic, and at the same
time perfectly merry and natural--one realizes that one has still
barely begun to account for what happened.
One little woman who professed to have some knowledge of art, yet was
quite unfamiliar with the period which the play presented, almost
tearfully deplored the fact that the actors did not seem to pay any
attention to the audience during the production. The fact that they did
_not_ do so was one of the charms of the whole presentation. They were
not playing a part but giving a most realistic presentation of life,
and were, as they should have been, as if there were no audience. To
those who saw the motif of the play, it would have been a blur if the
players had shown any consciousness of the audience, or had in any way
"played to the gallery" or for personal attention.
Item by item, one might mention everything that was seen or heard, and
one would remain certain that however perfect and beautiful each might
be in itself, and even however perfect might be the harmony of them as
an ensemble, they yet were not enough to explain the total value: and
that even if you were able to explain the total value artistically,
from the standpoint of art as we understand the term, there would yet
be a kind of value, an invoking of one's inner nature without words,
which for lack of a better term one must call a _spiritual_ value--not
only moral, or mental--which would remain unexplained. In short, that
there was here shown an element, a kind of value, which is wholly
unfamiliar to the critics of the present day.
When we speak of the drama as an educational element, we conceive of
its possible effects along artistic lines, or as setting forth moral
principles, or high intellectual ideas. This play did all that, it is
true; but it did all that, plus _x_; and what that _x_ represents is
not known in our present civilization--or at least, so one suspects.
It produced a silence of the senses and of all personal voices within,
an uplift and a reverent feeling: yes, a sense that one had been given
a revelation of what the great mystics of the world have meant by the
word _spiritual_. Deeper places in one's being were touched, than any
that respond to the work of the greatest actors of the present or of
recent times.
So that any enthusiasm, any praise, seems something like an insult.
To speak of the Genius of the one that produced the play--Katherine
Tingley--that too seems a kind of insult. We have not attached to the
term genius, a breadth of meaning great enough to include the qualities
necessary for the production of a result so unlike anything that has
gone before.
We have seen it compared with the work of the premier actors of the
age, and that to the advantage of the Point Loma production. The remark
is not good criticism. The difference is not one of degree, but one of
kind. No actor manager, probably, would have handled this play; none
could produce, with any play of the greatest dramatists, results that
so baffle description, so affect one's conceptions in those parts
of one's being that lie behind and deeper than formal mentality or
imagination, or artistic appreciation. Perhaps Katherine Tingley could
explain how it is done. I think no one else could.
It is delightful to hear that Mrs. Tingley is making plans for larger
facilities for seating the people, as even with its present great
size, the Greek Theater at Point Loma cannot meet the demands. It is
whispered also that she has several more Greek and other plays in
preparation, which in course of time will be presented in the Greek
Theater, and possibly at her Isis Theater in San Diego as well.
THE PROLOG
You are in Athens now, and you shall see
The splendor of that age of long renown
When Perikles was prince in Pallas' town
Amidst a people mighty-souled and free
Whose eminence and bright supremacy
Made Zeus grow jealous, and wan Clotho frown,
So that the nations rose to bring her down,
To bring high Athens down, till she should be
A name, a memory only; yet a name
That burns--a beacon on the heights of time,
Lighting the ages' darkness, making sublime
The fame of Hellas with its smokeless flame.
And you shall see and hear now, all those men
That shone round Perikles: Thucydides,
Ariston, Crito, Phidias, Sokrates,
And many high-souled women, famous then,
Teachers and seers and sages whose far ken
Pierced deep the hidden realms of being.
These
Are gathered midst the Academian bowers
To keep their Anthesterian Feast of Flowers
Held every year in Athens. To their feast
Comes one sent by that Great King in the East
Whose sire was countered in the perilous hours
Of Salamis and Marathon. But now
To seal a pact with Athens, with high vow
Linking the Athenian and the Persian powers
Against the martial Spartan--Xerxes' son,
Enthroned Artaxerxes, sendeth one
Whom you shall see here in great pomp attend,
An honored guest, well-welcomed--Athens' friend,
The Persian Pharnabazus. In his hands
Is given the sway of those Bithynian meads
Where roam innumerable herds of steeds
Much sought by war-kings in a thousand lands.
Mighty with Median strength he comes--with gold
Of Ind and Araby, and those nations old
Which the strong Persian tamed, bedecked; and gems
That erst adorned great princes' diadems
Of fallen dynasties--pearls of Oman, dyes
Wrought in Turanian vats to out-do the blooms
Of Yemen spicy-breezed, and webs from looms
The deft Cashmirian or Cathayan plies--
A strong and courteous lord.
