Searchable Theosophical Texts
Theosophy House
In The Twilight
By
Annie Besant
In the Twilight” Series of Articles
The In the
Twilight” series appeared during
1898 in The
Theosophical Review and
from 1909-1913 in The Theosophist.
The
Secret Doctrine by H P Blavatsky
Return to Searchable Text Index
Chronology
of Articles
(1a)
Theosophical Review March 1898 v22 p78-82
(2a)
Theosophical Review April 1898 v22 p177-181
(3a)
Theosophical Review May 1898 v22 p274-280
(4a)
Theosophical Review June 1898 v22 p364-368
(1 ) The Theosophist April 1909 p78-84
(2 ) The Theosophist May 1909 p193-198
(3 ) The Theosophist June 1909 p359-366
(4 ) The Theosophist July 1909 p504-508
(5 ) The Theosophist August 1909 p608-616
(6 ) The Theosophist Sept 1909 p750-756
(7 ) The Theosophist Oct 1909 p121-126
(8 ) The Theosophist Nov 1909 p252-260
(9 ) The Theosophist Dec 1909 p390-396
(10) The Theosophist Jan 1910 p517-524
(11) The Theosophist Feb 1910 p640-645
(12) The Theosophist March 1910 p774-780
(13) The Theosophist April 1910 p930-931
(14) The Theosophist May 1910 p1098-1100
(15) The Theosophist June 1910 p1185-1190
(16) The Theosophist July 1910 p1348-1350
(17) The Theosophist Oct 1910 p116-120
(18) The Theosophist Nov 1910 p285-293
(19) The Theosophist Jan 1911 p709-712
(20) The Theosophist March 1911 p964-969
(21) The Theosophist May 1911 p290-296
(22) The Theosophist Sept 1911 p900-908
(23) The Theosophist Jan 1912 p589-594
(24) The Theosophist Feb 1912 p747-754
(25) The Theosophist April 1912 p120-124
(26) The Theosophist May 1912 p281-285
(27) The Theosophist Sept 1912 p926-930
(28) The Theosophist April 1913 p109-114
(29) The Theosophist May 1913 p277-280
(30) The Theosophist Oct 1929 p77-78
(31) The Theosophist Nov 1929 p207-213
(32) The Theosophist Dec 1929 p345-347
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (1a)
first
published Theosophical Review March 1898
v22 p78-82
The
talk turned on suicide when a small circle of friends gathered for their
twilight
chat. They were wont thus to gather once a month, when the sinking sun
invited
all to share the quietness that falls on nature, when she has drawn the
cloud-curtains
across the door through which her lord has disappeared - the hush
of
the gloaming that men lose in the hurrying town, where nature's fairy bells
are
not heard as they ring for matins and vespers day by day. Our little circle
would
discuss any point of interest that had arisen within the ken of any of its
members,
in the worlds physical, astral and mental; and the number of suicides
that
had been recorded in the daily papers has turned the conversation to that
gruesome
topic on the present occasion.1
“If
one could only make these folk understand that they can't kill themselves,”
remarked
the Shepherd meditatively; “that they can only get rid of their bodies
and
are decidedly at a disadvantage by the riddance, maybe they would not be so
ready
to make holes in their bodies or in the water.”
“There
lies the difficulty,” quoth the Scholar. “The grim tales our seers tell
us
of the results of suicide in the astral world are not widely known among the
public,
and even when known are not believed.”
“They
picture a very real hell, it seems to me,” commented the Marchesa. “One of
our
seers told me a story the other day that was as ghastly in its horror as
anything
that Dante depicted in his Inferno.”
“Tell
it again, O astral Vagrant,” commanded the youngest of our party, whose
appetite
for stories was insatiable. “Tell it again, and tell it now.”
“Well,
it was rather a ghastly story,” began the Vagrant meekly and
apologetically,
“creepy, decidedly. There were two friends, some hundreds of
years
ago, half merchants, half soldiers of fortune, who for some years had
travelled
together through fair luck and foul. The elder, Hassan, had saved
Ibrahim,
the younger, from death by starvation and thirst in the desert, having
found
him lying senseless besides his dead camel, which he had stabbed to obtain
a
last drink. Hassan, passing alone over the sands to rejoin his caravan, came
across
man and beast, both apparently dead. The man's heart, however, was still
faintly
breathing, and he revived sufficiently to be lifted on to Hassan's camel
and
carried to safety. Ibrahim, wild, reckless, passionate, became madly devoted
to
the man who had saved him, and they lived for some years as brothers. It
chanced
that they fell in with a band of Arabs and dwelt with them awhile, and
here
, as ill fate would have it, the fair face of the chief's daughter
attracted
the eyes of both, and the two men fell desperately in love with the
same
maid. Hassan's steadier and kindlier character won trust and love where
Ibrahim's
fiery passion terrified, and as the truth dawned upon him the tiger in
the
savage nature of the young man awoke. Wildly jealous, sullenly resolved to
have
his will at all costs, Ibrahim slew Hassan treacherously while both were
engaged
in a skirmish with an enemy; he then rode to the encampment, rifled the
tent
of the chief, and, seizing the girl, flung her across his swift camel and
fled.
For a brief space they lived together, a stormy time of feverish passion
and
jealous suspicion on his side, of sullen submission and scheming
watchfulness
on hers. One day, returning from a short excursion, he found the
cage
empty, the bird flown, and his house despoiled of its treasures. Furious
with
baffled love and hatred, he hunted madly for her for some days, and,
finally,
in a tempest of jealousy and despair, he flung himself on the sand, cut
his
throat, and, gurgling out a curse, expired. A shock as of electric force, a
searing
flash of lurid fire, a concentrated agony of rending tissues, of tearing
part
from part, and the quivering etheric form was violently wrenched from its
dense
counterpart, and the blinded bewildered man found himself yet living while
his
corpse lay prone upon the sand. A confused whirl of sensations, of
struggling
agony as of a strong swimmer when the waves close over him, and
Ibrahim
was in the astral world, in drear and heavy darkness, foul to every
sense,
despairful, horror-weighted. Jealousy, rage, the fury of baffled passion
and
of love betrayed, still tore his heart-strings, and their force, no longer
spent
in moving the heavy mass of the physical body, inflicted an agony keener
than
he had ever dreamed as possible on earth. The subtle form responded to
every
thrill of feeling, and every pain was multiplied a hundredfold, as the
keen
senses answered to each wave of anguish, the bulwark of the body no longer
breaking
the force of every billow that dashed against the soul. Ah! even in
this
hell a blacker hell! What is this shapeless horror that drifts slowly near
as
though borne on some invisible current, eyeless, senseless, with ghastly
suggestions
of gaping wounds, clotted with foetid blood? The air grows heavier
yet
and fouler as it drifts onwards, and is it the wind which as it passes moans
out
“Hassan ... Hassan ... Hassan?” With a scream strangled into a choking sob,
Ibrahim
leaps forward, rushes headlong, anywhere to escape this floating terror,
this
loathsome corpse of a friend betrayed. Surely he has escaped - he had fled
with
speed of hunted antelope; as he stops gasping, something surges against his
shoulder;
he glances fearfully round - it is there! And now begins a chase, if
that
may be called a chase where the hunter is unconscious and hangs blindly on
the
hunted, ever seeming to be drifting slowly, without purpose, yet ever close
behind,
run the other swiftly as he may. Down, down into depths fathomless of
murky
vapours - a pause, and the dull touch of the swaying shapelessness with
the
overpowering horror that hangs round it as a cloud. Away, away, into the
foulest
dens of vice, where earth-bound souls gloat over vilest orgies, and the
crowding
throngs will surely give protection against this dread intruder; but
no!
it drifts straight on as though no crowd were there, and, as though
aimlessly,
sways up against his shoulder. If it would speak, curse, see, strike
a
deliberate forceful blow, a man might deal with it; but this blind silent
drifting
shapeless mass, with its dull persistence of gray presence, is
maddening,
intolerable, yet may not be escaped. Oh! to be back in the glowing
desert,
with the limitless sky above, starving, robbed, betrayed, forsaken, but
in
a world of men, away from swaying senseless horrors in airless murky viscous
depths”
-
The
quiet tones of the Pandit broke into the silence into which the Vagrant's
voice
had faded: “That seems to make the pictures of Nâraka more real. They are
not
old wives' fables, after all, if the astral world contains such results of
crime
committed here.”
“But
Ibrahim will not always be hunter like this”, said our Youngest, pitifully,
as
ripples of the loveliest rose-colour played through his aura.
“Surely
not,” answered the Vagrant, smiling at the boy. “Eternal hell is but a
frightful
dream of ignorance, following on the loss of the glorious doctrine of
reincarnation,
which shows us that all suffering but teaches a necessary lesson.
Nor
need every suicide learn his lesson under such sad conditions as surrounded
poor
Ibrahim. Tell us about that suicide, Shepherd, whom you and our Youngest
helped
the other night.”
“Oh!
that's nothing of a story,” quoth the Shepherd, lazily. “It is a mere
description.
But such as it is you are welcome to it. There was a man who had
got
into a number of troubles, over which he had worried himself to an
inadmissible
extent, worried himself to the verge of brain-fever, in fact. He
was
a very good young fellow in his healthy, normal state, but had reduced
himself
to a pitiable wreck of shattered nerves. In this condition he walked
over
a field where, some sixty years ago, a roué had committed suicide, and this
elementary,
attracted by his morbid gloom, attached himself to him, and began to
instil
thoughts of suicide into his mind. This roué had squandered a fortune in
gambling
and wild living, and, blaming the world for his own faults, had died by
his
own hand, swearing to revenge on others his fancied wrongs. This he had done
inconsequently
by impelling into suicide people whose frame of mind laid them
open
to his influence, and our poor friend became his prey. After struggling
through
a few days filled with his diabolical promptings, the overstrained
nerves
gave way, and he committed suicide, shooting himself in this very same
field.
Needless to say that he found himself on the other side on the lowest
subplane
of kâmaloka, amid the dreary conditions with which we are familiar.
There
he remained, very gloomy and miserable, weighed down with remorse, and
subjected
to the gibes and taunts of his successful tempter, until at last he
began
to believe that hell was a reality, and that he would never be able to
escape
from his unhappy state. He had been thus for some eight years when our
Youngest
found him,” went on the Shepherd, drawing the boy closer to him, “and,
being
young in such scenes, broke into such a passion of pity and sympathy that
he
flung himself back into his physical body, and awoke sobbing bitterly. I had,
after
comforting him, to point out that sympathy of that kind was a little
ineffective,
and then we went back together and found our unhappy friend. We
explained
matters to him, cheered him, encouraged him, making him understand
that
he was only held captive by his own conviction that he could not rise, and
in
a few days' time we had the happiness of seeing him free from this lowest
region.
He has been progressing since and before long, probably within a year or
so,
he will pass on into Devachan. Nothing of a story, as I told you.”
“A
very good story,” corrected the Doctor, “and quite necessary to take the
flavour
of the Vagrant's horrors out of our psychic mouths.”
“To
start another subject,” said the Archivarius; “here is a very interesting
account
from Sweden of an apparition at the time of death, seen by sixteen
persons.
It is sent by one of our members.”
“Keep
it for next time,” suggested the Scholar, “for it groweth late, and we are
wanted
elsewhere.” 1. The stories given in these monthly records will be
authentic,
unless the contrary be definitely stated in any particular case; that
is,
they will be real experiences. - A.B.
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (2a)
first
published in Theosophical Review v22
April 1898 p177-181
When
the friends gathered for their monthly symposium, there was a general cry
for
the ‘ghost story’ promised by the Archivarius, and in response she drew from
her
pocket a bulky letter, saying: “The letter is from one of our students,
Freya,
who is often in Sweden, and it tells a story related to her during a
recent
visit. She says: ‘During the autumn of 1896, while traveling from the
east
coast of the island of Gothland towards the town of Wisby, I was invited to
pass
a night at the Rectory of D ----. The priest of this parish, a man of about
fifty
years of age, is a most earnest and devoted worker in the interest of the
extremely
fine Church which has fallen to his cure, and he desires most
intensely
to be able to restore this wonderful piece of architecture in a way
that
shall be worthy of it. He is most energetic in his efforts to raise the
necessary
funds, and loses no opportunity of furthering this object. I was much
impressed
by the face of this our friend, Pastor O ----. I thought it peculiarly
benign
and peaceful, with clear, expressive eyes which seemed to tell me that
something
more than ordinary vision belonged to them; the shape of his mouth
also
was firm and decided, but singularly sweet, After supper that evening we
sat
talking in one of the rooms adjoining his study. I had discovered that the
rector
was musical, but from music he wandered into the domain of mysticism, and
discussed
things of a psychic nature. I found that my impression concerning our
friend
was not mistaken, for when once on the subject he seemed quite at home in
it,
and gave us numerous instances of his own psychic experiences, not as if he
thought
them very remarkable, for it seemed that they had belonged to him all
his
life. It is one of these which I am going to relate to you, giving it, as
far
as I can remember, in his own words: - "During some years of my
boyhood," he
began,
"I was at school in the Parish of Tingstäde, and as my home was at some
distance,
I was lodged, in company with another school-fellow, at the house of a
resident
named Fru Smith. This good lady had a tolerably large house, and gained
her
livelihood by taking boarders and lodgers; in fact, there were no less than
sixteen
people living there at the time of which I am speaking. Fru Smith also
acted
occasionally in the capacity of midwife and was often absent. Late one
afternoon
in mid-winter she informed us that she was going away on a visit, and
could
not possibly return until some time the following day, so she arranged
everything
necessary for our meals, etc., and bidding us to be very careful with
regard
to lights and fire, she left us, and as usual during the evening we were
occupied
in preparing our lessons for the next day. By half-past nine we were in
bed,
and had locked our door and put out our lamp, but there was sufficient
light
in the room coming from the glowing wood-ashes in the stove to enable us
to
see everything quite distinctly. We were quietly talking, when suddenly we
saw
- standing by our bed-side and regarding us most intently - the figure of a
tall,
middle-aged man looking like a peasant, dressed in ordinary grey clothes,
but
with what appeared to us as a big white patch on the left leg, and another
on
the left breast. My companion nudged me sharply, and whispered, 'What ugly
man
is that?' I signed to him to be silent, and we both lay still watching
eagerly.
The man stood looking at us for a long time, and then he turned and
began
walking up and down the room, his footsteps seeming to cause a rasping
sound
as if he were walking upon snow. He went over to the chest of drawers and
opened
and shut them all, as if looking for something, and after that he went to
the
stove and began to blow gently upon the yet glowing ashes, holding out his
hands
as if to warm them. After this, he returned to our bed-side and again
stood
looking at us. As we gazed at him we observed that we could see things
through
him. we saw plainly the bureau on the other side of the room through his
body,
and whilst we were looking his form seemed gradually to disappear, and
vanished
from our sight. The strangeness of this caused us to feel uneasy and
nervous,
but we did not stir from our bed, and at last fell asleep. Our door was
still
locked when we got up in the morning, but in mentioning what we had
witnessed
we heard that the same ghostly visitor had appeared in every room in
the
house - the doors of which were all locked - and that every one of the
sixteen
persons sleeping there that night had seen the same figure. Moreover
some
of these people who had been resident there for a length of time recognised
the
figure as that of the husband of our landlady, a worthless sort of fellow
who
had never settled usefully to anything, and had lived away from his wife for
some
years, so that he had long been a wanderer on the face of the earth. This
strange
coincidence naturally caused some of the residents to make enquiries
whether
such a person had been seen anywhere in the neighbourhood, and it was
ascertained
that the same evening a little after nine o'clock he had called at a
farmhouse
two miles distant, and had asked for a night's lodging; as there was
no
room he had been directed to the next farm, which was across a field near by.
Upon
hearing this the investigators at once looked in the snow for traces of his
footsteps,
and very soon they came across them. After following them a little
way
they came upon a wooden shoe, and a few yards further on they discovered the
dead
body of the man himself, half buried in a deep snow-drift. On turning the
body
over it was perceived that a large frozen clump of snow adhered to the left
breast,
and another to the left knee, precisely on the same spots where we had
remarked
the white patches on the clothing of the apparition. Although I was but
a
boy when this happened, it made such a deep and lasting impression upon me
that
the memory of it has remained with me most vividly all through my life. I
have
had other experiences, but this is certainly one of the most remarkable
that
has ever occurred to me." And if you had heard the story as I did, told
simply
and clearly, without any attempt at elaboration, you would have no doubt
of
its veracity.’ A very good and reasonable ghost story, I think,” concluded
the
Archivarius.
“He
must have been an unusually visible ghost,” remarked our Youngest. “Surely
all
the sixteen people cannot have had astral vision.”
“Etheric
vision would have been enough, under the circumstances,” said the
Vagrant.
“The man would have just left the dense body and would have been
clothed
in his etheric. Many people are so near the development of etheric
vision
that a slight tension of the nerves will bring it about; in their normal
state
of health these very same people are etherically blind. A friend of mine
at
times developed this sense; if she were over-worked, ill or mentally
distressed,
she would begin ‘to see ghosts’, and they would disappear again when
her
nerves regained their tone. She had a very distressing experience on one
occasion,
immediately after the passing over of a much-loved friend; the latter
lady
appeared as a ghost, still clothed in her disintegrating etheric body, and
this
very hideous garment decayed away with the decaying buried corpse, so that
the
poor ghost became more ragged, ghastlier and ghastlier in appearance as time
went
on. Madame Blavatsky, seeing the uncanny visitor hanging about the house
and
garden, very kindly set her free from her unusual encumbrance, and she then
passed
on into a normal astral life. Still, etheric vision is not sufficiently
common
to quite explain the seeing of our Swedish ghost by so many people.”
“There
seem to be two ways in which a ghost may succeed in showing himself to
people
who are not possessed of either astral or etheric vision,” commented the
Shepherd.
“Either he may temporarily stimulate the physical sight, raising it to
the
etheric power, or he may densify himself sufficiently to be seen by ordinary
sight.
I think we do not quite understand how the ordinary astral person
materialises
himself. We know well enough how to materialise our own astral
bodies
at need, and we have seen our Youngest materialise himself by a strong
emotion
and wish to help, though he does not yet know how to do it
scientifically
and at will. But after what we call death, the disembodied soul
does
not normally understand how to materialise himself, although he may quickly
master
the art under instruction, as may be seen at many spiritualistic séances.
When
a person shows himself after death to ordinary vision, I suspect he is
generally
dominated by some strong wish and is trying to express it;
unconsciously
he materialises himself under the play of this wish, but the modus
operandi
is not clear to me. Probably this man was longing for shelter, his
thoughts
turned homewards intensely, and this gave the impulse which
materialised
him.”
“He
may have been vaguely seeking his wife,” added the Marchesa. “Many a
vagabond
who has made home unendurable comes back to it in trouble. Probably he
was
less unpleasant in his etheric than in his dense form!”
“We
should not forget,” said the Doctor. “that there is another possibility in
such
an appearance. The brain of the dying may send out a vigorous thought which
impinges
on the brain of the person he thinks of, there giving rise to a
picture,
a mental image, of himself. This may be projected outwards by the
receiver,
and be seen by him as an objective form. Then we should have a
hallucinatory
appearance, as our friends of the SPR would say.”
“Earth-bound
astrals are responsible for more appearances than etheric doubles,”
remarked
the Vagrant. “It is very curious how they hang about places where they
have
committed crimes.”
“Still
more curious, perhaps,” chimed in the Shepherd, “when they hang round
articles,
as in one case I came across. A friend of mine had a dagger which was
said
to have the gruesome property of inspiring anyone who took hold of it with
a
longing to kill some woman. My friend was sceptical, but still eyed the dagger
a
little doubtfully, for when he had himself taken hold of it he felt so ‘queer’
that
he had quickly put it down again. There seemed no doubt that two women at
least
had, as a matter of fact. been murdered with it, I took the thing away to
make
some experiments, and sat down quietly by myself, holding the dagger. A
curious
kind of dragging at me began, as though someone were trying to make me
move
away; I declined to stir, and looked to see what it was. I saw a
wild-looking
man, a Pathan, I think, who seemed very angry at my not going where
he
pushed me, and he was trying to get into me, as it were, an attempt that I
naturally
resisted. I asked him what he was doing, but he did not understand. So
I
looked from higher up, and saw that his wife had left him for another man, and
that
he had found them together and had stabbed them with the man's own dagger,
the
very one I was then holding. He had then sworn revenge against the whole
sex,
and had killed his wife's sister and another woman before he was himself
stabbed.
He had then attached himself to the dagger, and had obsessed its
various
owners, pushing them to murder women, and, to his savage delight, had
met
with much success. Great was his wrath at my unexpected resistance. As I
could
not make him understand me, I handed him over to an Indian friend, who
gradually
led him to a better view of life, and he agreed that his dagger should
be
broken up and buried. I accordingly broke it in pieces and buried it.”
“Where?”
demanded our Youngest eagerly, apparently bent on digging it up again.
“Outside
the compound at Adyar,” quoth the Shepherd comfortably, feeling it was
well
out of reach; and he finished sotto voce: “I should have broken it up all
the
same, whether the Pathan had permitted it or not. Still, it was better for
him
that he should agree to it.”
“This
month's ghosts,” said the Scholar, “are not exactly pleasant company.
Surely
we might find some more reputable astrals than these?”
“Really
useful astrals are more often pupils busied in service than ordinary
ghosts,”
answered the Vagrant. “Let us bring up next month cases of work lately
done
on the astral plane.”
A
chorus of “Agreed” closed the sitting.
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (3a)
first
published in Theosophical Review May
1898 v22 pages 274-280
“It
is interesting to notice”, said the Vagrant, when the friends had gathered
round
the fire for their monthly chat, “how often we come across stories of
sea-captains
who have been roused and induced to change their course by some
mysterious
visitant. On one of my many voyages I travelled with a captain who
told
me some of his own experiences, and among these he related one about a man
in
a dripping waterproof who had come to him in his cabin, and had begged him to
steer
in a particular direction so as to save some castaways. The captain did
so,
and found a party of shipwrecked sailors, one of whom he recognised as his
visitor.
The best and most typical of all these tales is perhaps the one which
Robert
Dale Owen tells so well in his Footfalls on the Boundary of Another World
-
that in which the mate sees a stranger writing on the captain's slate the
laconic
order, ‘Steer to the north-west’. The captain, hearing the mate's story
and
seeing the written words, decides to follow the suggestion, and by so doing
saves
from a wreck a number of people, one of whom is at once recognised by the
mate
as the mysterious visitant. A somewhat similar story, though differing
curiously
in some of the details, lately appeared in one of our daily papers,
and
though this be an unverified one it is typical enough to put on record. It
is
headed, ‘Crew Saved by a Ghost,’ but the ghost seems to have been the soul of
a
man living in this world, clothed in the astral body, as is normally the case
during
sleep. Here it is:” “Many strange incidents occur at sea, but none more
so
than that which befell Captain Benner, of the brig "Mohawk", a small
vessel
engaged
in the West Indian trade. After leaving St. Thomas, her last port of
call,
on one voyage the brig was steering a north-westerly course, homeward
bound,
beating up under short canvas again{st} high winds and heavy seas
following
in the wake of a hurricane which had traversed the tropics five or six
days
before. Her captain, who had been some hours on deck, went below at
midnight,
after directing the first officer, who was on watch, to keep the
course
then steered, and to call him in case of any change for the worse in the
weather.
He lay down upon a sofa in the main cabin, but as the brig's bell
struck
twice, became conscious of the figure of a man, wearing a green
sou'wester,
standing beside him in the dim light of the cabin lamp. Then he
heard
the words, ‘Change your course to the sou'west, captain.’ Captain Benner
got
up and went on deck, where he found that the weather had moderated and that
the
brig was carrying more sail and making better headway. He asked the mate on
duty
why he had sent down to call him, to which that officer replied that he had
not
done so. The captain, fancying that he had been dreaming, went back to the
cabin,
but he was disturbed soon again by a second visit from the man in the
green
sou'wester, who repeated his previous order and vanished up the
companionway.
The captain, now thoroughly aroused, jumped up and pursued the
retreating
figure, but saw no one until he met the mate on watch, who insisted
that
he had not sent any messenger below. Mystified and perplexed, Captain
Benner
returned to the cabin only to see his singular visitor reappear, to hear
him
repeat the order to change the course to sou'west, with the added warning -
“If
you do not it will soon be too late!” and to see him disappear as before.
Going
on deck he gave the necessary orders for the change in the ship's course
to
south-west. The officers of the brig were not only surprised but also
indignant,
and finally determined to seize their captain and put him in irons,
when,
soon after daybreak, the look-out forward reported some object dead ahead.
As
the vessel kept on, it was made out to be a ship's boat. As it ranged abeam
it
was seen to contain four men lying under its thwarts, one of whom wore a
green
sou'wester. The ‘Mohawk’ was promptly hove to, a boat lowered, and the
castaways
taken in. The castaways proved to be the captain and three men, the
only
survivors of the crew of a vessel which had gone down in the hurricane, and
they
had been drifting helplessly without food for five or six days. The green
sou'wester
was the property of the rescued captain. A few days later when he had
recovered
sufficiently to be able to leave his berth, he was sitting one day in
the
main cabin of the brig with Captain Benner. He suddenly asked his host
whether
he believed in dreams. ‘Since I have been here,’ he continued, ‘I have
been
thinking how familiar this cabin looks. I think that I have been here
before.
In the night before you picked me up I dreamed that I came to you here
in
this cabin and told you to change your course to sou'west. The first time you
took
no notice of me, and I came the second time, in vain; but the third time
you
changed your course, and I woke to find your ship alongside of us.’ Then
Captain
Benner, who had noticed the resemblance of the speaker to his mysterious
visitor,
told his own story of that night. In most of these cases,” concluded
the
Vagrant, “the visitor is probably a pupil, serving on the astral plane, but
occasionally
one of the sufferers is himself the bringer of help.”
“That
is so,” said the Shepherd, “but it is a very common occurrence for one of
the
‘invisible helpers’ trained in our own circle to seek physical aid in this
way
for the shipwrecked. Sometimes a very vivid dream, cause by throwing an idea
into
the captain's mind while he is asleep, is sufficient to persuade him to
take
action, for sailors, as a rule, believe in the ‘supernatural’, as people
foolishly
call our larger life. The dream, followed by a prompt awakening,
prompt
enough to cause a slight shock, is often enough. It is often possible
also
to prevent an accident which one sees approaching - such as a fire or
collision
- by the same means, or by rousing the captain suddenly and making him
think
uneasily of such an occurrence, so that he may go on deck, or look round
the
ship carefully, as the case may be. A great deal more of this work might be
done
if only there were a larger number of our students willing to live the life
which
is necessary in order to qualify them for service when the soul is out of
the
body during sleep.”
“And
the work is certainly its own reward,” answered the Vagrant. “You remember
that
steamer that went down in the cyclone at the end of last November; I betook
myself
to the cabin where about a dozen women had been shut in, and they were
wailing
in the most pitiful manner, sobbing and moaning with fear. The ship had
to
founder - no aid was possible - and to go out of the world in this state of
frantic
terror is the worst possible way to enter the next. So in order to calm
them
I materialised myself, and of course they thought I was an angel, poor
souls,
and they all fell on their knees and prayed me to save them, and one poor
mother
pushed her baby into my arms, imploring me to save that, at least. They
soon
grew quiet and composed as we talked, and the wee baby went to sleep
smiling,
and presently they all fell asleep peacefully, and I filled their minds
with
thoughts of the heaven-world, so that they did not wake when the ship made
her
final plunge downwards. I went down with them to ensure their sleeping
through
the last moments, and they never stirred as their sleep became death.
One
or two of them, it may be hoped, will not awaken until the dream of the
heaven-world
gives place to the reality, and the soul regains consciousness amid
the
light and melody of Devachan.”
“It
is curious what tricks one's etheric brain often plays one in these
matters,”
remarked the Scholar. “I often find myself in the morning recalling
the
events of the night as though I had myself been the hero of the tragedy in
which
I was simply a helper. For instance, the other night up in the hills among
the
fighting, I was doing my best to avert a serious accident, and in the course
of
the work had to help one of our Tommies who was bringing up a gun, driving at
a
headlong pace down a breakneck sort of path, and it seemed to my waking memory
that
I had been driving the horses myself. And I remember one night when I had
tried
to drag a fellow away who was working in a building where there was going
to
be a big explosion, and had failed to make him move, that when the explosion
came
and I went up with him, and explained to him as he shot out of his body
that
it was all right, and that there was nothing to be alarmed about - the next
morning
the impression on my mind was that I had been exploded, and thought it
was
all right after all, and I could taste the choking gas and the mud and slush
quite
plainly.”
“Yes,
you have an odd way of identifying yourself with the people you help,”
commented
the Shepherd. “It seems a kind of sympathy, making you experience for
the
time just what they experience, and on waking the brain mixes up the
identities,
and appropriates the whole.”
“Bruno
used to describe our lower nature as an ass,” quoth the Vagrant, “and
there
really is a good deal of the ass in the body we have to use down here, to
say
nothing of the asinine attributes of the astral body, at least until it is
thoroughly
cleaned up, and confined to its proper function as a mere vehicle.
But
what was that story I heard a bit of the other day, about our Youngest
saving
a boy in a big fire somewhere? You tell it us, Doctor.”
“Properly
speaking, the story is not mine to tell,” said the Doctor. “I was not
present
on the occasion; but as nearly as I can recall, it ran something like
this.
It seems that some time ago the Shepherd and our Youngest here were
passing
over the States one night, when they noticed the fierce glare of a big
fire
below them, and promptly dived down to see if they could be of any use. It
was
one of these huge American caravanserais, on the edge of one of the great
lakes,
which was in flames. The hotel, many stories in height, formed three
sides
of a square round a sort of garden, planted with trees and flowers while
the
lake formed the fourth side. The two wings ran right down to the lake, the
big
bay windows which terminated them almost projecting over the water, so as to
leave
only quite a narrow passage-way under them at the two sides. The front and
wings
were built round inside wells, which contained also the elevator shafts of
lattice
work, so that when the fire broke out, it spread with almost incredible
rapidity.
Before our friends saw it on their astral journey all the middle
floors
in each of the three great blocks were in flames, though fortunately the
inmates
- except one little boy - had already been rescued, though some of them
had
sustained very serious burns and other injuries.”
“This
little fellow had been forgotten in one of the upper rooms of the left
wing,
for his parents were out at a ball, and knew nothing of the fire, while
naturally
enough no one else thought of the lad till it was far too late, and
the
fire had gained such a hold on the middle floors of that wing that nothing
could
have been done, even if anyone had remembered him, as his room faced on to
the
inner garden which has been mentioned, so that he was completely cut off
from
all outside help. Besides, he was not even aware of his danger, for the
dense,
suffocating smoke had gradually so filled the room that his sleep had
grown
deeper and deeper till he was completely stupefied. In this state he was
discovered
by our Youngest, who, as you know, seems to be specially attracted
towards
children in need or danger. He first tried to make some of the people
outside
remember the lad, but in vain; and in any case no help could have been
given,
so that the Shepherd soon saw that nothing could be done in that way. He
then
materialised Cyril - as he has done before - in the lad's room, and set him
to
work to awaken and rouse up the more than half-stupefied child. After a good
deal
of difficulty this was accomplished to some extent, but the lad seems to
have
remained in a half-dazed, semi-conscious condition all through what
followed,
so that he needed to be pushed and pulled about, guided and helped at
every
turn.”
“The
two boys first crept out of the room into the central passage which ran
through
the wing, and then finding that the smoke and the flames beginning to
come
through the floor made it impassable, our little one got the other lad back
into
the room again and out of the window on to a stone ledge, about a foot
wide,
which ran right along the block just below the windows. Along this he
managed
to guide his companion, balancing himself half on the extreme edge of
the
ledge, and half walking on the air on the outside of the other, so keeping
him
from dizziness and preventing him from becoming afraid of a fall. On getting
near
the end of the block nearest the lake, in which direction the fire seemed
least
developed, they climbed in through an open window and again reached the
passage,
hoping to find the staircase at that end still passable. But it was too
full
of flame and smoke; so they crawled back along the passage, with their
mouths
close to the ground, till they reached the latticed cage of the lift
running
down the long well in the centre of the block. The lift of course was at
the
bottom, but they managed to clamber down the lattice work inside the cage
till
they stood on the roof of the elevator itself. Here they found themselves
blocked,
but luckily Cyril discovered a doorway opening from the cage of the
lift
on to a sort of entresol above the ground floor of the block. Through this
they
reached a passage, crossed it, half-stifled by the smoke, made their way
through
one of the rooms opposite, and finally, clambering out of the window,
found
themselves on the top of the verandah which ran all along in front of the
ground
floor, between it and the garden. Thence it was easy enough to swarm down
one
of the pillars and reach the garden itself; but even there the heat was
intense,
and the danger, when the walls should fall, very considerable. So the
two
lads tried to make their way round at the end first of one, then of the
other
wing; but in both cases the flame had burst through, the narrow overhung
passages
were quite impassable. Finally they took refuge in one of the pleasure
boats,
which were moored to the steps that led down from the sort of quay at the
edge
of the garden into the lake, and, casting loose, rowed out on to the
water.”
“Cyril
intended to row round past the burning wing, and land the lad whom he had
saved;
but when they got some little way out, they fell in with a passing lake
steamer,
and they were seen - for the whole scene was lit up by the glare of the
burning
hotel. till everything was as plain as in broad daylight. The steamer
came
alongside the boat to take them off; but instead of the two boys they had
seen,
found only one - for the Shepherd had promptly allowed our little one to
slip
back into his astral form, dissipating the denser matter which had made for
the
time a material body, and he was therefore invisible. A careful search was
made,
of course, but no trace could be found, and so it was concluded that the
second
boy must have fallen overboard and been drowned just as they came
alongside.
The lad who had been saved fell into a dead faint as soon as he had
been
got on board, so could give no information, and when he did recover, all he
could
say was that he had seen the other boy the moment before they got
alongside,
and then knew nothing more.”
“The
steamer was bound down the lake to a place some two days' sail distant, and
it
was a week or so before the rescued lad could be restored to his parents, who
of
course thought that he had perished in the flames; for though an effort was
made
to impress on their minds the fact that their son had been saved, it was
found
impossible to convey the idea to them.”
“That's
much more dramatic than my little story,” observed the Archivarius,
“though
my people were certainly quite as dense and unimpressible - more so,
indeed,
than the camels they were using as beasts of burden.”
“Stop”,
broke in the Marchesa, “we really must break up, or some one will go
unhelped
in reality, while we are telling stories of past incidents. So let us
leave
our Archivarius and the camels for a future occasion.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (4a)
first
printed Theosophical Review June 1898
v22 p364-368
“It
is all very well to talk about helping people out of their difficulties, but
they
are often very difficult to help,” quoth the Archivarius plaintively, when
the
friends gathered under a large tree in the garden, to which they had
adjourned
by unanimous consent for their summer symposia. “I had a curious
experience
the other night, in which, despairing of impressing the dense human
understandings,
I at last turned my attention to their camels, and succeeded
with
them while I had failed with their owners!”
“Tell
us, tell us!” cried the Youngest eagerly. “We don't often get an animal
story,
and yet there must be plenty of things that happen to them, if we only
knew.”
“Result
of Rudyard Kipling's Jungle books,” murmured the Shepherd sotto voce.
“He
will be looking for the grey wolf and the black panther on the astral
plane.”
“Well,
why not?” said the boy mischievously. “I am sure that you like some cats
better
than some humans.”
The
Shepherd smiled demurely. “We were talking about camels, I believe, not
cats.
Cats ‘are another story.’ Go on with yours, Archivarius,” said he.
“It
is a very little one,” answered the person appealed to, looking up from her
seat
on the grass. (The Archivarius was fond of sitting cross-legged like an
Indian.)
“I happened to be crossing some desert place, I don't know where, and
chanced
on a party of people who had lost their way, and were in terrible
distress
for want of water. The party consisted of three Englishmen and an
Englishwoman,
with servants, drivers and camels. I knew somehow that if they
would
travel in a certain direction they would come to an oasis with water, and
I
wanted to impress this idea on the mind of one of them; but they were in such
a
pitiable state of terror and despair that all my efforts were unsuccessful. I
first
tried the woman, who was praying wildly, but she was too frantic to reach;
her
mind was like a whirlpool, and it was impossible to get any definite thought
into
it.
‘Save
us, O God! O God! save us!’ she kept on wailing, but would not have
sufficient
faith to calm her mind and make it possible for help to reach her.
Then
I tried the men one after the other, but the Englishmen were too busy
making
wild suggestions, and the Mahommedan drivers too stolidly submissive to
fate,
for my thought to rouse their attention. In despair I tried the camels,
and
to my delight succeeded in impressing the animals with the sense of water in
their
neighbourhood. They began to show signs familiar to their drivers as
indicating
the presence of water in the vicinity, and at last I got the whole
caravan
started in the right direction. So much for human stolidity and animal
receptiveness.”
“The
lower forms of psychism,” remarked the Vagrant sententiously, “are more
frequent
in animals and in very unintelligent human beings than in men and women
in
whom the intellectual powers are well developed. They appear to be connected
with
the sympathetic system, not with the cerebro-spinal. The large nucleated
ganglionic
cells in this system contain a very large proportion of etheric
matter,
and are hence more easily affected by the coarser astral vibrations than
are
the cells in which the proportion is less. As the cerebro-spinal system
developes,
and the brain becomes more highly evolved, the sympathetic system
subsides
into a subordinate position, and the sensitiveness to psychic
vibrations
is dominated by the stronger and more active vibrations of the higher
nervous
system. It is true that at a later stage of evolution psychic
sensitiveness
reappears, but it is then developed in connection with the
cerebro-spinal
centres, and is brought under the control of the will. But the
hysterical
and ill-regulated psychism of which we see so many lamentable
examples
is due to the small development of the brain and the dominance of the
sympathetic
system.”
“That
is an ingenious and plausible theory,” remarked the Doctor, “and throws
light
on many singular and obscure cases. Is it a theory only, or is it founded
on
observation?” he asked.
“Well,
it is a theory founded on at present very inadequate observations,”
answered
the Vagrant. “The few observations made distinctly indicate this
explanation
of the physical basis of the lower and higher psychism, and it
tallies
with the facts observed as to the astral senses in animals and in human
beings
of low intellectual development, and also with the evolutionary relations
of
the two nervous systems. Both in the evolution of living things and in the
evolution
of the physical body of man, the sympathetic system precedes the
cerebro-spinal
in its activities and becomes subordinated to the latter in the
more
evolved condition.”
“That
is certainly so evolutionally and physiologically,” replied the Doctor
reflectively,
“and it may well be true when we come to deal with the astral
faculties
in relation to the physical basis through which they are manifested
down
here.”
“Speaking
of animals reminds me of nature-spirits,” said the Scholar, “for they
are
sometimes spoken of as the animals of the Deva evolution. I had a visit the
other
night from some jolly little fellows, who seemed inclined to be quite
friendly.
One was a little water elemental, a nice wet thing, but I am afraid I
frightened
him away, and I have not been able to find him since.”
“They
are naturally suspicious of human beings,” remarked the Shepherd, “we
being
such a destructive race; but it is quite possible to get into friendly
relations
with them.”
“Mediaeval
literature is full of stories about nature-spirits,” chimed in the
Abbé,
who had dropped in that evening on one of his rare visits to London. “We
find
them of all sorts - fairies and elves, friendly or mischievous, gnomes,
undines,
imps, and creatures of darker kinds, who take part in all sorts of
horrors.”
“It
was a strange idea,” mused the Vagrant, “that which represented them as
irresponsible
beings without souls, but capable of acquiring immortality through
the
mediation of man. Our Maiden Aunt sent me a charming story the other day
from
Jacob Grimm's Deutsche Mythologie about one of the water-sprites. Speaking
of
the offerings made to them by men, he writes: ‘Although Christianity forbade
such
offerings and represented the old water-sprites as devilish beings, the
people
nevertheless retained a certain fear and reverence for them, and indeed
have
not yet given up all belief in their power and influence: they deem them
unholy
(unselige) beings, but such as may some day be partakers in salvation. To
this
state of feeling belongs the touching legend that the water-sprite, or
Neck,
not only requires an offering for his instructions in music, but a promise
of
resurrection and redemption. Two boys were playing by a stream; the Neck sat
and
played on his harp; the children cried to him; "Neck! why dost thou sit
there
and play? Thou canst not be saved." Then the Neck began to weep bitterly,
threw
away his harp, and sank into the deep water. When the children came home,
they
told their father, who was a priest, what had happened. The father said
"Ye
have
sinned against the Neck; go back, comfort him, and promise him
redemption."
When
they returned to the stream, the Neck was sitting on the bank, moaning and
weeping.
The children said: "Weep not so, Neck; our father has said that thy
Redeemer
also liveth." Then the Neck joyfully took his harp and played sweetly
till
long after sunset.’ Thus runs the tale.”
“That
was a very easy way of saving him; generally one was expected to marry the
sprite,”
remarked the Abbé ruefully, as though recalling some uncanny mediaeval
experience.
“One had to accept purgatory here in order to gain for the creature
entrance
into paradise hereafter.”
A
burst of laughter greeted this pathetic utterance, and some of the mediaeval
ideas
still persist; in a letter from Italy received the other day the following
curious
account is given: ‘At a village called Gerano, near Tivoli, about
seventeen
miles from Rome, it is the custom of the wet-nurses, especially on the
Eve
of St John, to strew salt on the pathway leading to their houses, and to
place
two new besoms in the form of a cross on the threshold, in the belief that
they
thus are protecting their nurslings from the power of witches. It is
believed
that the witches must count every grain of salt and every hair or stick
in
the brooms before they are able to enter the houses, and this labour must be
finished
before sunrise; after that time they are powerless to inflict any evil
upon
the children. In the Marche near Ancona on the shores of the Adriatic, it
is
considered necessary at all times - so I am told by the portress here, who is
a
native of that part - where there are children at the breast, never to be
without
salt or leaven in the house. Further, they must not leave the children's
clothes
or swathingbands out to dry after sunset, and should they be obliged to
take
them out after that time they must be careful to walk with them close to
the
houses, under the shadow of the eaves, and if crossing an open place to do
so
as quickly as possible; these precautions are also against witches. I was
also
told by the portress that one day her mother, after having washed and
swaddled
a little brother, laid him on the bed, and left the house for a short
time
on an errand to one of the shops near. On returning she found the house
door
open (this formed an angular space behind it), and on going to the bed she
found
it vacant. This did not at first alarm her, as she thought a neighbour had
possibly
heard the child cry, and had taken it into her house. On enquiry,
however,
no one had seen it or heard it cry, and this caused alarm and search.
After
some time the mother, on closing the door, found the child on the floor,
face
downwards, and almost black with suffocation; you may imagine the
consternation.
The fact was attributed to witches, and the sister says that
during
the whole of his life - which ended in decline when he was about
twenty-seven
- he was always unfortunate.’
“Poor
witches! they have been the scapegoats of human ignorance and fear from
time
immemorial,” commented the Doctor. “It is well for many of our mesmerists
and
mediums that they live in the nineteenth century. But it is quite possible
that
we may see a modern witchcraft scare, if occult forces become known and any
of
them are used malignly.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (1)
first
printed in The Theosophist, April, 1909, p78-84
A
mighty banyan-tree, spreading level branches far and wide, and roots
down-dropping,
fixed pillar-wise in earth. Plants of variegated foliage, grouped
together
here and there, breaking the smooth expanse of sand. A sago-palm,
rearing
lofty head, with heavy tassels swinging slowly in the sea-breeze of the
evening.
