in the former "you'se thar," to the leaders of science, the earth has
been the symbol and type of permanence and solidity. Science has yielded
one of these characteristics to force, in positing the conservation of
energy, but it has never felt quite sure just where to place force in
the ultimate analysis of things. Of matter however it has always felt
sure—matter was a fact, there has always been just so much in the
universe, and always will be just that much and no more or less. Of this
matter, to whatever extent its mechanical subdivision or chemical
dissociation might be carried, certain fundamental characteristics have
been ever alleged—it occupies space and has weight. Weight is a general
term, used to denote the attractive force between two bodies of matter,
commonly called gravitation. These two may be regarded as primary,
certain other familiar properties being only expressions of these under
varying conditions. We thus speak of matter as solid and impenetrable,
and say that two bodies cannot occupy the same place at one time. We
also speak of the chemical affinities of different atoms and of the
cohesiveness of masses of matter, both forms of attractive force.
We also say that this matter possesses, or more strictly is,
substance—that is, it is self-caused and self-sustaining. That it is
objectively real—indeed the most real conception we have.
We have finally one very important concept, that of form, whose relation
to matter is most clearly expressed by the statement, matter displays
form. Form is a limitation of, or in, space, and may be conceived of
apart from matter, but the latter is required for its manifestation to
the senses, by, in the little boy's words, "drawing a line around your
thinks." We thus, since all aggregations of matter are perpetually
changing as to their forms, do not attribute reality to form, but for
this so-called impermanence, think of it as the least real thing we
know, the very opposite of matter, an incident only of the latter and a
very non-entity.
It is worthy however of remark that of these two, matter and form, both
absolutely dependent on space for their existence (although not an
attribute of this in any way), matter cannot be thought of without form,
but form can be thought of apart from matter, as a mere limitation of
emptiness. In other words, the idea of form must come before that of
matter, and is pre-essential to this. By a purely deductive process this
should lead us to question whether essential reality does not lie rather
in the concept "form" than in the concept "matter." And a notable
confirmation of this is given when we consider a common error of speech.
We say "all forms change," and naturally therefore attribute
non-essentiality to form; but we really mean to say "matter is
continually changing in form"—leaving one form and entering into
another. This statement is a correct one, and fully accords with the
last word of physics to-day.
Evolution has made it abundantly clear that the most lasting,
changeless, adamantine thing in the manifested world is form. Nature
grinds the rocks to powder and turns metals to gases in infinitely
quicker time and with less effort than she modifies ever so little the
forms of manifestation. Form ever recurs and matter—as we know
it—again and again obediently fills the outlines.
But as if the deductive argument for the superiority of form over matter
in its eternal existence were not enough, inductive science as well is
day by day dissolving so-called matter to nothingness, or more strictly,
to a mere incident of form, produced to meet the conditions of
sense-perception. A physical universe is daily becoming a less proven
fact. Gravitation is laid down as a universal material law,
notwithstanding that certain facts attendant on cometary bodies had to
be thereby incidentally slurred over, but from the Lick telescope we now
hear that late observations indicate some other force than gravitation
as the dominating one in certain nebulæ. But a blow at the nebular
hypothesis rocks the very citadel of the physical theory.
Scientists some time ago postulated and have since by sheer necessity
regarded the ether of space as proven to exist. Yet so difficult is it
for us to modify the method or form of our apprehension of the world
around us that the majority still prefer to work on through the paradox
of a material universe, which includes an ether lacking in the
fundamental characteristics ascribed to matter. All known matter has
weight and obeys gravitation; the ether, by the very theory on which it
rests, does neither. The transmission of material phenomena requires a
material vehicle, as is not only demonstrated by every day experience,
but is necessarily involved in a system holding that all phenomena are
but incidents of matter, the one only reality. Nevertheless any material
vehicle, however rarified, gives rise to some friction when bodies pass
through it, retarding them; the ether does nothing of this. The relative
distances between the molecules in the rarest gas are enormous; the
ether of science is said to fill all space homogeneously. Science indeed
seems to have restored the worship of "Pater Aither," a god outside the
material universe, yet within every part of it and supporting it. But
they have new names for it all, and in view of the peculiar opaqueness,
materiality, which the expressions and forms wherein we do our so-called
thinking seem to possess before the Perceiver, they may be forgiven for
not recognizing their teaching in Hesiod and Lucian and the Vedas.
