The
Theosophical Path

Illustrated Monthly

Edited by Katherine Tingley

Volume I
July — December, 1911

Published by the New Century Corporation

Point Loma, California, U. S. A.

The Aryan Theosophical Press
Point Loma, California

Index to The Theosophical Path

VOLUME I

JULY — DECEMBER, 1911

ILLUSTRATIONS

Front cover.

THE PATH

THE illustration on the cover of this Magazine is a reproduction of the mystical and symbolical painting by Mr. R. Machell, the English artist, now a Student at the International Theosophical Headquarters, Point Loma, California. The original is in Katherine Tingley's collection at the International Theosophical Headquarters. The symbolism of this painting is described by the artist as follows:

The Path is the way by which the human soul must pass in its evolution to full spiritual self-consciousness. The supreme condition is suggested in this work by the great figure whose head in the upper triangle is lost in the glory of the Sun above, and whose feet are in the lower triangle in the waters of Space, symbolizing Spirit and Matter. His wings fill the middle region representing the motion or pulsation of cosmic life, while within the octagon are displayed the various planes of consciousness through which humanity must rise to attain to perfect Manhood.

At the top is a winged Isis, the Mother or Oversoul, whose wings veil the face of the Supreme from those below. There is a circle dimly seen of celestial figures who hail with joy the triumph of a new initiate, one who has reached to the heart of the Supreme. From that point he looks back with compassion upon all who still are wandering below and turns to go down again to their help as a Savior of Men. Below him is the red wing of the guardians who strike down those who have not the "password," symbolized by the white flame floating over the head of the purified aspirant. Two children, representing purity, pass up unchallenged. In the center of the picture is a warrior who has slain the dragon of illusion, the dragon of the lower self, and is now prepared to cross the gulf by using the body of the dragon as his bridge (for we rise on steps made of conquered weaknesses, the slain dragon of the lower nature).

On one side two women climb, one helped by the other whose robe is white and whose flame burns bright as she helps her weaker sister. Near them a man climbs from the darkness; he has money bags hung at his belt but no flame above his head and already the spear of a guardian of the fire is poised above him ready to strike the unworthy in his hour of triumph. Not far off is a bard whose flame is veiled by a red cloud (passion) and who lies prone, struck down by a guardian's spear; but as he lies dying, a ray from the heart of the Supreme reaches him as a promise of future triumph in a later life.

On the other side is a student of magic, following the light from a crown (ambition) held aloft by a floating figure who has led him to the edge of the precipice over which for him there is no bridge; he holds his book of ritual and thinks the light of the dazzling crown comes from the Supreme, but the chasm awaits its victim. By his side his faithful follower falls unnoticed by him, but a ray from the heart of the Supreme falls upon her also, the reward of selfless devotion, even in a bad cause.

Lower still in the underworld, a child stands beneath the wings of the foster mother (material Nature) and receives the equipment of the Knight, symbols of the powers of the Soul, the sword of power, the spear of will, the helmet of knowledge and the coat of mail, the links of which are made of past experiences.

It is said in an ancient book: "The Path is one for all, the ways that lead thereto must vary with the pilgrim."

THE PATH
The Theosophical Path
An International Magazine
Unsectarian and nonpolitical
Monthly Illustrated
Devoted to the Brotherhood of Humanity, the promulgation
of Theosophy, the study of ancient & modern
Ethics, Philosophy, Science and Art, and to the uplifting
and purification of Home and National Life
Edited by Katherine Tingley
International Theosophical Headquarters, Point Loma, California, U.S.A.

The Secret Doctrine is the common property of the countless millions of men born under various climates, in times with which History refuses to deal, and to which esoteric teachings assign dates incompatible with the theories of Geology and Anthropology. The birth and evolution of the Sacred Science of the Past are lost in the very night of Time.... It is only by bringing before the reader an abundance of proofs all tending to show that in every age, under every condition of civilization and knowledge, the educated classes of every nation made themselves the more or less faithful echoes of one identical system and its fundamental traditions—that he can be made to see that so many streams of the same water must have had a common source from which they started. What was this source?... There must be truth and fact in that which every people of antiquity accepted and made the foundation of its religions and its faith.—H. P. Blavatsky, in The Secret Doctrine, II, 794

The Theosophical Path

KATHERINE TINGLEY, EDITOR

VOL. I

NO. 1

JULY, 1911

THE REBIRTH OF CHRISTIANITY:
by H. T. Edge, B. A. (Cantab.)

AMONG ideas which Theosophists have been proclaiming for many years, and which are now finding expression through other channels, though in piecemeal and modified form, are those connected with the Christ story and Christianity. Current Literature, in reviewing "The Christ Myth," by Professor Dr. Arthur Drews of Karlsruhe, says:

In essence the argument of the book is that all the main ideas of Christianity existed in the world prior to the birth of Christ, and that the hero of the New Testament is an imaginative conception rather than an actual personality. The opening chapters illuminate the history of the Messianic idea. This idea, Professor Drews contends, is rooted in Persia and Greece, as well as in the Jewish consciousness. The Persians dreamed of a divine "friend" or "mediator" who should deliver them in the eternal struggle between light and darkness, between Ormuzd and Ahriman. The Greeks conceived a mediatory "Word" or Logos which should come to the aid of human weakness and identify man with God. Even more strongly, among the Jews, persisted the thought that "a Son of God" must intercede with Jehovah in behalf of his people.