A blue-black sky above, with heaven's eyes glancing downwards through
the
leaves, with a brilliance unknown to the dusky twilights of the northern
island
far away. A crescent moon, gleaming like a silver scimitar in the zenith.
A
soft pulse beating in the near distance, the pulse of a quiet sea. Close by, a
lapping
of water against a shelving bank. Sometimes the click of a lizard, the
heavy
beating of droning wings. Over all, through all, the incomparable magic of
the
East.
The
circle has links with earlier twilight hours. The Shepherd is there,
meditative,
smiling, slow-moving, gentle, as of old. The Vagrant, too, has
journeyed
hither, vagrant all the worlds over, it would seem. The rest are
new-comers
to the Twilight Hour, but will introduce themselves as time goes on.
zzzzzzz
The
Vagrant threw the first ball: “There will be a regular outcry among some of
our
members when they see that the Twilight Hour has again daw ... no, twilight
does
not dawn; let us say, struck. ‘There!’ they will say; ‘we told you so! the
reign
of psychism has begun’. I wonder why people, who use physical brains and
senses
as a vehicle for their intelligence, throw so much cold water on the use
of
a somewhat finer brain and senses for the same intelligence, and why they
object
to the study of the astral world while they applaud that of the physical.
We
all, without exception, have to go into the astral world a few years hence.
It
does not seem unreasonable that we should acquaint ourselves with it
beforehand.”
“Yes,”
mused the Shepherd. “If one is going to India, one enquires about
suitable
clothes, visits an outfitter, buys a map, perhaps even tries to learn a
little
of the language, and that is called ‘making reasonable arrangements.’ Why
should
the ‘land on the other side of death’ be the only one about which it is
better
to remain ignorant until we reach it?”
“But
people ask: What is the practical use of such knowledge?” said the Lawyer.
“They
are afraid that it may turn away our minds from the deeper side of
spiritual
truths.”
“It
should not do so,” opined the Vagrant, “for it ever proclaims the great law:
‘As
a man soweth, so shall he reap.’ The student of life-conditions on the other
wide
is being ever reminded that this law is still operative in the worlds
beyond
death, and that much that we sow here is reaped there. It makes belief in
karma
and re-incarnation strong and firm. All religious teachers have insisted
on
the relation of heaven and hell to the life led upon earth, and their
insistence
must have been, presumably, based on their first-hand knowledge that
such
states existed; moreover, many of them go into considerable detail in
dealing
with the subject. Our objectors are in the curious position of
reverencing
the Sages of the past, who included in their teachings an exposition
of
these matters based on their own investigations, and of denouncing all who,
in
modern days, venture humbly to tread in their steps. Unless we are content
with
second-hand knowledge, we must either follow their example and investigate,
or
fall back on the much more undesirable methods of the séance-room.”
“Some
people say that such knowledge does not prove that the man possessing it
is
of high character,” remarked the Magian.
“Nor
does the fact that a man is a fine chemist prove that he is a
philanthropist,”
replied the Vagrant; “yet chemistry is none the less a valuable
addition
to human knowledge. It may, however, be said that personal
investigations
into after-death states must inevitably re-act in the
purification
of character here, for no one who has seen the results of evil
there
will lightly commit it here. I remember a striking illustration of such
results,
though that was not a case of investigation, but occurred at a
spiritualistic
séance ...”
“Oh!
a story, a story,” cried several voices, and there was a little rustling of
expectation,
while the large eyes of the Fiddler grew intent and serious.
“Yes,
a story,” smiled the Vagrant. “The Shepherd and I, once upon a time, went
to
a séance, at which a very small number of people, much given to such
researches,
were present, with a powerful medium. Almost immediately after the
turning
down of the lights, some rather violent physical manifestations began;
attempts
were made to pull away chairs from under the sitters, a lady was
violently
shaken, and so on. Needless to say, we were left undisturbed, but we
became
alertly attentive, presaging trouble. Presently, there broke into the
silence
a sound of wailing, indescribably painful, cries, sobs, as of some one
in
deadly terror, and then the unhappy creature from whom they proceeded was
materialised.
In ecstasies of fear, she crouched beside a lady who was one of
the
sitters, pressing up against her, seeking refuge, with piteous moans and
strangled
whispers: ‘Save me! save me!’ The cause of her terror soon appeared on
the
scene, a huge, dark gorilla-like form, monstrous of shape and menacing of
mien,
instinct with a cold and cruel malignancy, and with a certain horrid glee
-
too wicked to be joy - in seeing the agonised writhings of his helpless
victim.
An auric shield of protection was hastily thrown round the latter, the
lady-sitter
withdrew, considerably shaken and upset, and the gorilla threw
itself
furiously on the medium, flinging away his chair and hurling him to the
ground;
indeed only the protection of the Shepherd rescued him from a
catastrophe,
while I turned up the light. That night we sought the unhappy
woman,
and found her still fleeing before her horrible tormentor, who, mouthing
and
growling, pursued her through the murky gloom of the lowest worlds. Swift
action
scattered the malignant thought-forces embodied in the frightful
creature,
and his hunted prey sobbed herself to quietude.”
“But
what was the cause of it?” asked the Painter.
“She
had been a woman of evil life, taking delight in arousing the animal
passions
of men, and then setting her suitors the one against the other,
laughing
at their torments, when, tired of them, she flung them off, finding
only
enjoyment in their pain and their misery. More than one had died because of
her,
by duel or by his own hand, raving against her treachery and her cruelty.
All
their anger, their hatred, their longing to be revenged, had become embodied
in
this hateful form, bestial because it had grown out of bestial relations.”
“But
was this the embodiment of any of these people?” queried the Lawyer,
puzzled.
“For if so, was it right to destroy it?”
“It
was only an artificial elemental,” said the Shepherd. “You see, all these
thoughts
of hatred and revenge became aggregated into one horrible form; it was
not
a normal living creature, which it would have been illegitimate to kill,
however
objectionable it might have been, but a thought-form, with no life
outside
the thoughts which made it, and the sooner those were scattered and
reduced
to their separate being as thoughts related to their generators, mere
skandhas,
the better for all the parties concerned.”
“Is
it not rather dangerous to attend séances, if things like this are to be met
there?”
asked a dubious voice.
“Such
very unpleasant entities are not common,” said the Shepherd consolingly.
“But,
you are right; attending séances is dangerous for the great majority of
people,
and I think it would be well that you should understand these dangers.
They
are more important for the westerns among you than for the Indians, who
have
very wisely kept entirely away from such things, since they have, as a
rule,
no doubts as to the continuance of life after death.”
“Tell
us! tell us!” came in chorus.
The
Shepherd settled himself comfortably for a long discourse. “Well, it is this
way,”
he began. “But I ought to say first that in the West, where materialism
was
triumphant, Spiritualism has done a great work in rescuing millions of men
and
women from disbelief in immortality. It has many and great dangers, but the
good
which it has done, in my personal opinion, far outweighs the harm, for it
offered
the only proofs materialists would accept that a man was alive after he
was
called dead; and that is a fact we should never forget, however much we may
prefer
our own system.”
“The
fact that it was started by a Lodge of Occultists, who are in relation, to
some
extent, with the Great Lodge, as a weapon against materialism,” said the
Vagrant,
“implies that it would do more good than harm. You might just mention
that.”
“Yes.
An old Atlantean Lodge, in Mexico, which owes allegiance to the White
Lodge,
while going along its own lines, was the originator of modern
Spiritualism.
Seeing that while some could be convinced of immortality by
intellectual
means, others could only be affected through the senses, these
Occultists
resolved to help the latter class, which was becoming more and more
numerous
in the West. Personally, I regard the intellectual proof as the most
convincing,
but others can feel sure of the survival of their loved and lost
only
if they can see a tangible form, or hear an audible voice. The majority of
people
in the West, at the present stage of evolution, cannot grasp theosophical
teachings,
and for them the spiritualistic proofs of continued life and progress
after
death are valuable, especially in cases where materialistic teachings have
weakened
religious beliefs.”
“Well,
the greatest danger in attending séances is really that of believing too
much.
The sceptic goes, finds overwhelming proof of the survival of a dead
friend,
and is apt to become suddenly credulous, so that such attendance makes
for
superstition. But that which is more commonly regarded as the greatest
danger
is that of obsession and haunting. This often begins at a séance. At a
séance
a person called a ‘medium’ is present, one whose bodies are somewhat
loosely
linked together; normally, a person who is living in the physical body
can
neither see nor hear a person whose lowest vehicle is an astral body, nor
can
the latter see or hear the other; with the help of the medium's peculiar
characteristics,
they can be brought into touch. There are three ways - apart
from
telepathy - in which the ‘living’ and the ‘dead’ communicate; first, when
you
go to sleep, you go into the astral world, and may communicate freely with
your
friends, but on your return, when you wake, you do not as a rule remember.
Then,
the ‘dead’ may appear, drawing material from a medium, and building it
into
their own bodies, and thus ‘materialising’, becoming visible and tangible;
or
they may speak through the medium, who is in a state of trance, or write
through
him, awake or entranced wholly or partially. In this case, what is said
is
much affected by the medium and his limitations, and speech may be
ungrammatical
and clumsy, though in some cases this is not so. Mediums - though
with
some marked exceptions - are drawn from the illiterate classes, and they
are
often re-incarnations from undeveloped races or types - Negroes who had been
students
of Voodoo and Obea, Middle Age witches, and the like.”
“Might
not the vestal virgins of old temples re-incarnate as mediums?” said the
Scholar
(not the Scholar of the earlier series.)
“They
were people of higher types, as a rule,” answered the Shepherd. “But those
who
were habitually thrown into trances or paroxysms by drugs might thus
return.”
“Are
all uneducated?” asked the Lawyer.
“No,
but most of them are, especially those who are paid. Mediums of a higher
class
generally restrict their work to small and carefully chosen private
circles.
Next, we must ask: who, from the other side, are likely to use mediums?
Obviously
those who are nearest to the earth, not in place, but in density. And
these
are mostly undesirables, frantically eager to come into touch with the
world
which they have left, and grasping at every chance. If a man were bound
hand
and foot and left in one of the worst slums, he would be more likely to be
found
by a thief than by a philanthropist. A medium is in that position, and the
evil
would be almost unmitigated, were it not for the ‘spirit-guide’, who tries
to
protect the medium and to keep off the worst types. Of course, these
unfortunate
beings, murderers, suicides, criminals of all sorts, ought to be
helped,
but the séance is not the place for helping them. The sitters there are
begged
to be passive, negative, and hence are very easily taken hold of.
Moreover,
this condition of passivity is physically harmful, for matter is drawn
from
all of them. I once had a medium on a weighing-machine during some
materialisations,
and on one occasion it showed a loss of weight by the medium
amounting
to 44 lbs. I have seen a man shrink till he looked a boy, with his
clothes
hanging loose. Naturally, such conditions are followed by frightful
exhaustion,
and the unhappy victim often takes to heavy drinking in order to
recover.
This, again, re-acts, and encourages the lowest types of obsessing
entities.”
“Would
not physical matter thus drawn away be returned polluted?” asked the
Epistemologist.
“Most
certainly, and both the medium and the sitters suffer in this way.
Moreover,
the low-class entities who throng séances make desperate efforts to
seize
on the sitters, taking advantage of any weak points.”
“What
sort of weak points?” queried the Youth.
“Nervous
overstrain, or strong passions, such as violent temper or hysteria. And
even
if the sitter be too strong to be obsessed, the entity may follow him home,
and
seize on any weak member of his family. Fortunately, India is almost free
from
these séances, and, even if they come in your way, you should not go to
them;
the dangers are too great. It is only worth while to face these dangers if
you
are a materialist, and do not believe that personal life persists on the
other
wide of death. For you must remember that you cannot protect yourself
against
these dangers as can the trained student. Moreover, you are very likely
to
be deceived; unless you have studied Occultism you cannot distinguish whether
the
entity is what he pretends to be or not; any thing you know, he can read
from
your mind, or he may read from the empty shell of a friend who has gone on.
Sometimes
deception is done with good intent, as when a man in the astral world
saved
a broken-hearted mother from madness by pretending to be her child, and
justified
the deception as on a par with promising anything to a delirious
patient.
I have said nothing as to the harm done to many of the ‘dead’, by
encouraging
them to remain mixed up in earthly matters, when they should be
better
employed, but reasons enough are given for not going to séances. Thus if
we
desire information we are driven back upon the writings of the ancient or
modern
investigators.”
“Can
any instance be given of the way in which harm is done to the dead?” asked
the
Enquirer.
“The
way now must be bedwards, please,” interposed the Vagrant; and with that
the
company parted.
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (2)
first
printed in The Theosophist, May, 1909, p193-198
Said
the Vagrant: “The Fiddler has had some very beautiful experiences, which
would
interest all of you. The delicate nervous organisation of a fine artist is
an
instrument on which vibrations from higher planes can readily play, and in
this
case we have a very beautiful fiddle - it would sound more dignified to say
violin,
or even lyre, Apollo's lyre - in the organism of our dear Fiddler. But
let
her speak for herself.”
The
Fiddler began reading:
“When
I was a child I once dreamed that I was shot out into space, as it were,
and
found myself utterly alone in a terrible black void. I seemed to have a
footing
on something like the summit of a pillar, but I could see nothing
anywhere,
and the darkness pressed upon me like a terrible black pall. Straining
every
nerve to see, I peered in an upward direction into the void. It might have
been
up or down for all I could discern, for the blackness was everywhere the
same.
Presently a faint greyness appeared far above me, standing out clear in
the
surrounding blankness. As I fixed my gaze upon it, it seemed as if some
clouds
rolled back, revealing clearer mists within. Through their transparency,
gliding
backwards and forwards, were white radiant figures of unearthly beauty
and
light. As I yearned outwards to them, they too vanished like the grey mist,
and
a deep blue space broke the blackness of that awful void. There, leaning
out,
bending towards me, a divine Figure was revealed. That man seemed to embody
living
light and color, but I could not describe Him. Words are so helplessly
inadequate.
Fixing my eyes with a tenderness that seemed to dissolve the very
roots
of my being, He beckoned to me thrice silently. Then that wonder was
veiled
again behind the gliding shining ones, and they again enveloped in cloud,
and
all was darkness once more, only with peace instead of terror, Then I awoke.
That
was long before I came into Theosophy - in this incarnation.”
“Did
you ever see that vision again?” asked a voice.
“Not
quite like that. I do not know who he is, but some one, and some one great
in
holiness and power, seems to be near me at times in a way I cannot exactly
describe.
I call him ‘The Warner’. I have seen him under every possible
condition:
suspended in midair, emerging from walls and ceilings and floors, at
night,
in broad noon-day, in sickness, in health.”
“But
why that curious name?”
“Oh!
because he nearly always appears when I am in some kind of danger, and the
sight
of that face always brings me to my stronger self with a rush. Sometimes I
see
the whole figure, sometimes only head and shoulders, sometimes, even, just
that
part of the face about the eyes. What eyes! grey-blue, lightsome depths.
His
expression is as that of a young man ages old. Often I have seen him in
mid-air
in big halls and theatres in America and elsewhere, and then it was
always
easier to touch my audiences through the power he gave.”
The
Scholar: “It must be a thought-form suggested by that vision.”
“Perhaps.
I thought so too, for years. But lately I have had cause to think
otherwise.
Two years ago my brother left Balliol and came out to India. At that
time
‘The Warner’ was my daily companion, if one may call such a strange elusive
visitant
by such a name. I began to see the face more clearly. Before I only
used
to see something resembling a dark outline against a flash of brilliant
light.
But now the coloring became fairly clear, and I was not a little
surprised
to see a fair skin - like that, say, of an Italian; hair with a touch
of
gold (or wholly golden, I cannot say which), and falling in long ringlets,
when
it was visible; a tall slender figure, exquisitely poised - the shoulders,
slight
but square and strong, and the long delicate hands especially struck me -
garbed
in a flowing greyish robe, seamless on the shoulders, with long loose
sleeves
and reaching nearly to the feet, underneath which there was the
suggestion
of a white linen garment. Sometimes the head was covered - more often
than
not - with a dull cloth that rolled back in a narrow coil low down over the
brows,
and hung loose on the shoulders, throwing into clearer relief the long
sharp
nose, delicate nostrils, the strong, tender, firm-held mouth, and the
beard
which scarce concealed the power of the chin beneath. I was puzzled. In my
ignorance
I had believed - never having visited India - that there were no
Indians
with fair skin, blue-grey eyes, and golden hair. In fact, I had for
years
daily and deliberately imaged my ‘Warner’ as dark-skinned, dark-eyed, and
black-haired.
So it seems as if the thought-form explanation would not fit the
facts,
for when I began to see more clearly, the image I had built so long and
so
ardently was absolutely contradicted, even to the queer roll on the turban. I
wrote
off to my brother, asking him to tell me if there were by any chance
persons
answering to that description in India. ‘Yes’, he answered, ‘Prince
-----,
who is staying with us just now, tells me that yours is an exact
description
of a Kashmîri Brâhmana.’”
“But
the description does not fit the only Kashmîri Brâhmana among the Masters”,
remarked
the Vagrant. “It seems to me,” she went on, turning to the Shepherd,
“that
it is a good description of the Master S. His hair is of pure gold, and He
has
that extraordinarily clear-cut face, ascetic-looking. He was the One who
came
so often during the last days of the President-Founder.”
“Yes”,
assented the Shepherd, “it might very well be He. And the turban seems
more
like the Arab head-dress than the Indian turban.”
“Like
this?” said the Maratha, twisting a cloth round his forehead.
“Yes,
just that”, answered the Fiddler. “I have never seen one like it in India.
Well,
the visits continued till I came out here. Now I see him sometimes, in the
cocoa-nut
grove at sunset, especially, but not as then. I have seen ‘The Warner’
in
another way. I have an old faded picture of another, which came into my hands
years
ago. I am very fond of that picture, but it bears no likeness to the One I
see,
except, as it were, a general similarity of type. One can imagine almost
anything
with a photograph and half-shut eyes, so I used not to be surprised to
see
my ‘Warner’ looking out at me, sometimes, from this picture. But one night,
some
two years ago, I found that it might not be all imagination, as I had
believed.
I was writing something - a defence of a friend against people who had
said
most bitter things; trying to write impersonally, above the turmoil of
dispute,
and my own hot feelings would come between me and the piece of work to
be
done.
At
last, after laboring for days and getting no further, I sat down in my room
one
night before retiring to sleep, and took out the old picture and gazed at it
with
an intense half-despairing wish to see things from the nobler viewpoint.
Now,
I was not trying to see my Warner in the picture. I was looking at it in
full
lamplight with wide-open eyes, and I was far too engrossed in painful,
vivid
thoughts, to indulge in dreams and fancies. Suddenly the picture changed;
the
rather full cheeks became hollow, the forehead assumed the magnificent upper
development
of the wellknown face, the beard thinned, the mouth, too, became cut
in
those exquisite fine lines, chiselled but tender - and the eyes began to
lighten
and flame, until my own, rivetted upon them, could bear their intensity
no
longer. They had become as miniature suns, and I could have gazed at the sun
itself
more easily than have kept my eyes upon them. I looked away,
conscience-stricken.
As usual, He had brought me to my better self - this time,
by
sternness. I sat thinking of the face - looking rather, at its impression on
my
mind. It was awful in power. The expression in those eyes was of oceans and
worlds
and living infinitudes of knowledge - ripe, immediate, and commanding. I
turned
again to the picture - the Warner had gone?”
“Very
strange”, remarked the Enquirer.
“But
practical. I wrote that article,” said the Fiddler.
“Have
you seen other such figures?” asked the Lawyer with interest.
“Yes,
there are others. Once at a sermon of the Rev. RJ Campbell, at the City
Temple,
there was a great rushing air-like movement in the body of the hall, and
then
I saw, faintly outlined, One standing behind him on the left side. It
happened
at the beginning of his sermon. He preached magnificently. Once when
our
President was lecturing in London she was very tired. I had never heard her
in
such bad form. She struggled on for some ten minutes or so, and then quite
suddenly,
with that kind of ‘swirl’ in the atmosphere that accompanies these
things,
a great white light appeared behind her, on the left side, a little
uplifted
from the ground, and in the centre a figure, the outlines of which were
most
lovely and imposing, but more than that I cannot describe, as the
brilliancy
of the light made the form appear like a dark outline against it. The
speaker
stopped short, half hesitated, and leaned slightly back, as if listening
for
something” -
“Very
unusual for our Lady”, smiled the Shepherd.
“Yes,
that is the interesting part of it. Then her voice completely changed; she
took
up the thread in a mood as certain, calm, and exalted, as the other had
been
tired, forced, and uninspiring, and - well, were you at that lecture?”
“No.”
“Many
said that it seemed as if Jesus Himself had spoken through her. The
listeners
were more than moved. They were carried right into the presence of the
Master,
and the whole wretched tangle of all that had happened since He was
withdrawn
from amongst us seemed like a forgotten nightmare. There were many
weary,
hardened men and women of the world who saw nothing, but who yet will
never
forget the power that spoke in their hearts that night. But - was He not
there?”
“Very
likely”, said the Shepherd, as the Vagrant remained silent. “I remember a
lecture
- one of those on Esoteric Christianity, in which the Master Jesus came,
and
stood behind the lecturer, enveloping her with His aura. There was a curious
incident
connected with that; the Archivarius1 was sitting near the lecturer,
and
she was conscious of the Presence but did not clearly see the Figure;
however,
she saw clearly, and described with perfect accuracy, the Greek pattern
embroidered
along the hem of His garment - a partial vision which seemed to me
curious
and unusual. Seeing that so clearly, why did she not see the rest?”
As,
naturally, no one answered the question, the Fiddler resumed:
“There
were several of these Shining Ones at another lecture in the large
Queen's
Hall. You can always tell when They come. The air is charged with force,
and
enthusiasm reigns. It is not what one sees in these visions that makes them
so
much more real than ordinary life. It is the peace and love and joy with
which
they suffuse the soul. They melt the ‘stone in the heart’.”
“Tell
us what you feel on these occasions,” urged the Youth.
The
Vagrant smiled at him: “It is not so easy to say, and it is not always the
same.
Sometimes, I am conscious only of an enveloping Presence, that of my own
Master
- blessed be He - which raises my normal consciousness to an abnormal
level,
so that although it is wholly ‘I’ who am speaking, it is a bigger ‘I’
than
my small daily affair. At other times, thoughts seem to be poured into me
by
Him, and I consciously use them, knowing they are not mine. Sometimes, when
the
Master KH utilises me, I find myself full of beautiful imagery, metaphors,
curiously
musical and rhythmical phrasings, whereas the influence of my own
Master
induces weighty, terse, impressive speech. Occasionally, but very rarely,
I
step out and He steps in, for a few sentences, but then the voice changes, so
that
the change of speaker is perceptible; on those occasions, I stand outside
and
admire! I remember that on the occasion referred to of the Presence of the
Master
Jesus, I was not quite at ease at first, as His influence was new to me,
and
I had to grope a little at first to catch His indications. But there!”
concluded
the Vagrant, laughing, “audiences have very little idea what queer
things
are going on upon the platform sometimes right before their eyes.”
“As
it has come to this, I may as well put in another strange thing of a similar
nature
I saw,” said the Magian. “It was when the same speaker was lecturing on
the
‘Pedigree of Ma?’. Of course there was some great Presence, there is no
doubt
as to that; but the strangeness comes in here - the feeling was not so
much
that of peace and joy and uplifting that I have often felt, but an
intellectual
enlightenment that beggars description. The only theosophical book
I
had tackled was The Secret Doctrine and I enjoyed it often, but during the
lectures
it became so illuminating, things became so clear, so simple; but after
a
week it was different; then there were certain descriptions, like the
formation
of globe D - our earth - etc., etc., which were simply magnificent in
their
vividness. During such descriptions I noticed that the lecturer was gazing
in
a peculiar manner into empty space, but I felt sure she was observing
something.
I heard her say, some time ago, that during that course the Master
presented
before her astral pictures, looking at which she went on lecturing,
and
that without them the series would not have attained the great success it
did.”
Anon 1. One of the group who talked in the old Twilight.
END
-------
In the Twilight (3)
first
printed in The Theosophist, June, 1909, p359-366
“The
following details of a somewhat strange phenomenon were related to me by an
eyewitness,”
said the Superintendent. “During the Brahmotsavam festival about
thirty
years ago a certain Sannyasî was staying near the Ekambareshvara Tank at
Conjivaram.
His manner of living and the wisdom of his speech attracted crowds
of
hearers, and even Brâhmanas of great learning were often to be seen among his
audience.
One day the conversation turned upon the subject of the lower classes
in
attitude
of the Brâhmanas towards other castes. This caused great offence to the
Brâhmanas
present, and they spoke very insultingly to the Sannyasî. For some
time
he remained silent, and they, misunderstanding this, became more and more
abusive
and aggressive. At last the Yogî, feeling the situation impossible,
determined
to put an end to it. Seeing a child of about five standing near, he
called
him, gave him a banana and made friends with him. In a few minutes the
little
boy assumed an appearance of great brightness and intelligence, and began
to
speak in Sanskrit - a language which of course he had never learned. The Yogî
turned
to the Brâmanas, and said: ‘Gentlemen, you are dissatisfied with what I
have
said to you; instead of speaking further to me, put all your questions to
this
child. He will answer you fully, quoting appropriate texts from the
scriptures
whenever necessary.’ The incredulous pandits showered questions upon
the
boy, but as quickly as they could ask came replies that confounded them by
the
depth of thought and knowledge of the sacred books which they displayed.
Finally
the Brâhmanas prostrated themselves before the Sannyasî and begged him
to
pardon their rudeness, and departed to their homes sadder and wiser men.”
“Is
such a thing as that really possible?” enquired the Fiddler.
“Oh
yes,” replied the Shepherd, “there are several ways in which it might have
been
done. We are not told what the Yogî was doing while the child was speaking;
if
we knew that, it would help us to decide which method he employed. He may
simply
have hypnotised the boy, and so made him speak whatever he wished.”
“But
no passes of any kind were used; I particularly enquired about that from my
friend
who told me the story,” objected the Superintendent.
“That
would be quite unnecessary,” answered the Shepherd; “The Yogî gave a
banana
to the child, and that might easily have been the vehicle for any amount
of
influence. A little child, too, would have less will-power to resist than a
grown
man. But the Sannyasî may not have employed hypnotism at all; he may have
used
the boy as a medium or mouth-piece, and spoken through him himself. In that
case
he would be unable simultaneously to speak through his own body, and it
must
have appeared as though in deep meditation. I should think that that is
most
likely what he did. But if he were active and speaking in his own body at
the
same moment as the boy spoke, we should have to assume that some one else
controlled
the child-body. That also could quite easily be arranged; any dead
pandit
could do it, if the boy had been thrown by the Yogî into a passive and
mediumistic
state. I myself once saw a baby about twelve months old take up a
pencil
and write while its mother held it in her arms - write an intelligible
sentence
in a clear and legible hand. Of course that was a case of mediumship;
the
mother herself was a well-known medium. But it is a phenomenon of somewhat
the
same nature as that described by our friend.”
“Talking
about hauntings” said Chitra, “I can tell you of a rather curious case
where
the people who haunted a house are still living, instead of long dead, as
is
usual.”
“Some
years ago after an illness caused by overwork I spent a few weeks with
some
friends in order to regain strength. Their home was a large brick house
built
by an old retired admiral; its long passages all communicated with each
other
and were made as much like the alley-ways of a ship as was possible.”
“I
occupied a bedroom the door of which was directly opposite that of the large
dining-room,
a passage running between. A door at the end of this passage and in
the
same wall as my bedroom window opened out on to a verandah, so when we all
retired
for the night I was practically alone at that corner of the house. My
room
was comfortable, its atmosphere peaceful, and I grew well and strong. The
fact
that I had no one near me did not disturb me at all, as I am not in the
least
nervous. I slept the deep sleep of the convalescent and knew naught of the
night.”
“A
year or so after this my hostess with her husband and children visited
England
partly for her health; and while away they let their home furnished to a
young
couple who appeared in every way desirable and were reputed wealthy. My
friends
returned in a year, the lady very much worse in health than when she
left
home. For months she hovered betwixt life and death and no one was allowed
to
see her. As soon as I might, I called to see her, and it happened that I took
with
me a friend. When we came out of the house this friend, who was somewhat
sensitive,
exclaimed at the dreadful psychic atmosphere she had felt there, and
expressed
the wish that I had not promised to go and spend some days there. I,
thinking
the oppression which I also had felt was due to the illness of the
hostess,
laughed at my friend's fears and in due course went to pay my visit.”
“It
was early summer and still cold, so night after night we sat round the
dining-room
fire, ensconced in big cushioned armchairs. The first evening while
we
were sitting thus, I was considerably disturbed by a feeling that something
was
fighting at the further end of the room, behind me. I could see nothing, and
the
sound was scarcely physical; it was as though shadows were scuffling and
fighting.
I said nothing, and I did not care to attract attention by repeatedly
looking
round, so I read on till we retired for the night. I had scarcely closed
my
bedroom door when I knew I had company, shadowy company, silent and yet in a
certain
way noisy. There was a sound as though an unseen riding-whip of hard
leather
tapped against the door; it seemed as if it might be hanging from an
invisible
nail on the upper part. The venetian blinds rapped sharply upon the
window-frames,
though there was no breeze; and while doing my hair I was patted
and
lightly slapped more than once. I examined the door; there was no mark of a
nail,
and all was newly painted and varnished. I examined the blinds; there was
nothing
to cause a movement. I smiled to myself and, addressing my unseen
companions,
said ‘I wish you would be quiet and let me go to bed.’”
“Into
bed I stepped, extinguishing my light and drawing up the bed-clothes.
Flop!
came something on my feet; ‘A cat,’ thought I. I struck a light and
looked;
no cat, no anything!”
“‘Humph!’
I said. I put out my light and lay down again; at once flop! came
something
on my feet once more. Again I struck a light and looked; nothing was
there,
but there seemed to be a depression as if a cat had lain there. I passed
my
hand over the place, but felt nothing, and indeed I knew there was neither
cat
nor dog in the house. I lay down to sleep again, but was several times
pushed
and touched before I succeeded.”
“In
the dining room the next evening I again felt and heard the shadowy scuffle,
and
looking round saw two light, mist-like and semi-transparent forms at the
further
end of the table apparently fighting. I somehow knew they were a man and
a
woman, but how I knew I do not understand, for they were simply mist-wraiths.
I
said nothing to anyone, as I was afraid of disturbing my hostess, whose nerves
were
still greatly unstrung, and had I told my host he would assuredly have
thought
I was going out of my mind.”
“On
retiring to my room the next evening the same phenomena occurred and I began
to
feel decidedly uneasy, as I could in no way account for them. Again the
invisible
whip tapped on the door, again I was patted and pushed, and again flop
went
something on the foot of my bed when I lay down. Once more I relighted
candle,
and felt over the place where I saw the depression, and as usual found
nothing,
so I slept a broken sleep, being frequently disturbed and touched.”
“On
the third night while reading before the fire I again felt and heard the
phantom
fight and as I left the room after saying goodnight, I distinctly felt
something
walking beside me. It breathed a warm breath full of the odour of
port-wine
on my neck and cheek, and I felt sick. It entered the bedroom with me
and
disturbed the whole atmosphere; again things were moved and I was patted and
pushed.
I sat on the edge of the bed laughing uneasily and with decidedly
quickened
heart-beats, and was lifting my feet up towards the bed when over my
bare
left foot glided something that felt soft, plush-like and boneless. I
laughed
aloud, all fear gone, and said: ‘You little creatures, I wish you would
be
quiet and let me sleep!’ I saw nothing, but the touch was not unpleasant and
I
felt sure it was only a tricky little elemental. This time when the flop came
on
my feet I sat up without a light and felt the bed, but of course nothing was
there,
and that night I slept well.”
“Next
afternoon I told my friend, and as soon as I asked ‘What is there in this
dining-room
that we cannot see?’ she said ‘Hush! don't let my younger daughter
hear
you; she will never come into this room or your bedroom alone if she can
help
it even in the daylight, and we are trying to laugh and talk her out of her
fears.’”
“I
then related the whole thing, and asked: ‘Who was in this house while you
were
away?’”
“‘Well,
this is strange,’ was the answer; ‘we let the house to a very
fine-looking
young couple whom we thought were all that could be desired. They
seem
to have lived only in this room and your bedroom. They fought nightly, and
moreover
they left the ewer in the bedroom half-full of port-wine, which was
still
there when we returned. My daughter senses the fighting and I do not know
what
else, but we have discouraged her and tried to cure her of her ideas, so
please
say nothing about it to any of the others.’”
“I
did not, and as I have never asked permission to tell the story I have
suppressed
all names. I am certain there was nothing of the kind there on my
former
visits, and I always had the same bedroom. As far as we know, the young
couple
who are the cause of all this are still alive and, I think, in England.
They
are still quite young.”
“But,”
exclaimed the Painter excitedly, “how is it possible that people still
living
can haunt a place?”
“They
don't,” replied the Shepherd placidly. “That is not a case of haunting in
the
ordinary sense of the word, though as far as the discomfort to sensitive
visitors
is concerned it comes to much the same thing. There are instances of
real
haunting by a living person, but that is not one of them.”
“Then
what was it that happened?” said the Painter.
“Evidently
the squabbling of that unfortunate young couple had produced a strong
impression
upon the astral matter there, and that impression was still clear
enough
to be perceptible to sensitive persons, though not quite able to
influence
ordinary people. You see that Chitra and the younger daughter of her
hostess
received a strong, yet not perfectly clear impression (for the forms
were
misty), while the visiting friend had only a general idea of an unpleasant
psychic
atmosphere, and apparently the hostess herself and her husband felt
nothing.”
“When
you speak of an astral impression I presume you mean something different
from
the ordinary record.” observed the Scholar.
“Yes,”
answered the Shepherd, “the permanent record belongs to a much higher
plane,
and only occasional pictures from it are reflected into astral matter.
This
is quite a different phenomenon. Every emotion makes an impression on the
surrounding
astral matter. It is hardly worthy of the name of a thought-form;
perhaps
we might call it an emotion-form. In all ordinary cases that impression
fades
away after a few hours at most, but where there has been any specially
violent
outburst, such as intense hatred or overmastering terror, the impression
may
last for years.”
“Mr
Stead expressed the idea very well in Real Ghost Stories, though he calls
the
impression a type of ghost. He says: ‘This a type of a numerous family of
ghosts
of whose existence the phonograph may give us some hint by way of
analogy.
You speak into the phonograph, and for ever after as long as the
phonograph
is set in action it will reproduce the tone of your voice. You may be
dead
and gone, but still the phonograph will reproduce your voice, while with it
every
tone will be audible to posterity. So may it be in relation to ghosts. A
strong
emotion may be able to impress itself upon surrounding objects in such a
fashion
that at certain times, or under certain favorable conditions, they
reproduce
the actual image and actions of the person whose ghost is said to
haunt.’
He describes there exactly what happens.”
“I
may instance a little experience illustrating this which I myself had years
ago.
I was walking down a lonely road in the suburbs of London - a road where
only
the curbstone was as yet laid. Suddenly I heard somebody begin running
along
this curbstone desperately, as if for his life. Somehow the sound of the
footsteps
conveyed to me a vivid sense of the mad haste and overwhelming terror
of
the runner, and I turned at once to see what was the matter. The footsteps
came
rushing straight up to me, passed under my very feet as I stood upon the
same
curbstone, and dashed away on the road behind me, yet nothing whatever was
visible!
There was no possibility of any mistake or deception, and the thing
happened
just as I describe, and left me much startled and perplexed. With the
light
of later theosophical knowledge I now understand that some one had been
terribly
frightened there, and that the impression of his fear still remained
sufficiently
strong to reproduce the noise which he had made as he ran. Here
only
the sound was reproduced, but sometimes the form is seen also.”
“The
same thing happens with a less vehement emotion if it is frequently
repeated,
or if it lasts for a long time. I remember a house where a child had
lived
for years in a state of constant fear and repression; the astral
conditions
there were so bad as to react upon the physical body of a sensitive
and
cause violent sickness. An instance of the persistence of such an impression
for
many years is to be found in the prosaic locality of the Bayswater Road,
close
to the Marble Arch. Any sensitive person who will start from the Arch and
walk
westward on the south side of the road will soon be conscious of something
excessively
unpleasant, as he passes the place where for some centuries stood
the
horrible gallows called Tyburn Tree. Of course even the strongest of such
impressions
must fade in time, but under conditions favorable for it it may
last,
as you see, for many a decade.”
“Another
point that we must not forget is that elemental essence of a gross type
likes
such coarse and vivid vibrations, so that in every place where there is
such
an impression as we are considering, a kind of astral vortex is caused for
that
particular type of matter only. The astral atmosphere becomes thick; it
corresponds
to a sand-storm or the worst sort of London fog. And because there
is
such a preponderance of the coarsest kind of matter, the low or gross
emotions
which utilise such matter are very easily aroused there; there is a
special
temptation towards them, as a Christian would say.”
“Yet
another detail. There are classes of nature-spirits at a low stage of
development
which revel in the vibrations produced by coarse emotion, and rush
from
all sides to any point where they can enjoy it, just as London street-boys
converge
upon a fight or a cab-accident. If people who quarrel could see the
unpleasant-looking
creatures that dance in the stormy waves which their foolish
passion
is radiating, they would calm down instantly and fly from the spot in
shame
and disgust. Do not forget that such creatures do their best to exacerbate
anger
or hatred, to increase jealousy or terror, not in the least because of any
evil
will towards human beings, but because they delight in the violent and
highly-colored
vibrations which are caused. These entities throw themselves into
such
emotion-forms, ensoul them and try to perpetuate them to the utmost of
their
power, and it is largely due to their action that centres of this kind
last
as long as they do.”
“But
are there never centres of good emotion? Must such things be always evil?”
asked
a plaintive voice.
“Certainly
there are centres of good emotion; every temple, every church is a
case
in point. What else is the feeling of reverence that comes over even a
Cook's
tourist when he stands in one of the grand mediaeval cathedrals than the
effect
of the persistence of similar emotion felt by thousands through the
centuries?
And naturally a higher type of elemental essence and a higher class
of
nature-spirits avail themselves of this opportunity just as the other kind do
of
the less desirable centres.”
“I
have come across such good centres in my roamings,” said the Magian. “One
such,
and a very typical one, is the Elephanta Caves. Very health-giving and
exhilarating
magnetism seems to be stored up on that spot, and a great rush of
something
pouring in which brings peace and joy is often experienced. This is
especially
marked at a particular spot where a great Lingam of Shivâ stands, and
a
quiet meditative mood is very helpful there in bringing a sort of an
illumination
one but rarely comes across. Of course a proper attitude of mind is
necessary,
and I do not think one who is sceptical about superphysical
influences
will derive much benefit through his picnic trip. It is an unique
spot,
and I have observed and heard some strange things there.”
“There
are still many such spots in various parts of India,” remarked the
Shepherd.
“That is one of the many reasons which make it the pleasantest country
in
the world for the residence of sensitive persons.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (4)
first
published in the Theosophist, July, 1909, p504-508
“Last
night I dreamed of Brahms,” said the Fiddler. “He is my beloved in music.
I
always longed to meet him, but he passed over before I went to Germany.
Strangely
enough, though, I have never once dreamed of him all these years,
though
I have played so much of his music. But lately I hear sweet sounds at all
kinds
of odd times, indoors and out of doors, when I am busy or when I am idle,
and
yesterday night I lay awake for an hour or more listening to them. It was a
long
drawn chord of A without the third: soft, still, piercing. I cannot
describe
the effect in physical sound. It was all pure tone. That is the nearest
I
can get to it. And there were no breaks. It went on solidly for over an hour.
To
make sure that it was not mosquitos, I tested it against wave and wind
sounds.
You remember how rough it was last night. There were no end of nuances -
pianos,
fortes, crescendos, diminuendos - in the nature sounds. But when the
wind
was loud, my music grew no softer, and when it was still, it grew no louder
by
comparison.”
“But
what about Brahms?”
“I'm
coming to him. The music must have put me in touch with him, I suppose.
Anyhow
I saw him vividly. I never saw him like that before. There he was, short,
stout,
and fiery - and furious with me because I had lately been playing the
first
movement of his fiddle concerto too slow. He was trying to show me how it
should
go, and to do it on a piano! Of course he failed horribly, and seemed
quite
upset over it. Why do astral folk try to make our clumsy music when they
have
their own far subtler methods, I wonder? I suppose he thought I would not
be
able to understand them. What music there will be when we do! I had the
audacity
to dispute the tempo with him, but he insisted emphatically - and he
was
right, of course.”
“Did
you see astrally when playing in your concerts?”
“I
saw our President once towards the close of a recital I was giving in
Melbourne.
Some way down the hall there was an empty patch, and there, right in
the
middle, so that there could be no mistaking her for somebody else, she sat
in
her white dress looking up at me. I was somewhat surprised, and looked away
that
I might not be distracted from what I was doing; when I looked again, she
was
gone. Another time, she stood beside my bed, and I awoke and saw her there.
But
I was too stupid to understand what she was telling me.”
“Yet
again I saw her - taller than she is in the flesh, and radiant, sweep down
into
the room where I sat talking about her to a friend, give me one strong
look,
and off again in an electrical swirl! Oh! and many other times, in the
body
and out of it.”
“You
dear imaginative artist-folk let your affections run away with your
judgement
sometimes, I fear,” said the Scholar.
“Well,
but I only state the fact. Suppose it imagination, even. What is the
difference
between imagination and the ‘reality’ when the former is as real as -
if
anything more so than - the latter? Anyhow, I have a tale that imagination
won't
account for.”
“When
I was a little girl I used to hear the grown-ups round me talking a good
deal
about Mrs Besant. They would go to lectures, and then discuss them
afterwards,
and as I never led a nursery life, I heard it all and longed to know
this
wonderful lady with white hair. That was the only fact I knew of her
personally.
- that she had white hair. One night I dreamed that I was in a
crowded
hall listening to a speaker. Well, I need not describe her to you! I saw
her
in the dream exactly as she is. Afterwards I found myself in a small room
full
of people behind the platform, and the white lady bent down and kissed me.”
“Next
morning a friend came in who had a spare ticket for a lecture in Queen's
Hall.
Another was unable to use it. Thereupon I begged to be allowed to go.
‘Little
girls must wait until they are older’, and so on. However, I got my way.
When
we arrived, the lecture had already commenced. At once I recognised the
speaker
as the lady I had seen the night before. When it was over, some friends
took
me behind to be introduced. There was the little room, there was the crowd,
and
there the white lady, who bent down and kissed me.”
“Is
this chance? The last time I played in public, I had no notion it was to be
the
last, no notion that shortly after I should enter the theosophical movement.
I
chose a piece that ended abruptly - in fact, that had no proper ending, but
broke
off. I had never before done such a thing. I made my first public
appearance
with Mrs Besant. And at the end of my performance, I felt an unseen
hand
push my head down upon my instrument as if to sign ‘It is finished’. A few
weeks
after, it was.”
“Any
more musical stories?”
“Yes.
But this is a horrid sordid one, and I scarcely like to tell it ... Well,
for
the story's sake you shall have it, but do not ever speak of it to me again,
for
I do not like to think of it.”