The most illuminating suggestion in this whole matter we owe, among
physicists, to Lord Kelvin, in his vortex-ring theory of matter. Taking
the rings of smoke puffed by a locomotive or a pipe, and making
allowances for the friction of the medium in which they revolve, Lord
Kelvin found a complete identity in behavior, at every point of
comparison he was able to institute, between these rings and the
individual atoms into which all matter is held to be divisible. One most
significant fact so demonstrated is that such a vortex-ring, once
brought into existence, and being free from frictional or any other
outside interference to break up its circuit of motion, is eternal and
indestructible, an entity in itself. The theory then is that an atom of
matter is a vortex-ring in or of ether, set up by some underlying force,
and that all the attributes displayed by material atoms are incidents of
this vortex mode of motion. Its hardness is the same as the
impenetrability of a whirlpool through which a swimmer cannot pass. Its
stability is of the same sort as that of the tops, held contrary to
gravity by a cord on one end of the axis, so long as they revolve
rapidly—a principle utilized to give absolute rigidity to the steering
gear of torpedoes. And it is the simplest explanation of atomic
affinities to suggest that it is the rate, or coefficient, of vibration
(vibration being another name for circuit of activity) which determines
the attractive or repellant force we see manifested.
And there is a most curious resemblance in all this to John Worrell
Keeley's last theory—that each individual has a dominant coefficient of
vibration, which gives rise to and explains all our happy and unhappy
associations in life, so that as the newspapers hastened to say, if we
only knew how to find this note, scientific inquests beforehand would
drive the divorce courts out of business.
The music of the spheres, the thought of individuals as notes in a
universal concord are very poetic, but inasmuch as music is the art of
harmonic expressive vibrations manifested to sense as sound, there is,
if Lord Kelvin, and some others, are right, at least as much hard
scientific fact in it all as imagery.
In short, the leading fact of science to-day is plainly, that Nature
draws forms which outline and illustrate the underlying realities of
evolutionary progress, and these forms are grasped by our
sense-perceptions as endowed (by virtue of the self-persistent and
destruction-resisting nature given to them by the force that causes
them) with the attributes of hardness or impenetrability and mutual
attraction. Differently stated, what we call matter is in no sense
substance, and the attributes by which we describe it are only the
effects produced upon our senses by contact with force-forms,
manifesting the life in nature. So that the really substantial thing in
life is seen to be form, of which so-called matter is but an incident,
apparitional only, and of little reality and no substantiality
whatever—a term to express the condition of manifestation.
And what of all this, some one may say. The nature of atoms has only a
remote interest to the problems of daily life, save as medicine may be
aided by chemical research or stronger ship armor invented by the
metallurgist. And as for music and poetry, they are for our
entertainment when serious affairs are laid aside. To such there are two
answers.
First of all, a world made up of small, hard, ponderable atoms, by some
unshown causes arranged in an infinite variety of forms, is a rather
hopeless and uninspiring subject of research. It meets admirably the
type of mind which delights in dissection, classification and labeling,
but if one should be interested to know what it is all about, he might
be readily pardoned for the conclusion that it is probably not about
anything, and has achieved the purpose of its being in the world when it
has been properly catalogued.
But once the substance of things physical is found to consist in units
of force, conditioning space—force-forms as we have called them—of
diverse characters, the whole universe of matter becomes a wonderful
study, radiant with inspiration, for its solution and meaning are
enfolded in its every atom, and in the very attributes by which they are
manifested to our sense perceptions they hold and declare their message
to the Perceiver within. And if each atom is the expression of a unit of
force, then so must every composite form be the expression of a harmony
of forces, else it could not stand, and so must every event, every scene
in our lives and in the history of peoples, every record of the earth,
every alphabet, be a harmonic formula, eloquent of the underlying truth,
the cause and meaning of life on earth.