Right well he knows
By what stern virtues Persia broke her foes,
Bringing the jeweled throne of Croesus down,
And Phrygia's wealth, and Egypt's twofold crown;
What Magian training molds the Persian youth
To scorn of luxury, worship of truth,
Honor and gratitude; but in Athene's town
Findeth a bloom of soul and wit, in sooth,
He knows no secret for; and must inquire
By what strange kindling of what inward fire
Athenian, by what quest of deathless dream,
Athens is made so wondrously to gleam
Above the rest of the world.
Him answering there,
The Athenian citizens, the violet-crowned,
Speak one by one deep wisdom, and propound
Those balanced views that made their land so fair.
But even while they speak, lo, in the air
Gathers a cloud, a menace--trumpets sound--
The Spartan herald comes.
Stern words are these
He utters; sternly answereth Perikles--
There shall be war: Athens stoops not to a peace
Ignoble, though the untamed Lakonian bands
Be loosed against her, and a hundred lands
Enleague with Lakedaimon; yea, though all Greece
Compass her splendor round with threatened doom--
War shall it be.
Therewith a gathering gloom
Enfolds their vision, and their chief of seers
Makes known the menace of the darkening years--
Greece shall fall; ruined fanes shall mark her tomb,
The tomb of all her glory waned from the land;
Her broken, marble-pillared fanes shall stand,
And move the unborn to marvelings and to tears
For so much beauty waned in such decay.
Yet see, his vision brightens! Wane away
You barren ages! Speed, you desolate years!
Give place, sad night-time, to the dawn of day!
Hellas shall fall indeed; Athens shall wane,
Yet shall be born again! Greece born again,
Athens reborn in unknown lands, shall rise!
High on a hill beside the western seas,
That hath more wealth than Hybla for the bees,
That hath more blueness than the Aegean skies,
Athens shall rise again, most fair, most wise,
To shine upon the world!
--Thus Sokrates
Foretelling our own glorious Lomaland;
And what shall go forth from this western strand
In these last days, to herald peace, and blend
Nation with nation, hostile land with land,
Firm friends forever.
So the play hath end.
[Illustration: Copyright by Katherine Tingley, 1911 Lomaland Photo.
and Engraving Dept. TABLEAUX FROM THE ILIAD AS GIVEN DURING THE
PRESENTATION OF "THE AROMA OF ATHENS," APRIL 17, 1911 PARTING OF HECTOR
AND ANDROMACHE.]
[Illustration: Copyright by Katherine Tingley, 1911 Lomaland Photo.
and Engraving Dept. ANDROMACHE FAINTING ON THE WALLS OF TROY]
[Illustration: Copyright by Katherine Tingley, 1911 Lomaland Photo. and
Engraving Dept. THE FUNERAL PYRE OF HECTOR]
[Illustration: Copyright by Katherine Tingley, 1911 Lomaland Photo.
and Engraving Dept. PUPILS OF THE RÂJA YOGA COLLEGE, POINT LOMA, IN
ATHENIAN FLOWER FESTIVAL]
HAWTHORNE'S PSYCHOLOGY: contributed by C. T.
Hawthorne's _Blithedale Romance_ is a study of the psychology
underlying the human relations that arise from the subtle inner
feelings within the deepest and most diaphanous regions of the human
heart.
With an incomparable delicacy and precision of touch, revealing the
hidden framework of the underlying design, he clothes with apt speech
these specter glimpses into the realm of human motive.
Pity 'tis that his glimpses into these depths should be clouded by the
temperamental gloom of his own nature--always seeking justification of
its own pessimism, always weaving despondent tragedies that the light
of Theosophy would have transformed into inner victories in the midst
of outward defeat. Yet he seems only to have penetrated to certain
depths of gloom and doubt, and then to hesitate to take that one step
deeper where forever dwells the light that dispels all shadows.
Like a modern Virgil he leads us to the brink of the deepest chasms,
and then abandons us to our own intuitions. Possibly he saw farther
into the depths than he could record in human speech--and so wrote on
from romance to romance in search of the expression that forever eluded
his pen.
LIFE AND TEACHINGS OF PYTHAGORAS: by F. S. Darrow, PH. D., A. M.
I. LIFE
Pythagoras, the pure philosopher deeply versed in the profounder
phenomena of nature, the noble inheritor of the ancient lore, whose
great aim was to free the soul from the fetters of sense and force it
to realize its powers, must live eternally in human memory.--_H. P.