“It
was in December, 1904, when I re-appeared in London at the Queen's Hall
Symphony
Concerts, not having played there since my childhood. I was down for
the
Beethoven concerto. It was a great occasion for me! The Beethoven concerto
is,
as you know, the summit of a violinist's ambition, and I had worked at and
pondered
over it for some seven years or so. Add to that that it was practically
a
début at the most important concerts of the largest metropolis, and you can
fancy
‘poor little me’ was unphilosophical enough to think it an important
event.”
“The
date of the concert was December 10th. On about the 3rd or 4th - I forget
which
now - I dreamed that my violin was broken and that I took it to a certain
repairer
in the United States, who had dome some excellent work for me when last
I
was out there. I was trying to give him the instrument, but a great black dog
kept
leaping upon me and stopping my way. The dream was so vivid that, next day
being
the American mail day, I wrote to my friend the repairer, beginning my
letter
to the effect that ‘I dreamed of you last night and I am impelled to
write.’
About that time I visited Oxford and played the Beethoven concerto at
the
Public Classical Concerts there, and the tone of my violin was then in that
brilliant
condition which thrills a fiddler's heart. Well, to make a long story
short,
just before my London appearance, that tone suddenly went. There was no
recalling
it. I was in despair. I cannot give you the details of those two days
-
the 8th and 9th - without involving persons. I can only tell you that some one
had
deliberately injured my instrument. I know who did it - a fellow-artist.
With
whatever motive he did so - through hatred, jealousy or the mere
competition
for a living which drives so many to crime - I must have earned it
in
a past incarnation, by some such devilish act of my own. It was impossible to
borrow
an instrument, as my hands are too slender to manage any but a violin
specially
mounted to suit their size. It was impossible to draw back. Violins
are
exceedingly sensitive things, and the weather having changed to thick London
fog,
it was quite likely, I reasoned, that this was the cause of the poor tone
(for
I never thought of examining the instrument, which had but lately come out
of
the hands of a trusted repairer), and I could not make mere weather an excuse
for
disappointing the Managers. So I went through with it. Needless to say that
the
tone was, as one or two of the papers afterwards described it,
‘microscopic’.
Mr Henry Wood, with his usual tact, held down the strength of the
band
to a mere feather-weight. But that appearance was a fiasco. I worked harder
than
ever before or after, and produced - well, not quite nothing, but very
nearly!
So that a party of Oxford people, who had come up to town specially for
that
concert, looked at each other in amazement: ‘What can have happened to her
since
last week?’
After
the concert I collapsed, so great had been the strain, and did not touch
my
violin for two days. After that time, the sun was out again; it was my
brother,
still fuming over this incomprehensible business, who took the fiddle
into
the light and examined it.
‘Should
the sound-post of a violin be upright or slanting?’ said he. (This is a
small
piece of wood which is held inside the instrument between its back and
front,
and to move which a hair's breadth makes a change in the resonance).
‘Upright,
of course’ said I. ‘Well then, it is fifteen degrees off the
perpendicular
now - and, by Jove! there's a chip out of the edge of this ƒ
hole,’
(an opening by which the sound-post is reached) ‘and - wait a bit - look
here
- ’ he peered inside the violin, ‘my dear girl, some one has pushed the
sound-post
out of its place with a pencil; there's the mark. Look at the graze
on
the wood inside where it has been dragged along!’”
“We
took it to an expert, who had to use force to get it into position again, so
tightly
had it been rammed out of its place. No wonder that the vibrations had
been
stopped! His opinion was that the injury could only have come about through
a
bad fall or, as he guardedly put it, ‘in some other way.’ My violin was with
me
day and night. It had had no fall, of course. But I traced the cause of that
injury,
easily, to the one who did it. His scheme had succeeded. That appearance
dealt
a blow to my professional career which it took several years to recover.”
“Shortly
afterwards, my American repairer-friend visited London, and called at
my
house. In the course of our talk he asked if I could remember what I had
dreamed
which had caused me to write to him. I told him. Then he told me that on
the
same date he had dreamed the same thing, so vividly that he repeated it to
his
son at breakfast, who asked him to note down the day.”
“While
in London he worked at my violin and got it into order again, so that a
few
weeks later, when I gave orchestral concerts in the same hall, the papers
wondered
at the ‘strange and sudden improvement in this young violinist's
tone!’”
“I
was wondering, too - how there could be so much hatred in this beautiful
world.”
“It
was a pity that you were not impelled by the dream to examine your fiddle,”
said
the Vagrant, “especially when you noticed the lack of tone. You must either
have
seen the failure beforehand on the astral plane, or else some friendly
visitant
must have tried to impress you with the fact that your success was
menaced
by some enemy symbolised by the black dog.”
“There
is a good case of a successful interference given in Invisible Helpers,”
said
Chitra, “by which two little children, left orphans in the care of a
landlady
in a strange town, were found by a relative who dreamed of their
address.”
“When
I was a child,” said the Fiddler, “certain sounds used to make me feel as
if
I were rising up into the air - half a yard, three feet, or more. It was a
delicious
sensation. I didn't think anything of it at the time. It happened so
naturally
that I fancied every one must have the same experience. I do not
understand
the relations between sound and gravitation, but certainly ‘to be
uplifted
by music’ is no mere metaphor.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (5)
first
published in the Theosophist, August, 1909, p608-616
“We
have heard of many and varied experiences,” said the Scholar, “but it seems
a
long time since anything was said as to the work of the invisible helpers. I
suppose
it is going on just as usual?”
“Yes,”
replied the Shepherd, “that band of workers takes no vacations; its
activity
is unceasing, but it does not always lend itself to picturesque
description.
Thinking over what has been done lately, I remember one story which
may
perhaps interest you, though it is certainly very unconventional; besides,
strictly
speaking it is not yet finished.”
“But
its novelty will make it all the more interesting,” interjected the Youth;
“and
we can have the conclusion when it occurs.”
“Well,
I will tell it to you,” said the Shepherd; “but I must first explain the
heroine,
for though she is one of my best workers I do not think that I have
mentioned
her to you before.”
“Her
name is Ivy. She was during life a member of one of our Lotus Circles, and
her
work now is a fine example of the good which such circles may do. She was a
bright
and lively girl, musical, artistic and athletic - a clever elocutionist
too;
but above all a thoroughly good girl, kindly and affectionate, and willing
to
take any amount of trouble to help others; and a person who has that
characteristic
on the physical plane always makes a good helper on the astral. I
feel
sure that she would have led an exemplary and useful life on this plane if
her
karma had worked that way, but it is not conceivable that in that case she
could
have found the opportunity even during a long life to do anything at all
approaching
to the amount of good which she has even already done on the astral
plane
since her death eighteen months ago. I need not go into the details of
that;
it is enough to say that when she was scarcely eighteen she was drowned in
a
yachting accident. She came straight to Cyril, who is her special guru, as
soon
as she recovered her consciousness, and as soon as she had comforted her
relations
and friends she demanded to be trained for regular work. It was one of
her
most pleasing characteristics that although she had great originality and
ingenuity
she was yet very humble about her own qualifications, most willing to
be
taught exactly how to work, and eager to learn and understand.”
“She
is especially fond of children, and her field of usefulness has lain
specially
with girls of her own age and younger. She has been keenly interested
in
making thought-forms for people, and has acquired exceptional powers along
that
line. She takes up cases of children who are frightened at night, and of
others
who have besetting thoughts of pride, jealousy or sensuality. In most of
these
she finds out the child's highest ideal or greatest hero or heroine, makes
a
strong thought-form of that ideal, and sets it to act as a guardian angel to
the
child. Then she makes it a regular business to go round at stated times
revivifying
all these thought-forms, so as to keep them always thoroughly up to
their
work. In this way she has been actually the salvation of many children. I
know
of one case in which she was able to check incipient insanity, and two
others
in which, but for her ministrations, early death would certainly have
ensued,
besides many others in which character has been improved beyond all
recognition.
Indeed, it is impossible to speak too highly of the good work which
she
has done in that way.”
“Another
of her lines of activity will appeal to you if you have not forgotten
your
own childhood. Perhaps you know how many children live constantly in a sort
of
rosy day-dream - ‘telling themselves stories’ they sometimes call it. The
little
boy fancies himself the hero of all sorts of thrilling adventures - the
central
figure in scenes of glory, naval, military or athletic; the little girl
fancies
herself being adored by crowds of knights and courtiers, or thinks of
herself
as gorgeously attired and in positions of great wealth and influence,
and
so on. Now Ivy makes a speciality of taking these day-dreams and vivifying
them,
making them ten times more real to the delighted dreamers, but at the same
time
moulding and directing them. She gradually turns the dreams from
selfishness
to unselfishness, guides the children to image themselves as helpers
and
benefactors, and influences them to think not of what they can receive but
of
what good they can do, and so by degrees entirely changes their characters.
‘As
a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.’ and this is true of children also;
so
that one who understands the enormous power of thought will not be surprised
to
hear that quite incalculable good has been done in this way, by taking the
young
at the most impressible age.”
“Nor
has she neglected more ordinary lines of work. For example, a young girl in
whom
I am deeply interested had recently to undergo a long and wearisome
convalescence
after a serious illness, and I asked Ivy to take her in charge. I
believe
my young friend had not a dreary hour during all those weeks, for Ivy
kept
up a steady stream of thoughts of the most delightful and absorbing nature
-
stories of all sorts, scenes from different parts of the world with
explanatory
comments, visions of various creatures, astral as well as physical,
music
of superhuman sweetness - more ingenious devices than I can remember, to
help
to pass the time pleasantly and instructively.”
“But
all this general description of her work is only an introduction to the
particular
story which I am about to tell you - which, I think, you will
understand
all the better for having some acquaintance with the character of the
principal
actor in it. It is a case about which she is very eager - in fact, for
the
moment it is her principal interest, and she is very triumphant at having
carried
it to a successful issue so far.”
“I
will tell the tale briefly, and will try to put it into chronological order.
It
came to me all upside down, beginning with an acute crisis which is really in
the
middle of the story; and the earlier part (which accounts for all the rest)
I
learnt only three days ago. It seems that long ago Ivy had a birth in Rome -
also
as a girl - and on that occasion she had a school-friend whom we will call
Rosa.
The two little girls were very devoted to one another, and grew up as
almost
inseparable companions. Rosa was strikingly handsome, and was scarcely
more
than fifteen when the inevitable young man came into the story. Through
trusting
him too far she had to run away from home, fearing to face disclosures.
Ivy,
though much shocked and pained, loyally stood by her friend, hid her for
some
time and helped her to get clear away. It seems, however, that Rosa was not
to
escape the consequences of her misplaced confidence, for she fell into bad
hands
and died early under rather miserable conditions.”
“Rosa
and the young man who was involved seem to have had a birth together
(without
Ivy) somewhere in the Middle Ages, in which they did practically
exactly
the same thing over again - just repeated the previous drama.”
“In
this present life Rosa was born rather later, I think, than Ivy, but in an
entirely
different part of the world. She was, unfortunately for herself, an
illegitimate
child, and her mother died soon after her birth. I do not know
whether
this was the karma of her own proceedings along similar lines in
previous
births, but it appears rather probable. The mother's story had been a
sad
one, and the aunt who brought up poor Rosa never forgave her for being, as
she
put it, the cause of the death of a dearly loved sister. In addition this
aunt
was a stern old puritan of the worst type, so you can imagine that Rosa had
a
miserable childhood.”
“Into
it about a year ago came that very same young man - a wandering artist or
angler
or something this time - and they diligently played out their play along
the
same old lines. The man seemed a nice enough young fellow, though weak - by
no
means the sort of designing ruffian that one might expect. I think this time
he
would have married her, though he could not in the least afford it; but,
however
that may have been, he had not the opportunity, for he got himself
killed
in an accident, and left her in the usual condition. She did not know
what
to do; of course she could not face such an aunt with such a story, and
eventually
she made up her mind to drown herself. She wandered out one day for
that
purpose, having left a letter for her aunt announcing her intention; and
she
sat down on the bank of the river, moodily looking at the water.”
“Up
to this point, you will understand, Ivy had known nothing whatever of all
that
I have told you, but at this crisis she arrived on the scene (astrally of
course)
apparently by the merest chance; but I do not believe that there is any
such
thing as chance in these matters. Of course she did not recognise Rosa as a
friend
of two thousand years ago, but she saw her terrible despair and felt
strongly
attracted towards her and full of pity for her. Now it happens that a
few
weeks ago in connexion with quite another business I had shown Ivy how to
mesmerise,
and explained to her under what circumstances the power could
legitimately
be employed. So she put the instructions into practice here, and
made
Rosa fall asleep upon the bank of the river.”
“As
soon as she got her out of her body she presented herself to her as a
friend,
showed the deepest affection and sympathy for her, and at last succeeded
in
arguing her out of her intention of suicide. Neither of them knew exactly
what
to do next, so Ivy, taking Rosa with her, rushed off to find Cyril. But as
it
was broad daylight he was quite on the physical plane and busily engaged, and
so
not available at the moment for astral communications. This being so, Ivy
brought
her capture over here to me, and hurriedly related the circumstances. I
suggested
that for the present at least Rosa must go home again, but nothing
would
induce her to do that, so great was her horror of her aunt's cold cruelty.
The
only other alternative was the very risky one of going out vaguely into the
world
- since I made her renew her vow not to go out of it by suicide. Since we
would
not permit that, she seemed willing to face the difficulties of beginning
a
new life, saying that it could not possibly be so miserable as the old one,
even
though it led her to starvation. Ivy approved and enthusiastically promised
to
help her, though it did not seem quite clear to me at the moment what she
could
do.”
“It
was eventually decided thus, because there seemed no alternative, so Rosa
was
sent back into her body on the riverbank, and fortunately when she woke she
remembered
enough of what she called her dream to recoil with horror from the
water,
and start off to walk to a neighboring town. Of course she had scarcely
any
money - people never have on these occasions - but she was able to get a
cheap
lodging for that night and a little food, and during her sleep Ivy
cheered,
encouraged and comforted her in the intervals of prosecuting a vigorous
and
determined search for somebody who could be influenced to help on the
physical
plane. By this time Cyril was asleep and she had secured his
co-operation;
and fortunately between them they were successful in discovering a
delightfully
benevolent old lady who lived alone with one servant in a pretty
little
villa in a village some miles away, and by unremitting effort they made
the
two people (Rosa and the old lady) dream of one another, so that there
should
be a strong mutual interest and attraction between them when they met on
the
physical plane.”
“Next
morning Ivy directed Rosa's steps towards the village where the old lady
lived,
and though it was a long and weary walk for her it was at last achieved.
But
towards the end of it extreme physical fatigue laid her open to depressing
influences,
and she began to be virtually conscious that she had now only a few
pence
left, that she did not know in the least where to go or what to do, and
that,
after all, the hope and cheer that had buoyed her up during the long day
was
based only upon what seemed to her a dream. At last in sheer exhaustion she
sat
down upon a bank by the road-side looking the picture of misery, and it was
there
that the old lady found her, and at once knew her as the girl whom she had
loved
so deeply in her dream. Their mutual recognition was very strange, and
they
were both profoundly surprised and moved, yet in a certain way very happy
about
it. The old lady led the girl forthwith to her pretty little home, and
soon
drew from her the whole story of her trouble, which aroused in her the
keenest
sympathy. She at once offered shelter and help at least until after the
birth
of the expected child, and it is by no means improbable that she may
decide
to adopt Rosa. At least, Ivy is working in that direction, and has strong
hopes
of success; and when she makes up her mind about anything she generally
carries
it through.”
“That
is how the matter stands at the moment. Up to this time nothing whatever
has
been heard of the cruel aunt, and it would seem that she has made no enquiry
whatever
after Rosa. She must suppose that the suicide has taken place, but
perhaps
she is glad to be rid of what she regarded as a burden.”
“A
delightful story,” said the Countess enthusiastically. “What a clever,
capable
girl Ivy must be?”
“She
is,” assented the Shepherd, “and she is developing every day.”
“One
thing strikes me as new and curious,” remarked the Scholar, “and that is
the
persistent way in which Rosa and her young man repeat the same action in
three
successive lives. Are any other instances known in which anything like
that
has happened?”
“I
do not remember an exactly parallel case, but there are many which evidently
belong
to the same category,” answered the Shepherd. “You recollect how often in
the
lines of lives which we have examined we find that those who have close
kârmic
relations with one another return together to work them out, and how each
retains
his characteristics, and sometimes even quite the details of their
manifestation.”
“In
the first series of incarnations which were examined we found that the
artistic
tendency of the Ego showed itself in almost every life in some form or
another;
and we had another case in which a prominent member was a sea-captain
in
three successive lives, and twice out of those three times he took up the
study
of philosophy when he retired from the active work of that profession.
Perhaps
the nearest approach to Rosa's case is that of two people whom I know
who
were so strongly attracted to one another that they were born together
twelve
times out of thirteen successive lives, and though they are not
physically
in the same country in this present birth, which is the fourteenth,
they
are constantly meeting astrally. In six of these twelve cases the two were
husband
and wife, and on yet another occasion one of them was the rejected lover
of
the other. Of course the constantly change sexes, and so reverse their
relationship,
and in some of the intermediate lives they are father and
daughter,
or uncle and niece, or sometimes merely friends, but always together
in
some way or other.”
“In
Rosa's case the two people principally involved are by no means bad in
reality,
unconventional as their actions have been. Rosa herself has been too
innocent
and confiding, but so far as I can see nothing worse than that can be
laid
to her charge, for she was on every occasion actually ignorant of the
impending
danger. The young man was selfish and self-indulgent; he followed the
bent
of his passion without thought these three times, but I am inclined to
think
from what I have seen that this third lesson has been sufficient, and that
he
will not do it again. Twice he acted altogether without considering the girl
at
all; this last time there was this much of improvement, that he did consider
her
when it was too late, and meant to marry her. But what he did not consider
was
their future life, for he had no means to support her. Twice he had not even
thought
of marriage; this time when he did think of it, he was not permitted to
carry
out his design. Perhaps next time, if they try the same experiment, he may
be
allowed to marry, and then he will find that true happiness is not based upon
passion,
but that a real spiritual affection is also needed. But perhaps by that
time
Rosa will have learnt many things, and she may be his salvation also, for
she
loved him truly enough as far as she knew how. At any rate, it is a curious
glimpse
of a little fragment of evolution, and may perhaps serve to help us to
understand
that much more of its working.”
“That
reminds me,” said the Prince, “that I had the other night a very vivid
recollection
of being engaged in work much of the type of that done by the
invisible
helpers.”
“Please
tell us the story,” cried several voices.
“It
emerged from some other impressions of which I cannot make much sense,”
explained
the Prince. “I found myself watching a party of people who were making
preparations
to go to some kind of entertainment. The party was very mixed, for
it
comprised several members of the Theosophical Society and many others,
including
a grand-uncle of mine who has been dead six years. I watched them with
interest,
but took no part myself in any of their preparations. Then a short
time
elapsed of which I have no very distinct memory, and I found myself
floating
about the town in which the entertainment was to be held. It seemed to
be
late evening, and men were sitting about at cafés in the usual way. Suddenly
I
saw long slender curls of black smoke issuing from a two-storey building, and
when
I turned my attention to it I seemed to see through the walls that there
was
a fire raging within, which was endangering an upper storey where a large
number
of soldiers lay in deep sleep.”
“My
first impulse was to try myself to extinguish the fire, but I did not know
how
to set about it; then I thought of giving the fire-alarm, but I was somehow
impressed
that this country had no such modern improvements as that. I then
thought
of finding the commanding officer and telling him about it, and I was
somehow
directed to a park where a military band was playing for the benefit of
a
gay holiday crowd of officers and civilians, some of whom were in a
restaurant,
some on the terraces, and some walking about engaged in
conversation.
I found the officer (I think he was a colonel) in the company of
several
ladies, a few younger officers and some civilians. I tried hard to
impress
my thought on him, but in spite of all my efforts he would not move from
the
side of a certain lady in whom he was interested - the wife of one of the
civilians,
a prominent man in appearance. Another younger officer was indicated
to
me as he was entering the restaurant, and he responded almost immediately to
my
call, excusing himself to his surprised companions and starting off in
haste.”
“Though
I was not visible to him I had no difficulty in guiding him to within a
few
yards of the house, when he stopped and reproached himself for a fool for
coming
out here near midnight without any obvious reason. I could not induce him
to
go another step, and in despair I made a very strong effort, which caused a
sort
of sensation of being pushed. Suddenly I saw myself, and he also saw me,
and
was evidently much astonished. I ran to the house and with my full weight
burst
open a door, through which poured a sea of fire. The officer quickly led
me
to another door which gave access to the room of the sleeping soldiers. He
seemed
to be in some confusion, and I caught his thought of helplessness, and so
instantly
determined to act myself, I saw a bugler approaching, and I at once
ordered
him to play the alarm. This quickly aroused all the soldiers, who sprang
up,
threw on their clothes and snatched their rifles, which I particularly
noticed
were short ones with bayonets turned downwards. The officer soon
regained
his equilibrium, and led the soldiers in full order out of the burning
building,
Just as the last man filed out the flames burst through the floor in
several
places, and the officer pointed them out to me as he hurried me out of
danger.
I woke with severe pain in my back and the back part of my head, which
lasted
nearly two days.”
“A
most interesting experience,” commented the Shepherd. “Were you at all able
to
recognize either the place or the uniforms of the soldiers?”
“I
am not quite sure,” said the Prince, “though there were certain general
indications.
The uniforms were dark, with yellow shoulder-straps. But I can tell
you
more about it when I have made some enquiries, and if I am able to discover
anything
I will gladly communicate it to you.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (6)
first
published in the Theosophist, Sept, 1909, p750-756
“Here
is a letter from our Vagrant,” said the Shepherd, “with one of the best
authenticated
records of a warning from the other side and the accident which
followed.
She says: ‘You know about Julia's Bureau, established by Mr Stead
under
the direction of his other-world friend, Miss Julia Ames. On Whit-Monday
evening
a lady connected with it, staying in the country with her mother,
received
a message from a gentleman whom we will call Lionel, warning a lady
well-known
in society, whose name is in my possession, of an impending motor-car
accident,
and asking her to put off her intended journey. The lady sent on the
message
to Mr Stead, who received it on Tuesday morning. He at once dictated a
letter
to the person concerned, giving the message, and the letter was posted to
Dunmore,
and arrived on the same day, about 6 pm. Three people knew of the
letter
- Mr Stead, the stenographer and Mr King, a Bureau official; the
letter-book
also shows its posting. The letter duly arrived, but the lady
concerned
had left. In consequence of a strong presentiment she cut short her
journey,
but returning through London on the following day a motor-bus skidded
and
crashed into her car, slightly injuring the occupants. On her arrival at
Dunmore
Mr Stead's letter was handed to her, too late to be useful, but offering
an
unassailable testimony to the accuracy of the Bureau information. Lionel
states
that he succeeded in slightly turning the omnibus, thus preventing a
fatal
accident, but was unable to stop it altogether. It is interesting to
compare
the efficient and direct communications obtained in the Bureau, where
proper
conditions are afforded, with the clumsy and laborious
cross-correspondences
loved by the out of date SPR. That society promised well,
but
it seems as though what Calvinists called “judicial blindness” had fallen on
it
since its wicked treatment of our HPB’. A good story,” concluded the
Shepherd.
“We
were speaking last time,” said the Scholar, “of the reappearance in one life
of
characteristics that had been prominent in a previous one. It seems to me
that
a very good instance of this is to be found in the later incarnations of
our
late President-Founder. Remember how he repeated in this life in his
Presidential
proclamations and in parts of Old Diary Leaves the very style of
his
rock-cut inscriptions when he was King Asoka; and even those were equally
repetitious
of certain edicts which he issued as Gustasp in favor of the
Zoroastrian
religion. His first book in this life was upon the value of the
plant
sorghum, which he was instrumental in introducing to the notice of the
authorities
in the United States; but he had done the very same thing with the
very
same plants thousands of years before, when he was employed by the
Government
of Peru.”
“Yes”,
assented the Shepherd, “I think the Colonel may fairly be quoted as an
example
of the permanence of certain characteristics. You may recollect, too,
how
in another of our series of lives the artistic tendency of the man showed
itself
again and again, varying its expression according to surrounding
conditions,
but always there in some form. But, turning to the business of the
evening,
has any one a story to contribute?”
“I
have something that I think will be new to you,” said the Inspector. “My
daughter
was once attacked by a disease known in Samskrt as Dhanurvâyu (a
disease
which makes the body bend like a drawn bow). This disease is commonly
pronounced
incurable; in this case it first manifested itself, oddly enough, in
a
slight swelling on the big toe. She felt, at times, quite excruciating pain,
and
skilful treatment by expert European as well as Indian doctors was of no
avail.
In compliance with the wishes of my mother, I took her to a temple
dedicated
to Hanûmân at Kasâpûr, near Guntakal, to whi persons suffering from
fell
diseases resort in the pious belief that they will be cured by the favor of
the
presiding Deity. For three days her mother worshipped the Deity in various
ways
on her behalf, as she could not do it herself, being physically weak. On
the
night of the fourth day, she dreamt that some one came and stood beside her
and
told her that she would be cured, if a certain leaf called uttareni was
crushed
and mixed with turmeric powder and applied to the part where the disease
originated.
On the same night a servant of the temple dreamt a dream quite
identical
with the patient's, in which he was told to go and fetch the leaf
himself.
Accordingly, he got up and went into the fields in the neighborhood,
plucked
some leaves and brought them home and, after crushing them, asked my
wife
for the turmeric powder, relating his dream parenthetically. My wife was
surprised
at the remarkable identity of the dreams and applied the leaf herself
to
the patient's foot. The application took effect almost instantly and in less
than
ten minutes the patient felt indescribable relief and recovered perfectly
soon
afterwards.”
“I
suppose it must have been a case of some sort of convulsions, probably
produced
by the bite of some poisonous creature. Anyhow, the facts are
interesting,”
said the Shepherd, “and they remind me of the giving of
prescriptions
at spiritualistic séances. Sir John Forbes, for example, was one
who
frequently gave them in that way. But is a cure always effected at these
Temples?”
“Not
invariably,” replied the Inspector; “but sooner or later a dream always
comes
to the patient, either telling him how his disease can be cured or
informing
him that it is incurable and that it is useless for him to stay any
longer.
Vidurâswatham and Nanjangod are two other places in this Presidency
where
similar cures are said to be effected. I myself suffered for several years
with
a pain that recurred at intervals of from one to six months. I went with my
wife
to the Kasâpûr Temple, where after three days she dreamed of a prescription
which
proved effective, curing me entirely, although the doctors had failed.
Then,
again, a relative of mine, who was a white leper, went for two years to a
Temple
at Vidurâshwatha, and was completely cured, no trace of the disease
remaining,
nor has it since returned.”
“I
was never exactly cured by a prescription given in a dream,” said Chitra,
“but
I have received very curious warnings in that way. When quite a young girl
I
heard one day of the serious illness of a girl-friend, and that night I
dreamed
that I was standing on a path looking towards slightly rising ground. I
then
noticed that there were three mounds or very small hillocks on this rise,
and
that the grass covering the whole place was unusually long and juicy in
appearance,
and of a very vivid green. Suddenly on the farthest side of the
first
hillock to my right I saw my sick friend, looking very pale. She appeared
to
be climbing the hillock on the side hidden from me. When she reached the top
she
stood for a second looking towards the third, then walked steadily,
seriously
forward, stooping to gather great handfuls of the luscious, green
grass
as she walked. She climbed the second hillock, and by that time had quite
a
large sheaf of grass - an armful. She descended the further side, and then I
noticed
that between the second and third hillocks there was a small round pool
of
intensely black water. Reaching the edge of this pool she looked at it as if
measuring
the width, then stepped over it, climbed to the top of the third
hillock
and disappeared suddenly, as if she had dissolved. My friend died soon
after.”
“Ten
or twelve years afterwards during my school-holidays - greatly lengthened
that
year, because of an outbreak of typhoid fever in the school - I was lying
awake
one night wondering how many of the children would die. Some, we knew,
must;
and thinking how thankful the Manager of the Institution and his wife
would
be that their son, lately a school-master there, had been transferred
before
the fever broke out, I also found myself wondering where he would spend
his
holidays, as he was rather weak from overstudy and I felt sure his parents
would
not allow him to come home. Thus thinking, I fell sound asleep, but was
awakened
by hearing his voice distinctly call my name three times. I sat up
startled,
and listened, but not a sound was to be heard. I woke my sister and
told
her, but she was too sleepy to listen and said it must have been a dream. I
at
once went to sleep again, but was roused again by the same call, this time
louder,
so I rose, went down stairs and opened the door. No one was about, so,
feeling
very uneasy, I returned to bed, only to be once more roused by the same
call.
Then I again awoke my sister and said ‘I am sure so-and-so is ill, but why
is
he calling me?’ ‘Well, you can find out in the morning, but not now,’ replied
my
sister. In spite of my anxiety, I slept directly my head touched the pillow,
and
I found myself looking at those same three green mounds which I had seen
years
before, so I was not surprised to see my teacher-friend climbing the first
one
just as my girl-friend had done. He went through exactly the same movements,
walked
steadily along, gathered grass till he had a great sheaf, crossed the
black
pool, climbed the third hillock, and disappeared. I awoke feeling sure he
was
dying or dead, and wondering if his people knew. Directly after breakfast I
saw
his brother entering a chemist's shop, so turned and asked him if John were
ill.
‘What
made you think of that?’ he asked.
‘Oh,
I dreamed of him’.
‘Yes,’
he replied, ‘I am afraid he is dying. He would come home for his
holidays.
He took the fever, but recovered; but he caught a chill and now has a
relapse
and we have very little hope; come and see him this afternoon if you
wish.’”
“I
went and, while sitting in the room next his with his mother, was greatly
startled
by three loud raps made upon the wall near the ceiling, as if by a very
heavy
stick.”
‘Won't
that startle him dreadfully?’ I said.
“His
mother, looking at me strangely, said ‘Come and see.’ We entered the sick
room
on tip-toe, and there, lying quite unconscious on a low bed against the
opposite
wall from that on which the knocks sounded was the invalid. His mother
and
I looked at each other and tip-toed out again.
‘That
has been happening at intervals ever since the relapse,’ she said, ‘that
is
why we have taken everything off that wall. Did you notice it was bare?’
Suddenly
I heard the servants noisily rolling up the oilcloth from the front
door,
down the passage to the door of the sick room, and said:”
‘Why
do you let them do that? won't it startle him?’
“Again
she gave me that strange look, and said ‘Come and see’. Then I remembered
that
I had noticed before that the floor was bare; the oilcloth had been taken
up
a week before.
‘That
noise too,’ she said, ‘comes every day, and sometimes several times a day.
None
of my girls will come to work in this passage, they are so afraid.’ I asked
his
mother if he had called me and she told me that at three o'clock that
morning
he had repeated my name in a whisper three times. The noises may have
been
caused by entities who followed his father home from spiritualistic séances
which
he attended.”
“Still
later on, I dreamed that I saw the baby of a visitor to the school at the
same
three mounds and doing as the other two had done; this baby also died, but
not
of typhoid.”
“A
few years ago, when very weak and ill myself, I dreamed I once more faced the
three
mounds and the black pool and said to myself as I looked ‘I wonder who is
going
to die now!’ No one came. so I myself climbed the first and second mound
and
gathered an armful of grass, but when I came to the pool I stopped and
looked
at it, not feeling any impulse to go on; then I awoke. I cannot
understand
why, even after relating this dream to others and catching the look
which
passed between them, I did not apply it to myself, but the fact remains
that
I did not; and when a few months later I had to undergo a very serious
surgical
operation because of a hurt I had accidently received, and was warned
by
my doctor that I had but one chance of recovery out of ten, my dream never
crossed
my mind. Not until months afterwards when a friend reminded me, saying
‘I
knew you would not die because you did not cross the pool,’ did I think of
it.”
“One
night,” said the Doctor's daughter, “in a dream, a threatening skeleton
appeared
to me, saying he was ‘Death,’ but I told him he should take no one from
our
house, and broke him up. Two days later the coachman's mother died. Another
time
I dreamt I leaned too far over a pool and fell into it and was drowned; and
the
next day a housemaid in the next compound fell into the well in the same
manner
and was drowned.”
“I
had a curious dream,” put in the Fakir, “when I first came into touch with
Theosophy.
I was very deeply interested in a French movement of a semi-occult
nature
when one night I dreamt that I was seated in a carriage bearing its name.
I
waited a long time, but the carriage did not move, no horse having been
harnessed
to it. I was becoming very impatient, so, another carriage came
swiftly
past, I jumped into it - and found that it bore the name ‘Theosophical
Society’.
The first Society still exists, but apparently has not yet found a
horse.”
“I
knew a lady-member who had a similar experience, but she was awake, not
dreaming,”
said the Scholar. “She was in the office of a semi-magical Hermetic
Society,
actually waiting to fill up her form of application, when she
distinctly
saw a face and heard a voice say: ‘This is not your place.’ She
excused
herself from joining, and shortly afterwards came across an
advertisement
of a theosophical lecture, which she attended. Afterwards, seeing
the
portrait of HPB, she recognised in it the face she had seen at the time of
the
warning voice.”
“Another
incident of the nature of a death-warning was related by my mother. She
awoke
one night to find the astral counterpart of my father leaning half out of
bed
with an expression of horror upon its features. They had news the next day
of
his brother's death, which took place at the very time when my father was
leaning
out of bed. There seems to me to be some sort of communication in this -
telepathic
we might call it, in the widest sense of the term.”
“One
hears so much about the telepathy of sight and hearing,” remarked the
Fakir,
“that the other senses seem to be left out in the cold, which isn't fair
to
them. A curious incident happened to a dear old lady-friend of mine in whose
hospitable
home I have spent many a holiday. No dreamer of dreams was she, but a
stout
American matron, a sorely tried mother, a model of housewifely perfection.
She
usually spent the season in
which
was, at the time of my story, in the charge of a single housemaid named
Irma.
One afternoon my friend startled the household by suddenly bustling all
over
her
expression,
poking under sofas and behind cupboards, and taking everybody to
task.
‘Had they no noses?’ They sniffed their best, but all protested they could
smell
nothing. There certainly could be no dead rats about. They had not seen as
much
as a live mouse. That awful smell haunted my friend for half an hour or so,
and
then subsided. A couple of hours later a telegram came, from a friend in
Brittany
‘Irma found dead in room - letter follows.’ The letter came next day,
and
made everything clear: the servant not seen for several days; the house
found
locked from inside; the breaking, first into the hall, then into the
servant's
bedroom upstairs; the rush of putrid air making the whole party recoil
a
moment; and finally the finding of the neglected corpse - all at the very time
when
my old friend, three hundred miles away in Paris, was haunted by that
fearful
smell.”
“Well,”
remarked the Scholar, “it seems to have been a case of telaesthesia, but
it
certainly was not telaesthetic.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (7)
first
published in the Theosophist, Oct, 1909, p121-126
“Nearly
twenty years ago,” began the Doctor, “while on a visit to the distant
home
of my childhood, I had a peculiar experience. Having a desire to view once
more
a small valley that lay beyond the hills in a neighboring township, I
started,
one fine morning, to make the journey. Taking my horse and carriage as
far
as was practicable, I left them at a farm-house on the hills and proceeded
on
foot in the direction which I had often travelled long years before,
expecting
to strike into a bridle-path with which I used to be familiar. I had
not
gone far, however, before I found that time had made great changes in the
face
of nature, and that the upland (where I expected to find the bridle-path)
had
become thickly covered with a growth of evergreen trees - spruce, hemlock
and
balsam fir - the low-hanging branches of which nearly covered the ground.
After
spending some time in a fruitless effort to follow a definite course, it
gradually
dawned upon me that I did not know in which direction the right course
lay
- in fact I was lost.”
“As
I was still wandering on, there suddenly appeared before me a very large
brown
dog who rushed up to me with great friendliness of manner and, rearing up,
placed
his paws on my shoulders and looked me in the face, but with such
expressive
eyes as I never saw in any dog before or since. They seemed to
radiate
a depth of affection and a breadth of intelligence such as I had never
thought
possible in any of the lower animals.”
“He
soon assumed the position most natural to all quadrupeds and trotted off a
few
yards and then looked back, wagging his tail, as much as to say, ‘Come on’,
so
I followed him without the least hesitation. He led me some distance through
the
thick growth of young trees, and I kept quite near to him, when suddenly he
vanished
from my sight, just as I was nearing an opening where I soon saw the
summits
of the Green Mountains, and was able to take the proper course. But the
dog
was gone, and though I made every conceivable effort to find him, it was
without
avail. On my return in the evening I took a different, though a longer
course,
and on reaching the farm-house sought to obtain some tidings of my
friend
and guide the dog, but evidently such a dog was not known in that
locality.”
“I
have often pondered over the question of the sudden appearance and
disappearance
of the four-footed friend who did me so kind a service. Where did
he
come from, and where did he go so suddenly, thus frustrating my hopes of
future
companionship with him? The pressure of his paws was plainly felt on my
shoulders,
which shows that he was not a mere apparition; but what puzzled me
most
was the fact that I did not see or hear his approach or departure. He
seemed
suddenly to flash into visibility, only a few feet in front of me, and to
vanish
as suddenly, when near by, after accomplishing his mission.”
“There
are several possible explanations available,” said the Shepherd. “If
neither
the appearance nor the vanishing occurred actually under the observation
of
the spectator, the dog may have been an ordinary physical animal, belonging
to
some passing visitor. It seems probable that some friendly dead person
noticed
the narrator's predicament, and offered assistance; then the question
arises,
how could that assistance most easily be given? If a suitably
impressible
animal happened to be within reach, to use him would most likely
need
the smallest expenditure of force. If not, no doubt a nature-spirit could
assume
that form, but that involves the additional labor of materialisation, and
materialisation
maintained for a considerable time. Another possibility is the
use
of hypnotic influence; if that were employed neither dog nor nature-spirit
is
needed - a strong impression upon the mind is enough.”
“I
remember an occurrence somewhat similar, but less dramatic,” remarked the
Painter.
“A girl-friend of mine lived in a country suburb about a mile from the
station.
It was a lonely walk which she always avoided taking alone after dark.
One
evening, however, she was obliged to return home late, without any
companion.
She was a timid girl and she was very nervous, but she had scarcely
left
the station when a dog came up to her in a friendly manner. She patted him,
and
he turned and trotted along beside her till she reached her own gate, and
then
turned off in another direction. She told me that she felt quite secure in
his
company, and felt as if he had been sent to her.”
“No
doubt he had,” commented the Shepherd.
“These
cases seem not uncommon,” said the Prince, “though the details differ in
each.
A lady who resided in the suburbs of Philadelphia was detained one night
in
town and had to return home much later than was her custom. She was obliged
to
carry an unusual amount of money, which she thought must have been known to a
depraved-looking
man who followed her into the street car, and descended from it
at
the same time that she left it to walk through a lonely street to her home.
She
watched his movements with anxiety as he followed her at a distance, and (as
she
had feared) approached her menacingly just at the loneliest spot. As he was
about
to touch her a large S. Bernard dog suddenly appeared and growled fiercely
at
the ruffian, who turned and fled instantly. The lady recognised the dog as
her
own, and welcomed him with effusion, and he walked at her side all the way
to
her own door, where he suddenly disappeared even as she was looking at him
and
fondling him. Then for the first time (having been too upset and terrified
before
to think of it) she realised with an awful shock that the dog had died
two
years before! This recollection seems to have frightened her even more than
the
man had.”
“Yet
it surely should not have done so,” remarked the Shepherd, “for nothing
could
be more natural than that the dog should still remain after death near the
mistress
whom he had loved, and should defend her when the need arose. How he
was
able to materialise himself so opportunely we cannot know; it may have been
only
the strength of his own love for the lady and his hatred of the aggressor,
but
perhaps it is more likely that some invisible helper or some protecting dead
friend
chose that way of interfering for the lady's defence. An animal is much
easier
to influence than the average human being.”
“I
know a very remarkable animal story which I should much like to have
explained,”
said the Platonist.
“I
remember, ten years ago, a college friend of mine told me a story of an uncle
of
his, a great Shikâri, who had spent many years in India - a healthy,
matter-of-fact
kind of person, who had neither any leaning towards the occult,
nor
any skill in the invention of fictions. It was his uncle's great anecdote,
by
that time thoroughly polished by many years of after-dinner service.”
“One
day the uncle, whom we will call Colonel X., was out in the jungle after a
panther.
After a good deal of beating about, the beast was tracked to a dark
cave
in the side of a hill. Colonel X. approached the mouth of the cave with
great
caution and looked in, ready to shoot, of course, if anything happened. As
he
peered into the darkness, the light of two flashing green eyes shone out from
the
further end of the cavern and the Colonel was, all of a sudden, petrified to
hear
a human voice, thrilling with misery and anguish, call out to him: ‘For
God's
sake shoot me, and release me from this hell!’ What the Colonel replied I
forget;
but, at any rate, the voice - which came from the beast at the end of
the
cave - went on to inform him that it was the soul of an English lady which
somehow
or other had become imprisoned in the body of the brute, that she was
suffering
unimaginable torments and that, if he would effect her release, she
would
be eternally grateful and ever afterwards watch over him in times of
peril.
She told him that, whenever danger might happen to threaten him, she
would
appear to him in the form of a spotted deer; and that he must remember
this
and always be ready to take warning.”
“The
Colonel, said my friend, raised his gun, as in a kind of dream, and fired.”
“Years
passed by, and he had almost begun to look upon the whole incident as a
strange
hallucination. People naturally laughed at him when he told the story,
and
sometimes he felt a little inclined to laugh at himself.”
“One
day, however - again when out in the jungle, shooting - he was just about
to
turn down a little side-track through dense undergrowth, when suddenly a
spotted
deer passed a few yards in front of him, looking at him in a meaning way
-
and disappeared. This brought the previous adventure back with a rush of
recollection
to his mind. He felt there must be danger. So he proceeded to
reconnoitre
with the assistance of the beaters, and soon discovered, in the
grass
of the jungle-path down which he had been preparing to go, and only a few
yards
in front of where he stood, a huge cobra coiled up and almost concealed.
Had
he gone on, he would certainly have trodden upon it.”
“Again,
some years later, but this time in England, he happened to be walking
along
the outskirts of a large field, bounded by a thick quick-set hedge. Being
anxious
to get through into the next field, he was looking for a gap in the
hedge.
At length he found one - a largish hole, with a section of hollow
tree-trunk
bridging the ditch which divided the two fields. He was just stooping
down
to crawl across when, in front of him, in the next field, he saw a spotted
deer!
Once more he remembered his former experience; and, knowing that deer of
this
kind were not to be found in England, he drew back quickly and proceeded
along
the side of the hedge until he came to a gate some way further down. Going
through
the gate he returned to examine the gap from the other side. On doing
so,
he discovered in the hollow trunk a large hornets' nest!”
“On
one or two other occasions the spotted deer appeared to him, always to warn
him
at the moment of danger. I was told these by my friend, but I have forgotten
them
in the ten years which have passed since I heard the story. At the time of
telling
it, Colonel X. was still living and was ready to swear to the facts
which
I have related.”
“A
most remarkable story,” commented the Shepherd. “It is of course possible
that
the years of polishing of which you spoke have added somewhat to its
marvels;
but if we are to accept even the broad outlines as true, it needs a
good
deal of accounting for.”