Form is the essentiality, reality within gross matter, so-called,
manifesting the divine thought, which it sub-serves, while the
pseudo-matter of science is left to the place which that, at last
approaching the occult teaching, assigns it—but sense illusion.
One other deeply important lesson lies in this recognition of Form as
the real of Matter. The bondage of the Soul in matter, its prison-house,
takes on a new meaning, and the true nature of the great foe is
revealed. For if Form is the great Manifester, so is it also, once we
forget that truth, the great Deluder. Just how the soul might get
entangled in a world of small hard, material atoms could never be quite
clear to us, nor could we see any relation between matter such as this
and Soul, which we understood as Consciousness, Wisdom, Thought. The
fact of the entanglement was too evident to be denied, but why the soul
should _fiat_ itself such a prison house was another inscrutable bit of
Providence.
But if the real nature of material substance is seen to be form, the
manifester of ideas, it is very clear wherein our bondage lies, for the
images produced by our lower minds, the vehicles of the Soul, unless
seen in their true light, in very fact bind us tighter than any
conceivable matter could do. The children of our thoughts and of the
thoughts of the race, in this as in past lives, the formulated ideas,
the mental habits, are our prisons, and the only prisons the soul knows.
But once this thought-form is given birth to, invested with force from
ourselves, it persists a veritable material wall, harder far than one of
rocks and iron. We are educated to the use of a certain phraseology, and
it is the hardest thing in the world for us to recognize the identical
ideas, differently clothed. The idea of separateness, crystallized into
a form, a habit (garment, clothing) of thinking, is what stands between
us and an actual direct perception of an existing brotherhood and unity.
Forms of mental activity are all that prevent our recognizing the
meaning of facts when we see them. Scientific discoveries come by
nothing in the world but the momentary freeing of the observer's mind
from his preconceived views concerning the fact before him, and
events are happening in the world every day attention to which
would make prophets and gods of every one, if we did not know so
much—superannuated rubbish—already.
"It is excellent to impede an unjust man; but if this be not possible, it
is excellent not to act in conjunction with him."
"Be not a friend to the wicked—charcoal when hot, burns; when cold
it blackens the fingers."
_Gems from the East._
STUDENTS' COLUMN.
CONDUCTED BY J. H. FUSSELL.
Does Universal Brotherhood imply condoning the faults of others, or, on
the other hand, condemning them?
"No one can intelligently pursue the path of Brotherhood without
frequent and heavy condemnation of acts, and of persons as revealed in
their acts."
"Judge no man."
"Judge the act, not the person."
Is there a reconciliation between the three policies thus indicated? In
trying to follow the path of Brotherhood and promote the best interests
of our fellows, we make a series of critical judgments. Seeing a cause
about to come into operation, we make a judgment as to whether its
effects will promote Brotherhood. The usual "causes" are the acts of
persons; we judge whether their effects will be satisfactory; deciding
No, we condemn such acts, saying, "I regard Smith as acting against the
interests of Brotherhood." That is not to say "The motive of Smith in
those acts is self-interest." The chief point to be observed in my
attitude is that I shall not injure Smith's evolution. Our final
judgment concerning most things is compound, and the factors that enter
into it are two. These are (1) MY self-originated judgment, (2) the
judgment of others, expressed in words, or, more potently, silently, and
in the last case subtly infusing itself into my mind and blending with
my own proper judgment. The resultant of these two factors is my final
judgment. The judgment that Smith arrives at respecting his acts is,
therefore, a blend of _his_ opinion and of _my_ opinion respecting their
tendency, and it is none the less true even if after consideration of my
opinion he rejects it and leaves his own, as he thinks, unmodified. But
suppose I strongly think that Smith acts from motives of self-interest.