Blavatsky_
This world-famous Greek teacher of "the Heart Doctrine" was born about
580 B. C. on the island of Samos and died about 500 B. C. Before his
birth it was prophesied to his father that a son was about to be
born to him who would be a great benefactor of mankind. Some even
went so far as to declare that Pythagoras was a human incarnation of
Hyperborean Apollo.
It is related that when a mere youth he left his native city to begin
a series of travels to the wise men of all countries, from the Hindûs
and Arabs in the East, to the Druids of Gaul in the West. We are told
that he spent twelve years in Babylon, conversing freely with the
Magi, by whom he was instructed in all their Mysteries and taught
the most perfect form of worship. He spent twenty-two years in Egypt
as an intimate of the most learned hierophants, under whose tutelage
he mastered the three styles of Egyptian writing, the common, the
hieroglyphic, and the sacerdotal. He brought with him a personal letter
of introduction to Amasis, the reigning Pharaoh, who forthwith wrote to
the hierophants and requested them to initiate Pythagoras into their
mysteries. Pythagoras first went to the priests of Heliopolis, but
they, true to the inveterate Egyptian suspicion of foreigners, although
hesitating to disobey Amasis openly, tacitly refused to initiate
Pythagoras and advised him to go to the sacred school at Memphis,
ostensibly because it was of greater antiquity than that of Heliopolis.
At Memphis also he met with the same finesse, and was next sent to the
school at Thebes, where finally under the most severe tests--tests
which nearly cost him his life--he was fully initiated into the
Egyptian Mysteries and thereafter had free access to the treasures of
the hierophants.
After leaving Egypt Pythagoras returned to Greece by way of Crete,
where he descended the Idaean cave in company with Epimenides, the
great Cretan prophet and seer, who in return for the removal of the
plague at Athens in 596 B. C. accepted from the grateful people only
a branch of the sacred olive of Athena, and refused the large sums of
money which were offered, because he declared that spiritual gifts can
not be bought and sold. From Epimenides and Themistoklea, the Delphic
Pythia, Pythagoras received further instruction. In the course of his
travels he became an initiate not only in the mysteries of India,
Babylonia, Egypt, Greece, and Gaul, but also in those of Tyre and Syria.
Pythagoras studied the various branches of knowledge, especially
mathematics, astronomy, music, gymnastics, and medicine, and
contributed very greatly to the development of these sciences among
the Greeks, for he was a man both of singular capabilities and of
great acquirements. His personal appearance was noteworthy. He was
very handsome and dignified; regularly dressed in white, and wore
a long, flowing beard. He never gave way to grief, joy, or anger,
but was accustomed to sing hymns of Homer, Hesiod, and Thales, to
preserve the serenity of his mind, and he was very eminent for his
power of attracting friends. The religious element was predominant
in his character, and his entire life was ruled by humanitarian and
philanthropic motives. He was opposed to animal sacrifice, and on one
occasion purchased a large draught of fish, which had just been caught
in a net, and set them free as an object-lesson in kindness.
Pythagoras was a practical occultist, and is said to have understood
the "language" of animals so as to be able to converse with them and
tame even the most ferocious. It is said of him that upon one occasion
he was seen and heard publicly speaking at far distant places both in
Italy and in Sicily, on the same day, a physical impossibility. It is
also stated that he healed the sick, had the power of driving away evil
spirits, foresaw the future, recognized character at a glance, and had
direct communication with the gods.
Finally at the age of nearly fifty, Pythagoras went to southern
Italy or Magna Graecia, after an unsuccessful attempt to establish a
society in his native city, and in 529 B. C. founded the Pythagorean
Brotherhood and the School of the Mysteries at Crotona. He gained
extensive influence immediately and attracted great numbers of all
classes, including many of the nobles and the wealthy, so that the
society grew with wonderful strides and soon similar schools were
established at many other cities of Magna Graecia: at Sybaris,
Metapontum, Tarentum, and elsewhere. Each of these consisted of three
hundred members accepted under inviolable pledges of secrecy and bound
to Pythagoras and to each other by the most sacred of obligations.