“But
is it in the least possible that a woman could be imprisoned in the body of
a
panther?” asked the Painter.
“Possible
perhaps, but not in the ordinary course of events very probable,”
replied
the Shepherd. “Long practice in matters occult has taught me to be
exceedingly
cautious in affirming that anything is impossible. The most I ever
feel
justified in saying is that such and such a case is beyond my experience,
and
that I do not know of any law under which it could be classified. But this
particular
instance is not utterly inexplicable; suggestions may be offered,
though
we should need a great deal more information before we could speak with
any
approach to certainty.”
“What
suggestion can you offer?” asked the Platonist.
“If
the tale be true exactly as we have it,” said the Shepherd, “I think we must
assume
some very unusual piece of karma. You may remember a little article of
mine
in the Adyar Bulletin on “Animal Obsession,” in which I indicated the
various
ways in which we have found human beings attached to and practically
inhabiting
animal bodies, but this case does not fit quite comfortably in any of
the
classes there described. The lady may have been a person who found herself
in
the grey world (to borrow a very appropriate name from a recent novel), and
in
a mad effort to escape from it seized upon the body of a panther, and after
awhile
became horrified at this body and desired earnestly to free herself from
it,
but could not. Or of course she may have been linked with the body as the
result
of some gross cruelty, though we know nothing about her that would
justify
us in such a supposition. Or (since the thing happened here in India)
she
may have offended some practitioner of magical arts, and he may have
revenged
himself upon her by imprisoning her thus.”
“But
again, is that in the least possible?” interrupted the Painter. “It sounds
like
one of the stories in the Arabian Nights.”
“Yes,
if there were a weakness in her through which such a magician could seize
upon
her, and if she had intentionally done something which gave him a karmic
hold
upon her; but of course it would be a very rare case. But there are other
unusual
points in the story. I have never heard of an instance in which a person
linked
to an animal could speak through its body; nor, again, would it under
ordinary
circumstances be possible for a dead person to show herself as a
spotted
deer when the intervention of a guardian angel was considered desirable.
If
the details are accurately given, the young lady must have been a very
unusual
person who had somehow entangled herself in unfrequented bypaths of
existence.
You may remember a ghastly story of Rudyard Kipling's about the fate
of
a man who in some drunken freak insulted the image of the deity in a Hindu
Temple.
There are often men attached to such temples who possess considerable
powers
of one sort or another, and while we know that no good man would ever use
a
power to injure another, there might be some who, when seriously offended,
would
be less scrupulous.”
“May
not the Colonel have been to some extent psychic?” asked the
Epistemologist.
“Nothing
is said to imply that.” replied the Shepherd, “but of course if we may
assume
it, it clears up some of the minor difficulties of the story, for in that
case
the deer may have been visible, and the voice of the panther audible, only
to
him. But a man who is psychic usually has more experiences than one; and this
Colonel
hardly seems to have been that kind of man. In the absence of more
precise
information I think we must be content to leave the story unexplained.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (8)
first
published in the Theosophist, Nov, 1909, p252-260
“Some
years ago, nearly thirty I think,” said the Tahsildar, “one evening at
twilight
a friend of mine and I were walking along a road when we saw a bright
light
under a tree, about two hundred yards away across a ploughed field. I was
curious
to see what it was, as it did not proceed from any source that we could
see,
but appeared to stand in the air some two feet from the ground. The light
was
wide at the base and tapering upwards like a flame. I went to the spot, but
as
I approached the light disappeared and I found nothing but a naked man
sitting
under a tree. There was nothing by which I could account for the light,
-
nothing which would have caused me to imagine it. My friend, being elderly,
had
not come with me but remained on the road, and when I turned to him I saw
that
the light was there just as before. We now both went to the spot, but with
the
same result as before, The light again disappeared and the strange man sat
there
motionless, taking no notice of my enquiries. We both tried, in all the
languages
we knew, to attract his attention; I even took him by the shoulder and
shook
him, but it was of no avail. We went back to the road and stood some time
looking
at the light, which again appeared, and wondering what it could be. It
had
of course now become quite dark, and the light seemed therefore much
brighter;
but we could obtain no explanation of it, so we went to our quarters
in
the dâk-bungalow in which we were staying, both of us being officials out in
camp.”
“Next
morning, as I was returning from my work at about ten o'clock, I saw,
sitting
upon a sort of rubbish-heap close to our quarters, the same strange man
whom
I had seen under the tree. I again spoke to him, but he gave me no reply. I
offered
him something to eat, but he would not take it. I called my friend's
attention
to him, and he and others who had collected spoke to this strange man,
but
none received any reply, nor did he give the slightest sign that he heard
us.
We then left him, and next day returned to our own village some eighteen
miles
distant.”
“Two
days later a peon who was employed in my office, who had seen the man
sitting
on the rubbish-heap, came and informed me that the same man was in our
village,
near a Muhammadan resthouse or makân. I immediately went to see him and
found
that it really was the same man. I invited him to my house, but he would
not
come then. However, two or three days after he did come, but still without
speaking
a word. I think he accepted a small quantity of milk on that or the
next
day. From that time on, the stranger stayed in my house, without however
speaking
a word, or explaining who he was or what he wanted,”
“At
about three o'clock one afternoon a day or two later the postman came to us
bringing
letters. Several gentlemen were then with me, and among them the
District
Munsif, who was a relation of mine. At this time my wife, who was about
to
be confined, was in Madras, and I was expecting a letter from my
father-in-law
on the subject. There were a few letters for me which, in
deference
to the company of my friends, I at once put into my pocket without
reading.
The Munsif, however, asked me to open the letters, suggesting that one
of
them might contain the information which I was expecting, and as he was an
elderly
gentleman, so that I did not like to displease him, I took out the
letters.
Now, before I could open the letter the strange man, whom we had begun
to
call the Mastân, and who had not until now spoken a single word, looked at me
and
said in Hindi:
‘Munshi,
I will tell you what is in that letter. It contains news that your wife
has
given birth to a female child.’”
“This
greatly aroused our curiosity, and I at once opened the letter, and found
that
what he had said was correct. As soon as I had finished reading it the
Mastân
spoke again:
‘There
is another letter now in the post, which announces that the child has
died’.”
“We
were all much surprised, and decided to meet again next day; which we did,
and
the postman brought me another letter confirming what the strange man had
said.
The wonder rapidly passed from mouth to mouth through the neighbourhood,
and
people began to pour in in large numbers day by day in order to see the
strange
man.”
“One
day, when I was alone with him, the Mastân told me that my wife was
partially
obsessed or possessed by a being on the inner planes, who, however,
was
not at all repulsive or dangerous, but still not necessary or desirable. He
offered
to make for her a charm which I was to send by post. I agreed. ‘Bring me
a
small plate of gold’, he said. I obtained the small plate of gold and brought
it
to him. He wrote something on a [[piece of paper and said tat a goldsmith
must
reproduce it on the plate. All this I had done - and here is the plate that
you
may see it.”
At
this point the Tahsildar handed round a small gold plate about one and a
quarter
inches square, bearing the following inscription on one side: (graphic)
“Perhaps
the Scholar can tell us what it means,” suggested the Shepherd. The
Scholar
eyed the small charm critically, as though he had known such things from
his
youth up.
“One
may safely say,” he surmised “that for the most part the signs are Arabic
numerals,
those signifying two and eight being frequent. The first word looks
like
‘saz’ and below it I think is ‘tun’. As we do not know in what language
they
are meant to be, it is difficult to say with certainty what these words
are.
The Arabic script is used for Persian, Hindustani and Malay as well as
Arabic,
and there are several different sound-value for the same letter. If the
words
are Hindustani they represent, as I said, ‘saz’ and ‘tan’. Several of the
signs
which I take to be numerals are very badly drawn, so as to be hardly
recognisable
as such. One must remember that these were roughly drawn on paper
and
then copied by a goldsmith to whom these signs were absolutely foreign.
Hence
the difficulty of deciphering some of them. Evidently the signs themselves
are
not endowed with any mystic force, or they would need to be more accurately
reproduced.”
“That
I don't know,” continued the Tahsildar, “but some power it certainly
possessed.
Before the Mastân gave me the charm he kept it by him for several
days.
Sometimes he kept it in his mouth. At others he placed it beneath his
thigh
as he was sitting upon the ground, though usually he sat upon a chair,
with
a small fire kindled beside him on the ground. A third place in which he
kept
it was the bowl of a pipe in which he smoked, not tobacco, but a substance
called
ganja.”
“He
did not bring this pipe with him. In fact he had no possessions at all
except
a stick or staff. But a Muhammadan peon who was attached to my office,
whom
we called the fat peon, was an habitual smoker, and he one day offered his
pipe
to the Mastân, who at once accepted it and thenceforward had it frequently
prepared
for him.”
“Now
in our place was an American Baptist Mission centre, and it happened that
two
missionaries, one of them elderly, =came to my house to see the strange man
of
whom they had heard. The Mastân sat there smoking, and the missionaries sat
looking
at him for some time. Presently the elderly missionary said to him:
‘Why
do you not give up smoking? Do you not know that it is a very bad thing for
a
man to smoke ganja?’ - and turning to me he continued: ‘Here you reverence
this
man and consider that he is a great being and yet you see the fellow
smokes,
which is very dirty and bad.’”
“I
remained silent, but our Mastân replied in Hindi:”
“‘Ah,
you miserable pâdre; yes, it is true, it is a bad thing to smoke. I
challenge
you. I will give up this bad habit if you also will give up one of
your
bad habits.’
‘What
bad habit have I?’ asked the offended missionary.”
‘You
drink alcohol,’ replied the Mastân.
“The
pâdre looked uncomfortable, but he rejoined: ‘Oh, but I never drink to
excess;
besides, liquor does no harm to a man, while your ganja will kill him.’
‘Do
you say so?’ cried the Mastân. ‘Come now, I challenge you again. Order in as
much
ganja as you are sure will kill me; I will smoke it if you on your side
will
drink as much liquor as I think will kill you.’”
“Incredible
as it may seem, the missionary at once accepted this extraordinary
challenge,
and ordered a very large quantity of ganja, and a number of people
were
employed in preparing it and filling and refilling the many pipes which
were
very soon brought in for the occasion. The man was contained in a basket
considerably
more than a foot in length, in breadth and in depth, and the amount
of
ganja was quite incredibly large for one man. The Mastân drew great breaths,
reducing
a whole pipeful to ashes in one pull, so that in less than an hour he
had
disposed of the whole quantity. Then he quietly turned to the missionary and
said:”
‘You
pâdre; here I am, you see, and not dead.’
“The
missionary looked sick, but the Mast n was relentless, and continued:
‘Now
it is your turn to display your ability in your evil habit. You must drink
the
liquor that I shall now have brought.’ But the missionaries quickly got up,
made
a bow to the strange man, and fled?”
A
smile went round the company, but the Painter interrupted its full expansion
with
an eager query: “But what about the charm?”
“Oh,
that must have been quite effective, for my wife from that time till her
death,
only a few years ago, was quite free from any sort of possessing
influence.”
“Ah,”
exclaimed the Countess, sympathetically “that was good. Then he must have
been
a great man, although he smoked so badly.”
“Not
necessarily very great,” replied the Shepherd, “for in many cases it does
not
take great power to remove a possessing entity. But while I do not of course
defend
his smoking, I may point out that it is just possible that the habit may
have
been assumed precisely in order to give those presumptuous missionaries a
lesson
which they well deserved and badly needed.”
“It
was not only the missionaries, though they were the most insolent, who
scoffed
at this man whom we now regarded with reverence and gratitude,” went on
the
Tahsildar. “The news reached the ears of the European civil officer of the
station
under whom I happened to be serving at the time. He very often spoke of
the
Mastân, calling him a madman; yet he often said also that he would like to
see
him. Now it happened one evening that the Mastân and myself were walking
along
the road which led past the civil officer's house, and that he and his
wife
were coming in the opposite direction, so that we met. The officer asked
me:”
‘Is
this the madman you have been speaking about?’
“I
told him that this was the Mastân who was a guest in my house. He then asked
me
to enquire of the Mastân when he would be promoted in the service, saying:
‘That
will prove whether your prophet is any good at all.’ The Mastân replied:
‘You
will never be promoted, and further, you will very soon leave India for
your
native country.’
‘These
statements,’ said the officer, ‘convince me that this man is mad, because
I
need only be in the service a very short time longer to ensure promotion;
besides,
I have only recently returned from England, as you know, and there will
be
no need whatever for me to go there again for some time.’”
“So
we parted. But only a few days later the civil officer was ordered home by
the
doctors, and had to go on a long furlough to England, and I heard
subsequently
that when he returned again to India a medical officer pronounced
him
defiantly and permanently unfit for the climate, so that he was forced to
retire
altogether from the service.”
“Many
people came to the Mastân in order to be cured. Among these was a Vaishya
gentleman
who had had asthma for a long time. The Mastân said to him:”
‘If
you will do as I tell you, you will be cured.’
‘O,
yes; certainly I will,’ said the gentleman.
‘Well
then,’ said the Mastân, ‘On the sight of the new moon you must go alone to
the
sea-shore, carrying with you an unlighted lamp, some ghee and a wick. You
must
prepare these, and having lighted the lamp on the shore, walk round it
three
times. You will then be told what to do next.’
‘But,’
said the gentleman, ‘who will tell me what to do?’ ‘Never mind,’ replied
the
Mastân, ‘you go and do what I say.’
“Now
it was about eight miles from the village to the sea, and the Vaishya
gentleman
was afraid to go alone in the dark, but at last he managed to screw up
his
courage, and went. He told us afterwards that as he was walking round the
lamp
on the second turn the Mastân suddenly appeared beside him, patted him on
the
back and said:”
‘Go
on. Finish the third round. You need not fear anything at all.’
“After
the ceremony was completed the Mastân walked with him towards the
village,
but disappeared as soon as they approached it. The extraordinary thing
is
that all this time the Mastân was with me in my own house! The asthma was
cured
and did not return.”
“There
was a medical officer in the township, who was also something of a
photographer,
and as we particularly desired to have a photograph of the Mastân
we
asked him to take one. He consented, and after a good deal of persuasion the
Mastân
sat before the camera, after we had thrown a cloth about his body. I must
tell
you that the photographer was also a scoffer, Well, about seven plates were
taken
of the Mastân, but each time when they were developed they certainly
revealed
the body of the Mastân - but no head! The photographer was certain that
all
these failures were not due to accident, but considered it a rebuke, on the
part
of the wonder-worker, for his previous scoffing; so he went to him and
humbly
begged his pardon.”
‘Do
you still regard me as a madman?’ asked the Mastân.
‘No;
I am very sorry that I abused and offended you’, he replied.
‘Well
then,’ said the Mastân, ‘you may have a photograph.’
“So
he sat once more before the camera, and a beautiful photograph was the
result.
This you may now see, though it is a little faded. The Mastân told us we
must
not take more than three copies and the plate must be destroyed; but I must
confess
that after a time we disobeyed that order and produced some further
copies.”
The
Tahsildar here handed round the photograph; a reproduction of it appears
upon
the opposite page, but the photograph is so faded after all these years
that
the reproduction is a very poor one.
“After
having stayed with me for about three weeks the Mastân expressed his
intention
to depart. I and other friends accompanied him to a village about
twenty
miles distant. Here we had arranged with a friend for accommodation, and
he
prepared for us a certain house - the only one available in the village - a
house
which was reputed to be haunted. This house had been built three years
before,
but the owner had lived in it only one day and part of one night, for on
the
very first night he slept there he was carried up bodily, bed an all, and
deposited
in the middle of the road outside! There was supposed to be some sort
of
demon in the house; so it had been lying vacant for three years. We came to
the
house, and late in the evening we all fell asleep in the room where the
Mastân
still sat in his chair, as was his custom. In the middle of the night I
was
awakened by the voice of the Mastân calling out:”
‘Murshad,
Murshad, he is too strong for me; come and help me.’
“Now
Murshad means Guru. I found the Mastân standing near the chair and speaking
to
somebody in an angry voice. I heard only one side of the conversation, and I
could
neither see nor hear anyone to whom he was speaking. After a while the
Mastân
sat down, saying:”
‘After
all I got rid of the nuisance, although he was a very tough customer and
I
had to call my Teacher.’
“The
Mastân then told me that the house had been haunted by a very bad and
powerful
demon. Next morning we induced the owner to return to his house, and
there
we stayed with him for three days to see that he was at ease and
unmolested.
The same afternoon the Mastân, after some chanting, took us out to a
tree
about a mile from the village, and there with some more chanting he drove a
nail
into the tree, which he said would fix the demon there. He said that nobody
must
ever sleep under the tree.”
“The
time came for the Mastân to proceed upon his journey, and he told us to
bring
him a pony. We brought a very small pony, ready saddled and bridled. Then
he
told us to remove the saddle and bridle, and seated himself on the bare back
of
the animal with his face towards the tail. The pony started off and went
along
as though it were actually being guided by a bridle, while all of us
walked
behind conversing with the Mastân. After a time we all turned back and
went
home, and that was the last I saw of the Mastân.”
“I
can add a pendant to that story,” quietly remarked the Model of Reticence.
“In
1882, during the month of May, Colonel Olcott and Madame Blavatsky, after
forming
a branch of the Society at Nellore, went by boat on the Buckingham Canal
to
Guntur. On the way, at Ramayapatnam, they met a friend of mine, the
Sirastadar
of the Ongole sub-collector's office, and while travelling by the
same
boat HPB, seeing a bandage on his leg, asked him what was the matter. He
explained
to her that he had been suffering from a sore for a very long time,
and
that even the English doctors were not able to cure it. Then she told him
that
one year later he would meet a great man who would cure him. Just about one
year
later this Mastân, about whom our Tahsildar has been speaking, came into
that
district. Seeing the sore, he asked the Sirastadar about it, and then
rubbed
some of his saliva upon it and told the patient to go and bathe. The sore
began
to heal at once and was entirely gone within two days. So whoever this man
may
have been it is obvious that Madame Blavatsky knew something about him.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (9)
first
published in the Theosophist, Dec, 1909, p390-396
“Has
anything been happening lately among the Invisible Helpers?” asked the
Youth.
“Naturally
something or other is always happening,” replied the Shepherd; but
the
work is not always picturesque enough to merit special description. However,
I
have in mind one or two incidents that may interest you. One evening recently
I
was dictating in my room a little later than usual, when one of our younger
helpers
called (by appointment) in his astral body to accompany me on my night's
round.
I asked him to wait for a few minutes while I finished the piece of work
upon
which I was then engaged, so he circled about the neighborhood a little,
and
hovered about over the Bay of Bengal. Seeing a steamer, he swooped down upon
it
(in mere curiosity, as he says) and almost immediately his attention was
attracted
by a horrible grey aura of deep depression projecting through the
closed
door of a cabin. True to his instructions, on sight of such a
distress-signal
he at once proceeded to investigate further, and on entering the
room
he found a man sitting on the side of a bunk with a pistol in his hand,
which
he raised to his forehead and then laid down again. The young helper felt
that
something ought to be done promptly, but being new to the work he did not
quite
know how to act for the best, so he was in my room again in a flash (and
in
a great state of excitement) crying: ‘Come at once; here is a man going to
kill
himself!’
“I
stopped dictating, threw my body on to a sofa, and accompanied him to the
ship.
As soon as I grasped the state of affairs, I decided to temporise, as I
had
to return and finish the work upon which I had been engaged; so I strongly
impressed
upon the would-be suicide's mind that this was not the time for his
rash
act - that he should wait until the middle watch, when he would not be
disturbed.
If I had impressed the thought of the wickedness of suicide upon his
brain
he would have begin to argue, and I had no time for that; but he instantly
accepted
the idea of postponement. I left my young assistant in charge, telling
him
to fly at once for me if the young man so much as opened the drawer where I
had
made him put the pistol. Then I returned to my body and did a little more
dictation,
bringing the work to a point where it could be conveniently left for
the
night.”
“As
twelve o'clock approached I returned to relieve my young helper, whom I
found
in a very anxious frame of mind, though he reported that nothing
particular
had occurred. The would-be suicide was still in the same state of
depression,
and his resolution had not wavered. I then proceeded to investigate
the
reasons in his mind, and found that he was one of the ship's officers, and
that
the immediate cause of his depression was the fact that he had been guilty
of
some defalcations in connexion with the ship's accounts, which would
inevitably
be very shortly discovered, and he was unable to face the consequent
exposure
and disgrace. It was in order to stand well with a certain young lady
and
to make extravagant presents to her that he had needed, or thought he
needed,
the money; and while the actual amount involved was by no means a large
one
it was still far beyond his power to replace it.”
“He
seemed a good-hearted young fellow, with a fairly clean record behind him,
and
(except for this infatuation about the girl which had led him into so
serious
an error) a sensible and honorable man. Glancing back hurriedly over his
history
to find some lever by which to move him from his culpable determination,
I
found that the most powerful thought for that purpose was that of an aged
mother
at home, to whom he was dear beyond all others. It was easy to impress
the
memory of her form strongly upon him, to make him get out a portrait of her,
and
then to show him how this act would ruin the remainder of her life, by
plunging
her into inextinguishable sorrow, not only because of her loss of him
on
the physical plane, but also because of her doubts as to the fate of his soul
hereafter.
Then a way of escape had also to be suggested, and having examined
the
captain of the steamer and approved him, the only way that seemed feasible
to
me was to suggest an appeal to him.”
“This
then was the idea put into the young man's mind - that, in order to avoid
the
awful sorrow which his suicide must inevitably bring to the heart of his
mother,
he must face the almost impossible alternative of going to his captain,
laying
the whole case before him, and asking for a temporary suspension of
judgement
until he should prove himself to be worthy of such clemency. So the
young
officer actually went, then and there, in the dead of night. A sailor is
ever
on the alert, and it was not difficult to arrange that the captain should
be
awake and should appear at the door just at the right moment. The whole story
was
told in half-an-hour, and with much fatherly advice from the kind captain
the
matter was settled; the amount misappropriated was replaced by the captain,
to
be repaid to him by the officer in such instalments as he could afford, and
thus
a young and promising life was saved.”
“But
here arises a very curious and interesting question as to the working of
karma.
What sort of link has been set up for the future between the young helper
who
discovered his predicament and this officer whom he has never seen upon the
physical
plane - whom it is not in the least likely that he ever will see? Is
this
action the repayment of some help given in the past, and if not how and in
what
future life can it itself now be repaid? And again, how strange a series of
apparent
accidents led up to the incident! So far as we can see, if it had not
happened
that I was working that night later than usual, that consequently I was
not
quite ready at the time appointed, that my young friend, instead of
endeavoring,
as he might well have done, to pick up the purport of the matter I
was
dictating, should choose to circle round in the neighborhood, and happen to
see
that steamer and be impelled by what he called curiosity to visit it - had
any
one of these apparently fortuitous circumstances failed to fit into its
place
in the mosaic, that young man's life would have been cut short by his own
hand
at the age of three or four and twenty, whereas now he may well live to an
honored
old age, bringing up perhaps a family which otherwise would have been
non-existent.
This suggests many an interesting consideration - most of all
perhaps
that there is probably no such thing as an accident in the sense in
which
we generally use the word.”
“To
show the diversity of the astral work that opens before us, I may mention
some
other cases in which the same young neophyte was engaged within a few days
of
that described above.”
“Every
astral worker has always on hand a certain number of regular cases, who
for
the time need daily visits, just as a doctor has a daily round in which he
visits
a number of patients; so when neophytes are delivered into my charge for
instruction
I always take them with me on those rounds, just as an older doctor
might
take with him a younger one in order that he might gain experience by
watching
how cases are treated. Of course, there is other definite teaching to
be
given; the beginner must pass the tests of earth, air, fire and water; he
must
learn by constant practice how to distinguish between thought-forms and
living
beings; how to know and to use the 2,401 varieties of elemental essence;
how
to materialise himself or others when necessary; how to deal with the
thousands
of emergencies which are constantly arising; above all, he must learn
never
under any circumstances to lose his balance or allow himself to feel the
least
tinge of fear, no matter how alarming or unusual may be the manifestations
which
occur. The primary necessity for an astral worker is always to remain
master
of the situation, whatever it may be. He must of course also be full of
love
and of an eager desire to help; but these qualifications I do not need to
teach,
for unless the candidate already possessed them he would not be sent to
me.”
“I
was on my way one night to visit certain of my regular cases, and was passing
over
a picturesque and hilly part of the country. My attendant neophytes were
ranging
about and sweeping over areas of adjoining land as neophytes will - just
as
a fox-terrier runs on ahead and returns again and makes excursions on each
side,
and covers three or four times the ground trodden by the man whom he
accompanies.
My young friend who had a few days before saved the life of the
officer
suddenly came rushing up in his usual impulsive way to say that he had
discovered
something wrong - a boy dying down under the ground, as he put it.”
“Investigation
soon revealed a child of perhaps eight years old lost in the
inmost
recesses of a huge cavern, far from the light of day, apparently dying of
hunger,
thirst and despair. The case reminded me somewhat of the “Angel Story”
in
Invisible Helpers, and seemed to require much the same kind of treatment; so
on
this occasion as on that I materialised the young helper. In this instance it
was
necessary also to provide a light, as we were physically in utter darkness;
so
the half-fainting child was roused from his stupor by finding a boy with an
amazingly
brilliant lantern bending over him. The first and most pressing need
was
obviously water, and there was a rill not far away, though the exhausted
child
could not have reached it. We had no cup; we could have made one, of
course,
but my eager neophyte did not think of that, but rushed off and brought
a
drink of water in his hollowed hands. This revived the child so much that he
was
able to sit up, and after two more similarly provided draughts he was able
to
speak a little.”
“He
said that he lived in the next valley, but on rising through the earth and
looking
round (leaving my materialised boy to cheer the sufferer, so that he
should
not feel deserted) I could not find anything answering to this
description,
and I had to return to the child and make him think of his home so
as
to get a mental picture of it, and then issue forth again with the image
photographed
in my mind. Then I found the house, but further away than he had
described
it. There were several people there, and I tried to impress them with
the
child's predicament, but was unfortunately unsuccessful; not one of them
seemed
in the least receptive, and I could not convey my ideas clearly to them.
They
were much troubled about the child's absence, and had been seeking for him;
indeed
they had just sent to gather some neighbors from their valleys to make a
more
thorough search; and perhaps it may have been partly because of their
preoccupation
that they were hopelessly unimpressible.”
“Long
enough persistence would probably have broken down the barriers, but the
child's
state left us no time for that, so I abandoned the task and looked round
for
available food to dematerialise, for as it was the child's own home I felt
that
he had a right to it, and that it would not be dishonest. I hurriedly
selected
some bread, some cheese, and two fine big apples, and hastened back to
the
cave, and re-materialised this miscellaneous plunder in the eager hands of
my
neophyte, who proceeded to feed the child. The latter was soon able to attend
to
his own wants, and quickly finished every scrap that I had brought, and asked
for
more, I feared lest too much, after a prolonged fast, should do more harm
than
good, so I told my representative to say that he had no more, and that we
must
now try to get out of the cave.”
“With
a view to that I suggested to my boy to ask the other how he got in. His
story
was that he had been rambling about on the hills in a valley near his
home,
and had observed a small cave in the hill-side, which he had never noticed
before.
He naturally went in to investigate, but he had not walked more than a
few
yards when the floor of the cave gave way under him, and he was precipitated
into
a far vaster cavern beneath. From his account he must have been stunned for
a
time, for when he ‘awoke’, as he put it, it was quite dark, and he could not
see
the hole through which he had fallen. We afterwards inspected the spot and
wondered
that he had not been badly hurt, for the fall was a considerable one,
but
it had been broken for him by the fact that a mass of soft earth had fallen
underneath
him.”
“It
was impossible to get him up that way, for the sides of the cave were smooth
and
perpendicular; besides he had wandered for two whole days among the
galleries
and was now some miles from that spot. After a good deal of
prospecting
we found, within a reasonable distance, a place where a little
stream
passed from the cave into the open air on a hill-side; the child, now
strengthened
by food and drink, was able to walk there, and the two boys soon
enlarged
the opening with their hands so that he was able to crawl out. It was
evident
that now he would be able to get home in any case, and we also hoped to
be
able to influence some of the searchers to come in that direction, so this
seemed
a favorable opportunity to part company.”
“The
father had a plan of search fixed in his mind - a scheme of examining the
valleys
in a certain order - and no suggestion of ours could make him deviate
from
it; but fortunately there was in the party a dog who proved more
impressionable,
and when he seized the trouser-leg of one of the farm-men and
tried
to draw him in our direction the man thought there might be some reason
for
it, and so yielded, and followed the dog. Thus by the time that the child
was
safely out of the cave the man and the dog were already within a few miles.
The
child naturally begged his mysterious newly-found friend to accompany him
home,
and clung to him with touching gratitude, but the helper was obliged
gently
to tell him that he could not do that, as he had other business; but he
convoyed
him to the top of a ridge from which he could see the farm-hand far
away
on the other side of the valley. A shout soon attracted his attention, and
as
soon as that was certain, our young helper said good-bye to the boy whom he
had
rescued, sent him off running feebly towards his friends, and then himself
promptly
dematerialised.”
“The
small boy who was helped can never have had the slightest idea that his
rescuer
was anything but purely physical; he asked one or two inconvenient
questions,
but was easily diverted from dangerous ground. Perhaps his relations,
when
he comes to tell his story, may find more difficulty than he did in
accounting
for the presence in a lonely place of a casual stranger of decidedly
non-bucolic
appearance; but at any rate it will be impossible in this case to
bring
any such evidence of non-physical intervention as was available in the
parallel
instance quoted in Invisible Helpers.”
“A
sad case in which it was not possible to do much directly was that of three
little
children belonging to a drunken mother. She received some trifling
pension
on account of them, and therefore could not at first be induced to part
with
them, though she neglected them shamefully and seemed to feel but little
affection
for them. The eldest of them was only ten years of age, and the
conditions
surrounding them, mentally, astrally and etherically, were as bad as
they
could be. The mother seemed for the time quite beyond the reach of any
higher
influence, though many efforts had been made to appeal to her better
nature.
The only thing that could be done was to leave my young assistant by the
bed-side
of the children to ward off patiently from them the horrible
thought-forms
and the coarse living entities which clustered so thickly round
the
degraded mother. Eventually I showed the neophyte how to make a strong shell
round
the children and to set artificial elementals to guard them as far as
might
be.”
“A
difficulty here is that nature-spirits will not work under such horrible
conditions,
and though of course they can be forced to do so by certain magical
ceremonies,
this plan is not adopted by those who work under the Great White
Lodge.
We accept only willing co-operation, and we cannot expect entities at the
level
of development of such nature-spirits as would be used in a case of this
kind
to have already acquired such a spirit of self-sacrifice as would cause
them
voluntarily to work amidst surroundings so terrible to them. Mere
thought-forms,
of course, can be made and left to work under any conditions, but
the
intelligent living co-operation of a nature-spirit to ensoul such forms can
be
had only when the nature-spirit is reasonably at ease in his work.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (10)
first
published in the Theosophist, Jan, 1910, p517-524
“I
am sure you will be glad to hear,” began the Shepherd, “that we have very
satisfactory
progress to report with regard to the case of the mother and
children
which I mentioned to you at our last meeting. Determined efforts were
made
upon the physical plane as well as upon the astral, and I am happy to say
that
they were eventually crowned with at least temporary success. The two elder
children
have been sent to a children's Home, and though the mother still
retains
the youngest with her, she has been persuaded to put herself under the
care
of some religious friends, and is at present a reformed character.”
“It
may interest you to hear of some other adventures which have since befallen
the
same neophyte whose work I have already partially described to you. There
are
in astral work many cases in which continuous action is necessary - that is
to
say, in which someone who is willing to take the trouble must, as it were,
stand
over the person who requires assistance, and be constantly ready to give
it.
Naturally those who are in charge of a vast assortment of varied astral work
cannot
with justice devote themselves to this extent to any single case, so that
usually
some relation of the sufferer is put in charge. An instance of this
nature
came in our way on that occasion.”
“A
man recently dead, whom I had been asked (by a relation of his) to help, was
found
to be in a state of terrible depression, surrounded by a vast cloud of
gloomy
thought, in the midst of which he felt himself utterly helpless and
impotent.
His life had been far from spotless, and there were those whom he had
injured
who thought of him often with malice and revenge in their hearts. Such
thought-forms
acted upon him through the clouds of depression, fastened
themselves
upon him like leeches and sucked out from him all vitality and hope
and
buoyancy, leaving him a prey to the most abject despair.”
“I
spoke to him as hopefully as I could, and pointed out to him that though it
was
quite true that his life had not been all that it should have been, and that
there
was in a certain way much justification for the way in which others were
regarding
him, it was nevertheless both wrong and useless to give way to
despair.
I explained to him that he was doing very serious harm to a surviving
relation
by his depression, since these thoughts of his, quite without his own
volition,
constantly reacted upon her and made her life one of utter misery. I
told
him that while the past could not be undone, at least its effects might be
minimised
by the endeavor to hold a calm front in the presence of the dislike
which
he had brought upon himself by his actions, and that he should endeavor to
respond
to it by kindly wishes, instead of by alternating gusts of hatred and
despair.
In fact the main text of my sermon was that he must forget himself and
his
sorrows and think only of the effect of his attitude upon his surviving
relation.”
“The
poor fellow responded to this, though only in a very half-hearted way; he
said
that he would really try, and he certainly meant it, but I could see that
he
had very little hope of success, or perhaps I should rather say that he had
no
hope at all, but felt quite certain beforehand that he was foredoomed to
failure.
I told him plainly all this; I broke up the rings of depression which
shut
him in, and dissipated the dark clouds which surrounded him, so that the
unkindly
thought-forms of those whom he had injured should have less upon which
they
could fasten. For the moment he seemed almost cheerful, as I held before
him
a strong thought-image of the surviving relation, whom he had deeply loved,
and
he said:”
“‘While
you are here I seem to understand, and I almost think that I can resist
the
despair, but I know that, as you say, my courage will fade as soon as you
are
gone.’”
“So
I told him that this must not be so - that hopeless as he felt now, every
determined
effort to conquer the despair would make it easier to do so next
time,
that he must regard this resistance as a duty in which he could not allow
himself
to fail. I had to go about my business, but I asked my young assistant
to
stay by this man for a while, to watch the accumulation of the depressing
thoughts,
and to break them up determinedly every time that they took hold of
the
victim. I knew that if this was done for a number of times we should
eventually
reach a condition in which the man could resist for himself, and
maintain
his own position, although from long-continued submission he had at
first
scarcely any strength to maintain the struggle. My young friend kept up
this
battle for some two or three hours, until the dark thoughts came much less
frequently
and the man himself was becoming able to a large extent to hold his
own,
so that the helper felt himself justified in returning to me.”
“He
was just about to take his departure, leaving a few last strong encouraging
thoughts
for the now almost cheerful sufferer, when he saw a little girl in the
astral
body flying in headlong terror before some kind of hobgoblin of the
conventional
ogre type. He promptly put himself in the way, saying ‘What is
this?’
and the frightened child clung to him convulsively and pointed to the
pursuing
demon. The helper has since admitted that he did not at all like the
look
of it himself, but he seems to have felt somewhat indignant on behalf of
the
girl, and his instructions were that to anything whatever of this nature a
bold
front must always be shown. So he stood his ground and set his will against
the
ogre, which did not approach them, but remained at a little distance
writhing
about, gnashing its huge projecting teeth, and evidently trying to make
itself
as terrible as possible.”
“As
the situation showed no signs of changing, the neophyte presently became
impatient,
but he had been warned against aggressive action of any kind except
under
very definite instructions, so he did not know precisely what to do. He
therefore
came in search of me, bringing the terrified child with him, but
moving
very slowly and circumspectly and always keeping his face towards the
unpleasant-looking
object which followed them persistently at a little
distance.”
“When
I had time to attend to him, I investigated the question, and found that
this
poor little child was frequently subject to these horrible nightmares, from
which
her physical body would wake up in quite a convulsive condition, sometimes
with
terrible shrieks. The pursuing entity was nothing but an unpleasant
thought-form
temporarily animated by a mischievous nature-spirit of a low-type,
who
seemed to be in great glee and to derive a kind of spiteful pleasure from
the
terrors of the girl. I explained all this to the children, and the indignant
boy
promptly denounced the nature-spirit as wicked and malicious, but I pointed
out
to him that it was no more so than a cat playing with a mouse, and that
entities
at such a low stage of evolution were simply following their
undeveloped
natures, and therefore could not rightly be described as wicked.”
“At
the same time their foolish mischief could not be allowed to cause suffering
and
terror to human beings, so I showed him how to set his will against the
nature-spirit,
and drive it out from the form, and then how to dissipate the
form
by a definite effort of the will. The little girl was half-fearful, but
wholly
delighted, when she saw her ogre explode, and there is reason to hope
that
she will gain courage from this experience, and that for the future her
sleep
will be less disturbed. There are many varieties of unpleasant
thought-forms
to be found on the astral plane, the worst of all being those
connected
with false and foolish religious beliefs - demons of various kinds,
and
angry deities. It is quite allowable for the Occultist to destroy such
creatures,
since they are in no way really alive, that is to say, they represent
no
permanent evolving life, but are simply temporary creations.”
“A
case of some interest which has just come under our notice is that of a
brother
and sister, who had been very closely attached to one another in youth.
Unfortunately,
later, a designing woman came between them; the brother came
under
her influence and was taught by her to suspect his sister's motives. The
sister
quite reasonably distrusted the other woman and warned the brother
against
her; the warning was not taken in good part and a serious breach ensued.
The
infatuation of the brother lasted for more than a year, and all this time
the
sister held entirely aloof, for she had been grossly insulted and was proud
and
unforgiving. By degrees the brother discovered the true character of the
woman,
though for long he would not believe it, and clung to his delusions. Even
when
it was impossible longer to maintain his blind faith he still remained
somewhat
sore with regard to his sister, persuading himself somehow that but for
her
interference, as he called it, the other woman might have remained faithful
to
him, so that the estrangement still persisted, even though the reasons for it
had
largely passed out of the brother's life.”
“In
this case the best thing to do seemed to be to set two assistants to work,
one
with the brother and one with the sister, to call up permanently before
their
minds pictures of the old days when they loved each other so dearly.
Presently,
after these currents had been thoroughly set going, I taught the
assistants
how to make artificial elementals which would continue this
treatment.
Of course it must have seemed to the brother and sister simply that
thoughts
of the other one persistently arose in the mind of each - that all
sorts
of unexpected little happenings came to remind them of happier times. For
a
long time pride held out, but at last the brother responded to the constant
suggestion,
went to call on his sister, and found her unexpectedly gracious,
forgiving,
and glad to see him. Reconciliation was instantly effected, and it is
little
likely now that they will allow any cloud to come between them again.”
“What
you say about unpleasant thought-forms,” remarked Chitra, “reminds me that
two
tears ago in a country town I stayed in a hotel for the month of April; this
is
a month of very changeable weather, so that often travellers have great
difficulty
in getting articles of clothing dried in time for packing, and I on
this
occasion was obliged to leave one garment - a thick woven night-dress - to
be
sent after me. It did not arrive at the promised time and although I several
times
wrote enquiring about it, I was still without it in the April of the
following
year, so I wrote again asking the proprietress of the hotel to have it
awaiting
me in my room when I returned, as I meant to do, in a few days. I
arrived
in due course and, as I expected, was greeted by a sudden change in the
weather;
from the heat of summer we were plunged straight into the frosts of
winter,
the snow-capped hills close at hand sending an icy breath down upon us.
I
called at the hotel at mid-day and made all arrangements for returning that
night;
meantime rain came in torrents and the owners of the hotel, who were
spending
the evening at a friend's house, left the servants to attend to
travellers
so that when I went to my room I found no night-dress and no one knew
anything
about it, nor about me, save my name and the number of my room. I
retired
to rest wearing another garment and slept dreamlessly until awakened
about
1 am by the proprietress, who was uneasy at my being without my
night-dress,
so had brought it to me; she knew I had no luggage with me so could
not
have another.”
“I
fell asleep again directly I put my head down, and then had a dreadful dream,
so
real that even when sitting up awake and trembling I could scarcely realise
that
it was only a dream. I thought I heard loud angry voices in the bar; this
was
impossible, as I was in a new part of the hotel and too far from the bar to
hear
anything; then the voices seemed to come closer and I saw a small group of
men
fighting in the middle of the road; one of them drew a knife and struck at
the
man in front of him, while another separated from the group, ran into the
hotel,
and upstairs to the door of my room, the handle of which he tried to turn
and
then rattled violently.”
“Telling
myself that it was folly to be so alarmed at a dream I lay down again,
and
again fell immediately asleep, and at once heard the same noise of
quarrelling,
but this time the men were on the balcony before my window and in
the
passage near the door, and two men with horrible drunken faces were getting
in
at my window which they had pushed up from below. I sat up trembling with
terror
and disgust, wide awake, and listened; there was not a sound. I rose and
looked
out over the balcony into the quiet country street; the rain had ceased
and
the moon shone brightly on the pools in the road, not a creature was visible
and
no sound, there was not even a breeze. Returning to bed I said to myself:
‘This
is absurd: what can be the matter with me?’ and promptly went to sleep
again;
this time the return of the dream was instantaneous, one of the men -
drunk
and horrible - came in at the door and clutched my throat, and while
others
fought on the balcony, two got half in at the window. I sprang up,
trembling
and with the perspiration streaming from me, and the thought: ‘It is
the
night-dress,’ suddenly darted into my mind. I took it off, rolled it into a
ball
and threw it to the furthest corner of the room, than fell asleep again and
slept
peacefully till morning.”
“After
breakfast I asked: ‘What happened that you kept my night-dress so long?’”
“‘Oh,’
was the answer ‘now that you have it safe I don't mind telling you that
it
was lost for two or three months. The day after that on which you left was
fine,
so I had it dried and ready to send off by mail time; I rolled it in brown
paper
and addressed it, then found I had no string, so gave the parcel to the
barman
to tie up and post; he was called out of the bar for a few minutes and
left
it lying there, meantime a boy took his place and noticing the parcel which
was
gradually coming undone, lying there, took it for a roll of paper, picked it
up
and threw it into the bar cupboard.’”
“There
it had lain among old bottles and dusters and in the atmosphere of drink
and
its accompaniments for nearly three months. When it was discovered it was
washed
and put out in the sun for some days, and when given to me was to all
appearance
sweet and clean; yet it retained enough of the magnetism of the bar
to
give me a very horrible time.”
“A
year before this experience with the magnetised night-dress, in the same
house
and the same month (April) I had gathered a small group of people around
me
and formed a Branch of the Theosophical Society. On the night of the
formation
of that Branch I retired to my room rather later than usual, very
happy
and rather excited, as this was the first Branch I had been instrumental
in
forming by myself.”
“I
was standing fastening up my hair and rejoicing over the evening's work when
suddenly
a dark-grey, noisome, mist-cloud seemed to be descending upon me. I was
filled
with dread and looked up towards the roof almost expecting to see it, but
no,
nothing was visible, so I tried to go on with the binding up of my hair, but
found
that I was unable to move my arms which had dropped to my sides with the
start.