I have made a judgment respecting _Smith_ as well as his _acts_. Am I
wrong? Not necessarily. My mind will become a mirror wherein Smith may
see himself and reform. It will induce a self-examination that must be
beneficial in tendency. But if my judgment to that effect respecting
Smith is consciously or unconsciously colored with personal feeling,
that is, if I consciously or unconsciously feel that Smith's
self-interestedly based actions may interfere with _my_ personal
interests or comfort, then that feeling of potential or actual anger or
irritation will tend, not only to darken my judgment but that of Smith,
and to excite similar detrimental emotions in him.
No human being can avoid making such judgments as to another. The right
counsel of perfection would be, not to avoid them, for the higher we go
the more numerous are the people we have to _help_, and, therefore,
preliminarily to _judge_ that intelligent help may be given; but to aim
at the exclusion of the personal self from the judgment, making it as
lofty as possible. To judge should be to sympathize, that is, to _feel
like_. To judge Smith is to understand him, that is, for a moment to
feel as he feels. _To compare what I have thus sympathetically
ascertained to be his feeling with my ideal of the highest feeling of a
judgment on Smith._
Let us throw away fear; learn to know _ourselves and others_, and
unhesitatingly compare with an ideal. That men act wrongly is always
from ignorance of even their own _real_ welfare. No judgment should,
therefore, contain anger, irritation, or any similar feeling. Bearing
that in mind as an ideal, criticism and judgment become duties.
T. N.
Universal Brotherhood does not necessarily imply either of these. For
the purposes of this question we may define Brotherhood as acting
towards others in such a way as to help them in their life and
development, at the same time regarding them as inseparable units of
humanity. Now there may be and are times in the lives of all of us when
the condoning of a fault, _i. e._, the pardon or overlooking of a fault,
may be the greatest help. Then again there are times when the outspoken
condemnation of a fault—not of a person—may be the one thing needed to
help that person.
But Brotherhood is not sentimentality, it is justice as well as
compassion, it is that love for the real inner man that is not afraid of
hurting the personal man when this is for the sake of principle and
actuated by true love. The sentimental condoning of a fault does not
help and those who follow a sentimental idea of Brotherhood too often
swing to the other extreme and indulge in wholesale and unfounded
condemnation, not simply of a fault, but of persons.
Brotherhood is not extreme in either direction. The middle path is the
path of Brotherhood, this above all is the path of principle—the path
of the principle of love and the principle of justice. If we apply to
our conduct the injunction: "do unto others as ye would they should do
unto you," we shall not go far wrong.
True it is that our responsibility increases as our knowledge increases
and as the knowledge of the physician and surgeon may require him to
amputate a limb or give temporary pain in order to save the patient's
life, so every true man is a physician and surgeon, first in his own
life and then in the lives of others. On the other hand, the true
physician will often draw away the mind of the patient from his sickness
or disease, and how often can we not help a failing brother by
apparently ignoring a fault and calling out the nobler side of the
nature!
If we are true to the better side of our own natures we shall soon learn
in what true Brotherhood consists. But no one can be a true Brother to
another who is afraid to apply the knife to his own failings, or who is
not honest in his own endeavors. We students may make mistakes in our
acts of Brotherhood, but if we keep in the light of the soul and keep
our motives pure the realization of Brotherhood will not be far distant.
J. H. FUSSELL.
Whence arises the sense of duty? In what does it originate?
It is above all things requisite that the expression of great ethical or
moral or religious principles should be universally applicable. That is
to say, they should take the simplest form. Most of our religious
divisions are the result of an endeavour to make a local or special
condition a standard to which all must conform. Great moral principles
are as adaptable and as elastic (and no more) in their own sphere, as
great physical principles. The laws of gravitation, cohesion, and the
other great forces set duties for material objects to which the
perfection of their evolution enables them to respond. But circumstances
alter cases. A piece of ice will fall to the ground if dropped; if
released at the bottom of a pail of water it will rise to the top; no
further. The duty of the ice in one case is to fall; in the other, to
rise.