The statement as to the death of Pythagoras, which occurred when he
was about eighty, vary. One account says that he was banished from
Crotona and fled to Metapontum where he died after a self-imposed
fast of forty days. Another says that he was murdered by his enemies
when the temple of the school at Crotona was burned to the ground,
either by the nefarious Kylon who because of his unworthiness had been
refused admittance to the Brotherhood and his wicked associate Ninon,
or by the frenzied townspeople. At the same time similar persecutions
in the other cities where the branch schools had been established
resulted in the (supposed) murder of all but a few of the younger
and stronger members, who succeeded in escaping to Egypt. Thereafter
individual Pythagoreans, unorganized in Schools, which were everywhere
successfully suppressed, continued to keep the light burning for
centuries. The doubtful point is, whether the temple and the various
assembly halls of the Pythagoreans were burned at the end of the
Leader's life, or about a hundred years after his banishment and death
by starvation. Telauges, his "son," is said to have succeeded his
father as the Head of the shattered society, but little is known of
him. It is significant that the Pythagorean Brotherhood and School of
the Mysteries at Crotona flourished during the last twenty-five years
of the sixth century B.C., the accepted date of its overthrow being
about 500 B. C.
II. THE SCHOOL
It was a Pythagorean maxim that "everything ought not to be told to
everybody." Therefore membership in the society was secret, silent, and
guarded by the most solemn forms of obligatory pledges and initiations.
Members were classified as Akousmatikoi or Listeners, Probationary
Members, who did not live at the School, and Mathematikoi or Students,
Accepted Members, who lived with their families at the central School
of the Mysteries or at one of its branches. Probably the Mathematikoi
were further divided into two classes: the Pythagoristae or exoteric
members, and the Pythagoreans or esoteric members.
Practically any candidate of an upright and honest life was admitted at
request as a Listener, but only the fit and the worthy were accepted as
Students. Listeners, wishing to become Students, were forced to pass
through a period of probation lasting from two to five years, during
which their powers of maintaining silence were especially tested as
well as their general temper, disposition, and mental capacity. A good
working knowledge of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music, (the
four branches of Pythagorean mathematics), was required preliminary to
admission to the School. Only the most approved members were admitted
to the Esoteric Section. Women were admitted (an innovation from the
Greek standpoint). Among these Theano was the most distinguished. She
had general supervision of the women.
The members were devotedly attached to their Leader and to one another.
They were enabled to recognize other members even when unacquainted
by means of their secret symbols, and it is recorded: "If Pythagoras
ever heard that any one used symbols similar to his, he at once made
him a companion and a friend." Unquestioning loyalty was given to the
counsels of Pythagoras by his disciples, for whom the _ipse dixit_
of the master settled all controversy, and the rank and admission
of candidates depended solely upon the intuitive discernment of
Pythagoras, who made all appointments.
The Students wore a special dress and had vows. They were trained
to endure fatigue, sleep little, dress very simply, never to return
reproaches for reproaches, and to bear contradiction and ridicule with
serenity. The School of the Mysteries was a school of life, not a
monastery. Pythagoras did not aim to have his disciples withdraw from
active life, but taught them how to maintain a calm bearing and an
elevated character under all circumstances. The intention was to train
them to exhibit in their personal and social capacities a reflection of
the order and harmony of the universe. The membership was international.
As it was a Pythagorean maxim that "friends should possess all things
in common," new members upon entering the School handed over their
personal possessions to the proper official who turned them into the
common treasury. A student was at liberty to depart from the School
at pleasure and at his departure he was given double his original
contribution, but over his former seat was erected a tomb, funeral
rites were performed, and he was ever afterwards referred to by the
loyal members as deceased.
Purity of life was required and temperance of all kinds was strictly
enjoined. All members ate at a common refectory in groups of ten, as
at the Spartan _syssitia_. The diet was subject to a most careful
regulation and consisted largely of bread, honey, and water. Animal
foods and wine were forbidden. It is stated also that beans were
tabooed because of their indigestibility and tendency to produce
agitated dreams.
Much importance was attached to music, and to the physical exercise
of the disciples. Each day began with a meditation upon how it could
be best spent and ended with a careful retrospect. The students arose
before the sun, and after breakfast studied for several hours, with
an interval of leisure, which was usually spent in solitary walks and
silent contemplation. The hour before dinner was devoted to athletic
exercises. In the course of the day there were mutual exhortations
not to sunder the God in each and all but to preserve the union with
the Deity and with one another. The students were accustomed to visit
Pythagoras at night, and went to sleep with music.
In a subsequent article some of the main tenets of the Pythagorean
Brotherhood will be outlined.
THE AMERICAN WOMAN IN POETRY: by Grace Knoche
Current literature, from the freshly printed book to the literary
columns of the daily press, affords certain unique opportunities
for reviewing woman's work in the light of past achievement and
future promise. Take, for instance, the single factor of woman in
poetry--where past centuries number their woman poets by the twos and
threes, as the last generation has done by little more than the threes
and fours, the present finds them springing up thicker than clover in a
fallow field and in many cases with a sweetness and fragrance in their
songs as of clover blossoms themselves.