I stood perfectly still, unable to move a finger while this grey
mist-extinguisher
came slowly down upon me and enveloped me in its paralysing
folds;
then I heard, spoken without a voice: ‘You wicked woman,’ ‘a wicked
woman,’
‘wicked woman’, repeated three times and with the words came a most
awful
feeling of isolation and misery. Unable to stir, but quite able to think,
I
stood, for what seemed minutes but was probably only seconds, wondering what
was
happening, when the voice or rather the words came: ‘now you know what a
lost
soul feels like,’ ‘wicked woman’. This roused me and I answered aloud:”
“‘I'm
not a lost soul, and I'm not a wicked woman. I'm glad I've been able to
form
a Branch of the Theosophical Society here, and I'll do it again wherever I
can.’”
“At
this the cloud began first to thin, and then to lift until it was once more
above
my head, and my arms lost their rigidity.”
“I
stood coiling my hair and wondering what it all meant, when I again felt the
cloud
descending and bringing with it the same feeling of loneliness and misery,
but
I kept it at bay saying:”
“‘Keep
off; I'll do it again, I tell you, and I'm glad I did it.’”
“Twice
it tried to descend but I succeeded in keeping it at bay; and I went to
bed
wondering what had caused it.”
“A
year after when visiting the same place I was told that a very narrow
religious
sect there had held a prayer-meeting on that night asking God to turn
me
out of the district because of my wickedness in teaching Theosophy, and had
used
these words ‘a wicked woman’, and repeated them over and over again, also
concentrating
on preventing me from continuing in my work. I had caught their
thought-forms,
the combined thought-form of the meeting, and strange to say not
till
long afterwards did I think of protecting myself in the way I've told
dozens
of other people to protect themselves in under like circumstances.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (11)
first
published in the Theosophist, Feb, 1910, p640-645
“Any
stories this evening?” queried the Shepherd.
“The
Fiddler has something I believe,” said the Prince.
“Well
if it is something that can be told - ?” said the Shepherd, turning to her
with
a little hesitation.
“Yes,
it is what I was telling you about this morning,” answered the Fiddler
with
a smile; and then added, “but I don't see that it is too intimate for the
Twilight
talk. We are all friends here. Provided a thing helps people, I always
think
that too great reticence is a mistake.”
“Well,
go ahead then”, said the Shepherd.
“A
little while ago, you will remember that I had to journey suddenly from here
to
Calcutta; thence to Benares, and Allahabad; back again to Benares and
Calcutta
and home to Adyar. It is a long weary road from here to Benares. You
start
on a Sunday, we will say, and arrive there on Wednesday at the hottest
time
of day. These journeyings were fitted into some ten days; and in between,
there
was a strain of sorrowful labor for friends and loved ones.”
“We
understand,” said the Shepherd kindly.
“And
- well, there was personal grief too,” continued the Fiddler, “and I
suppose
I had more to do and to bear than my physical body could stand. It was
fairly
bearable at my halting places; but when I was being whirled across India,
alone
in the train, I felt pretty ‘down’, as they say. Oddly enough, I was
alone,
except for a few hours, during all that way, back and forth. Servants do
not
count; on most of the Indian trains there is no means of getting at them
while
in motion, a most unpractical arrangement. Between Calcutta and Benares,
alone
in a first-class compartment one night, suddenly a faintness came over me.
I
am not a ‘fainting lady’”, explained the Fiddler to the group, with a little
twinkle.
“It was sheer exhaustion, mental, emotional, and physical. I leaned out
of
the window, hoping that the cool night air might revive me, but I felt worse.
I
went to my sarai and took a draught of water, and poured some on my face. No
good.
Things were getting dim by now, and I just managed to stagger to the seat,
where
I lay, fast becoming unconscious. I was thinking vaguely. No means of
help,
unless I stopped the train. But blackness was rest ... rest ... A strong,
sweet,
penetrating smell suddenly pressed against my nostrils. Oh, how
delicious!
I sniffed it up, still dreaming. It grew stronger and stronger,
making
me gasp; and then I drew long, deep breaths. You know how you breath
towards
the end of an exhilarating walk?” - to the Magian - “well, like that.”
“How
long did that continue,” asked the Youth.
“I
suppose it must have been for three or four minutes,” answered the Fiddler,
“and
with full strength all the time. When I had completely recovered - ”
“In
a remarkably short time,” put in the Shepherd.
“I
began to investigate. The windows, eight of them, were wide open. No perfume
of
strongest Indian flower could have remained so long in such a draught, even
had
it been possible for it to have reached me, with the train going at full
speed.
The door between my compartment and the next was sealed tight. The
strongest
scent could not come through under those conditions though it might
have
come in whiffs when the train was stationary. But this wasn't a whiff; it
was
a smell of briar rose mixed with something like incense, with the power of a
scent
upon a saturated cloth pressed to your nose. Whence might this have come?
Needless
to say, I possess no perfumes?”
“It
looks rather like a case of the Christian ‘Guardian Angel’” said a voice.
“Yes”
continued the Fiddler. “A curious thing of that kind occurred to me again,
last
evening, in the cocoanut grove. I was pacing back and forth there, at the
time
of sunset, deeply immersed in a train of thought, and quite forgetful of
surroundings.
Turning in my walk and looking up, my attention was arrested by a
lovely
figure outlined in mid air, clear against the palm-tops, the radiance
surrounding
it, the stately compelling beauty - above all, the unmistakable
thrill
that it sent through me, made me recognise it in the dusk {dust} as my
Warner
- or someone at least of noble and lofty nature. I made deep obeisance.
The
figure vanished. I walked on, resuming the broken thread of reason in the
gathering
gloom, and was thinking very hard, oblivious to everything, even the
vision
just past. But into my mind one word inserted itself persistently:
‘Snake’.
That word formed a kind of accompaniment to my thoughts. It grew
stronger
and louder, until suddenly I swerved my foot, quite involuntarily, in
the
very act of treading on a snake! The quick move of the foot ‘brought me to
earth’,
and to a dead halt also. I peered on the ground where my foot should
have
gone, and there was the creature wriggling away to its hole?”
“Did
you take up your ‘thread of reason’ agai?”? queried the Scholar
mischievously.
“Yes
- but on another strand.” The Fiddler sighed: “It was on the nature of
matter,
you see, so this provided food for investigation?”
The
Shepherd smiled his largest smile as someone muttered: “You can't draw water
from
bottomless wells.”
“A
friend of mine,” said the Model of Reticence, “has sent me an account of a
distinctly
curious experience. He writes:”
“I
was born in 1853. My mother committed suicide in 1856 by voluntary drowning
herself
in a well owing to family quarrels. She attempted to throw me in the
well
along with herself, but at the last moment, she changed her mind and left
me
in a Brâhmana's house adjoining the well in which she was drowned. For some
years
afterwards my people were in constant touch with the deceased in dreams.
When
I grew older, I also saw her in my dreams. She talked to me for a quarter
of
an hour every time I dreamt, and used to kiss me and say kind words just as a
mother
does to her child. When I questioned her as to who she was to seat me in
her
lap and love me so fondly, she replied that she was my mother and out of her
motherly
affection was very anxious to see me now and then. Finally about twenty
years
ago (in my dream) she stood at my front gate and called me from inside the
house.
I immediately obeyed her call as I recognised her as my mother by our
many
previous meetings. She took me in her arms, a few yards beyond my house and
there
seated herself. With flowing tears she kissed me very touchingly for ten
minutes
and said: ‘Child, you won't see me hereafter; I am going to a distant
place.
This is my last visit to you. I hope you will get on well in the world
and
earn a good name. I know you are in the good grace of whomsoever you meet.
You
will be wanting nothing. God bless you with good attachment to all. I am
most
unfortunate to be deprived of the pleasure of enjoying your company as a
son.’
So saying and seeing me shed tears when I heard of her permanent
separation,
she embraced me very closely, kissed me and went away. Never have I
seen
her in my dreams for these twenty years.”
“In
April last, two sisters each with a child aged six or seven years came from
Rajahmandry
to Nellore on their way to go to southern India, their native place.
Three
were drowned in the river Pennar at the bathing ghat. The eldest of the
lot
was saved by some one who threw a cloth to reach her when she was hovering
between
life and death.”
“Of
course two children and one of the mothers were lost in the deep water.
These
three dead bodies were taken out and an inquest held by the Police. At
that
time I casually went to see who they were and what had happened. To my
astonishment,
I found the living woman an acquaintance and as soon as she saw
me,
she fell on my feet and cried bitterly to save her. I took pity on her in
that
condition and resolved to help her as far as it lay in my power. I
interceded
with the inquest affair and took the whole responsibility of
disposing
of the dead bodies, to preserve their property and hand it over to the
proper
claimant. The woman told the inquest officer that I was her father and
the
whole affair must be left to me. Of course I arranged for the proper
cremation
of the deceased. I never saw such a grand funeral procession anywhere.
Thousands
followed the procession from the surrounding villages and the Nellore
town
itself, and the whole river was covered with people, with flowers, saffron
(red
powder) and betel-nuts. The funeral pyre was heaped with bunches of
flowers,
etc., by the female visitors who crowded by thousands. I could not find
space
to place fire on the bodies. Such was the fortune of that deceased woman
and
children. I was astonished to see how these bodies commanded so much
reverence
in a strange unknown place and how they received fire from my hand
with
no connexion or blood relationship between us. I performed the ceremony as
a
dutiful son does to his mother.”
“On
that very night, I had a dream in which a sâdhu with long beard, but with no
mark
on the forehead came to condole me and said: ‘You have done a most
charitable
deed. The deceased was your mother who took a final leave from you
about
twenty years ago and took this birth and received funeral fire from your
hand
instead of being disposed of by the hands of a chandâla, as circumstances
would
have compelled if you had not gone there. You have done your duty well.’
So
saying, he disappeared. The living woman and the property were handed over to
her
husband, who came from Rajahmandry Training College.”
Said
a member: “An FTS sends the following from Sweden: During the visit of the
Czar
to Stockholm last June a Swedish General by the name of Beckman was shot
down
in one of the city parks when returning home in the evening of the 26th. A
fellow-officer
of the victim, General Björlin, had been lying very ill for some
weeks
at Varberg, a small town on the west-coast of Sweden. The nurse who
attended
him relates the following incident which occurred on the night between
the
26th and the 27th of June. On the 26th the General was very uneasy all day,
and
uttered several times, that somebody intended to hurt General Beckman, and
declared
repeatedly that some outrageous act would be performed in Stockholm
that
day. Towards evening the patient became still more excited and could not
stay
in bed; he got up, put on his dressing gown and began restlessly pacing the
floor.
He talked as if he were in Stockholm himself and would hurry to General
Beckman's
assistance. By eleven o'clock his nervousness had reached its climax,
and
he exclaimed suddenly: ‘Don't you hear the report of the gun? Don't you see
the
smoke after the shooting? I saw them shoot Beckman. Don't you see the blood
trickling
down on the ground?’ The General was very nervous most of the night
and
did not fall asleep until about 6 o'clock in the morning. When he woke up he
was
restful and calm, but said to the nurse: ‘When the newspaper comes, you will
see
that General Beckman has been shot’. At nine the daily paper arrived; the
General
asked to have it brought to him at once, and then found a detailed
account
of the accident he had so emphatically foretold.”
“Are
there any other stories?” asked the Shepherd after a pause. “We have still
a
few minutes left.”
The
Fakir volunteered:
“I
remember a French lady telling me, years ago, how her little girl had been
saved,
brought back apparently from the very jaws of death, by ... just letting
her
go.”
“It
was diphtheria - a hopeless case. Tracheotomy had been performed, but in
vain.
The deadly film had spread beyond, and the doctor had left her that night,
giving
no hope.”
“The
mother knelt beside the bed, struggling with Fate, fighting God for her
child's
life. Being a strong-willed woman, she wrought herself into a state of
fearful
tension. Meanwhile, the child was sinking fast, breathing spasmodically
with
an ominous gurgling sound, weaker and weaker.”
“Suddenly,
in the small hours, a wave of peace seemed to swoop over the mother's
pain-racked
heart, to still, as by an irresistible command, the tossing waves of
her
rebellious will. A sense that all was over and that all was well. From her
dry,
burning eyes the tears gushed forth, as they will do in such saving moments
when
a dangerous state of tension breaks. Burying her face in the bed clothes
she
surrendered unconditionally. ‘Not mine O God, but Thine is she - Thine to
take
as Thine to give - Thy Will be done!’”
“For
a few seconds she knelt there in great peace, her burden gone, when a
movement
of the child started her. Looking up, she saw her darling looking at
her
intently, fully conscious, struggling to speak, reaching her hands up to her
throat,
as though asking to be helped to remove something there, something that
choked.
And then the mother saw (she did, sometimes) - a writhing shadow-like
dark
snake coiled, with which her child was struggling. With a sense of
irresistible
power to heal - the power to which nothing but self-surrender can
open
up a channel - she reached forth to remove and cast away the evil. A few
strong
passes, and the dark thing was gone. Then a violent fit of coughing
seized
the child - a throwing up and spitting out of mucus and deadly choking
whitish
film. After which she sank back exhausted, and slept. Next morning, the
doctor
‘was surprised’, as HPB's doctors were wont to be when their dying
patient
of the night before had changed her mind and was found getting royally
outside
her breakfast, without argument.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (12)
first
published in the Theosophist, March, 1910, p774-780
“I
will begin to-day,” said the Vagrant. “When I was in America this last time,
an
officer in the United States Army told me an interesting experience he had
had.
He seemed very level-headed - not at all an excitable person - and from his
own
account of himself he does not seem to be psychic. The event took place
during
the Cuban war. He was a junior officer then and took part in the war. One
day
when he was sitting alone in a room, his father suddenly appeared to him;
the
young officer knew he could not be there in an ordinary way, but the
apparition
looked exactly as his father did in his physical body. The father
proceeded
to prophesy to him many events of his future life, some of which
seemed
to the young man most unlikely of fulfilment, and he gave the dates when
they
would occur. Immediately after his father's disappearance, the officer
wrote
down in detail all that had been told him, noting the prophecies and their
dates.
Shortly afterwards he learned - whether by letter or by telegram I forget
-
that his father had passed away at the very time when he had appeared to him.
That
was several years ago now; and some of the prophecies have already been
fulfilled
- all those that were to occur in the years intervening between that
date
and this. I therefore advised the officer to do all in his power to prepare
himself
for the events that were still to come, though they seem to him nearly
impossible;
so that if he indeed should rise to a position of great power and
responsibility,
he would have made good use of the prediction by fitting himself
to
occupy it well.”
“But
how was the father able to prophesy in this manner?” asked the Magian.
“One
can only say in reply,” answered the Shepherd, “that when the Ego is freed
from
the physical body his perceptions are much clearer, so that as soon as the
father
was dead he may easily have foreseen events of which during life he was
quite
ignorant. Evidently at the moment of death his thoughts turned to his son,
and
he may have come in the first place merely with the intention of announcing
the
death and so saving his son from a shock. But when, liberated from the
burden
of the flesh, he turned his more penetrating vision upon his son, he at
once
saw certain important events impending over him, and forgot his original
purpose
in the urgent necessity of warning him to prepare himself for these. The
natural
perceptive power of the Ego was probably stimulated by his affection for
the
object of the prophecy.”
“In
some cases, too”, remarked the Vagrant, “pictures of important events coming
to
any person may be seen in the aura of that person, even without any special
stimulation.
I remember the Shepherd meeting one day in the street a
poorly-dressed
little girl whom he had never seen before - ”
“Whom
I have never seen since,” interjected the Shepherd.
“You
tell the facts,” said the Vagrant, and the Shepherd proceeded:
“In
that momentary encounter I knew that, poor as she then appeared, she would
marry
a great commercial magnate, and become one of the richest inhabitants of
her
native city. On another occasion, while sitting waiting in a train at a
terminus,
I saw three young fellows pass the window of the carriage, and knew
instantly
that he who walked in the middle would presently go out to a certain
colony,
commit a murder and be executed or lynched for it. A piece of knowledge
entirely
useless, for I knew nothing whatever of the man, and could not even
speak
his language; nor do I know that his fate would have been evitable, even
if
I could have warned him, and he had chosen to listen to me. One often gets
such
apparently purposeless glimpses of the future of others, so it is evident
that
no special revelation need be assumed in the case described in the story
which
we have just heard. We may assume that the causes which must inevitably
produce
what is foreseen have already been set in motion, so that all that is
seen
is the logical outcome of what has been done in the past.”
“Many
years ago,” said Ithuriel, “in one of the principal cities of America,
there
lived a young man, the pupil of a professor of music who was organist in
the
cathedral. It was the young man's duty to assist the professor in the
service,
train the choir boys, and to play the organ, if for any reason the
professor
should happen to be absent. It was his custom on the way to service to
call
at the home of his teacher, and they would go on to the church together. On
the
day of the occurrence of this story, the young man stopped for him a little
later
than usual, rang the bell, and the door was opened by the butler who said
that
his master had already gone to the cathedral. But at that moment they both
saw
him on the stairs and they thought that he had returned for some reason. The
young
organist sprang up the steps to greet him, and as he did so the professor
said
to him, in a tone loud enough for them both to hear: ‘I want you to play
for
me this morning.’ The young man replied: ‘Certainly,’ and extended his arm
to
shake hands, when to his astonishment the figure of his friend faded into the
wall.
At first he was so astounded that he could not speak, but was soon able to
question
the butler, who of course corroborated what the young man had seen and
heard.
The latter rushed off to the cathedral to see if he could get some light
on
what had happened. On entering the choir-loft he found that the service had
already
begun and the Te Deum was just finishing. He saw his professor fall
forward
against the keys of the organ; some of those present carried the old man
to
an adjoining room, and the young organist slipped into his place at the organ
and
finished the service; then he learned that his teacher was dead from heart
failure.
The young organist told his story (which was corroborated by the
butler)
and the shock to him was so great that he was ill for a long time.”
Ithuriel
then asked the Shepherd if it were probable that the Ego of the old man
deserted
the body some time previous to the moment of death, and that the purely
physical
consciousness had carried on the body for a little time. He replied:
“That
would hardly be possible. After all, the moment when the Ego leaves the
body
is the moment of death, and there is no reason to suppose any deviation
from
the ordinary rule in this case. It seems probable that the Ego foresaw the
approaching
death, and therefore arranged that his duty should be carried on.
The
entire phenomenon might easily have been produced by some friendly onlooker,
but
it is most likely that the Ego himself attended to the business.”
“I
will narrate a similar story of help from the other side,” said the Fakir. “A
good
lady in K., a nervous patient, psychic as people of her class often are,
was
once relieved of considerable pain by an old gentleman of the next world
whom
she saw bending over her at night - saw so distinctly that she said she
would
recognise him anywhere. I showed her a picture of Mr Sinnett, whose book
on
Mesmerism I had read, but she would have none of him. Then the matter dropped
and
was forgotten - as far as I was concerned. A few weeks later I happened to
lend
her a book of mine - The Idyll of the White Lotus. It had a dainty cloth
wrapper
forming a sort of pocket on the inside of each cover. Inside the flap
thus
formed, a loose picture without card-board of HPB with the Colonel and the
wonder-basket
- you know it, I suppose - had strayed. I noticed it and took it
out,
when my good lady literally pounced upon it - a way these psychics have -
exclaiming:
‘There is my old gentleman.’ This was in 1899.”
“Well,
as others have spoken about superphysical helpers,” said the Fiddler, “I
will
speak of my own experience in which a superphysical entity needed help from
one
down here. It was in this wise: Some years ago I was staying with a friend
in
Surrey, who was interested in Spiritualism. I joined her in a few
experiments;
I then tried a few by myself, more out of fun and curiosity than
the
desire for serious investigation. One day I was amusing myself alone in the
drawing-room
with a device for getting messages spelled out - a penny suspended
on
a piece of cotton inside an empty tumbler. The thing began to get violently
agitated,
and I asked: ‘Who is there?’ A name was rapped out. (I forget the name
now.)
I asked: ‘What do you what?’ There was no answer, but a great trembling of
the
string, as if of emotion. So I continued: ‘Are you in trouble?’ The answer
came
at once: ‘Yes’. ‘Are you a Theosophist?’ ‘Yes’. ‘Do you know HPB?’ ‘Yes’.
‘Are
you dead or alive?’ No answer. I repeated this, but could get no further.
‘Are
you in trouble?’ Then the thing rapped out: ‘Go to sleep, and you will help
me.’
So I promptly went up to my room, and slept deeply for two or three hours.
Remembering
nothing when I awoke, I put the whole thing aside as a probable
freak
of my own sub-conscious self. Some weeks after, I happened to be at the TS
Headquarters
in London, and I bethought me of my friend of the tumbler, and
asked
the Secretary if there happened to be such a person on the members' list
(mentioning
his name). No, she thought not. However, she would consult the list
of
provincial members if I would wait. There she found his name, amongst those
of
the Hull Branch. It happened that I was due in Hull shortly afterwards, to
fulfil
an engagement with the Hallé Band under Richter there. Amongst the
orchestra
were several TS members, and so the artists' room was turned into a
Theosophical
meeting-place. Chatting with the President of the Lodge, I asked
him
about the member whose name had come to me in such a queer way. On hearing
the
name he became all eagerness to know more: ‘Poor fellow, one of our best and
most
devoted members - disappeared suddenly a year ago, and no one has been able
to
trace him since.’ I gave him the few details I had gathered; but I never
heard
the end of the story.”
“As
we have come down to helping on the physical plane, I make myself bold to
speak,”
said the Epistemologist. “One evening, after I had given a lecture, a
young
man and his wife came to me and asked if I could do anything for them in
their
difficult circumstances. They related how she was the subject of some
invisible
and ‘psychic’ interference. Being a little clairvoyant at times, she
was
able to see some ‘evil spirits’ who were constantly threatening her, and
trying
to impel her to do things against her will. She dared scarcely take up a
knife,
for when she did so these beings would try to make her cut her throat
with
it. She was near the time of child-birth, and it may have been that her
mind
was in a somewhat unstable condition - about that I do not know. But when
she
and her husband, who was also to a slight extent clairvoyant, faced these
entities
and asserted that the attempt to injure her could not be successful
against
their wills, the entities only laughed mockingly and, holding up before
her
the child that was to be born, threatened that if they could not cause her
injury
they would at least do it to the child - a threat which disturbed her
very
much. I promised to call at their house, or write, next evening; for it
occurred
to me to consult a certain medium whom I knew well. In any case I
should
have visited them to try a few arts of magnetisation which I has learned
years
before when studying mesmerism. The next day I went to see the medium, and
the
spirit-friend whom I well knew soon came. After my relating the case, the
spirit
friend explained to me several things which I was to explain in turn to
the
young people, and also told me to magnetise certain things to be used in
particular
ways. I was told that another spirit-friend, whom I also knew - a man
who
had lived in one of the earlier races, and was exceedingly powerful - would
accompany
me to the house. In the evening, I visited the gentleman and his wife,
and
explained to them that it was quite impossible for these evil beings to
injure
the child since birth and death are specially protected conditions. I
then
magnetised a cross which the lady was always to wear, a cloth which was to
be
laid upon her pillow at night, and lastly a chair in which she was to sit
whenever
she felt or saw the presence of the undesirable entities. These things
were
not to be touched by any one but herself. It must have been two months
later
when I saw them again, and then I was told that the day after my visit the
entities
came once more. The lady sat down in the chair, and the evil spirits
came
very near to her; but it seemed as though behind them there was another
spirit,
very powerful. He seemed to let them come near.”
“They
did come near then?” interjected the Shepherd.
“Oh,
yes”, replied the Epistemologist. “But it seemed as though there were some
purpose
in allowing them to come very close; perhaps they became a little
materialised,
for presently there seemed to be a scuffle, the influences
vanished,
and the lady was never in the least troubled by them afterwards.”
“What
was their reason for their coming?” asked the Shepherd.
“I
don't know,” answered the Epistemologist. “It appeared to me pure malice.”
“I
never came across a case of pure malice,” said the Shepherd; “well, out of
revenge
perhaps - this is a very rare case - it arises probably from jealousy.”
“It
is curious in connexion with this case,” continued the Epistemologist,
“that,
while I was conscious of my body being frequently used, on this occasion
I
felt no force coming through. It may be there was very little resistibility in
my
body, to this particular quality of force. But I have great faith in the
spirit-friend
I consulted, though that one failed me once or twice, as nearly
always
happens sooner or later. She told me, for example, that Madame Blavatsky
was
now reincarnated in a female body in Germany - which was not correct -
although
she knew HPB in the inner world, and even did some work under her.”
“That
is not unusual,” said the Shepherd. “It is quite possible for people to
work
together on the astral plane without one knowing where his fellow-worker is
incarnated.
The statement that HPB was thus reborn was widely circulated, and
your
spirit-friend evidently took it as correct and passed it on to you.”
“Yes,”
assented the Epistemologist, “perhaps I expected too much. But I had
better
tell the incident. Some time ago I was much troubled as to what I should
do
in connexion with some of my work for the Theosophical movement, so I asked
my
friend to make an appointment for me to meet HPB on a certain night, which
was
done. I expected to bring the memory through, but it happened that something
occurred
on that day to interrupt my sleep, and nothing came through. However, a
day
or two before, I think it was the morning after the arrangement, as I was
sitting
quiet, I obtained what I believed was the answer by HPB to my question.
It
was a characteristic answer, not lacking in strength on account of its
length.
I was first called names, which I value highly though they are usually
considered
unkind, and then asked why I wasted her time instead of deciding for
myself.
But my question was answered somehow, and I knew it quite as well as if
it
had been framed in words. It gave satisfaction to me and cleared away my
doubts.
I would not ask my spirit-friend anything about the interview, although
informed
of her presence, because I wished to lean only on myself. My friend
afterwards
took up some work under HPB, I was told, and sometimes I think,
though
that is little better than guessing, that the service to me led up to
it.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (13)
first
published in the Theosophist, April, 1910, p930-931 reset 12
“The
following incident,” said the Archivarius, “is interesting simply because
it
was carefully verified; it happened in Budapest, where I was staying for two
months
in October 1905. I had gone to help in forming the Hungarian Section, and
I
had taken rooms there with an English friend, Miss Abbott. On Sunday evening,
October
29th, I was expecting a telegram with news about the Italian Convention;
one
of the members had promised to send me a telegram on that Sunday evening to
let
me know how matters had gone and what had been arranged. A telegram from
Italy,
sent about 7 pm, should have arrived that same evening. We waited until
11
pm, and then knew it was useless to expect anything, as the house-door was
shut.
I waited all the next day and finally went to bed feeling that something
was
wrong. I went to sleep, and I found myself in full consciousness walking in
the
Kerepesi-ut, looking for a Library, but I did not know the exact address. I
saw
standing at the side of the foot-way a one-horse drosky; it was on my right
side;
on the left, apparently waiting, was a fair-haired coachman with a small
close
round hat on his head. I noticed the hat, for it was not the one usually
worn
by the coachmen in Budapest. I went up to him, and asked him the way to the
Library.
He took off his hat and answered and then added: ‘Gnädige Frau
(gracious
lady), you are being searched for all over the place; a telegram has
arrived
for you, which cannot be delivered as it is incorrectly addressed.’ I
thanked
him, and said I would go and see about it, and went on my way. I do not
know
if I arrived at the Library or not. I awoke on Tuesday morning with this
incident
so vividly impressed on my mind that I determined to verify it, and
when
I went to breakfast with my friend I said that as soon as Herr Nagy arrived
at
11 am I should ask him to take me to the General Post Office. He came, and we
started;
on going towards the Post Office in the tram, I was surprised to see a
coachman
with the small round hat on; on arriving at the GPO we went to the
Chief
of the Telegraph department, and Herr Nagy explained that I had come to
see
if a telegram had arrived for me on Sunday night, October 29th. He took down
his
register, and looked up the telegrams for Sunday night, and there was the
telegram
to my name, but the address was wrong, and it had not been delivered
for
that reason; he gave us an order for it, and Herr Nagy went to the office
upstairs
and came back with the telegram triumphantly, saying that the men
complained
that they had been searching all day, five of them going in different
directions
to find me. The telegram was from Italy, and had been sent off on
“Sunday
night about 7 pm.”
“The
following comes from a friend abroad,” said the Vagrant, and read: ‘A few
years
ago, on being better after having been a little unwell for a fortnight, I
had
this experience. Going into a room nearly dark I noticed that from the side
of
one of my physical hands a counterpart hand, corresponding in form, was
protruded,
or left behind, as if floating in the air, when the physical hand was
moved
side-ways. Nearly the whole of a counterpart hand was protruded. It seemed
of
a flame-like nature but kept its outline perfectly. It was principally of a
yellowish
color and was in a constant state of undulatory motion in longitudinal
lines,
like flowing waves, minute bright sparks occurring occasionally in
places.
When the physical hand was kept still the counterpart floated slowly
back
and disappeared inside of it, but came out again when the physical hand was
again
moved.’”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (14)
first
published in the Theosophist, May, 1910, p1098-1100
The
Vagrant said: “I am going to begin this evening. I will tell you about the
first
occasion on which I saw my Master. I wrote an account of the event once in
a
pamphlet, but it never appeared in any publication that has lasted. Soon after
I
joined the Society, it happened that I was in England at a time when HPB was
in
Fontainebleau, France, where The Voice of the Silence was written. She wrote
me
to go over and join her, which I did with joy. She was living in a delightful
old
house out in the country, and I was put in a bed-room near hers, a door
connecting
the two. One night I awoke suddenly owing to an extraordinary feeling
that
there was in the room. The air was all throbbing, and it seemed as if an
electric
machine was playing there; the whole room was electric. I was so
astonished
(for it was my first experience of the kind) that I sat up in bed,
wondering
what on earth could be happening. It was quite dark, and in those days
I
was not a bit clairvoyant. At the foot of the bed a luminous figure appeared,
and
stood there from half a minute to a minute. It was the figure of a very tall
man,
and I thought, from pictures I had seen, it was HPB's Master. Near him was
another
figure, more faintly luminous, which I could not clearly distinguish.
The
brilliant figure stood quite still, looking at me, and I was so utterly
astounded
that I sat perfectly still, simply looking at Him; I did not even
think
of saluting Him. So I remained motionless and then gradually the figure
vanished.
Next day I told HPB what had happened, and she replied: ‘Yes, Master
came
to see me in the night, and went into your room to have a look at you.’
This
was my first experience of seeing a Master; it must have been clearly a
case
of materialisation, for as I have said, I was not in the least clairvoyant
at
the time.”
“That
was a phenomenon on the physical plane,” said the Magian; “Tell us your
earliest
psychic experience.”
“One
of my earliest psychic experiences occurred at Brighton,” the Vagrant
smilingly
replied, “when Mrs Cooper-Oakley and I went down there to stay with
HPB
a few days. She was not well at the time. There was not much room in the
house,
so Mrs Oakley and I shared a large attic-like room. After we had retired,
a
great grey eye appeared to us in turn; it came, floated over the beds and
glared
at us, first to my bed, then to hers, and then vanished. After it had
gone,
one leg of Mrs Oakley's bed lifted up in the air and went down with a
bang,
twice. I heard a voice calling me: ‘Annie, my bed is banging.’ Then the
leg
of my bed did the same thing, and I said: ‘Isabel, my bed is banging too’.
We
spoke to HPB next morning about these rather disconcerting experiences, but
could
get no explanation from her. She was only playing little tricks on us with
her
favorite elemental. She also used to keep a little elemental under her
writing-table
to guard her papers in her absence, and she always knew if any one
had
been there looking at them. On one occasion it hemmed some towels for her,
as
the President-Founder has related in the Old Diary Leaves. It took very long
stitches,
but it sewed better than she could at any rate.”
“Tell
us something more of HPB”, cried a voice.
“In
the days at Lansdowne Road, there was a young man of about seventeen, a
relative
of the Master KH, who used to come to visit HPB in his astral body. She
was
very fond of him. He was nick-named the Rice King, because once when there
was
a famine in India, and he was suffering intensely because of the misery he
saw
around him, he tried to materialise some rice in a storehouse. But not being
an
expert at this kind of thing, or knowing how to use the forces, he
dematerialised
it instead, to his great sorrow and dismay. He took an interest
in
Europeans, and in HPB in particular. She was very fond of him, but he used to
exasperate
her exceedingly by going to her writing-desk, and fumbling over all
her
papers, to her intense disgust, asking what those European things were. One
night,
I remember, he asked her permission to ‘stump up and down the stairs and
frighten
the chelas.’”
“Well,
go on, we want more of HPB.”
“I
dare say you know that at séances where ‘apports’ take place the guides have
frequently
been asked to bring a newspaper from some distant place, which could
not
be there at the time of the séance by any ordinary means of transit, train
or
boat. This is one of the tests which it seems to be impossible to give. There
is
always some difficulty about it, though the spooks themselves do not seem to
know
in what the difficulty consists. HPB once handed me some papers she had
just
been writing, to look over, in which there was a long quotation from a
paper
printed in India, about what had happened at a garden party. I noted the
date
and saw it could not possibly have arrived yet from India; I pointed this
out
to her, and said: ‘HPB how did you get this?’ She said: ‘I copied it.’ But I
told
her it was out of a paper that had not arrived; it could not have been
copied.
She said: ‘Oh nonsense, it could.’ I noted the date of the paper and,
when
the time came for the Indian mail to arrive, I went down to the India
Office
the next day and asked to look at the Indian papers. I turned to the page
from
which she had quoted, but found nothing there. Then remembering that when
reading
astrally, sometimes figures are apt to be inverted, I turned over to
another
page which it would have been if read upside down, and there was the
paragraph,
word for word as she had given it. I went back and said to her in a
mischievous
way: ‘HPB I saw that paragraph of yours in the paper to-day, and it
is
quite correct.’, ‘Yes, here it is.’ she replied, tossing the paper over to
me,
a copy she had just received, thinking effectually to silence me. I said:
‘Oh
yes, but you had not received it at the time you made the quotation,’
whereupon
she only muttered some impolite expression.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (15)
first
published in the Theosophist, June, 1910, p1185-1190
On
the gathering of the usual circle Ithuriel read the following:
“Quite
recently, while dwelling in thought upon some of the problems of evil in
our
world - those specially arising from greed and selfishness - my mind turned,
by
a rather unusual succession of ideas, to the subject of Avîchi, lost souls,
and
the eighth sphere. Suddenly there arose before me an astral picture of a
rocky
cliff, much resembling a precipitous pass in the mountains of Switzerland,
except
that there was no beautiful surrounding landscape, nothing but rocky
waste
and endless space. In an isolated niche of the rocks I saw a huge
creature,
with a sort of half-animal, half-human form. At first glance I thought
it
to be an elemental - sometimes one sees such in astral plane work, and
supposed
that there must be something to be done in connexion with it, perhaps
to
help some person who was frightened by it, or to assist in disintegrating it,
as
the case might be. But it was soon evident that the vision was being shown me
by
a higher plane teacher, one to whom I owe a profound debt of gratitude for
the
instruction he has so often given me. He pointed out that I was being shown
one
of the types of the disintegrating personalities, which are cut off from the
Ego.
He suggested that I should try to place myself slightly in touch with its
consciousness,
in order that I might understand what had led to such a condition
of
existence. The thought of uniting one's consciousness, even for only a
moment,
with that of such a creature, created within one a feeling of deep
repulsion,
but on continuing to regard it the feeling passed, and one began to
sense
a growing interest in it; one soon felt riveted to the spot by its wild
yet
penetrating glance - a glance that had in it an unholy sense of power, yet
at
the same time expressing helpless mute despair. Even though one's
consciousness
was unable in any recognised way to mix with that of such a being,
one
felt in some mysterious way a part of it (though quite separate), and able
not
only to analyse what it was feeling, but also to know what was passing in
its
mind. Presently there began to spread before me a long series of pictures
disclosing
the past lives of the creature, those lived at the time when it was
still
attached to the Ego. One incarnation after another was passed in purely
selfish
living, and they were also mixed with crimes of the lowest nature; as
time
went on the Ego was subjected to some severe tests as to its capacity to
indulge
in or resist evil. These were mostly lives in Atlantis, and the man
entered
into some of the degrading orgies of black magic; in fact he often led
them
as a priest of the black art, at the time when the use of human sacrifice
was
prevalent, as well as magic of the sensual order too horrible to realise. He
did
not respond to any opportunities offered to turn to the Path of Spiritual
Progress,
thus delaying his advancement, and so degrading the personality as to
lead
it directly on to the path of final extinction.”
“It
seemed very merciful that now and then kârmic deities would allow a life to
be
passed where he would be brought into contact with ascetics or priests, who
tried
to teach him the error of his ways - all to no purpose. At one time it was
permitted
him to receive teaching from even a Great One, when He was preaching,
who
told him that if he still persisted in evil, there would come a time when,
by
natural law, the divine part of him must of necessity be severed from the
lower,
and as a result he would be forced to wander as a soulless creature,
perhaps
only able to reincarnate once or twice more, and even then in a most
degraded
body, as only such could express his depravity; then finally it would
be
necessary to transport him astrally from this planet into complete isolation,
where
amid vain struggles to ‘keep alive’ and in great suffering he would at
last
‘go out’. But the man would not listen, nor would he even believe the
teaching
given, but became even still more desperate and depraved. Sometimes
when
the memory of this warning would come to him to haunt him, he would harden
himself
deliberately and rebelliously against it; an inconceivably demoniacal
look
of hatred would pass over his face, and he would entertain feelings of
revenge
towards the Great One who had so compassionately tried to assist him to
a
better life. It now seemed practically hopeless that the man would even turn
to
the Path of Progress, for the lives grew more bestially evil than ever, lower
and
lower, downwards and outwards, until one could see that at last he had lost
even
the sense of right or wrong. It is at this time that one suspects the
separation
from the higher must have taken place. Apparently he must have had a
sort
of sub-conscious realisation that he was now ceasing to live, for he began
in
a desperate way to search out victims to vampirise, drawing their vitality to
help
him go on; sometimes he was even attached to animals; perhaps in this way
he
was able to obsess the dreadful elemental form he now wore. Then there
followed
soon after this a time when he was transported from this planet of ever
increasing
life and was carried to the astral plane of the moon, a
disintegrating
planet, to a part of it that is cut off entirely from any
connexion
whatever with this earth, and the place where he was when shown in the
vision.
During the long ages of practising black magic and of evil doing he had
made
himself strongly vitalised lower bodies, and probably did not realise when
he
was cut off from the higher part of himself - the Ego. In that strongly built
lower
form with its permanent atoms, he was able to function sufficiently well
during
the time yet left to him to exist on this plane, and in it had stored up
a
large amount of will of the baser kind. One would naturally suppose that such
a
body would be surrounded with an aura in a violent state of agitation, but
this
was not the case; on the contrary, the astral and mental bodies were
scarcely
recognisable as such, and looked heavy, sluggish, ill-defined and
viscous.
When he used his will, there oozed from him polluting murky matter of a
most
objectionable kind, and one felt as though one were looking into a dark
cave,
where some foul slimy monster breathed out a miasmatic effluvium.”
“Now
let us turn to the Ego that had previously for so long a time been attached
to
this creature. There has been confusion in the minds of some concerning the
state
known as Avîchi, and the place called the eighth sphere. It is the Ego
alone
that can experience Avîchi (except in very exceptional cases where it is
possible
for a personality to experience it for a brief space of time) and it is
a
state of consciousness that can be realised in any place. But the eighth
sphere
is a place to which a disintegrating personality is exiled, when it is
cut
off from the Ego entirely, and at present we know that it is, as before
stated,
a region in the astral plane of the moon. Generally only a very small
part
of the true Ego of the man is put down into the mental, astral and physical
planes
when he is in incarnation in the physical body; in proportion as the ear
is
to the whole physical body, so is the small part of the Ego generally put
down
into the personality, as compared to the Ego itself. The latter remains on
his
own plane, the causal, and his only touch with the planes below him is
through
the experiences of the personality in which are the permanent atoms.
Since
up to this time the personality mentioned had only been experiencing lives
in
which virtues had been absent, the permanent atoms could only express low and
animal
tendencies. But it is not so much that these tendencies, (natural to the
early
stages of evolution) are in these atoms, but that there is a complete
absence
of the opposite virtues in the causal body; consequently the animal
below
has nothing from above to counteract it.”
“Now
in the case cited, the Ego had been quite indifferent to the experiences of
the
personality during the earlier stages, and when the time came at which the
personality
was indulging in magic and crimes of an intellectual nature, he
began
to take more interest in them and even to share in them; from this he
developed
the evil qualities possible to an Ego - such as love of power,
intellectual
pride and selfishness, etc. Then suddenly he realised that the
personality
had become so vile that it was in danger of being cut off, and he
then
began to put more and more of the better part of himself down to turn it to
better
things; but it was too late; for not only was the personality cut off,
but
the Ego lost all of himself that had been put down, and since his only touch
with
the outer world was through that part of himself, he was plunged into
Avîchi,
maimed and weakened, with no further progress possible for a long time
to
come. We can conceive the condition of Avîchi as being analogous to that of
Devachan,
in that both are, in a certain sense, a separated condition of
consciousness;
the difference between the two lying in the experiences of both -
also
in the events that have made either possible. Devachan is a state of unity
and
love, resulting from good; Avîchi is a state of separateness and selfishness
resulting
from evil. Devachan is a state cut off from evil; Avîchi, from good.”
“Yes”,
said the Shepherd, “the two states are as poles on the lower mental
plane.
An Ego, who has allowed his mental body to be soiled in the ways you
describe,
loses the greater part of it, not quite all, and through the part
retained
suffers the terrible loneliness of Avîchi, ‘the waveless’. He has cut
himself
off from the current of evolution, from the mighty life-wave of the
Logos,
and he feels himself as outside that life. When he at last returns to
incarnation,
he has to take birth far down the ladder of evolution, among
savages.
It is even possible that he may not be able to find a body low enough
to
act as a vehicle, and may have to wait for another cycle.”
“There
is, is there not?” asked one of the circle, “an Avîchi of a yet more
awful
kind, mentioned in a letter of the Master KH?”
“Yes”,
replied the Shepherd. “There is another type of black magician, in
outward
appearance more respectable, yet really more dangerous because more
powerful.
His selfishness is more refined and not less unscrupulous. He aims at
the
acquisition of a higher and wider occult power, to be used always for his
own
gratification and advancement, to further his own ambition or gratify his
own
revenge. To gain this, he adopts the most rigid asceticism, as regards mere
fleshly
desires, and starves out the grosser particles of his astral body. But
the
centre of his energy is none the less in his personality, and the Ego loses
the
strength thus woven into the lower mental vehicle. His Avîchi is a long and
terrible
one, for he gains the isolation at which he aimed.”
“We
know” remarked Ithuriel, “that the crimes of the lower sort, indulged in by
the
savage or the ordinary undeveloped man, do little, if any harm, to the
causal
body, because they find their natural expression in the lower bodies, on
the
lower mental, astral and physical planes. But when a man has reached a stage
such
as that of the black magician of whom you speak, one having great mental
power,
pride, and selfishness of an intellectual sort, then there is a certain
amount
of harm to the causal body, because these lower qualities build into it
matter
that is not plastic, and of a deep orange color, which erects a sort of
separating
impenetrable wall; in so far as the individual consciousness of the
man
is concerned, it is isolated, constricted, and selfish. When the personality
is
at last cut off, the Ego must dwell in his awful isolation - in Avîchi -
until
that separating matter or body around him has disintegrated, worn away by
ages
of time.”
“It
is well to remember,” concluded the Shepherd, “that only the most persistent
and
deliberate efforts can bring out these results. It is the determined choice
to
be selfish, and the inevitable consequence of that choice.”