In the region of the soul duty is understood usually to be the sense of
moral obligation.
We are told that duty is what we owe. It is to be remembered that when
we have done all we are unprofitable servants. The talent hid in a
napkin was duteously safe. But there is a higher duty to Him who gathers
where He has not scattered. What is due is, in fact, greater than what
we owe. The educative and evolutionary quality of our experience depends
upon this. And it is here that the distinction between the higher and
lower duty may be found. It is a principle in chancery law that he who
seeks equity must do equity. Similarly those who desire to ascend or
progress must fulfil all the lower stages of growth and be free of what
they owe before they can undertake the rendering of their due.
Renunciation also begins here. The old story of the servant, forgiven a
large debt, and turning on his fellow and debtor illustrates this. The
ceremonial law of the Jews for example, was an educative force in the
direction of insuring the recognition of those in authority, crude
symbols of the divine. Our modern taxes and tariffs have precisely the
same educative effect as the tithes and offerings of old, the modern
method reaching a more practical result.
There is a Principle or Power in the Universe which provides for all
creatures. It is generally known as Providence. It is called God and
Karma and the Law. When men consciously ally themselves with this Power
they also become Providers. They learn that it is more blessed to give
than to receive. They also learn which is the river, the water or the
banks that confine the water. The promptings of evolution, of the
Kumara, the immortal One that ensouls a man and makes him divine, carry
him forward along the line of least resistance. It is the business of
the river to reach the ocean, not to break down the banks. All this
implies action, and the formation of character. While Fohat is in
manifestation, duty means to act, to do. To do justice, to love mercy,
to walk humbly before the inner god. To love that Holy One with all the
heart and mind and strength, and to see in one's brothers the same
object of devotion is to conform to the will of the Higher Self. Duty on
the lower levels of life is a means for the development of the lower
manas or brain mind.
BEN MADIGHAN.
Let us dissect away certain overgrowths which obscure this point.
Obedience to duty is often only conscious, half conscious, or
unconscious fear of the consequences of neglect. A child who has burned
his finger thereafter dreads the flame, and the dread persists when the
memory of the burn has died out of his practical consciousness. Many
honest people do not steal because they retain an unconscious memory of
the disgrace attending a revealed theft in childhood or in a previous
incarnation. Fear, hope of reward or commendation, these two, whether
conscious or existing in their effects as the fixed habit of
performance, must be eliminated as inspirers of action before we can see
how much remains. It is possible that with most of us not much of the
pure golden sense of duty would remain in the bottom of the crucible.
Actions whose performance is a duty are not always unpleasant. For
instance, to eat is a duty, because at a proper time the Law,
manifesting as hunger, demands it.
The Law arises twofold; outwardly it manifests as circumstance,
presenting at every moment a tangled maze of paths of which any one may
be selected; internally as the impulsion to select one particular path
of these many. In his spiritual thought, the inner man has already
traversed that path. In outer fact it remains for the terrestrial man to
imitate in the concrete. The sense of duty is the reflection in the
outer consciousness of this picture of action existing in the inner,
which picture, in the inner world, _is_ action. It may be dimly or
brightly mirrored, the sense of duty weak or strong; its concrete
imitation may be effected or not, duty done or not.
HERBERT CORYN.
YOUNG FOLKS' DEPARTMENT.
A CHRISTMAS STORY.
BY M. S. L.
It was a big toy shop in West Twenty-third Street. There were crowds of
people hurrying by, for to-morrow would be Christmas Day and all those
who had children to love were busy buying presents. The shop windows
looked very gay indeed.
There were all sorts of toys you could imagine. Lots of new mechanical
toys, steam engines that ran on a real track, dancing bears and a cat
which played the fiddle. In the middle of the window was a tiny fir tree
all lit up with colored lights and its boughs covered with gay
ornaments. Santa Claus was there, too, and on his back he carried a pack
from which came a stream of candy and toys.