“Yes,”
said the Vagrant. “Nature gives us our desire, whatever it may be. And at
last
the sentence goes out: ‘Ephraim is joined to his idols: let him alone’. And
alone
he is left.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (16)
first
published in the Theosophist, July, 1910, p1348-1350
“I
had a prophetic dream,” said the Brâhmana, “of which I do not understand the
rationale.
A friend of mine in government service was transferred to B.--- a
place
he very much disliked. One night, after he had been speaking to me of this
appointment,
I dreamed that he had been appointed to a place I will call C. I
told
my dream to my friend, who answered that he would most certainly very much
like
to be transferred to C., but that he had no chance of being appointed to
it.
The dream, however, came true, for when my friend had been at B. for only
two
or three months, incidents occurred which led to his transfer to C. Now,
what
I cannot understand is why I should dream of a matter of this sort, in
which
I took no special interest, and in which I was not concerned.”
“The
Ego,” said the Vagrant, “constantly foresees coming events, and may be said
normally
to foresee the near future. But, at the present stage of evolution, his
knowledge
is not readily impressed on the physical brain. When the brain happens
to
be in a receptive condition, some of this knowledge, normally possessed by
the
Ego, is impressed on it. These astral happenings need not be of any
importance,
nor related to the clairvoyant; they only happen to be taking place
at
the time when the physical condition enables them to be recorded. If a part
of
a dirty window is cleaned, a person behind the window would see, through the
cleaned
spot, anything which happened to pass by outside. The things would not
‘mean’
anything to him; he would see them because they were there. The brain
passes
through a number of physiological conditions, some of which are favorable
and
some unfavorable to the transmission of impressions from the higher planes.
A
little extra fatigue, a little fever, may provide the conditions, by slightly
increasing
the sensitiveness of the brain.”
“Looking
at the matter from outside the physical plane”, remarked the Shepherd,
“the
wonder is not that people bring so little through into their physical
consciousness,
but that they bring through anything at all. So many conditions
have
to be present to make it possible. A fairly common experience of psychic
people
is to see the events which some one is relating to them; they often see
more
than the narrator relates, because they see the thought-forms he is
generating.
Sometimes, even, they see more than the narrator himself knows.”
“I
had once a curious dream”, said Serena. “I dreamed that I was in a house, and
I
was a man lecturing in the upper storey; but at the same time I was a woman,
talking
about Theosophy to a small circle of people downstairs. I was both these
people
at the same time.”
“You
were probably neither of them”, said the Shepherd with a smile, “but were
helping
both of them, and so thoroughly identifying yourself with them that you
felt
yourself to be each of them. Sometimes, when working astrally, one may get
a
glimpse of some previous incarnation of one's own, but if that had been the
case
here, the difference of dress would have shown that the picture belonged to
a
period other than the present. Some people do very thoroughly identify
themselves
with a person they are helping on the astral plane. I remember a case
where
a helper, sent to an explosion, felt himself blown up into the air like
the
real victim. A great many years ago, I found myself in three places at once:
I
was standing in my bed-room, leaning against the foot of my bed, when I became
aware
that I was in a temple; while I was both in the room and in the temple, I
found
myself walking round the temple outside.”
“Once
at Avenue Road”, said the Vagrant, “I was lying in bed in my own room;
still
conscious of this, I found myself in the Ashrama of the Master, and the
double
consciousness gave me such a sense of unreality, that I asked the Master
whether
I was really with Him or was only making an imaginary picture. He said
no,
that I was really there, and that later on I should find it very convenient
to
be able to keep my consciousness simultaneously in several places.”
“You
can hold a meeting here”, remarked the Shepherd, “and at the same time put
a
question to the Master at Shigatse, and hear His answer.”
“One
is centred in the causal body on these occasions,” said the Vagrant, “and
may
have various bodies working at different places, animated by one's own
consciousness.
The consciousness is one, and the separation only exists in the
spheres
of the lower bodies.”
“Or,”
proceeded the Shepherd, “while sitting in this chair, you may, by an
internal
operation, produce yourself on another planet, and your consciousness
will
then be in two places, separated by millions of miles.”
“Mr
Leadbeater,” said the Scholar, “when looking at the future community, ‘got
out
the way,’ as he called it, and allowed an Ego there to speak through his
body
and answer my questions. That seems to me even queerer, for that Ego was
speakings
so to say, at a point several hundred years hence. Is time as unreal
as
distance? And he also described the appearance of a man sitting in a
particular
seat in the second row on a certain occasion in one of the temples.”
“If
you see a thing at all, you see it in its details,” replied the Vagrant.
“You
may fancy a thing vaguely, but if you see it, you see it with its
characteristics.
It is metaphysically true that what we call the past, present
and
future all co-exist now, and there is a consciousness which sees things
simultaneously
instead of in succession. To us things appear as successive which
must
be ever present to the Logos, and far far below Him future and past may be
seen
as mutually re-active. Alike by the Vedântin and in the scholastic writings
of
Musalman metaphysicians, it is seen that in eternity all things exist
simultaneously
which, in manifestation, appear successively.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (17)
first
published in the Theosophist, Oct, 1910, p116 - 120
“I
have here a rather interesting incident,” said the Vagrant, “in a letter from
England.
The writer is a member and is sensitive and very clever. She says:”
“On
the night of Friday, May 6th, I was sitting alone in the drawing-room of my
house
from a little after 11 pm. I had of course seen a late bulletin of the
King's
state, and knew that grave fears were entertained by his physicians on
his
account. I was not however consciously thinking of him; but was occupied
with
quite other matters. Suddenly it seemed to me that a loud and piercing cry
rang
through the room; I must have lost consciousness for a moment, for I had
the
sensation of coming back with difficulty, and found that both hands were
clenched
tightly over my heart which was beating to suffocation. I had a vague
idea
of going to the window to see if the cry came from outside, but, as I
thought
of it, I heard a little and thin toneless voice say distinctly: ‘The
King
is dead.’ I sat on motionless, and in about eight or ten minutes (as nearly
as
I can judge) the clock on the landing struck twelve. That clock was five
minutes
faster than the time by the Greenwich ball which regulates all the town
clocks
here, and so the time when I heard the cry would be 11:45 pm. I heard no
more
loud sounds, but while I was undressing was consciousness of a great
psychic
turmoil around me. When I lay down in bed I found great difficulty in
remaining
in my body, which grew cold and faint, while my heart beat so
irregularly
that at times I thought it would stop entirely. When at last I
slept,
I was conscious of a sense of acute distress, and felt that I dared not
get
far away from my body lest I should not be able to return. When the maid
came
in with hot water in the morning, I waited for the words I knew she would
speak;
they were: ‘The King is dead?’”
“One
would not be surprised,” commented the Vagrant, “if many felt some of the
vibrations
which would be caused by the emotions of thousands of people, as the
news
spread. Besides the Passing of a great King stirs the astral world, as the
surges
of popular feeling roll through it. I remember that the great waves of
love
and sorrow which rolled out of millions of hearts to Queen Victoria, after
her
death, awaked her from the unconsciousness which succeeded, as always, the
leaving
of the physical body. Probably the writer caught something of the surge
of
emotion in the crowd round Buckingham Palace. It is quite likely that during
that
second of unconsciousness she travelled to London and heard the
announcement:
‘The King is dead’.”
“A
sudden cry as an announcement of death is not at all uncommon,” said the
Shepherd.
The
conversation turned then on the various ways in which death was announced.
Two
ladies present told of different instances in which a white bird was seen
flying
out of the window when a person died. Reference was also made to the
banshee;
this, the Shepherd said, might be either a nature-spirit or a
thought-form.
At the Vagrant's request, he repeated the story of the
death-warning
that is given to his own family. It is as follows: An ancestor of
his
who went on a crusade, took with him his only son to win his spurs in the
Holy
Land. The lad was however killed in his first battle; and to the natural
and
intense grief felt by his father, was added a terrible anxiety about the
fate
of his son's soul, as he had died without receiving the last consolations
of
the Church. This so preyed on his mind, that he became a monk, and spent the
rest
of his life in prayer for two objects: firstly, for the soul of his son;
and
secondly, that no descendant of his should ever meet death unprepared. Since
that
date, the members of his family in the direct line have always heard a
strange,
mournful music before their deaths; this appears to be strains from the
dirge
that was played at the funeral of the Crusader's son. The Shepherd added
that
as he was the last of his name, and the death-warning did not seem to be
given
to collateral branches of the family, he was curious to l know what would
happen
after his own decease. It appeared to be in full vigor the last time he
heard
it, and calculated to run a long time yet; though how it was ‘worked’ he
did
not know.
The
Vagrant related how when she and a companion were one day sitting in her
bungalow
at Benares, they heard a carriage drive up to the door; but no
announcement
following, they went to see who it was, and found no carriage was
there.
It was about eight or nine in the evening. This experience recalls to
mind
the stories of the coaches that in various English families are said to
drive
up to the door previous to the death of any member of them; but in this
instance
no death, and no special event of any kind, occurred as a sequel. There
was
also a ghostly bull in the garden, who would sometimes appear and charge at
people,
causing them to bolt hurriedly.
“What
happened if they didn't bolt?” enquired the Shepherd.
“But
they always did!” replied the Vagrant.
The
Shepherd demurred: “But surely, once certain that it really was an astral
bull,
and not a physical one, the people should have stayed; it would have been
so
interesting.”
“I
know of a man who acted on that principle,” observed a member. “He built
himself
a house and arranged his sleeping compartment on the first storey; the
first
night he went there to sleep, an apparition warned him not to do so, or
harm
would come to him. So he fled to the ground-floor. This happened for
several
nights. Finally one night he refused to leave his bed-room at the
ghost's
behest, and went to sleep there. He awoke with a tremendous jerk and a
start,
to find himself in bed, but out in the middle of the street, whither he
and
his bed had been mysteriously removed in the dead of night.”
The
Vagrant spoke of the various efforts that were being made in the sixties and
seventies
to reach people and arouse them to a sense of the existence of the
superphysical.
At a village in Germany some people received teachings along
Christian
lines superphysically; they had initiations of sorts, and used to
receive
a kind of stigmata on the backs of their hands or on the arms, such as a
cross
made in little red dots, as though by pin-pricks; they had to think about
this,
till it appeared; it was very painful, and evidently it was the action of
the
intense thought that caused the blood to ooze through the skin.
“That
is something along the lines of the training the Jesuits go through,” said
the
Scholar. “They have to build up a picture mentally - say of the Passion -
but
in the minutest detail. They place a figure in a certain place, and in a
certain
attitude, and clothe it in a certain way; and so proceed, till the whole
picture
lives in their mind.”
The
Shepherd told a remarkable experience that Demeter had had, when only six or
seven
years old. “His mother belonged to a noble family in the north of Europe;
and
while staying in her ancestral castle he had several times seen an
apparition
that haunted it - a white and shining figure of a beautiful lady. He
was
not at all frightened, but on the contrary ardently desired a closer
acquaintance
with her. One moonlight-night when he was lying in bed, the ghostly
lady
came into his room, and crossing over to where he lay, she lifted him up
bodily
in her arms. He admits he felt a qualm; but it flashed into his mind that
she
was going to take him to where some buried treasure, that was said to be in
the
castle, was concealed, and he determined to keep quiet; unfortunately, the
ghost
had left the door open when she came in, and a nurse or governess,
happening
to pass outside and catching sight of her, uttered a bloodcurdling
scream;
the ghost dropped the boy on the floor, and vanished, leaving him to
lament
passionately the lost opportunity. He and his sister were most remarkable
children,”
the Shepherd added; “before he was eleven, they had written a
description
of one of the evolutions that is taking place in the interior of the
earth,
which they had visited. This book was also illustrated by them with
pictures
which really conveyed a very good idea of that inner world.”
The
Vagrant related a psychic experience in which Aurora had certainly displayed
the
most cool courage. “One night in bed he became aware of a man standing by
his
bed-side and staring at him, with a most malevolent expression. Aurora asked
him
what he wanted, and received no answer; he then requested his ghostly
visitor
to go away, with no better result. ‘Well, if you won't speak, and won't
go
away, I shall go to sleep,’ said Aurora; and turning round in bed, with his
back
to the ghost, he went to sleep. Personally I should prefer always to keep
my
face to such a visitant,” added the Vagrant.
To
Aurora it also happened that one day as he was riding down a ravine, he met a
ghostly
horse and rider, and his own horse shied violently. Aurora had not
recognised
the unsubstantial nature of the figures confronting him, and, being
vexed,
struck his horse smartly. His horse sprang forward, and, to his
astonishment,
he passed clean through the other horseman and his steed.
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (18)
first
published in the Theosophist, Nov, 1910, p285-293
“In
1905,” said the Superintendent, “my friend Mr PV Râmsvâmi Râju, a barrister
at
law, and Mr Conjîveram Shrînivâsâ Chârlu, who learned Samskrit pandit, set
out
together on a pilgrimage to the Himâlayan range, where they wished to spend
a
few months. They travelled by train as far as the rails were laid, and then
continued
their journey on foot. They left their luggage behind them and took
with
them only a few necessaries in the way of food and clothing, with two
servants
to carry these things. They walked along the bank of the Ganges for
more
than a fortnight, resting at night wherever they could find any sort of
shelter.
The scenery was so magnificent that they hardly felt the fatigue of the
journey.
They had no difficulty with regard to food, for delicious fruits of
many
kinds were to be had for the taking, and the shepherd-boys whom they
sometimes
met would take nothing for the milk with which they supplied the
travellers.”
“One
morning as they pursued their way, they met a tall and majestic-looking
man.
They expected that in that lonely place he would stop and speak to them;
but
he took no notice of them. He walked past them, broke the ice, plunged into
the
sacred water of the Ganges, and turned and was about to go on his way. Mr
Râju,
being filled with curiosity about this stranger, went up to him and asked
a
few questions as to the way in front of them. In reply the stranger said, ‘It
will
not be well for you to go much further; the foot of the rock which you see
yonder
should be your furthest limit.’”
“With
these words he turned away, walked off very rapidly, and appeared to
spring
over the huge rock. Seeing this our friends ran after him, and tried with
all
their might to jump over the rock as the stranger had done, but could not.
Examining
the ground, they saw a ravine running along by the rock, so they
followed
this for some few miles. After a time they came to a shed, and as night
was
drawing on they decided to sleep in it, as they were very tired. They had at
this
time no food with them, and they did not know where to go in this apparent
wilderness
for fruit or milk. Just as they were lying down hungry, a stranger,
as
majestic as the man whom they had seen in the morning, entered the shed. He
seemed
very friendly, and soon brought them some milk and some fruit, and
offered
to help them in any way that they desired.”
“Suddenly
the pandit felt so ill that he was unable to sit up with any ease. The
new-comer,
seeing this, went out, and soon returned bringing the juice of some
herb,
which he gave to the pandit and directed him to use it as a liniment. The
pandit
did as he was directed, and in a few minutes he found himself
miraculously
well again. Our friends satisfied their hunger and thirst, and then
retired
thankfully to rest.”
“Next
morning they woke much refreshed, and after their morning ablutions they
set
out once more on their exploration. They walked on until their feet ached,
and
were casting about for a suitable place in which to sit down and rest, when
they
noticed a turning which seemed to be quite a frequented path. They at once
followed
this, and found that it led them to a beautiful pond, to which on all
sides
granite steps led down. The water was as clear as crystal, and our friends
thankfully
drank of it and also washed their feet and hands in it. Then the
pandit,
feeling rejuvenated, sat down and began to chant, and his chanting soon
produced
an unexpected result, for it attracted more attention than he had
bargained
for. A man with a golden complexion and long black hair came rushing
in
upon them, and peremptorily demanded an explanation of their intrusion. He
would
listen to no excuse, but told them that they were breaking the peace of
this
place, and that they must depart instantly.”
“Reluctant
though they were to leave so beautiful a spot, they dared not disobey
him,
so they prepared to leave. In answer to their questions he told them that
if
they wished to know more about this place they must come there on a
Shivarâtri
day. Noticing as he spoke the fatigued appearance of the travellers,
the
stranger drew out from under his garment a root, and held it exposed to the
sun.
The exposure caused it to crumble into flour, which he gave them to eat,
telling
them that it would so satisfy their hunger that they would need no
further
food for two days. Before eating, our travellers attempted to wash their
feet
and hands in the pond, but were told by the stranger that they must pour
the
water only over their hands, and must not put their feet in it. They then
ate
the food which had been given to them, and with that and the life-giving
water
they felt ready for the return journey.”
“They
walked on, conversing of the curious things they had seen, until at three
o'clock
in the afternoon they came across another shed on the southern bank of
the
Ganges, and decided to camp there for the night. Mr Râju, feeling much
fatigued,
retired to rest immediately and fell into a deep sleep. The pandit,
however,
not being yet ready to sleep, took his seat close to the river, and
began
to chant some texts from the Vedas. Once more his chanting produced
results,
for one of the recluses from the mountain appeared before him, and took
his
seat by his side. He told the pandit to go on chanting, and even asked him
to
recite certain specified portions. The chanting seemed to please him greatly,
and
when it was over he entered into conversation with the pandit.”
“The
latter was expressing his delight at the beauty of nature and the glorious
scenery
around, referring especially to the wonderful mountain-peak which arose
on
the other side of the river, when the stranger, seeing that the pandit's eyes
were
constantly fixed upon this peak, asked him whether he would like to ascend
it,
so as to get a bird's-eye view of the surrounding country. Our friend,
feeling
that that peak was the abode of this curious community of which he had
now
seen three members, replied modestly that such an honor was too great for
him
to expect. The stranger, however, told him to close his eyes and recite the
Gâyatri
inaudibly. He did so, and when he opened his eyes again, he found
himself
on the summit of the peak, with his new friend.”
“The
pandit described the view as beautiful beyond all words; and they spent a
happy
hour up there chanting and conversing. At the end of this time it was
growing
dark, and the stranger once more asked the pandit to close his eyes and
recite
the Gâyatri. When he reopened them he found himself again on the
riverbank
accompanied by the stranger. He might have believed that he had never
left
that place, but had fallen into a trance and travelled in his astral body,
except
for the fact that his friend the barrister had awakened during his
absence,
and come out in search of him, but could not find him. Upon this Mr
Râju
had been much perturbed, thinking that some wild animal had carried him
away,
and he ran about distracted, searching everywhere for his friend. Quite
suddenly
he saw him on the river bank, where he had already searched a dozen
times.
Overjoyed he rushed to meet him, questioning him eagerly as to where he
had
been.”
“Now
when they were on the peak the stranger had asked the pandit to promise
that
he would not tell anyone of his experience, and so he now found himself in
a
difficulty, and looked to his new friend to know what he should do. The
stranger,
appreciating the awkwardness of the situation, gave him permission to
tell
his friend what had happened. This relation affected Mr Râja in the most
extraordinary
way; he became furiously jealous, and so angry that he actually
accused
his friend the pandit of ingratitude, and begged the stranger to extend
to
him the same privilege that he had so freely given to his friend. The
stranger
calmly replied that he must first destroy the râjasic part of his
nature,
and kill out curiosity to know about matters in which he had no
concern.”
“During
the conversation on the peak the stranger had asked the pandit whether
he
could make up his mind to spend the rest of his life with this community of
ascetics,
and had very strongly advised him to do so, telling him that if he
lost
this marvellously good opportunity which his karma had given to him, it was
uncertain
when anything like it would occur again. The pandit, however, was
hardly
prepared for this. He was versed only in book-lore, and tied down to a
certain
round of what he considered duties, the chief of which were owed, he
said,
to his own mother and to his friend and benefactor Mr Râju, who had helped
him
with all he required for twenty years, and to whose liberality he owed even
the
opportunity of this remarkable experience.”
“The
stranger told him that duties of this nature were not of sufficient
importance
to be allowed to interfere with his taking an opportunity such as
this.
Furthermore, the stranger told him that he should have the power to see
his
mother whenever he thought of her, and he guaranteed that his friend should
be
guarded on his lonely journey and guided in safety to his home. The pandit,
however,
could not be moved from his idea of duty, and still maintained his
refusal,
to the distress of his friend and adviser. The pandit died a fortnight
ago,
leaving behind him his old mother, who has now attained the age of
eighty-five,
so that after all he was not able to fulfil to the end the duty
which
he felt that he owed her.”
“It
seems to me,” concluded the Superintendent, “that this pandit's life should
be
a lesson to those who desire to enter the Path, showing them that their
surrender
must be complete and unconditional, and that no thought of mother, son
or
friend must intervene. Otherwise life becomes a void, and contains only a
future
of sorrow and trouble; and before another similar opportunity comes who
knows
what difficulties may have to be encountered?”
“While
quite agreeing,” said the Shepherd, “with the general statement that we
must
be prepared to give up everything without counting the cost, I do not think
that
we must criticise the pandit for his decision. If a man marries, for
example,
and has a family of children, he has unquestionably formed a karma
which
it is his duty to work out, and it would not be right for him to leave
them,
to follow some fancied good for himself. No man need have a wife and
children
unless he chooses, but having chosen he assumes a responsibility for
their
maintenance which he has no right to ignore. This pandit may have felt in
the
same way about his mother, and naturally he could not foresee that after all
he
would die before she did; nor indeed, even if he had foreseen it, would it
have
made any difference as to the matter of duty. It seems to me, however, that
without
doing any violence to his conscience the pandit might have been able to
effect
a compromise. He might have turned to his friend the barrister, and
explaining
all the circumstances to him, might have asked him whether he would
complete
his kindly patronage by taking charge of the old mother for the
remainder
of her life. Under the circumstances the barrister would have been
unlikely
to refuse, and then the pandit would have been free to accept the
stranger's
offer. But we must also observe that even if he had accepted it there
is
nothing to prove that he would have been able to enter the Path, or even that
the
stranger himself had done so.”
“The
Lord Buddha left his wife and child,” interjected somebody.
“Yes,”
replied the Shepherd, “if the story given in the books is to believed;
but
in that case there was no question whatever as to their being suitably
maintained.”
“The
members of this community do not seem to have been exactly Adepts,”
remarked
a student.
“There
is certainly nothing to show that they were,” replied the Shepherd, “and
it
scarcely seems probable. They may however have been pupils of an Adept, or
simply
a band of ascetics who had devoted themselves to the higher studies, and
knew
something of the mysteries of nature. There are such communities in the
Himâlayas
- more than one such, to my knowledge; and there may be many.”
“I
have myself heard the pandit tell the same story,” remarked Gurudâsa, “and,
knowing
him to be a good and honorable man, I could not disbelieve him. But how
is
it possible that his physical body could have been conveyed through the air
in
the way described? what is the mechanism of it, I mean?”
“The
matter is not difficult,” replied the Shepherd, “and there are even several
ways
in which it might be done. You have of course heard of the possibility of
levitation,
for that power has been attributed to several yogis, and I remember
that
Colonel Olcott described an act of that nature which he once saw performed
by
a Tibetan Lama.”
“Yes,”
said Gurudâsa, “but he raised only himself. He did not at the same time
carry
another man.”
“That,”
said the Shepherd, “would present no difficulty. He may for example have
formed
a sort of cushion of ether, and then so changed its polarity as to charge
it
with that repulsive force which is the opposite of gravity. In that case the
pandit
sitting upon it could be raised and supported without the slightest
difficulty.”
“I
myself,” interjected the Tahsildar, “once had an experience which bears on
what
you are saying. I was once in company with a yogi, and we were passing a
night
together at a house near the river. During the night he roused me, and
telling
me that it was close upon daybreak, asked me to come down to the river
with
him. I went, but I soon saw that it was still far from the hour of
daybreak,
for it was somewhere about three o'clock in the morning, and very
dark.
However, we went together, and we sat by the side of the river and entered
into
meditation. After a time he told me to close my eyes and not to open them
again
until he gave me permission. I obeyed, but as nothing more happened for
some
considerable time I began to feel frightened, and at last I opened my eyes
without
waiting for his command. What was my surprise to see that he had
vanished!
What with this extraordinary circumstance and with the loneliness of
the
place and the darkness of the night, I felt exceedingly uneasy, and looked
about
nervously in all directions, but could see nothing of him. Something made
me
raise my eyes upwards, and there I distinctly saw him floating high in the
air
above my head. This phenomenon rather increased than relieved my
disquietude;
but presently he descended, and when he was seated once more
quietly
beside me, he said to me:”
‘Why
were you so afraid?’
“I
had nothing to say; I did not know why I had felt such fear, but presently I
asked
him whether he would ascend again, and take me up with him. Instantly he
replied
that he would, if I would undertake to feel no fear.”
“Exactly,”
interrupted the Shepherd, “if you had felt afraid you would have
fallen.”
“Yes,”
said the Tahsildar, “that is just what he said, and so I did not like to
try.”
“But
why should he fall if he felt afraid?” inquired Gurudâsa.
“Because
fear destroys the will,” replied the Shepherd, “and so utterly ruins
any
magical ceremony. In this case, however, the Tahsildar's will was hardly in
question,
as all the magical part of the performance would have been left to the
yogi.
But if the yogi had made for him such a cushion of etheric matter as I was
suggesting,
it is quite certain that it would have been broken up by the violent
disturbance
of the astral and etheric bodies of the Tahsildar, if he had allowed
himself
to yield to terror. It needs a steady head to experiment with practical
magic,
and unless a man possesses that invaluable characteristic he had much
better
leave it severely alone.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (19)
first
published in the Theosophist, Jan, 1911, p709-712
“Here
is a good story, sent to me from England by one of our members,” said the
Vagrant.
“The people are well known to me, and I only alter their names.”
“It
was in December, 1890, that, my brother having gone to London to live, I
made
up my mind to endeavor to reach him, if it were at all possible, by means
of
telepathy. He and I had for some time previous to that been carrying on
experiments
in hypnotism and the like, and so I thought that if the idea of
telepathy,
which was then receiving special attention, had any real basis for
belief
in it, its practicability ought to be easily demonstrated by us because
of
the very close rapport there was between us.”
“Accordingly
I set to work to reach him, I being in a city distant 113 miles
from
London. I sat myself down in a chair in my bedroom before a black concave
mirror,
and endeavored to picture him in my mind. He had told me that if I could
get
him to move, or to do something, when I had thoroughly visualised him, I
would
then be en rapport with him sufficiently to impress any message that I
wanted
to convey. So, there I sat until I could see him as clearly with my
mind's
eye as I could with my physical optic organ. When I had thus visualised
him
I mentally told him to turn his head and look at me, which he did; and then
I
willed him to raise his right arm and take his watch from his pocket, which
was
done. Now a peculiar thing occurred. Although I could see him I could not
see
the watch that he was, I concluded, holding in his hand. It occurred to me
that
if I could occupy his position I might then be able to see it, so I slipped
into
his place and looked through his eyes and then saw his watch. So soon as I
had
noted the time, ten minutes to eight, I lost sight of it, and was back again
in
my normal consciousness, feeling very much fatigued with the sustained mental
effort,
and though the events were quite clear in my memory, there was, I had to
admit
to myself, no decided proof of any direct contact with him. It struck me
that
it might have been simply a keen imagination, notwithstanding the inner
conviction
that I had really reached him. I had been sitting there since seven,
and
it was now ten minutes to eight, and had to all intents and purposes
accomplished
nothing. I felt disappointed and weary, but before retiring for the
night
I determined to try again, thinking that I might effect what I wanted
during
sleep, perhaps more easily than by the method I had just tried. About
half-past
nine I got into bed, but not as usual. This time for some reason I had
put
the pillow at the foot of the bed, and now laid myself down on my chest,
spreading
my arms out at right-angles to the body, resting my chin on the
pillow.
I had remained in this position it seemed barely a minute, recalling the
picture
I had seen of my brother, when I suddenly felt a thrill of intense
electrical
energy pass up my spine terminating in a pin-point in the centre of
my
head. Whether it was hot or cold I cannot say, but it was excruciatingly
painful.
Then it seemed to burst, and I was aware of standing in my room looking
at
a golden luminous mass in the midst of which was a watch. It was a Geneva
lever,
very thin, with glass front and silver case, engraved all over the back,
in
which there were three dents; it had a silver dial with gold ornamented
figures
and gold hands. I knew instinctively that it was my brother's watch, and
felt
too that if I wanted to know anything about it, I had only to apply my mind
to
the subject and everything was open to me. Looking at it, I became aware that
the
time was marking ten minutes to eight, and so soon as I had noticed this I
was
back in my body and awake, so I then turned over and went to sleep. In the
morning
when I awoke I put my hand under my pillow and reached for my watch, and
was
not surprised to find that this also indicated “ten minutes to eigh?”. This
is
a common experience with many people, that if they go to sleep thinking of
the
time at which they ought to get up, they will invariably wake at that time.
Hastily
I washed and dressed, then went down to breakfast. My brother James
(another
brother) was there having his eggs and bacon, and seeing me enter
exclaimed:
‘Hallo, Ned, what's the matter with you? Haven't you slept? You look
washed
out.’ But instead of answering his question I asked: ‘Has John got a
watch,
a Geneva lever with silver case engraved all over the back, three dents
in
it and with gold ornamented figures?’ At the mention of each particular he
looked
more surprised, and at last said: ‘Yes, but you never saw that watch. I
only
sent it to him a fortnight ago!’”
“About
three weeks after I had a letter from my brother John, saying that he was
coming
home to see us, and asking me to meet him at the station, but stating no
time
of arrival. I went however to meet the train that I thought most likely.”
“Soon
I saw him coming down the hill (he saw me at the same time), and I waited
for
him to come up. As soon as he arrived he put his hand in mine and we both
exclaimed
in the same breath: ‘Ten minutes to eight’. I should have remarked
that
we had not written to each other on the subject of our experiments, but it
is
evident from our greeting that we were both equally sure that the other knew
all
about it.”
“The
experience of the writer when lying on the bed,” remarked the Vagrant,
“shows
that this is not a mere case of telepathy. The acute pain, the sense of
explosion,
and the subsequent state show that he went out of his body in full
consciousness.
It is rather a pity that his mind was fixed on so trivial a
matter.”
“Casual
experiences which are not the direct result of training, and which lead
up
to nothing in particular, are not uncommon,” said the Shepherd. Here is a
letter
relating one, from a Matron of a convalescent Home in England.
“A
strange thing happened to me last summer (1908). We had a patient at W---,
Nurse
K---, who was very ill, and I think she was very sensitive and altogether
rather
strange. She said to me the day she arrived: ‘You are a Theosophist.’ I
replied:
‘How did you know?’ and she said she knew directly she saw me. Then a
few
days after she said: ‘Does it tire you or disturb you to come down to me at
nights
as you do, because if it does I won't bring you down, though it is a
great
comfort to have you come.’ I told her I had never been down to her in the
night,
but she insisted that when she was in great pain, and wished for me, I
always
came and held her hand till she got better. After that she told me
several
times that I had come and comforted her in the night, and after she had
left
us she wrote to me that one night she had wished for me very much, and I
had
come and kissed her and held her hand. ‘That time’, she said, ‘you had a
dress
on that I did not know and did not like.’ She came back to us very soon
after
that, and I met her at the door in this same dress, that she had not seen
before.”
“These
experiences are naturally becoming more common,” said the Vagrant, “as
the
race is entering on the borderland to an ever-increasing extent. It is all
the
more necessary that sound knowledge should be spread on these matters, in
order
that the dangers which arise from ignorance and fear may be avoided as
much
as possible.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (20)
first
published in the Theosophist, March, 1911, p964-969
“Now,
who has got a story to-day?” asked the Shepherd.
“I
have one, and a very interesting one,” answered the Inspector and began:
“A
friend of mine, an officer in the Police Department of this Presidency, told
me
not long ago a very curious story and asked me if I could explain it in a
satisfactory
way. He said that a report was once made to him of a theft by
burglary
in one of the villages that lay within his official jurisdiction. The
mistress
of the house feelingly implored him to leave no stone unturned in the
detection
of the culprits, as she and her husband had been reduced to utter
starvation
by the theft, which was all they possessed and which was the only
means
of their livelihood. He deeply sympathised with the lady and promised to
do
his best in the matter. He caused secret enquiries to be made. On a certain
night
he had a very vivid and clear dream to the effect that if the house of X.
were
carefully searched, the lost property would be discovered. On the morrow he
sent
for the chief officers of the village where X. dwelt and asked them what
they
thought of the character, of that individual. They were unanimous in giving
him
an exceptionally good and honest character, and added that he owned
extensive
lands and was unremitting in the alleviation of the sufferings of the
sick
and the poor. On hearing this, my friend thought that the dream was one of
the
ordinary meaningless sort, and that it would be highly improper to proceed
on
the strength of it. But that night the dream repeated itself even more
vividly
than on the previous occasion; he therefore made up his mind to search
the
house indicated at break of day. Accordingly, he went to X.'s residence and
enquired
if he knew anything of the theft. He was considerably alarmed at this,
and
most vigorously protested his ignorance and innocence of the affair, But his
faltering
voice, his guilty looks, his prevarication, when interrogated on
certain
points, confirmed my friend's suspicions and he would have ordered the
search
of the house, had not the men of the village protested with one voice
against
what they considered to be an unmerited insult to one of their local
magnates;
and the victims of the theft themselves persuaded him to withdraw from
the
scene which became very uproarious. My friend dreamt again for the third
time,
and then he determined to carry out his design at all costs, and went the
next
day and ordered his subordinates to search the house thoroughly. In the
course
of their search they came to a spot which looked very suspicious, and on
digging
there they lighted upon the property which had been stolen. It was duly
returned
to its owners, who were much emaciated by sorrow and starvation, and
the
dream of my friend which at first seemed absurd was well verified.”
“So
the dream came true, and it is a good instance of astral activity producing
result
on the physical plane,” said the Superintendent.
“Yes,
that's so,” said the Shepherd; “any more stories?”
“I
have a queer tale to tell, sir,” said the Wanderer, “may I?”
“Go
ahead.”
“Well,
I call it a strong presentiment. During the last year of the South
African
Campaign we found ourselves once more in Standerton - a town very
strongly
held and used as a base of operations in that district. The flying
column
had come to rest, sadly in want of remounts and a change from the
interminable
monotony of tracking across the endless Veldt in pursuit of an ever
disappearing
foe, one who, at odd intervals mysteriously reformed upon our flank
or
rear, feinted a little, sniped a bit, and then when you turned upon them,
elusively
melted once more into the air.”
“For
the time being we became part of the garrison posted beneath the shadow of
the
great Kop, an impregnable position dominating the surrounding Veldt from the
view-point
of the 4.7 to perhaps eight odd miles away, the base of another giant
Kopje
up along the Vaal.”
“We
soon found it was the custom to send out every morning various outposts
around
the town to watch the approaches and prevent the looting of cattle. Now
it
so happened that grass was becoming short in all the open country roundabout,
and
it was determined to send the cattle up along the bank of the Vaal, where
there
was still plenty of food. This had not hitherto been attempted because of
the
extreme difficulty of the country on this side.”
“Next
morning, however, I received orders to post the guard in this direction,
and
select the best available position. In the early dawn we rode out to a tract
of
land between the great Kopje and the Vaal - as difficult a place as one could
imagine
to reconnoitre properly with a handful of men. Full of deep dongas,
boulders,
ridges of rock, and deadly undulating eminences all along the edge of
the
Veldt, with an unguarded drift or ford in the Vaal but half a mile away, and
another
a few miles up the twisting river that ran concealed from view below the
level
of the Veldt - until you rode right up to the banks of it! A perfectly
hopeless
place to be in if the enemy were there before you, a series of strong
positions
if you happened to get there first. After reconnoitering the whole
position,
I came to the conclusion that the drift was the point to be watched,
so
I posted the troops in a strong position on a ridge of rocks, with two men on
an
elevation commanding as much of the drift as could be seen. It was then that
the
hopeless nature of the position was born in upon me, because, after retiring
each
evening, we had to take it up again next morning. Moreover the enemy would
be
aware of it. As I stood upon the spot that I had selected, I felt a very
strong
presentiment that it would be the scene of a disaster. The Boers had
merely
to cross the drift, take up this our position, and wait for us.”
“I
rode back feeling we were ‘up against it’. It was not until long afterwards
that
I thought of the full significance of what I felt impelled to do. After
making
the usual report to the O.C., I went back to my tent and sat down to
think
it out. Presently I found myself making a map of the tract of the country
I
had ridden over in the morning, trying to indicate its dangers from the
view-point
of ambush. I then took it to my Colonel and told him all about it,
showing
him the map I had made. He was impressed, and sent it in to the C.O.
saying,
‘I will mention your suggestion that the drift be held by crossing the
river
opposite Standerton, and approaching from the other side; but after all
its
only an outpost, a cattle-guard, and the closing of the drift might lead to
other
complications, and besides nothing might happen.’ ‘Well, sir’, said I, ‘we
will
be scuppered there some fine morning, and I think as likely as not it will
be
to-morrow.’ ‘Well,’ said the C--- ‘anyhow take more men, and use all the
precautions
you can think of, and tell the officer in charge of the men
to-morrow
to keep a sharp look out.’ It was after all but one of a thousand
guards
that had been posted round about. As the officer whose turn it was to
post
the guard in the morning was feeling seedy, another volunteered, and after
going
the rounds that night I felt impelled once more to tell them all about it,
saying:
‘Anyhow come and see me in the morning, and I will give you a copy of
the
map I have made.’ At day-break, the officer whose turn it was to go, came in
to
my tent and said as he was feeling fit again he was going. As soon as I had
given
him full instructions he rode away with his men, some of whom had been
there
on the previous day.”
“Now,
although my duties did not commence until later in the day, I felt
impelled
to get up and prepare to follow, as I felt something was bound to
happen.
So I slung on my mauser and glasses, and told my orderly to bring the
horses
round.”
“While
I was waiting for what I certainly think no one else expected, another of
our
fellows came along with watering-pots and stood talking to me, asking me
where
I was bound, as it was my morning off. At this moment the sun rose, and I
had
just begun to explain, when suddenly the unmistakable sound of volley
firing,
followed by the continuous clip-clop of the mauser broke the stillness
of
the morning. Almost at once the helio on the Kopje told us that our party was
attacked
by Boers in force.”
“In
a moment the camp flashed into life, and I found myself, after hastily
collecting
all the details, galloping to a support or rescue that I felt would
be
hopeless.”
“We
dashed through the dongas and out upon the Veldt, and then I discovered a
party
of Bushmen (old friends of mine), whom I thought at first to be some Boers
playing
the decoy, hustling away on my flank to hold the further drift. It was
cautious
work, approaching the scene of action, as the Boers with the drift
behind
them might still be waiting to give us a warm reception and account for a
few
more of us. Soon, however, we came across a sergeant of ours shot through
the
chin (which however he lived to get over), and farther on, upon the high
elevation
overlooking the drift on which I had told him to post his guard, I
found
the officer and two of his men with whom he had ridden on to reconnoitre,
riddled
with bullets. It seems that he had had time to turn and warn his men
but,
as was inevitable, it was all too late to do anything in such a hopeless
position.”
“It
was all over but the shouting; true we caused those Boers to hustle, and
some
natives told us that in consequence they had to bury five of them, but as I
did
not see it done, it is very much open to doubt. However, I did a
considerable
lot of thinking as to the wisdom of following the lead of strong
presentiments.”
“A
few days after I escorted the General of Division over the ground, and he
confirmed
my opinion from the strategic view-point saying; ‘No more guards must
be
posted in this direction without permanent occupation, it would require a
column
to hold it properly.’”
“Yes,
that may be,” the Magian interrupted, “but time is up, the twilight is
long
past, and from this refreshment we must wend our way to labor; next
twilight
hour I will read to you a very interesting story that comes from
abroad.”
“Good,”
said the Shepherd, “and you will find us eager listeners.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (21)
first
published in the Theosophist, May, 1911, p290-296
“This
comes from a lady friend in England, not a member of our Society,” said
the
Magian. “The facts of this story are known in the locality, and it seems to
me
interesting enough to read at our meeting.”
“Read
away,” said the Vagrant, and the Magian read:
In
a beautifully wooded part of the country in the Shire of ----- there stands a
picturesque
old Hall, surrounded by gardens and park, once well cared for, now
neglected
and dreary looking. The Hall itself, with its handsome gables,
mullioned
windows, fine terrace with stone balcony, and old-fashioned sun-dial,
looks
as though it ought to have been the scene of happiness and contentment,
not
of the strange and sad events I am about to relate.
In
the year which saw Napoleon banished to S. Helena, the last survivors of the
family
to whom the estate belonged were two brothers. The elder was an officer
in
the English army; the younger a clergyman, Rector of a small Church not far
from
the Hall. He was a widower, and had one child, a girl. Soon after Colonel
N.
came into his inheritance, his regiment was ordered to India; and, knowing
that
it would probably be years before he returned home, he placed the
management
of his property in his brother's hands, persuading him to leave the
Rectory
and take up his residence at the Hall.
Some
years passed: communication at that time between England and India was
neither
easy nor frequent; and Colonel N., a keen officer, engrossed in his
duties,
soon ceased to write to his brother; and the Rector, settled at the
Hall,
absolute master of everything, began to look upon himself as owner, and
upon
his daughter, to whom he was devotedly attached, as heiress to the
property.
Unfortunately
however for his dreams and plans, Colonel N. married a young Irish
girl,
whom he tenderly loved. Her death at the end of two years, leaving him a
baby
girl, Mona, nearly broke his heart. Six months later the Colonel was
attacked
by fever; and feeling he would not recover, he began to settle his
affairs,
and to make arrangements for the future welfare of his child. He placed
her
in the care of his Indian servant, Hassim, giving him at the same time all
his
money and the jewels which had belonged to his wife, together with a letter
to
his brother, and papers proving the validity of his marriage. He made Hassim
solemnly
promise to take his little daughter to England, as soon as possible
after
his death, and deliver her into the guardianship of her uncle.
Hassim,
faithful to his promise, after seeing his kind and generous master laid
in
his grave, started on his long journey with Mona; and, after a stormy voyage
and
many difficulties, owing to his imperfect knowledge of the English language,
found
himself and the child, one cold, foggy, autumn evening, at the gates of
the
old mansion.
Although
unable to discredit his story, the Rector gave them a cold reception;
and
it did not take Hassim long to realise how unwelcome the little heiress was,
and
how gladly her uncle would get rid of them both, could he do so. This put
Hassim
on his guard; and as time went on, the difference made in the treatment
of
his little mistress and her cousin filled him with indignation and anger.
While
the one was surrounded with every luxury, and treated with kindness and
consideration,
as though she were the heiress, Mona, the rightful owner, was
banished
to the servants' quarters, and allowed to grow up in ignorance and
neglect.
Powerless to alter this terrible injustice, Hassim brooded over the
poor
child's wrongs until he could no longer keep silence. With a courage born
of
his devotion and fidelity, he one day sought Mr N.'s presence; and in his
broken
English, deep emotion choking his voice, he reminded him how absolutely
his
brother had trusted him with his daughter's happiness and welfare; that she,
and
not his own daughter, was owner of the estate; and implored him to treat
Mona
from that day with justice and kindness. Livid with rage, raising his hand
as
though about to strike him, Mr N., in a loud and angry voice, commanded him
to
leave the room and never to mention the subject to him again.
Poor
Hassim was overcome with grief at the failure of his appeal. Living at the
Hall
only on sufferance, a stranger in a foreign land, possessing neither money
nor
influence, he could only watch over his beloved charge with ever greater
solicitude,
hoping that as she grew older, her wrongs would become known, and
that
she would be restored to her rightful inheritance. With this end in view,
Hassim
constantly talked to Mona, telling her she must never forget that the
Hall
and everything in it belonged to her; and that when she was old enough, she
must
tell some one about it whom she could trust to send her uncle away, and
help
her to take possession of her own property.
Now,
it is said that one evening, Hassim and Mona were sitting in a secluded
part
of the terrace, overlooking the lake, talking of her father, and of how
different
things would be were he alive, when suddenly the Rector appeared
before
them. He spoke sternly and angrily to his niece, and bade her return to
her
duties, and not idle away her time in foolish conversation. When she had
disappeared,
pale and trembling, the Rector turned to the Indian and threatened
to
send him away, unless he promised never to talk to his niece about those
things
again. Hassim, drawing himself up to his full height, his dark eyes
flashing
with righteous anger, called Heaven to witness the injustice done to
his
master's daughter, and pronounced a solemn curse on Mr N. and his
descendants,
as long as the rightful owner was kept from her lawful inheritance.
Mr
N., transported with rage, struck the Indian on the head with the heavy stick
he
carried, and the poor man fell to the ground, dead, the victim of a cruel
man's
ambition!
The
murderer was horrified at the result of the blow. With the usual instinct of
self-preservation,
his first thought was to hide the body. Dragging it to the
edge
of the terrace, he threw it into the lake. Then, returning to the house, he
called
the butler to him, and told him he had found it necessary to send Hassim
away,
and that he would never return. He also gave orders that his niece should
be
sent on a visit to a farmer living some miles away, saying that the change
would
help her to forget her servant.
It
was easier in those days than it would be now to avoid suspicion, and Mr N.
hoped
that now he was relieved from the presence he hated, he would be able to
pursue
his plans unhindered. The cruel murder was not however to go unavenged;
rumors
began to circulate among the servants that Hassim had been made away
with,
and that his ghost had been seen walking in the park. One night, the
footman,
who had been out late, came in shaking with terror, declaring he had
seen
the Indian standing at the edge of the lake, that he had suddenly
disappeared,
and that he had heard a loud splash, as though something had been
thrown
into the water. On another occasion, a laborer, returning from his work,
saw
the white-robed figure of Hassim standing in front of him, who, pointing to
the
lake, vanished. Moreover, strange voices which could not be accounted for
were
heard in the house. One evening, the butler vowed that when going into the
library
to close the shutters, he saw Hassim standing by the window, his hands
raised
as though in supplication.
Mr
N., overcome by a guilty conscience and cowardly fears, hardly dared to be
alone,
and never went out after dark; one evening he had been found by a
gardener,
crouching on a seat on the terrace, half dead with fright at something
he
had seen! From that time nothing seemed to prosper with him. To his great
sorrow,
the daughter he loved so well, and for whose sake he had done so much
wrong,
had a severe illness which affected her brain; and the servants whispered
with
bated breath that she too had seen ‘something’ which had frightened her
wits
away.
After
a time the Rector could no longer endure his life, and decided to shut up
the
Hall, and go abroad. With this end in view, in order to raise money for his
immediate
expenses, he told his agent to cut down some trees in the park, and
sell
the timber. The order was given, and the work of destruction began; but at
the
first blow of the axe, a voice, which seemed to come from the sky, said:
“This
tree is mine!” A second tree was struck, and again the voice said: “This
tree
is mine!” Urged by the agent, the terrified men began to cut another; but
once
more the voice said, “This tree is mine! this tree is mine!” The men could
no
longer bear it; throwing down their tools, they rushed from the wood; nor
could
they ever, either by threats or promises, be persuaded to return to the
place
again. When the agent, agitated by what he too had heard, told Mr N. of
the
occurrence, the weird story proved too much for him, weakened as he was by
the
burden of his awful crime, and all the consequences he had had to endure. He
was
struck with paralysis, from which he never recovered, and died at the end of
a
few days. His daughter, brought up by strangers, was, although half-witted,
forced
into a loveless marriage, on account of her wealth, and died eventually
insane.
Her cousin's fate is unknown, but it is believed in the village, by the
old
people, whose grand-parents were young when these things happened, that she
married
a farm-laborer, and that they emigrated to America.
Hassim
is still said to haunt the scene of his murder;; and, to this day, the
country
people dare not walk through the wood at night, where the voices were
heard.
The Hall stands uninhabited and desolate, a witness to the truth of the
saying:
The
Curse causeless shall not come.
“A
good story,” commented the Vagrant, “though the end is disappointing. Poor
Hassim
ruined his murderer, but failed to save the child he loved.”
“And
here is still another story from a different correspondent, this time a
personal
experience,” said the Magian, and read:
I
dreamt, on the morning of Thursday, July 14, 1910 - between six and seven
o'clock
in the morning - that I was standing in a room in the company of others.
I
had the impression that I was abroad, and was standing in either a Chapel or
in
a large and lofty room in one of the historic Châteaux of France. But I saw
no
details of my surroundings, as my attention was concentrated on a girl who
was
acting as my guide, and who was dressed, it seemed to me, in one of the
pretty
foreign costumes now rarely, if ever, seen.
“Yes,
it is haunted here,” this girl said, “and I have the gift of seeing the
poor
unfortunate one.”
“Try
to see him now,” somebody - I do not know who - said.
The
girl placed her hand on the panelled wall of the room, shut her eyes, and
seemed
to withdraw her consciousness inwards.
“I
see him,” she said, and then looking straight at me: “Do you not also see? It
seems
to me you should.”
“I
feel a dark and lonely presence. I see nothing,” I answered,
The
scene changed. I was taking part in an al fresco fête. The sun was shining,
and
all around me was gay and festive. Suddenly I became conscious of a man,
dressed
in sombre black, curiously cut and fashioned, resembling somewhat a
monk's
dress, or the Geneva robe of a cleric, and whom, though he looked human
and
of flesh and blood consistency, I knew, directly my eyes fell upon him, to
be
the ghost of the room I had previously visited. This man approached me, and
though
he did not speak to me, his presence made me aware of his misery and his
desire
for help. His nearness conveyed to me the dreadfulness of the fate that
was
his, condemned as he felt himself to be - though why I do not know - to
dwell
betwixt heaven and earth, a habitant of neither, feared and shunned by all
who
could perceive him, lonely and lost in misery. And I knew that only in that
old
oak-panelled room could I do aught to help him.
And
with the thought again I found myself in that large and lofty room, and now
facing
its ghostly occupant. But his mood had changed. No longer a suppliant,
but
defiant and triumphant, the man faced me, and I stood before him with my
arms
raised, my hands spread outward to ward off his closer approach; but he
leapt
upon me, crying, as he pressed his fingers to mind and I distinctly felt
the
contact of each finger, and knew his purpose was to draw vitality from mine:
“You
shall not! You shall not! You are human, and I too am becoming human again”
-
and as he spoke I felt his fingers as they clung to mine tighten their hold,
become
more solid, warmer, living, in a word, distinctly human: “I, at any rate,
am
now alive, am conscious of existence. If you work your will on me, how do I
know
what then will be my fate? I may vanish into space and nothingness,” and,
frantic
with terror, it appeared he tried by brute force to bear me down. I
stood
firm. Slowly firmly, I drew into myself the infinite strength that ever
surrounds
us; so fortified, I set every power I possessed on loosening the tie
that
bound the man before me to this place, and to his present fate. Suddenly he
disappeared
and was not, and I knew that my purpose was accomplished and I
awoke.
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (22)
first
published in the Theosophist, Sept, 1911, p900-908
“The
following is sent by a reliable correspondent,” said the Vagrant, and read
as
follows:
There
is a little girl of four years of age in Melbourne (Australia), who
repeatedly
tells to such of her friends as she feels to be sympathetic the
following
experience:
“When
I was big before (grown-up), I had a different mother altogether, not at
all
like the one I have now. I always had to go to school then, and my teacher
was
always so hard on me; he thrashed me continually, When I was bigger still,
they
took my mother away from me one day, and we all had to travel till we
reached
a great forest. There a lot of soldiers came and caught me; some cried
out
to me: “Go to the devil!” and then they shot me.”
When
asked if that happened in Melbourne the reply came: “No, in Merika.”
The
child never varies in any details when telling the experience; she has her
little
head full of many other incidents of that time, but is very reluctant to
speak
about it. Her present physical parents, when interviewed by some of our
members,
had never heard of reincarnation, and made sure that it was all only
the
child's imagination; at the same time they were greatly puzzled as to where
the
child should have got her ideas from, as she had lived with them nearly all
her
life in seclusion in the country, hardily ever coming into contact with
other
people or children. The little girl herself is very small for her age,
while
her eyes have the expression of an old grown-up individual. I am sorry to
have
to add that her present life will probably be a very short one.
“Here
is a narrative from a brother Theosophist, whose act of self-sacrifice
ought
to be an example; and it is a good Twilight story also,” said the
Shepherd.
“It
was the evening of 24th July, 1910, and two young friends of twenty-eight
and
thirty years of age were going for a walk. One of them sensed all of a
sudden
some sort of a peculiar smell. He asked the other friend: Do you notice a
bad
smell?” ‘No,’ replied the other. Within two or three minutes the smell
passed
away. Next evening the same two friends went out for a walk as usual, and
again
at the same time (probably 5:45 pm), but a mile away from the place of the
day
before, the same young man noticed the same sort of smell. Then and there he
stopped,
and began to look around him with a positive attitude. He could not see
anything
with his physical eyes, but he somehow felt that some evil entity was
standing
at a distance of about two or three yards. He was staring at the place,
when
he received as it were a mental message from the entity: “Shall I go back
to
the sender?” But the man was a member of the TS and he thought it
untheosophical
to allow an evil thought-form to return to the sender.
He
remembered his Gurudeva, and mentally said “No, don't go back, but discharge
your
force upon myself.” No sooner had he said so, than he felt some dark thing
coming
over his head and covering his whole body, and he at once lost all his
strength.
He was so weak that he was unwilling to walk any further, but somehow
he
managed to keep on, lest his friend might be anxious about his sudden
weakness.
But
from the time the evil entity took possession of his body, he continued to
meditate
upon the unity of all beings, and to send loving thoughts to the entity
itself.
After a few minutes he felt that the entity was sliding down his body,
bit
by bit, and within fifteen minutes or so he felt himself completely
recovered.
All
this time he did not say anything to his friend. After regaining his normal
strength,
he asked his friend whether he had felt any unusual thing while he had
been
silent. The friend said: “I only felt a slight weakness; nothing more.”
Since
that day the man has never noticed any bad smell of the same sort, though
he
has often passed the same place.
“One
often hears,” said the Countess, “that dying people appear to their friends
at
a distance. I also have come across such a case, though the manifestation was
not
a very pleasant one. A young girl, one summer, was invited to spend some
time
with her aunt, who had married a country-gentleman whose old castle was
situated
in a very lovely place in the mountains. She was delighted, for she not
only
expected to have a very merry time in her aunt's house with other
relatives,
but she was also told that she would find there her aunt's mother, an
old
lady of whom she was especially fond, and for whom she felt deep love and
devotion.
And indeed the young girl had not expected too much: every day was a
day
of joy, the elder members of the family spending much time in entertaining
their
young guests.
So
the days passed on until duties called the young girl to her paternal home.
Only
by letters she heard from time to time from her relatives in the mountains,
and
was glad to find that her aunt's mother remained in good health. Meanwhile
the
winter came. The girl writes: ‘One morning I awoke while it was still quite
dark
outside; only from my mother's bedroom through the half-opened door a dim
light
of a night-lamp shone. I thought it was too early to get up, and fell
asleep
again. But what was that? Out of my mother's bedroom my great-aunt came,
clad
in the light violet dress she used to wear so often in those happy summer
days.
She approached my bed, she bent over me and clasped me; she pressed me
more
and more closely. I could not breath; I felt as if I must die.’ So the
struggle
went on, but after a time the apparition disappeared, and the young
girl
could breath again. At this moment a clock struck six. It was on a Friday
morning.
A few days later a notice came that the old lady had died on the same
Friday
morning at six o'clock. Did the old lady go in her astral body to the
young
girl, or was the young girl in her astral body at her aunt's death-bed?”
“The
old lady probably visited her,” said the Vagrant, “but in a semi-conscious
state,
conscious of love for the girl, and not conscious that she was showing it
in
rather an uncomfortable manner. Most likely, also, the girl was frightened,
and
the fright made her feel as if she were choking.”
“The
following experience has been sent to me,” said the Shepherd, “but I do not
quite
see what occurred. My correspondent write?”:
At
the beginning of the Russo-Japanese War I had in my employ a Japanese
house-servant,
who could not speak or read English. He came to me daily when his
work
was finished with the newspapers, saying the same thing each time: “Madame,
Japan-Russia?”
This was the extent of his English. I would then endeavor by
signs
- plans of water-color and pencil-drawings - to make him understand the
news.
Had it not been for his intense desire to know the news of the war, I
scarcely
think I should have read the papers or war news at all, although my
sympathies
were with Japan; yet I was not at first at all enthusiastic. Finally
a
peculiar enthusiasm took possession of me in which I apparently took no part;
independently
of myself it possessed me. This occurred at home, on street-cars
or
elsewhere. I tried to throw it off. It continued to get hold of me long after
the
little Japanese had been called home by his government.
Sometimes
I felt myself to be riding a powerful horse which leaped and sprang
over
all difficulties, and I was encouraging, inspiring vast armies to follow
and
pursue the enemy. On and on my noble white horse rushed, or flew, for he
knew
as well as I that for the moment we were the central power and strength
from
which the great armies drew their enthusiasm. I tried to throw this off
with
all my force, and succeeded, but only for a short time. But almost
immediately
I again found myself riding the superbly wonderful horse, springing
forward
in mid-air, sometimes leaping over great armies that I might guide them
from
danger. At the time I felt that I not only foresaw the danger, but had the
power
to save the soldiers from it by guiding them. I was filled with this
wonderful
enthusiasm.
This
thing continued off and on, spreading over about four months, but ended
about
the middle of the war, from which time I have not had any such experience.
I
was conscious of my condition, never losing consciousness, yet I was absorbed
in
the thing taking place. Apparently I was there riding at the head of armies,
an
inspiration to the Japanese and often a horror and terror to the Russians
when
they saw me riding in mid-air, for I saw them crouch and turn back many
times.
I cannot give any reason for this experience, but it absorbed my whole
being
for the time; I am sure I am not a Joan of Arc.
“Do
you not think,” said the Vagrant, “that the ‘peculiar enthusiasm’ explains
it?
You know how often we have found novices on the astral plane identifying
themselves
with the people whom they were trying to help - being blown up in an
explosion
for example. Fired by the enthusiasm of her Japanese servant, she
threw
herself on the Japanese side, and very likely associated herself with some
cavalry
leader. By the way, I had a queer experience in that same war. Awaking
one
morning, when I had been helping the slaughtered in a great battle, I heard
-
after I was awake - the thunder of the guns, the yells, moans, shrieks and
other
noises that render a battle-field so horrible. All the intolerable tumult
was
ringing round me.”
“You
must have been half in and half out of the body,” remarked the Shepherd,
“but
so clear a hearing prolonged into waking consciousness is unusual.”
“Here
is a good instance,” said the Banker, “of how a strong thought can
overcome
distance, and even though it be only for a moment, extend the
consciousness,
so that it can see and know, though it may never have been to a
certain
place.”
“Several
years ago, on the last day of the year, we had a little meeting of
Theosophists
in my house, as is our custom, to see the New Year in and to send
auspicious
thoughts to our brothers all the world over. My wife and I had
retired
after the others had left, and I was in bed thinking over again the
thoughts
connected with our meeting and with the past and the opening year.
Before
going to sleep I thought I should like to send Mrs Besant a thought of
good
wishes and devotion, and told my wife I was going to do so. I closed my
eyes
and began thinking of her. Almost immediately I seemed to be in front of a
door
with glass panes, the approach to which was up two or three steps. I drew
close
up to it and looked in. In front of me was a long room, up which I could
not
see very well to the end, as the light was not strong. It appeared to be
early
morning - sunrise or soon after. Immediately in front of me, a little to
the
right, was a small low table, and on it were papers and letters; this table
or
desk appeared to be set on a raised platform or settee, but only a foot high
from
this. There were no chairs in the room. There appeared to be a strip of
cane
or Japanese matting down the length of the room, and a rug or mat near the
settee.
What takes long to describe was of course an instantaneous impression,
for,
as I looked, I saw Mrs Besant far off at the end of the room, coming down
it
towards my end.”
“She
was dressed in some cream-colored material, much as she always is. She came
at
once to the little table, put on her pince-nez, and with her left hand took
up
some papers on the left of her desk, or little table. She was proceeding to
examine
these, when suddenly she seemed to be aware of my vicinity to her behind
the
door with the glass panes. She looked over her pince-nez straight at me, and
as
she did so her face suddenly seemed to be coming, as it were from the end of
a
telescope, right at me, and growing larger and larger as it came until it was
huge
and seemed to burst on me, which caused me to come to myself with a jerk.
All
this again took only a moment. Yet I was not at all asleep: only abstracted
in
thought. I at once gave my wife, whom I had told that I was going to think of
Mrs
Besant, a description there and then of the experience just as I have now
told
it; and I added: ‘You see, there is not much in these things; for it is
just
past two o'clock at night and yet it seemed to me it was early morning and
the
sun was just up.” After a little she replied: “Oh! but wait; what is the
difference
in time between here and India? Would it not be early morning there?”
This
made me realise that it well might be so; for Italy is nearly an hour east
of
Greenwich, and India roughly five to five and a half hours; so that, in round
figures,
the time corresponding to my thought of Mrs Besant will have been in
India
somewhere near 6:30 am.
“This
rendered the whole thing rather more remarkable. The whole occurrence was
noted
in my diary, and I decided some time or other to satisfy myself that such
a
room as I had seen existed. I had no idea where Mrs Besant was at the time,
and
having only been in the Society two or three years, had no immediate
possibility
of verifying the matter one way or the other. When last year I came
out
to Adyar for the first time, I had the thought of this experience uppermost
in
my mind as I approached Mrs Besant's room at Headquarters, and was much
disappointed
when I got there to find that it did not resemble in any way the
room
I had seen on that last day of the year some years back. True, there was a
settee
or platform with a little low table on it, but the room was too square,
the
windows were all wrong, there were no steps leading up to the place I had
looked
in at. Nothing quite fitted my idea of what the room ought to have been.
So
I left it at that. Then it occurred to me it might be at Benares. Perhaps at
Shânti
Kunja. I had no chance last year of going to Benares, and returned to
Europe
without having verified my vision one way or the other.”
“This
year, however, circumstances took me to Benares. Again the sought-for room
was
in my mind as I approached Benares, and was being driven by kind friends in
the
very early morning before sunrise to Shânti Kunja, Mrs Besant's house. The
first
room into which we entered - it was still fairly dark - had a large settee
such
as I have described, but, alas, this was not the hoped-for room; the shape
was
all wrong, the chanki was too large - all was wrong. I practically, I don't
know
why, concluded that must be Mrs Besant's room, and that again the physical
fact
demonstrated that the transient vision had erred - so there was no use
bothering
about it any further. Yet as I so thought, we were passing down and
through
another room; but partly because it was early and there was only one
lantern,
and partly because the windows at the end gave little light and were
closed,
I could not see anything of it.”
“Yet
I seemed to feel it familiar; but, disappointed as I had been, I rather
stifled
any further thought about it and presently passed out on to the verandah
without
further question or examination. We had our chota-hazri, or little
breakfast,
on the verandah presently, and the sun meantime rose higher. I got up
from
my place and looked in at the window of the room we had passed through,
giving
on to the verandah - and there was my long-sought room and all the
conditions
just as I had seen them!”
“The
early morning; behind me were the steps up to the verandah; I was standing
behind
the window giving on to the verandah, which on account of the wood used
might
well have been described by me as ‘a door with panes of glass;’ there in
front
of me stretched a longish room not very well lit, with the settee and the
desk
a little on the right as I looked; on it were papers; behind me was the sun
and
the morning. It but wanted Mrs Besant to walk down it and to look at me over
her
pince-nez. But she was in Burma, so this part of the realisation could not
take
effect. I at once asked whose room it was I was looking in at, and my
friend
told me it was Mrs Besant's room, then actually used by Mr Arundale
whilst
repairs were going on in his quarters.”
“I
think that as a bit of first-hand evidence of seeing in thought a place I
knew
nothing of thousands of miles away, the above has many points of interest.”
“It
certainly has,” said the Vagrant, “and it would be a little difficult even
for
a psychical researcher to ascribe to telepathy the picture of a room you did
not
know when I was not thinking of you. It may be recorded as a useful piece of
evidence.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (23)
first
published in the Theosophist, Jan, 1912, p589-594
“It
is curious,” said the Vagrant, “to notice the confusion of past, present and
future
which occurs in the astral experiences of neophytes in the astral world.
Here,
for instance, is a record sent me by a very serious and thoughtful member,
who
came into the inner circle of the Society in the time of HPB. He was, in
fact,
one of her first pupils. He says that his heart had become much affected
after
he had witnessed two death-scenes in the astral world, and had suddenly
and
excitedly rushed back to the physical body; he found himself obliged to move
very
slowly and carefully, using a cane. He says:”
“At
both of these occurrences the body received a great shock. I was not
frightened
when back in the body; I had no particular feeling about it; but the
heart-beats
were extremely irregular and queer. The first happened in the early
morning
of April 9, 1888. I saw a man by the name of Jonas Anderson, related to
me
by marriage, kill himself. I could bring back no particulars of the sad
happening,
only the bare fact. I waited for the Swedish mail; it came, and the
papers
contained the notice that on that very night one of my friends and
colleagues,
Magnus Elmblad, had died suddenly at Stockholm, supposedly by taking
poison.
In letters from home I heard that the man whose suicide I had witnessed
was
alive and well.” “This,” I thought, “is merely a quid pro quo.” And there I
left
it. In 1895 Anderson did really commit suicide. So I had seen what was
going
to happen, but was too dull and too ignorant to go and tell Anderson while
in
the astral world how bad it would be for him to take his own life, as it now
seems
to me that I was given an opportunity to do.
The
second death scene I saw one morning in October, 1888. Before me lay a
narrow
country road on a hillside, with a sharp curve in the middle. There came
a
fine carriage; the two horses before it trotted at a quick speed. In the
carriage
sat Count Eric Sparre, Governor of my native province in Sweden,
Inspector
of my College and father of one of my schoolmates. At the curve in the
road
the carriage was dashed to the ground, and the Count was killed. As a
matter
of fact, the Count had been killed in exactly this way on the 17th of
June,
1886. I seem to have witnessed those two death scenes from a plane on
which
past, present and future are not so well separated as down here. After
these
shakings my body was weak for over a year, and our family physician
ordered
me to take digitalis for it, advising me to move slowly and be extremely
careful,
as I otherwise might fall down dead any minute. I followed his advice.’
“The
latter case is simple enough,” went on the Vagrant, “for our friend merely
saw
the astral picture of an event that had happened. In the first, a confusion
apparently
occurred in bringing through the memory, as the event happened at the
time
at which it was seen, but the person concerned was changed; the strange
thing
is that the very person who was seen to kill himself did kill himself
seven
years later. It may have been that the first suicide was witnessed, that
the
ego of the seer, looking forward, saw Mr Anderson's danger and tried to
impress
a warning on the brain of his lower vehicle, and that the two things
became
mixed up in the etheric brain, and reached the ordinary brain in this
curiously
substituted form.”
“Another
experience, sent by this same member, is very instructive. He writes:
‘On
Wednesday, September 18, 1889, on the way from my home to the street-car
line,
I had to cross a street where they were digging a sewer. Proceeding very
slowly,
I saw the wide dug-out and wondered how I could cross it, as I was
unable
to jump over, and as it was also difficult to hobble over on barrow
boards,
in case there were any laid across. "But", I reasoned, "this
body is not
myself."
I fixed my eyes on a spot at the opposite side of the chasm, thinking
at
the same moment: “I am there already.” Now comes the queer experience. I was
actually
there, as quick as I had thought it, feeling that the body for a moment
was
walking a short distance behind me, moving at my will, steadily and
automatically.
I myself was over the chasm, and I soon had the body with me,
too,
joining it fully on its arrival.’ Perhaps others of you have had some such
experience,
especially in the early days of your astral development.?”
“I
have had a rather unpleasant form of that kind of dual consciousness,” said
Austra,
“in which I found myself, when walking along a London street and
thinking
of crossing it, in the midst of the vehicles. My thought seemed to have
carried
my body thither, without my brain consciousness.”
“That
was rather a dangerous form of it”, remarked a new-comer, smiling, “for if
the
body follows the astral consciousness without knowing what it is doing, it
may
run considerable risks.”
“It
does run such risks sometimes,” said the Shepherd. “One of our members, some
years
ago, walked physically out of a window of a fourth-floor room, and fell
into
the street below, with no consciousness that she was acting in anything but
the
astral body. Such instances are fortunately rare.”
“It
would seem that children are often unconscious of the difference between the
physical
and astral worlds,” said a member. “They see forms and events in the
astral
world and talk about them, and are sometimes even punished for
untruthfulness
when they recount, as things that have ‘really’ happened, facts
that,
to their elders, are merely fancies.”
“That
is unhappily true,” answered the Vagrant, “and it is cruelly hard on the
children.
Besides, disbelief in what they say blunts their moral sense; it is
always
better to take it for granted that a child is telling the truth, for even
if
he is saying what he knows to be false, trust begets shame in him for the
deception,
and he rises to the trust reposed in him. Our correspondent tells us
also
of a very wonderful vision he had of the Lord Buddha, when he was lying in
danger
of his physical life from the weakness of his heart already mentioned. He
saw
the Lord - his own eyes being wide open - sitting in a dazzling light on a
lotus-throne,
and the Presence sent warm rays, as of the sun, through and
through
him; a few hours later, he arose from his bed, and the heart-weakness
had
gone, never since to return. After some years, a great wish arose in him to
see
again that blessed vision, and he sat down and closed his eyes, breathing
that
wish. What followed is very instructive, and I read it in his own words:”
“Immediately
upon closing the eyes I saw the beautiful artistic designs that
usually
come first to me on entering the astral realm. They were clearly
outlined
and daintily coloured,” “No,” I thought at once, “I do not want to look
at
these no?”. The scenes changed quickly. I saw now all kinds of flowers. They
had
very delicate colours and seemed to be made out of soft, somewhat subdued,
light.
It looked magnificent. “No”, I thought, “not tha?”. Then there came a new
kaleidoscopic
change, and I saw a veritable Garden of Eden: trees and shrubs and
fields
that looked like a concentration of multi-coloured sun-rays. The scenery
gave
an impression of sweetness, harmony and peace. “No,” I thought again, “not
that,
either.” Another change, and now everywhere around me I saw myriads of
beautiful
heads and faces and eyes, angelic in expression, approaching and
receding
in rhythmical, wave-like movements all the time. “No,” I thought, “I
want
to see once more the Blessed One, at whose Lotus-Feet one third of our race
bends
down in worship, the first Buddha of our humanity:
In earths and heavens and hells incomparable,
The Teacher of Nirvâna and the Law.
Instantly
a quick, soft, rippling sound was distinctly heard. It sounded as when
silk
is torn. And again I saw, this time with my eyes closed, the shining white
Form
and Figure of the Tathagata. Everything else had disappeared.?”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (24)
first
published in the Theosophist, Feb, 1912, p747-754
“I
have received from Hungary,” said the Vagrant, “an interesting account of
some
phenomena familiar enough to students, but apparently unknown there, for
the
writer calls them ‘fantastic, incredible’. It seems that a young
peasant-girl,
living in Korosbanya, was employed as a servant in the house of
the
local Judge, M Balint Doczy. On Christmas Eve, 1910, Dr Zoltan Borbely, a
Registrar,
and his wife were guests of the Judge, and, as midnight struck and as
the
party began to exchange Christmas good wishes, pieces of wood and stone,
clods
of frozen earth, loose grains of corn and dried maize, were suddenly flung
against
the windows and walls of the house. The Judge and his guests startled,
thought
that an attack was being made, and did not observe, in their alarm, that
the
peasant-girl was trembling and was livid with fright. Armed with revolvers
and
sticks, they rushed out of the house, but could see no one. Yet the stones
continued
to fall. They returned to the house, and found the ladies present
trying
to revive the little servant, who had swooned. On her recovery, she
explained,
sobbing, that she was the cause of the tumult: ‘It's not my fault,’
she
whimpered; ‘whenever I stay more than a month in one place, trouble begins;
after
the 31st day, stones, clods, bits of wood, ears of maize, are thrown at
me.
I don't know why it is like this. Help me, kind gentlemen, or I shall die.’
Naturally
the Judge did not believe the peasant's story, and as the rain of
stones
gradually diminished, she was put to bed, and the family retired to their
rooms.
The next day, in chambers, the Judge related the events of the preceding
night,
and M Kincses, the Land Registrar, after listening attentively, remarked:
‘This
girl was maidservant in my house in November last, and at the end of a
month,
all sorts of things flew towards her. I did not believe in this kind of
magnetism,
and when she constantly begged to be cured, I thought she was mad,
and
sent her away.’ This confirmation of the phenomena caused much excitement,
and
the acts and movements of the girl were closely watched. Enquiries were made
at
Lunka, the native village of the peasant, and it was found that she could not
remain
more than a month at a time in her parents' house, as at the end of that
period
all sorts of objects were attracted by her. The girl was overwhelmed with
questions,
and related her experiences as follows: ‘Last summer I was taking
care
of my father's sheep in the fields, when, for the first time, a dry ear of
maize
flew towards me. I looked round, but saw no one who could have thrown it
at
me. I was frightened, and began to run away. Wherever I went, the trees on
the
road bent towards me, and the tops of quite high trees bent down to my head.
On
the road, passers-by crossed themselves, for they saw many objects flying
towards
me. I arrived at home exhausted, and I crouched down under a
mulberry-tree,
quite tired out. The flying objects tumbled down all round me,
and
there they still are. Wherever I go, after the 31st day, this witchcraft
begins,
and everything flies towards me. I have to leave my employers, for
everyone
thinks me mad.’ Judge Doczy and Registrar Borbely set to work to study
this
extraordinary case, as did a governess, named Maria Schussel, and all can
bear
witness to this flight of objects towards the servant. Much excitement
arose
in the neighbourhood, no one being willing to believe in the facts. Now
that
they are established thoroughly, people begin to be afraid. Judge Doczy, in
spite
of the evidence of his senses, still believes that some criminal agency is
behind
the phenomena, and has applied to the police. Police and doctors both
watch
the peasant-girl, but no physical explanation has been found of these
strange
happenings. But, after all,” concluded the Vagrant, “there is nothing
very
novel in them.”
“There
was a somewhat similar case not long ago in Bombay,” said a visitor,
“only
there was no one person as a centre for the disturbance. A friend of mine
took
a house, and soon found that stones were flung into the rooms until the
nuisance
became so great as to compel him to remove. All his family were
witnesses
of the facts.”
“There
are many records of such disturbances,” said the Vagrant. “‘Poltergeist’
is
the name given in Germany to the creatures who produce them. They are stupid
and
annoying, and for the most part irrational. Sometimes noises and movements
of
objects are accidently caused by persons still in the etheric double,
blundering
about in the immediate neighbourhood of their corpses. D'Assier's
book,
translated by the President-Founder, gives a number of these cases.”
“The
Rev. Stainton Moses,” remarked the Shepherd, “often found himself a centre
towards
which objects in the room would fly. In his case, as in many
spiritualistic
seances, nature-spirits and disembodied persons were the usual
agents.
Apports, as they are called, are one of the commonest phenomena at
seances,
but these are distinguished from the stone-throwing nuisance by having
a
distinct and rational motive.”
“Then,
again, objects may be deliberately moved by an exercise of super-normal
power,”
said the Vagrant. “HPB would use an elemental - a nature-spirit - to
bring
her something she wanted. I remember also seeing her basket containing
tobacco
move across the table to her - probably drawn by an extension of the
astral
arm, and one day she lighted a cigarette by raising it to the gas-light
out
of ordinary reach over her head.”
“Similarly”,
said the Shepherd, “the late Lord Lytton - the author of Zanoni,
not
the Viceroy - drew an envelope to his hand across the room. I was a very
small
boy at the time, and was under the table in the room where he was
sitting.”
“Any
more stories,” asked the Vagrant.
“Here
are two experiences,” put in the Magian, “from one who calls himself a
novice
on the Astral Plane. I will read them.”
I
stood on the pinnacle of an enormous mountain. At my feet and for a long
distance
down the almost perpendicular slope glittered the ‘eternal’ snow. Miles
and
miles below lay a fertile valley, with a river winding through it like a
silvery
serpent. The sun, near the horizon, bathed the fleecy clouds in the most
exquisite
colours. The glorious panorama and the pure atmosphere filled me with
a
hitherto-unknown sense of ecstatic well-being.
Suddenly,
as I saw my younger brother standing on my left and a stranger to my
right,
the snow gave way under our feet, and we were falling to what I felt was
certain
death. A sharp projecting rock stuck out of the snow, and instinctively
my
hand shot out and grasped it desperately, while I shouted to the others to
take
hold of my legs. A sharp pull on both legs told me that they had done so;
but
to my horror I felt like the rock give way slowly under our combined weight.
‘If
I kick myself free from the others, I may possibly be able to save myself,’
thought
I, ‘and if I do not, we shall surely all perish. As far as my own life
is
concerned I do not much care, except that I am aspiring to become a disciple,
and
wish to make it useful in Their service. But even if I see no possible way
of
escape for my brother and the other fellow, this brief delay may enable them
to
find something to cling to; anyhow I cannot save myself at my brother's
expense,
and we will slide down together.’
These
and many other thoughts flashed through my mind in a few moments while I
felt
the rock slipping, and it certainly was a most terrible moral ordeal. At
last
the rock gave way entirely, and I felt myself and my brother sliding down
the
glacier. But the stranger had somehow got a secure hold on another
projecting
rock, and I as slid by him I caught hold of his leg. His rock held
securely,
and gradually, with the utmost caution, we all three managed to creep
back
on to the ridge and safety. The experience was very vividly impressed on my
physical
brain when I awoke.
“Here
is the second experience,” said the Magian and read.
It
is one of the peculiar characteristics of an ordinary dream, that the dreamer
(in
the absence of logical reasoning) accepts all sorts of incongruous
situations
in a matter of fact way. It was therefore a very delightful
experience
when one morning early I found myself wide awake on the astral plane
in
full every-day consciousness.
I
was travelling along a winding mountain road on a sort of tricycle-like
vehicle
with two companions. After wondering with logical sequence where I was
and
how I got there, I soon felt sure that I was away on the astral plane while
my
body lay in bed asleep; but it was hard to convince myself that the scenery
was
not physical because I could not notice any difference. The mountains,
trees,
flowers, rocks, etc., looked just as solid as they do on the physical
plane,
and I watched everything with the keenest attention.
At
last we stepped before a sort of farm-house or inn and went in. Some good
housewife
was baking cakes on a red-hot stove, and the appetising odour made me
feel
hungry. ‘How ridiculous of me!’ thought I, ‘one does not eat cakes or
anything
else on the astral plane,’ and straightway I forgot the hunger, while a
new
idea took hold of me. ‘Fire does not burn an astral body,’ I reflected: ‘to
make
absolutely sure that my finger is not physical I shall stick it on the hot
stove.’
I did so, but quickly drew it back to blow on it. The stove ‘felt’
decidedly
hot. Again I reflected: ‘It felt hot, but didn't really burn me. Now,
the
‘feeling’ must be all in my imagination, because that stove seems so
terribly
real, and it is hard to convince myself it isn't physical. Here goes
again!’
I put my whole hand down on the stove, and the feeling of heat gradually
left
me. Now that I was convinced that I really was on the astral plane, I stuck
my
hand through the solid iron and down into the burning coals. Being satisfied
with
this experiment, I became very anxious to get ‘acclimatised,’ and make
myself
fit to be of some use as a helper. I therefore went out to a bluff some
distance
from the house and jumped off. I fell like a stone, bumped against some
trees,
rolled down an embankment, and landed all twisted up in the bottom of a
creek.
I picked myself up and noticed that I did not feel hurt in any way.
‘Another
case of imagination’, thought I; ‘I am so used to the law of
gravitation
that I could not convince myself that I wouldn't fall, and so I fell
in
obedience to a sub-conscious impulse. Now I shall climb on to that high
precipice
on the other wide of this creek and jump off again, and make up my
mind
not to fall.’ I did so, and floated down as gently as a feather this time,
although
I felt a little dizzy while in mid-air.
When
I got down, I decided to go back to the house through the solid rock
instead
of climbing the hill, but just then I felt myself slipping back into my
physical
body, and it was with the keenest regret that I found myself in bed and
my
astral experience at an end.
“This
comes from an Irish friend, who would like an explanatio?” said the Magian
and
read:
I
have recently inherited the property on which this house is situated. Shortly
before
the death of my eldest brother from whom I inherited it, our steward was
walking
down our avenue when he met what appeared to him as a headless man
galloping
on a horse, with his (the man's) head under his left arm. The same
apparition
appears to have been seen by our shepherd shortly before the death of
my
father. My father died on September 12, 1873, in this house. My brother died
on
May 18, 1901 in England and had not been here for nearly twenty years. My
eldest
brother succeeded my father in the property.
“Well,
we will talk about it next time,” said the Shepherd.
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (25)
first
published in the Theosophist, April, 1912, p120-124
“I
have received an interesting letter from New Zealand,” said the Vagrant, “it
tells
about a most unpleasant ghost, whose appearance was accompanied by very
violent
physical manifestations. The member who writes showed great courage
under
trying circumstances. Here is the letter:”
“The
person to whom the house belongs bought it some nine or ten years ago, and
very
soon after the family went to the house, they used to see some one pass a
certain
window, sometimes once or twice a month. They got so used to it that
they
thought nothing of it. This went on for years, and then, some nine months
ago,
they commenced to see this person coming every week, then every day, and
sometimes
twice a day, and it began to get on their nerves. The person who owns
the
house has a large family. She is rather psychic and can see many things, but
she
is not religious at all, though she has read some of Mr Leadbeater's books
that
I have lent her. She had told me when they first went to the house about
this
person passing the window; as I had not heard them speak of it lately I had
nearly
forgotten about it. She asked me what she could do to prevent its coming,
when
it began to come so often. I thought at first it might be some one she
knew,
who might want help. I told her to try to see who it was (the face had
always
been turned from the window), and to make the sign of the Cross, and if
she
could not find out, or did not know, who it was, to say: ‘Begone, in the
name
of God.’ One of our Fellows had told me to do this, in the case of an evil
influence
coming near, and to make a mental picture of a golden disc with a blue
five-pointed
star in it, and to say the sacred word. I only told her to make the
Cross,
and did the other myself, when she asked me to do something. One day she
saw
this person coming fast, and as she looked, she also saw her little dog
coming
up the path. He saw the figure, and he cried and crawled along the
ground;
the thing threw up its hands, and threw them out as if throwing
something
at the dog; then the dog ran into a field, and was found dead there
the
same day. She saw the face when the thing threw up its hands, and it was a
terrible
one, she said. Again she woke one night, and saw the man in the room
bending
over her daughter (who slept in another bed in the same room), making a
drawing
motion with his hands, as if drawing the girl to him. The girl did not
wake,
but groaned in her sleep. The man was dressed in a long brown robe, with
something
white, falling from the neck to the feet. The mother was so frightened
for
her daughter, that she sat up in bed and made the sign of the Cross, and
said:
“Begone, in the name of God.” The man disappeared, and there seemed to be
a
whirling in the room, and a silver mounted bottle split with a noise. The next
day
there were dreadful thumps on the outer wall. So one thing and another kept
occurring,
but it always stopped for two or three days after I had said the word
there,
and then it commenced again. On one occasion she saw it outside very
plainly
in the afternoon, and she spoke to it, and asked it what it wanted and
it
answered, but not in a language she knew. She said the man looked like a
Hindu
or Malay. Whatever he said, it must have been evil, for presently he
pulled
out a curved knife and came at her; but she advanced on him, and he
disappeared.
She asked me if I could not do something to send it away. I did not
know
of anything, but I thought that I would try, and I went into the bed-room,
and
folded my hands, and centred myself in the heart, and said a mantra seven
times.
As soon as I began, something, some force, whirled round me, up and above
me;
it seemed at one time as if it would lift me off my feet, but I stood firm
till
I ended the mantra, and I kept my mind fixed. The lady was looking on all
the
time, and said she could see smoke or mist of a violet shade whirling round
me,
very quickly, and she said I seemed to be nearly lifted off my feet. We went
into
the kitchen, where something had been seen (every one in the family had
seen
it, and strangers had too). I did the same thing there, and the same thing
again
occurred. The next morning the parrot in the kitchen was found dead, and a
tree
just outside the bed-room window was broken right down to the ground. She
said
she had seen me come in the night; and that it was towards the window I
always
looked, and towards which I seemed to be drawn, though I did not move, of
course.
She said she often saw me at night, and when she did she was not
troubled
by anything, and had no bad dreams; and that when I came there was
always
a smell of incense, as there was the night I said the mantra. The same
night
that I said the mantra when I was going home, she came to her gate with
me,
and as we stood we saw a luminous figure coming towards us. I advanced to
meet
it, and I said the word and the mantra, and told it to be gone, and it
disappeared;
neither the family nor herself was troubled with it afterwards for
a
month. But last night, when I was at the house, some members of the family
said
that they could feel something just outside the front gate, as if something
was
close to them, but they saw nothing. So I said the mantra and word there,
and
we saw something like a wave undulating along the road, and a small black
object
(which had also been seen in the house before I said the mantra) in this
undulating
wave, going up the street very quickly.”
“A
very unpleasant ghost,” concluded the Vagrant. “A point of interest is the
suggestion
of the Malay appearance and the curved knife, indicating the low and
violent
type of the elementary.”
“Can
such a creature harm one?” asked a listener.
“Not
unless you become frightened,” answered the Vagrant. “Always remember that,
on
the physical plane, you are stronger than such an elementary, but you must
not
play into his hands by being afraid.”
“I
remember,” said the Vestal, “that two hands once seized me by the throat, and
I
felt frightened, but the creature let me go.”
“We
have all been frightened at times,” smiled the Vagrant, “but even so, we
must
always pull ourselves together, and face such an assailant, refusing to
give
way, and thinking firmly: ‘I am stronger than you; you cannot hurt me.’ And
if
you can manage to feel kind and compassionate, the unfortunate creature will
retire
and fade away.”
“Is
incense useful?” asked the Doctor.
“Yes,”
replied the Vagrant; “incense, five-pointed star, mantra, the sacred word
-
all are useful. But a brave heart and pure conscience are the best of all.
There
are evil forces in other worlds and in this, but nothing can injure the
pure
and the fearless.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (26)
first
published in the Theosophist, May, 1912, p281-285
“Our
Vagrant sends from London” said the Magian, “the following striking stor?”:
A
remarkable ‘miracle of healing’ is chronicled in the Evening News of February
20,
1912. Dorothy Kerrin, a girl of twenty-one years of age, living at 204
Milkwood
Road, Herne Hill, has been losing health since she was fourteen, and
has
been unable to stand upright for five years. At that time she went to a
consumptive
sanatorium near Reading, but was sent home, after nine months, no
better.
She had measles, and then gastric trouble, and was in S. Bartholemew's
hospital
for nine weeks. Later she was refused admission to a hospital at
Hampstead
as being two far gone in consumption, and went to a nursing home in S.
Leonards
for a short time. She then was an inmate in S. Peter's Home for
Incurables
in Kilburn, and was brought home in the ambulance two years ago, it
being
thought that she would not then live for a week. She grew worse, but did
not
die, and, at the beginning of February, 1912, she became blind and deaf.
Twenty-eight
doctors have seen her during the five years, so that her case can
be
traced without difficulty.
On
Sunday February 18, her eyesight and hearing suddenly returned, she got out
of
bed, declared herself to be free from pain, and during the following days she
walked
about the house, took food like other people, made her own bed, and
appeared
to be quite well. The girl's own account of this astonishing event is
as
follows:
I saw a circle of fire, and it seemed to have
two hands. The two hands took
hold of my two hands. They were warm hands. I
heard a voice saying: “Dorothy,
your sufferings are over. Get up and walk?”
The two hands then made my hands touch my
eyes, and I found myself sitting up
in bed and able to see my mother and father
standing in the room.
To-day I feel quite well. I have no pain at
all. I feel as if I had never been
in bed at all - not even shaky.
The
Evening News next gives the evidence of the doctor who has attended the girl
during
the last two years; he has been in practice for twenty-five years. He is
an
F.R.C.S. of England. Along with this he has a number of other degrees. He is
a
J.P. for the county of London and holds a number of official appointments. In
attending
her he had found all the gravest symptoms of advanced tuberculosis, of
diabetes,
and other complications. She had been attended, under him, by Jubilee
nurses
up to the present, and a chart was kept of her temperature. This chart
shows
that her temperature rose and fell in the most alarming way - sometimes
reaching
as high as 105 degree. He cannot offer any explanation of the sudden
recovery.
Such is the remarkable story published all over England. The long
illness,
the observation of so many doctors, seem to take the case outside the
possibility
of deliberate fraud, such as has been found to exist in some
instances
of apparently sudden recovery from grave illness. One would like to
know
if any direct effort had been made to help Miss Kerrin by any body of
people
engaged in the endeavour to heal, or if any special prayer had been
offered
for her recovery, that might have drawn to her the attention of any
Invisible
Helper.
“Apropos
of healing” said the Magian “the Vagrant narrates another story. Here
it
i?”:
In
a letter from an Australian correspondent, an interesting case of healing is
given;
my correspondent writes: “Just at the end of September I had a wire to go
to
H. in the Great Riverina district NSW, to a step-daughter dangerously ill;
when
I arrived the doctor said it was impossible for her to live two hours. But
I
had been healing a good many people before I left, and power was granted to me
so
that she lived. The Doctor and Matron said: ‘It is like a miracle’. I said:
‘Faith
is once more justified of her children; also the life of her child was
given
to me ...’ The Hospital people soon got interested, then the Presbyterian
minister,
and the interest is still continuing.”
“The
Vagrant further remarks” added the Magian “that she met the other day, a
well-known
gentleman, who told her that he had healed cases of cancer and
paralysis,
as well as smaller ills. His method is an intense concentrated
prayer,
and the cure follows.”
“Here
are some other stories,” he continued, “forwarded by our good Shepherd. He
has
the name of the Doctor concerned, and the name of the country town, but has
not
received permission to publish the?”:
A
Doctor in a small country market town had a call in the early hours of the
morning
to go to a child at a farm two miles out; he, having an assistant living
with
him, asked the assistant to go. The latter called the groom up, got the
horse
and conveyance ready, and set off. It being a very foggy night they missed
the
gate turning into the field to the farm-house, and went along the road about
two
miles before they found out their mistake; they turned round, and eventually
arrived
at the farm to find that the child had been dead two hours, and that no
one
was able to throw any light upon the cause of death. The assistant returned
home.
In the morning when the assistant came down to breakfast, the Doctor was
having
his, and after saying: “Good morning,” the Doctor asked the assistant
what
he had been doing to miss his way to the farm. He said it was on account of
the
dense fog. The Doctor then said: “Why, the child had been dead two hours
when
you got there, and died through having a pea in the larynx.” The assistant
was
rather inclined to be angry with the Doctor and wanted to know how he had
come
to know what had happened. The Doctor, however, would not tell him, but
asked
him what his certificate was going to be; he replied he did not know, and
thought
he must have a post-mortem. The Doctor agreed that this was the best
course
to take, and said he would go with him to assist in the post-mortem. They
went,
and arranged that the assistant should make the examination and the Doctor
should
take the particulars down. The assistant pronounced all the organs
perfectly
healthy, although the Doctor suggested to him that the lungs were
congested.
The Doctor then said: “Well, you are no nearer your certificate. What
is
it going to be?” The assistant said that he could not tell. The Doctor said:
“Now,
if you won't cut into the larynx, I will.” The assistant did so, and there
was
the pea. This is a perfectly true story, and can be substantiated by the
Coroner,
the jurymen, the Doctor and the assistant. The pea was shown at the
inquiry.
This
same Doctor was staying all night at the Great Northern Station Hotel in
London,
and during his sleep saw every particular of an execution. When he went
into
the station in the morning, he was anxious to know if what he had seen in
his
sleep had actually occurred; so he went to the book-stall and asked for a
paper
with an account of the execution. The man at the stall told him that it
had
not been published, but, if he was anxious to know about it, there was
Marwood
the executioner on the platform with the black bag. The Doctor
approached
Marwood, and, after appologising, asked him if he had had an
execution
that morning, to which Marwood replied: “Yes.” He then told Marwood
all
that had happened at the execution. Marwood was staggered to tell how he
knew,
and passed the matter off by jokingly stating that the Doctor had a lovely
neck
for a rope.
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (27)
first
published in the Theosophist, Sept, 1912, p926-930
“It
is interesting,” writes the Vagrant, “to see how the expectation of the
coming
of a great Teacher is spreading in all directions; the last that has
reached
me comes from quite an unexpected quarter, a spiritualistic seance. I
suppress
the names - which are all given in the letter I am going to translate -
and
send the facts as they are therein related. The letter runs as follows:”
“A
Mme. X., has been, during the last two years, a medium of a quite unusual
kind
to a spiritist group at M---. She had never meddled in any way with
Spiritualism,
and had been a thorough materialist for many years, when she
became
suddenly controlled by a spirit calling himself Motersadi. Impelled by
him,
she went to seek for the President of a spiritist group at M---. The spirit
thereupon
announced that the mediumship of Mme. X. had one quite definite
object,
and would only last for two years; it was caused in order to direct a
nucleus
in the group to prepare to serve a young Hindu, in whom would be
manifested
the coming incarnation of the Christ. At each bi-monthly seance
Motersadi
gave teachings entirely in accord with those of Theosophy, warned the
group
as to certain dangers connected with Spiritualism, and insisted that those
who
felt themselves ready to do so should leave Spiritualism and place
themselves
under the direction of Mrs Annie Besant. Mme. X. had never heard
either
of Mrs Besant or of Theosophy, and as soon as these names were uttered,
the
President grew hostile. The spirit thereupon said that the movement had
better
be made outside the spiritist group, and since last July those present
were
adjured to join the Order of the Star in the East.”
“Mme.
X. was made to speak in a language unknown to her; a figure appeared,
resembling
a sort of venerable priest living in Tibet; she prostrated before
him,
uttering some words which she felt to be a salutation of veneration. He
wore
a curious triangular cap, which, like his robe, was yellow, with violet
embroidery.
He spoke mentally to Mme. X. and she replied, still in the unknown
language,
concluding with an invocation, in which I [the writer] distinguished
the
words: Rama, Rama, Ramayana, Manu, and the name of Maitreya, repeated
several
times, a name quite unknown to Mme. X. She now, in her normal state,
sees
at all our meetings a brilliant yellow cloud which lights up the room, and
when
the lecture is being given, she sees a splendid Star, always above the head
of
the lecturer, shining with lustre and sending out dazzling rays when the
subject
is inspiring.”
“I
know well that we are helped; but I confess to feeling some fear as to these
manifestations,
which seem to favour astral influences which should be curbed
and
guided.”
“Mme.
X. thought that, once she obeyed and had joined us, she would no longer be
compelled
to utter these invocations in a strange language, because, she said,
she
felt that it was not a normal development; that although she experienced a
quite
indescribable joy and felt lifted above herself, she also felt her mind
rebel
against these incomprehensible events, a void which alarmed her brain, and
made
her fear madness.”
“Have
I done well in advising her to cultivate her will-power, and to refuse to
be
lifted into this ecstasy - which comes upon her without her volition - more
than
once during the day, as she finds it impossible to prevent it altogether. I
have
never before seen any spiritist phenomena; I can shorten these
manifestations
by holding Mme. X.'s hand, and she then becomes quiet; ought I to
do
this? I also am strongly conscious of the presences she speaks of, and have
towards
them no other feeling than respect. I am afraid that these
manifestations
may cause trouble in our group, and I do not know what to do in
this
disorderly astral atmosphere of our town, in which we have just begun to
spread
Theosophical ideas.?”
“Both
the writer and the medium”, remarks the Vagrant, “are evidently people of
strong
intelligence and balance, and the writer's advice is sound. It is not
desirable
to lose self-control, and to be carried away into ecstasies without
one's
own consent, however enjoyable they may be. It is wiser to make one's
footing
sure in unknown regions, to advance slowly, and not to surrender oneself
helplessly
into unknown hands. If Mme. X. deliberately tried, in quiet
meditation,
to reach her Tibetan ‘priest’, she might enter into voluntary and
conscious
communication with him, without any surrender of self-control. Our
correspondent
gives another interesting incident, connected with the first
meeting
of the Order of the Star in the East; a gentleman came to it under the
following
circumstances:”
“In
January, 1911, his son, a boy of twelve years of age, told him that he had
had
a dream that the Star in the East was founded, and would be heard of in the
town
of M.--- in July or August, and that he should join it. He had seen in a
dream
‘a boy much taller than I am’, whom he had known, as soldiers know their
general,
for many lives, whose follower he had always been, who taught him many
things,
and advised him to go to our [Theosophical] meetings. This young lad
gave
so striking a description of this being whom he said was his superior, that
I
lately asked him to tell me exactly where he was. He answered without
hesitation:
‘At this moment in England, but usually in Asia.’ I gave him the
March
number of The Theosophist, and told him to look at the pictures. He turned
over
the pages obediently and looked attentively at the pictures. Presently he
came
to the portrait of Alcyone, and cried out: ‘There is the beautiful boy I
saw
in my dream.’”
“What
should one do with this child? I objected to his coming to the O.S.E. and
T.S.
meetings, on the ground that he was too young. He answered: ‘Madame,
whatever
you decide will be right. But do you not think that it is a mistake to
judge
a person entirely by his age? Is it not by lives that we must go, and have
you
not noticed that there are some grown-up men who will be children to their
death,
and children who are men in reason and judgement?’ Such language is
astonishing
from a child whose mother-tongue is not French, and who lives amid
humble
surroundings, where he can have heard no such ideas. He is one of the
best
students in the first class of his communal school, and in the opinion of
all
who know him, is no ordinary child.”
“HPB
told us in The Secret Doctrine that more and more exceptional children
would
be born, as must indeed happen in a time of transition. What to do with
such
children? as our correspondent asks, for this particular little boy.
Ordinary
schools ruin their natural evolution. To offer to take charge of them,
even
with the consent of the parent, exposes the guardian - at any rate, in
India
- to constant suspicion and vilification, for he is always supposed to be
aiming
at some hidden gain for himself; the fact that people cannot discover the
non-existent
secret leaves the way open for every accusation that malice can
invent.
Ought one to let the nations lose the future services of such children,
leaving
them to be beaten into the conventional, or help them and bear the
mud-throwing
that such a course will involve??”
“A
difficult problem,” was the general opinion.
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (28)
first
published in the Theosophist, April, 1913, p109-114
“Here
is a question,” said the Vagrant, “which opens up a very interesting
subject.
‘Two friends of mine came in contact with a young man from whom they
received
much valuable teaching on reincarnation, karma, and allied subjects,
teaching
which transformed their lives; it advocated great purity, love, and
sacrifice
for humanity. The teacher had various stupendous powers, could
materialise
and dematerialise objects, precipitate writings, and so on. His
teaching
was mostly given in trance. He was later found to be a man of immoral
life,
obtaining money on false pretences, drinking, and gambling. How could such
a
life consist with such powers?’” The Vagrant remarked: “It is not necessary
that
a man should be of noble character, in order to be able to do astral things
in
the way this man did. What are here called ‘stupendous powers’ are not what
the
Occultist would call stupendous. Many of the things mentioned could be done
through
a medium in the state of trance, and are constantly so done. Nor is it
at
all impossible that a man should have high aspirations, and yet be unable to
live
up to them. Here, we do not even seem to have the aspirations, for the man
was
merely spoken through when entranced, and such transmission of high
teachings
is no guarantee of nobility of life. If a man gave teaching coming
direct,
say, from the buddhic plane, then the question of the purity of his life
would
certainly come in; for he could not reach that plane unless pure; but not
so
if he simply repeated ordinary Theosophical teachings. Apart from this, a
certain
amount of astral force and the capacity to manipulate it is not at all a
proof
of high spirituality. Even when you are dealing with the stronger type of
the
Black People, you will find them of very rigid life, quite as rigid as the
White,
partly because great control of the body is necessary if they are going
to
manipulate some of the subtler forces.”
“The
story,” said the Shepherd, “reads exactly like a description of a
spiritualistic
séance. I have myself seen all these things done at séances, and
I
have heard the dead people talk in a most moral way, and propound all sorts of
good
ideas. If a man shows the possession of powers, that does not prove that he
is
a good man; one learns such things as one learns to play the piano. It does
not
mean that you are very noble; it is rather perhaps that you are persevering:
that
is all. If you endeavour to make progress on the Path of Holiness, then at
once
the question of your character comes in; but you must remember that all
these
powers come to a man on that Path of Holiness without special seeking -
come
much later. The possession of such powers does not prove anything whatever
as
to the presence of moral character; but the idea that they do has arisen from
this
other fact, that if you pursue the Path of Holiness they come to you
because
you have developed the whole nature; but it is possible to learn
particular
tricks without any particular character. It requires merely a strong
will,
which is not incompatible with a bad character.”
“I
do not see that any of these things prove holiness at all,” said the Vagrant.
“In
fact, they have nothing at all to do with it; a good electrician or a good
chemist
may not be a good man.”
“Just
so,” answered the Shepherd. “You should all try to understand the way in
which
knowledge is obtained and brought down to the brain, and then you will see
where
right conduct comes in. To use any faculties which involve the causal
body,
the man must not yield himself to the lower passions and to emotions that
are
generally condemned. It must also be remembered that however magnificent a
man's
faculties may be at higher levels or in the causal body, if what he sees
is
to be of any use to any one else on the physical plane, it will have to come
down
through, and be reported by, the physical brain. In order to do that it
must
obviously pass through first the mental body and then the astral body. All
these
bodies are capable of violent disturbance - of exceedingly rapid
vibration.
Disturbed thought or worry will utterly upset the mental body; and in
just
the same way, any kind of violent emotion will cause profound disturbance
in
the astral vehicle. If the mind is disturbed, it is impossible to think
clearly
or consecutively, so that even the mental body itself cannot be properly
used
to do its own regular work, when it is already in a condition of excitement
and
confusion. Far less can it receive and faithfully transmit the exceedingly
delicate
vibrations which come down to it from the causal body. What is seen in
the
causal body is seen under conditions utterly, fundamentally, different from
anything
that we can conceive down here - in more dimensions; so that it is of
itself,
in reality, indescribable, and it is exceedingly difficult even under
the
best of conditions to make a coherent and comprehensible report down here of
what
is seen in that higher world. Therefore it will be easily understood that
in
order to bring through a clear and reliable record, the very best possible
conditions
must be provided, and that means that both the mental and the astral
bodies
must be absolutely still, so far as all their ordinary activities are
concerned.
Even the excitement occasioned by good emotions of wonder or
reverence
also causes the bodies to oscillate disproportionately, and thus
prevents
a clear recognition and record of facts. Absolutely still the particles
of
these higher vehicles can never be, because they are alive and very keenly
and
actively alive; therefore they have a regular vibration of their own which
cannot
be stilled without destroying them; but under all normal conditions, to
that
inherent vibration of the separate particles we add huge swinging
vibrations
caused by our thought or feeling respectively, so that the vehicles
are
in a condition of great activity. It is that activity which must be stilled.
Be
it remembered also that these vehicles are like the ocean, in that after
being
stirred up by a violent storm it takes them a considerable time to settle
down
again - a very much longer time than would ordinarily be supposed. A man
may
fall into a violent passion, which means a very terrible disturbance of his
astral
body. For the time, even his physical body is much disturbed; but the
signs
of his outburst of temper may all pass away in the course of an hour or
so,
and he may externally regain his good humour; but it would be a mistake to
think
that his astral body had returned to the condition in which it was before
that
spasm of rage. It may very well be quite twenty-four hours, or even more,
before
that body is comparatively still, and during all that time it would
distort
very seriously any impressions which passed through it. So it will be
seen
that one who wishes to describe accurately anything that he has seen on
higher
planes must not only be in a peaceful condition as regards both his mind
and
his emotions at the time when he tries to see, but he must also have
maintained
that peaceful condition for a considerable time previously. In fact,
in
order to have any degree of certainty, he must be a person who is incapable
of
any serious upsetting of either of these intermediate vehicles. The same
thing
applies to the physical body also. If through ill-health, either the dense
physical
body or the etheric part of it is out of order, there will be a
certainty
of distortion for that reason. If the circulation of the blood be
defective,
if there be in the brain too much or too little of that fluid, or if
on
the other hand there be a lack of vitality, or if the flow of magnetism along
the
nerves be not regular or sufficient, the physical body will act as a
barrier,
even though the necessary vibrations may have passed safely through the
mental
and the astral. So we see that not only perfect physical, but perfect
astral
and mental health is necessary for clear seeing, and most especially the
greatest
calmness on all planes, the most balanced judgment and the most fully
developed
common-sense.”
“These
remarks,” interjected the Vagrant, “apply also in a way to the case of
ordinary
science - drunkenness, and profligacy, carried to a point which injures
the
senses of a man, would interfere with his work; for instance, if his hand
shakes
while making an experiment, or his eye does not see clearly.”
“Yes,”
replied the Shepherd, “it would interfere not because of a man's vices
but
because of their results.”
“This
man gives all his addresses in trance,” proceeded the Vagrant, “and you
often
get such teachings in spiritualistic séances. Such addresses are often
good
and well-meant, though the person through whom they come may be a very
undesirable
person. You may find a medium drinking, and there at once is a vice
which
is very injurious, and yet that would not, for a time at least, prevent
very
good teaching from coming through him.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (29)
first
published in the Theosophist, May, 1913, p277-280
“I
do not quite understand repercussion,” said a student. “Does it really
occur?”
“Oh
yes,” replied the Vagrant. “It occurred to me once in my early days, when in
an
astral adventure I saw a mast about to fall on me; I thought to myself: ‘That
will
come right across me.’ The next moment I remembered that it would not hurt
me
if it did; but the result of that momentary thought was a repercussion. The
next
morning I had a great blue bruise on my leg when I awoke. The vibration in
the
astral body causes a similar vibration in the physical body. Hence the
bruise.”
“Would
the stigmata of the Christian Saints,” asked a gentle voice from the
back,
“be an instance of repercussion?”
“Yes.
Stigmata are not of very rare occurrence. I have seen accounts of two such
cases
in my own lifetime, one of a girl in a convent in Belgium; and it happens
generally
to monks or nuns. They meditate, kneeling, with their eyes fixed on a
crucifix
above their heads. These are just the conditions for producing the
hypnotic
trance, especially if the eyes were looking upwards with the axes
slightly
crossed (strabismus). Now supposing the monk or the nun goes into a
trance
in this way, he has the idea of the Christ upon the Cross strongly fixed
upon
the brain. The result of this very strong suggestion is the production of
the
wounds in the person himself. It is quite a simple thing, and corresponds in
every
point with the way in which wounds have been produced by hypnotic
suggestion
at the great hospital of the Salpêtrière in Paris. By hypnotism,
burns
have been often produced. Reading over, as we may do now, a number of the
trials
in the Middle Ages for witchcraft, it is quite clear that under a great
amount
of superstition and exaggeration and carelessness, there is a substratum
of
fact. The evidence is often very clear and there is no reason to disbelieve
it.”
“What
of the fixing of the eyes on the point of the nose in meditation?”
“It
is one of the artificial ways of quieting the body and dulling it down to a
point
where it will not interfere with thought. One of the unsatisfactory things
is
that a person who induces trance in this way does not bring back a memory of
what
he has done or learned, when he returns to his body. The results reached in
this
way are very poor.”
“It
is a sort of back-door way,” chimed in the Shepherd, “of gaining what ought
to
be obtained by an exercise of the will,”
“A
person who is hypnotised or in a trance state,” continued the Vagrant, “has
his
circulation and breathing very much slackened. If you touch a person who is
asleep,
you will wake him, while in the trance state you may fire a pistol near
his
ear and not wake him. In the one case the physical body is vitalised and
healthy,
in the other devitalised. A man in such a condition would probably in
his
astral body be in the same state as in ordinary sleep.”
“A
man in trance,” remarked the Shepherd, “sometimes takes up the etheric double
with
him and then he gets very much confused.”
“Yes.
Of course a man who knows how to throw himself into trance by an effort of
the
will is in quite a different condition. I was thinking more of trance
produced
mechanically. If you once take out part of the etheric double, you are
in
a terrible muddle. You may be as conscious as you like, but you are in a fog.
I
experienced that only once, under the influence of laughing-gas, when a tooth
was
taken out, and I will never do it again. The gas drives out the etheric
double,
producing trance in that way. In the case of anaesthetics the etheric
double
is driven out, and you float about in it. In my case, I dimly saw my body
on
the chair and the dentist, but as if I were looking through a dense fog. The
fog
was my own etheric double. It was a very disagreeable experience, and having
dislocated
myself in this way, I could not get right for days. I went in and out
of
my body repeatedly to try to fit myself in. You may remember (turning to the
Shepherd)
that I asked you what on earth was the matter with me. A really good
materialising
medium in trance loses a quantity of not only the etheric but also
of
the gaseous, liquid and even solid matter of his body. You see his head quite
sinking
into his collar. Madame d'Esperance's body used to disappear for a time,
it
was said.”
“Miss
Arundale saw a great deal of this kind of thing at séances at one time,”
went
on the Vagrant, “and she told me that when Eglinton came to her mother's
house
once to give a séance, a full-sized materialised form came out into the
room,
carrying Eglinton in its arms. Eglinton himself had dwindled to the size
of
a child. The materialised form was that of the big Arab, Abdullah. She told
me
this, and I think she was an accurate observer.”
Said
the Shepherd: “I saw Abdullah and Ernest and a third form, a child, all
materialised
at one time from Eglinton. Abdullah and Ernest were carrying him
between
them, and the child was dancing about in front of them. The medium
looked
very shrivelled, but not like a child. When he came back he was in a bad
condition,
very much exhausted.”
“I
was once asked to go to a séance when I was in Melbourne,” said the Vagrant.
“Three
forms came out of the cabinet and walked about amongst us. One of them
dematerialised
while we were looking at it. It grew smaller and smaller until it
was
a mere bit of cloud near the floor, and then disappeared. The medium was in
a
very bad condition afterwards, and was cold as a corpse. I mesmerised her very
powerfully,
and it took me nearly ten minutes to bring her back. The séance was
a
very satisfactory one, in the sense that we had light in the room, day-light
through
red windows.”
“If
other entities can take possession of a body during trance,” came an alarmed
voice,
“cannot they do so also during sleep?”
“There
have been cases of change of personality in which a body has been taken
possession
of by another entity during sleep; but it is very unlikely to happen
to
the normal person. It is more often in cases of serious accident, or of a
fit,
that a change of personality takes place. Of course most people, when they
have
learned to leave the body consciously, leave a shell around it. The body
has
a certain consciousness of its own, and calls the owner back if it is
alarmed.
You know how the body shows signs of alarm quite independently of you,
as
for example, the closing of the eyes involuntarily if an object suddenly
comes
near.
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (30)
first
published in the Theosophist, Oct, 1929, p77-78
[The
“-------Cardiff Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight” series appeared during 1898 in The Theosophical Review
and
from 1909-1913 in The Theosophist. The following note was added when the
series
began: ‘The stories given in these monthly records will be authentic,
unless
the contrary to be definitely stated in any particular case, that is:
they
will be real experiences.’ - AB {Some more of these stories were found; the
one
which we give (below) seemed rather suitable for this number of the
magazine.
- Asst. Ed.}]
“The
following is not quite clairvoyance,” said Germania, “but it is a little
allied
thereto.” In 1902 I happened to be in Leipzig when Colonel Olcott was
expected
there, and the members of the local T.S. Lodge asked me to act as their
interpreter
as most of them did not know English. So it came to pass that during
three
days I had the good fortune of seeing much of our President-Founder and of
enjoying
his company in quite an intimate manner. One morning we were sitting
together
in his room in the Kaiserhof. The expected callers had not yet turned
up
and we were alone. He was smoking and showing me some photographs of his
beloved
Adyar. Every word he said about his ‘Indian Home’ proved how fond he was
of
the place. Indeed there was a ring in his voice when speaking of the
Headquarters,
of the River-Bungalow and of the little flower garden in front of
it
where there grew roses, fairer than which there were none. I thought by
myself:
‘Well the roses in Adyar may be very fine, but that's no reason why
those
which were presented to the Colonel last night should go without any
water.
There they are a-dying.’ I only thought it. Instantly the Colonel rose:
‘Let
us put these roses into water,’ he said. But even while engaged in doing
this
he did not cease speaking of the beauties of Adyar, telling me how glorious
it
was when the sun set behind the bridge and the sky seemed aflame and how one
had
the impression of the whole place being alive with fairies when, during cool
summer-nights,
the moonshine was dancing on the river. Suddenly he stopped
talking
and looked round like some one who has heard himself called by name. He
made
a few steps towards the middle of the room and remained standing there
looking
straight before him, evidently intent on listening. I followed him a
step
or two and then stopped spell-bound. A sort of semi-unconsciousness took
hold
of me and I could no more move or speak. It was a queer but not a
disagreeable
feeling and I knew Colonel Olcott's Master was there, speaking to
him
and He it was who threw this glamour over me. After a few seconds the
Colonel
turned round again and continued speaking to me as if nothing happened,
and
I did the same.”
The
following is an extract from a letter written by a F.T.S., a professor in a
college
in Bagdad, who sent another story as well. No date is given.
“A
rumor is current among the Jews, but which he has been unable to trace, that
a
few months ago a Jewish baby, only ten days old, spoke articulately, saying
that
the Messiah was born.” She [The Vagrant] remarks that however unauthentic
the
story, its currency is of interest as adding to the growing expectation of
the
coming of a World-Teacher.
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (31)
first
published in the Theosophist, Nov, 1929, p207-213
“Here
is a remarkable story,” said the Vagrant, “which is sent by a reliable
person.
I will read it just as it was sent. The scene is Florence.” The writer
says:
I
have a friend, an English lady, Mrs K., who some years ago rented a palace in
the
Via Dei. When she lived there she became more and more convinced that
conditions
were unusual, and she felt as though she were not alone even when
apparently
in solitude. This aroused her interest and she resolved on
investigation
aided by a Russian prince N. and Mr H., an English gentleman.
These
two and Mrs K. decided, that they knew of no better means than to sit at a
table,
the usual manner of spiritualists, although they were not spiritualists;
they
followed the alphabetical code. Every word was spelled out gradually and
registered
as it was spelled. The table began to move and to spell, and when
they
asked the name of the person that had communicated with them, the answer
was
given: “R.L.” This did not mean anything to them at first till this person
explained
that she was an Englishwoman, living in a little village near Mrs K.'s
home
in England.
R.L.
had met with an accident; she had been thrown from a carriage and rendered
unconscious.
She had remained unconscious for some time and when she recovered
sufficiently
she asked the doctor to send at once for Mrs K. ... Mrs K. was a
stranger
to her, but at her request she went at once to see her, and then R.L.
said
to her, that after her accident when she didn't know what had happened to
her,
she found herself in a new country which was quite different from England,
flowers
and trees and everything making her feel that she was in a different
place.
While there, she said, she saw Mrs K.'s father who had recently passed
away,
and he beckoned to her and told her when she returned she was to tell his
daughter,
that she need not expect him to go back to her, to reach her, but that
she
would certainly meet him again. This was all told by R.L. at the time they
first
opened communications, and reminded Mrs K. about herself. Mrs K. next
asked
whether R.L. could explain anything about the conditions of that house,
had
it any history?
R.L.
replied: “I am quite unable to tell you about the murder, but the Cardinal
has
been trying for a long time to reach you, and obtain your help on behalf of
the
murderer whose soul is still on earth - bound and in great trouble.” After
this,
the table began quite a different movement. Before any words were spelt,
it
tilted cross-wise and then began to spell in Italian. They found that the
words
were mediaeval Italian, rather differently spelled, and the Cardinal in
Italian
expressed his thankfulness that finally he had reached them. Then he
told
them that a murder had been committed in one of the rooms; that it had been
committed
by a man who had confessed it to him under seal of confession. This
had
been his godson, bound by certain ties to the Cardinal, who was therefore
very
earnestly desirous of releasing him from his earthbound condition. They
asked
him what he desired them to do and he said that he wished the bones of the
murdered
man which were concealed under the pavement of the hall to be taken and
given
Christian burial. They asked him: “Is he buried here?” the Cardinal said:
“Not
buried, only hidden, he received no Christian burial,” he laying
considerable
stress on that point. They began to carry out his wish by having
the
pavement lifted but they found that the owner objected, utterly refusing to
allow
any stone to be touched. He considered the house was too old and he also
remained
very sceptical as to the story. Although Mrs K. volunteered to defray
the
expenses and have everything carefully replaced, it was in vain.
Then
the Cardinal became very urgent, and perhaps thinking that they needed to
be
further persuaded of the truth of what he described, he gave them particulars
about
his life history and his family. He explained that his mother belonged to
the
family of the Rinaldini. He had been educated in a convent - I think it was
near
Bologna or Verona, I am not sure. He said he had been appointed twice
Cardinal-Archbishop
of Florence, and this impressed my friends because that was
a
life office. The Cardinal explained that through the machinations of his
enemies
and their intrigues he had been deposed from his office and had been
banished
for ten years which he spent chiefly in a monastery near Rome. Then he
was
restored to power. He always refused to give the name of the murderer as he
was
bound by the seal of confession not to betray any secrets of his penitent.
So
they only inferred from investigation that the place must have belonged to
the
family named Larioni which they imagined then was the murderer's name. The
Cardinal
speaking further about himself, told them to go to a certain palace in
Florence
and they would find his portrait, which they did. He told them that the
murdered
youth belonged to the Bardi family and had occupied the position of
page
in the family, and he said: “Go to the cemetery of San Miniato,” well-known
in
Florence, and you will find the resting place of the Bardi family where these
bones
should be buried. The Prince went and was very quickly taken to that
portion
of the cemetry where he saw the monuments of the Bardi family.
The
Cardinal continued to urge and almost insisted upon their carrying out this
plan
of removing the bones, and at last said: “I will show you through the
prince
how the crime was committed.” So they arranged that they should dine
together
the next evening. After dinner they agreed to watch in the hall to see
what
might happen. The prince was late in reaching the house and they noticed
that
he looked very tired and disturbed and seemed quite unlike his usual self.
They
questioned him, and he said that he had had a very perplexing experience,
he
considered it very uncomfortable. He said that when he went out in the
streets
of Florence and was strolling about as usual, going in and out of the
shops,
he was apparently followed by a monk who kept his cowl over his head and
concealed
the lower part of his face. The prince didn't know what to think of
it,
and began to feel very tired. He met a friend while he was shopping (he was
very
fond of going into old curiosity shops) and asked him if he noticed the
monk
who was following him. His friend said that he saw no monk. After dinner
that
evening the prince seemed so depressed and tired that they said to him that
they
would sit and watch and he might rest, and they sat on a carved settle in
the
hall. Almost immediately the prince fell into a very profound sleep. This
was
what happened: he rose from his sleep with his eyes closed, walked straight
to
the part of the hall which now shows only a blank wall. He made the movement
of
opening a door and they saw him listening; he advanced and seemed to greet
some
one. They saw his bow. He then moved again to another part of the hall,
drew
two chairs together, bowed and motioned someone to sit down. He then sat
down
himself and appeared to listen intently. In a few minutes he rose and knelt
in
front of the chair with his head bent; he got up and stood in such a position
that
it looked as though someone was holding his arm. He then moved as if he was
accompanying
someone to the end of the hall. In a few minutes they saw him start
as
if watching something; he seemed to struggle to free his arm and he finally
rushed
forward and bent over something on the floor, and they saw that he was
very
much agitated and startled, the tears running down his cheeks. In a few
minutes
he staggered again to his feet and moved towards his original seat
beside
them, with his eyes still closed. They shook him, rousing him from his
trance
and asked him to describe what had happened. He could hardly bear to
speak
of it at first and exclaimed that it was very hard that he should have to
see
such a horrible sight when he could do nothing to help. He said that the
whole
appearance of the hall was altered. He saw a door in a place where no door
could
be seen; afterwards they tapped the walls and found a door that had been
walled
up. He said something impelled him to go to that door and open it and
wait
for someone to enter, when he stood there a monk entered and looking in his
face
he recognized the monk he had seen in the afternoon - the same piercing
eyes
- and recognized the resemblance to the portrait of the Cardinal. This monk
said
to him: I am the Cardinal. I was gathering sufficient etheric matter from
you
to materialize, to show myself to you this evening. I kept my mouth covered
for
I could not complete materialization then. And now, my son, sit beside me
and
have no fear, but watch attentively all that is to happen. I am here to
right
a wrong and to have justice done. With difficulty I have achieved this
purpose.
Now kneel and receive my blessing.
The
prince was a Greek Catholic and a very devout Catholic, very much attached
to
his beliefs. After receiving the blessing, he stood up, the Cardinal laying
one
hand on his arm, and the prince said that he was impressed by the strong
will
that seemed to reach him from the Cardinal. The Cardinal led him to the end
of
the room and said: “Now stand still and watch, have no fear.” In a few
moments
the prince said he saw the form of a woman dressed in white, who was
young
and had dark hair, pass rapidly through the hall and leave it by the other
door,
as if afraid of being seen and followed. She was quickly followed by a
young
man who seemed, the prince said, perhaps twenty years old; he saw him
distinctly
and could describe his appearance. He was tall, had a very pleasant
face
and light brown, slightly curly hair which was hanging on his neck. As the
young
man passed through the hall near the tapestry on one side of the wall, an
arm
shot out and stabbed him, so that he was suddenly flung forward on his face
and
his body was nearly doubled by the force of the blow. The prince said that
was
when he tried to struggle and free himself, to protect this youth. When he
reached
him and bent over him, he found that he was dead and said that he
suffered
keenly that moment. After that, all that he knew was that there seemed
to
one or two misty forms in the hall but he could distinguish nothing more, and
the
next thing was that he recovered his consciousness, sitting beside us.
Of
course my friend felt more than ever anxious to carry out the Cardinal's
wish,
but as it was impossible they asked him what they could do instead; he
said
that they must find a priest and cause him to read the burial service and
asperge
the scene of the murder. They had some difficulty in persuading a priest
to
do so. I think it was the prince, or it may have been Mr H. who at last
persuaded
a priest to come and be present at some séance which they held, during
which
the Cardinal addressed them. The priest summoned up courage at last to ask
a
question himself and he begged the Cardinal - his superior in the Church - to
tell
him whether it was really permissible for him to hold this service. I was
present
at some of those séances and I heard the priest speak at last as if he
felt
himself in the presence of a Prince of the Church, the Cardinal giving
peremptory
command to the priest to obey. I saw the little priest join his hands
together
as they do when speaking to their superiors, saying: Ma signor
cardinale
devo propria fare questa cosa, m'e permesso di fare cosi? “But my Lord
Cardinal,
should I really do this thing? Am I permitted to act thus?” the
Cardinal
simply answered that in the cause of religion and to aid this murderer
the
service should be held. So one day the priest arrived with his vestments,
bringing
his holy water and his brush to asperge with, and the service was held;
he
asperged the room and he asperged every one present, Mrs K., the Prince, Mr
H.,
Mrs C. and myself. It was very impressive. We went back to the other room
and
four of us sat at the table, the prince, Mr H., and Mrs K. were the other
three.
We sat at the same little table and it began to move very slowly, and at
first
hesitatingly and in an odd way it spelled: “I am grateful, thank you” - in
Italian
of course. Then there was a pause and it began to tilt in the way the
Cardinal
used to do, always tilting in the sign of the Cross. The Cardinal
spelled:
“Yes, that unhappy man has been present and he thanks you. You have
done
what you can and I thank you also.”
With
that the story ends. My friend who continued to live in the palace felt a
very
different atmosphere after that, and the Cardinal did not call upon her to
do
anything else. Mr H. took notes during the experience which lasted several
months.
He had been a sceptic and was convinced now.
“It
would have been more complete,” remarked the Vagrant, “if they had been
allowed
to dig for the bones.”
END
-------Cardiff
Theosophical Society in Wales-------
206 Newport Road, Cardiff, Wales, UK. CF24-1DL
In the Twilight (32)
first
published in the Theosophist, Dec, 1929, p345-347
“Our
dear Vagrant does not forget us while she is away,” said the Magician, “she
sends
the following extract from a letter written by a F.T.S., a professor in a
college
in Bagda?”:
There
is a poor Chaldian Christian (Catholic) family here. The father of the
family
died suddenly leaving several small children and a penniless widow. There
was
nothing to eat in the house, and they wept and prayed, and went to bed
hungry.
The mother says she was sure that there was not a single copper in the
house.
In the morning when she got up, she found a karan (about 4 pence English
money)
in her pocket. Could she have overlooked that the night before? Well she
bought
bread and that day passed. Next day there were two karans in her pocket
in
the morning. The money went on doubling till it came to a megiedi (about a
dollar
in American money). From that day she found every day a megiedi to meet
her
expenses. She did not know whence it came. There was of course no
possibility
of any one putting the money in her pocket. For two years the thing
went
on. One day she spoke of this to a friend of hers. From that day the
money-coming
stopped abruptly, and was never repeated again. This woman is now a
midwife
and one of her sons a clerk in a merchant's firm. This incident occurred
about
fifteen years ago. It was related to me by the people themselves and I
give
it as it was told to me.
The
Vagrant adds that it may be one of the cases in which the family had a
kârmic
right to relief, and no physical friend being available, it became
necessary
to supply what was needed by the direct interposition of a lower Deva,
or
nature-spirit.
One
of the circle gave the following interesting account of a personal
experience:
My
mother had to undergo a serious operation, but she had a great dislike to
take
chloroform, so my father interviewed the specialist at the Nursing Home to
ask
him not to use chloroform as my mother had such a dread of it. He
indignantly
refused to accede the request, saying that the case must be left in
his
hands, and that he knew what was best. So my mother resigned herself to take
it.
The night before the operation i had a dream, in which I saw with perfect
clearness
the Master KH standing over my mother, who was lying at full length.
His
hands were held over her, and gave me the impression of sending forth force,
and
I felt the conviction that no chloroform would be used. Next morning came a
telegram,
that the operation would take place at midday and that chloroform
would
be used. I had just time to catch the train (there was one hour's journey
by
train) and I jumped into it just as it was starting, I met my father in time,
and
we immediately went to the nursing Home. There we found my mother and waited
with
her in her room, and she told me that she knew I would come, and that she
had
seen the Master KH while in a semi-conscious state. During the quarter of an
hour's
wait my father, my husband, the nurse (who was a member TS), and myself
sat
in concentration on the Master. My mother sank in a deep sleep, from which
she
awoke when the doctor fetched her. There was a feeling of perfect calm in
the
room. Again my husband asked that chloroform should not be used, and the
request
was again refused, and we saw my mother led out into the operation room.
The
end of the story came from the nurse. She told that the doctor had the cap
in
his hand, ready to give it to the nurse to administer the chloroform, when he
suddenly
stopped as if arrested, put it down and said: “No, without chloroform.”
Two
dexterous cuts and the operation was over, almost before my mother was aware
of
it, she felt no pain, and in half an hour she was back in her room.
“An
experience I recall just now,” said a member, “was not a dream, but a
result,
in some way of concentration.”
My
father was very ill, and asked that his body might be burned after he died.
That
was impossible to do because the law of the country forbade it for
Europeans.
So we could not do as he wished. But after he died we used instead of
a
Christian prayer a part of the Shrâddha of the Hindûs, for my father was in
his
thoughts and feelings quite Eastern. I chose some of the household who were
a
little stronger in concentration than the others; we numbered 7 members of the
T.S.
We concentrated on the idea that he might be free from his body, as he
would
have been by burning, and meditated on the mantram, Rgveda X, XIV: 9.
After
an interval of half an hour we took another mantram and concentrated on it
-
Rgveda X, XIV: 7. The whole thing was done in the room in which he died. The
next
day I received a letter from a lady friend who lived in an other town. She
wrote
me that she knew my father had died that night, she was in thoughts with
us
all the time. She saw a very strange thing, which she could not understand
and
asked me the meaning of it. She saw the whole room from floor to ceiling in
flames.
She asked me: “have you disinfected the room with some liquid that would
burn?
I think that the flames she saw in the room during her meditation came
from
our concentration on the mantram of burning. Is that possible?”
“Certainly,”
wrote the Vagrant on hearing the above, “your thought would be
about
flames and the thought forms of flames created by you would be visible to
a
sensitive.”
Return to Searchable Text Index
Searchable Theosophical Texts
Theosophy House
Quick Explanations with Links to More Detailed Info
What is Theosophy ? Theosophy Defined (More Detail)
Three Fundamental Propositions Key Concepts of Theosophy
Cosmogenesis Anthropogenesis Root Races
Ascended Masters After Death States
The Seven Principles of Man Karma
Reincarnation Helena Petrovna Blavatsky
Colonel Henry Steel Olcott William Quan Judge
The Start of the Theosophical Society
History of the Theosophical Society
Theosophical Society Presidents
History of the Theosophical Society in Wales
The Three Objectives of the Theosophical
Society
Explanation of the Theosophical Society
Emblem
The Theosophical Order of Service (TOS)
Glossaries of Theosophical Terms
Index
of Searchable
Full
Text Versions of
Definitive
Theosophical
Works
H P Blavatsky’s Secret Doctrine
Isis Unveiled by H P Blavatsky
H P Blavatsky’s Esoteric Glossary
Mahatma Letters to A P Sinnett 1 - 25
A Modern Revival of Ancient Wisdom
(Selection of Articles by H P Blavatsky)
The Secret Doctrine – Volume 3
A compilation of H P Blavatsky’s
writings published after her death
Esoteric Christianity or the Lesser Mysteries
The Early Teachings of The Masters
A Collection of Fugitive Fragments
Fundamentals of the Esoteric Philosophy
Mystical,
Philosophical, Theosophical, Historical
and Scientific
Essays Selected from "The Theosophist"
Edited by George
Robert Stow Mead
From Talks on the Path of Occultism - Vol. II
In the Twilight”
Series of Articles
The In the
Twilight” series appeared during
1898 in The
Theosophical Review and
from 1909-1913 in
The Theosophist.
Obras
Teosoficas En Espanol
Theosophische
Schriften Auf Deutsch