Such utterances as the above are growing common, both from without the churches and from within. People are beginning to realize that they have not made the most of their religious traditions; that there is more in them than they have so far gotten out of them. They suspect that the Gospel narratives contain valuable truths that have been missed. The Christ is not merely a personality, but also a symbol, as is shown by the above writer; a symbol of the Divine in Man, recognized by the world ages before the Christian era.

The importance of the Christian Gospel today consists in its power to help us to realize that we are Divine in essence, and to aid us on the Path or Way which leads to a realization of that Divinity. Is it possible that now, for the first time, after all these centuries, the real import of that Gospel is about to be grasped? that the age-long worship of a wrong ideal—that of the personal God and his rewards and punishments, his propitiations and forgivenesses—is about to depart and make room for a more virile and ennobling, as well as more rational and holier faith?

Is it possible that a Resurrection is in progress, a Resurrection of Christ from the tomb in which we have buried him?[1]

[1] The reader of course will not think any allusion is here made to a possible physical appearance of Christ. Such preposterous suggestions are made in some quarters, but it is needless to say Theosophy has nothing to do with them.—H. T. E.

What we understand by a Resurrection of Christ is the Resurrection of the ancient but buried truth that Man is essentially Divine—to replace the idea that he is essentially evil. This latter idea emphasizes the lower side of man's nature and actually weakens his faith in the Divine Power. Having thus lost his faith, he assumes an attitude of expectation and deprecation, praying to an imaginary deity instead of invoking by action the real Divinity within.

Ancient symbology, to which the above writer refers as being substantially identical with that of the Christian Gospel, speaks of the "Father" and the "Son." By the word "Father" was understood the Supreme; the "Son" was the Word, the Divine life in Man, which turned him from an animal being to what he is. Through the Son we approach the Father; that is, man must invoke the power of his own Higher Self. Another ancient teaching, taught in fables as well as sacred allegories, is that only by acting can man invoke the Divine aid. The Divine gift to Man is the Will, and he himself is the only one who can exert it. The fable tells that a carter invoked Hercules to lift his cart out of a rut, and Hercules told him to put his own shoulder to the wheel. For Hercules means strength, and strength is invoked by exerting it. In the same way we have to assert our Divinity by acting in a Divine way; and it seems that the Gospels give us ample instructions.

It may be that this was after all the real message, and that those who gave it have been waiting all this time for man to get up off his knees and be somebody.

There are many religious gospels in the world, but they are all modifications of one great eternal gospel. That one gospel, clothed in many garbs, legendary, allegoric, theological, is the Drama of the Soul in its pilgrimage through life, its struggles with great adversaries, and its final victory. Christianity contains the same ancient wisdom; it has been covered over with accretions of theology and ecclesiasticism; it is now being disentombed. The process is a long and eventful one; for people cling fondly to old habits, and many still hope that they will be able to admit everything and yet set early medieval theology on the summit as the crowning revelation. The success with which they can do this depends upon what they can make of Christianity, for the less cannot contain the greater.

The personal Christ and the doctrine of the Atonement (in its familiar theological form) together constitute the rock on which there is most likelihood of a split. But this doctrine (that is, in its present form) will have to go, for it is inconsistent with the views of life that are now gaining ground. For one thing, it is not sufficiently international; it is too much like a gospel of salvation peculiar to Western civilization. Eastern religions are already amply provided with similar machinery in their own systems, and are not likely to give up their own for ours.

Again, the theological doctrine of Atonement includes the remission of sins, in the sense that the sinner is relieved from the consequences of his sins by a special act of intercession and vicarious suffering. It is useless for Christians to deny that such is the teaching, for it is expressly stated thus by eminent authorities whom we might quote; besides it is this very fact of remission that lends force to the appeal made to our weak desires and hopes; it is held up as a great advantage possessed by Christianity. This teaching is repugnant to our innate sense of justice, to our manliness, and to our best conceptions of Divine Wisdom. It is felt to be more in harmony with Law that man should work out the full consequences of all his acts, both good and bad, reaping the consequent joy and grief. The remission of sins does not mean an excusing from the penalty, but a purification of the man so that he will not commit any more sins. Man is justified, sanctified, and saved, by the Divine grace acting within and changing his heart—not by a propitiatory sacrifice and a mere formal act of belief.

And so the real doctrine of Atonement will have to take the place of the other. The making one, or reconciliation, between the human soul and its Divine counterpart—that is the real Atonement. By it, man repudiates his false "self," and recognizes his real Self; deposes the animal nature from the throne of his heart and establishes the kingdom of righteousness therein. But in the world just now there is a mighty battle between powers that tend to enslave man and keep him down, and powers that tend to liberate him. The former will try to perpetuate theological dogmatism and man's fear of himself. The latter will ever strive to give him back his self-respect and faith in his own Divinity.

Christians love to speak of the greatness of their religion, but little do they realize how great it is. The Bible is printed in hundreds of millions, and enthusiastic evangelists place a copy in every hotel room; but it is a more precious treasure than they wot of. Enshrined within the verses of that strange literary compost, preserved in the misunderstood symbols of that religion, are records of the Wisdom-Religion, the world's eternal gospel of Truth. Its teachings can indeed "make us free," for they show us how to evoke the power of the "Word." Unless we can use our Will—the Spiritual Will, not the feeble, selfish, personal will—we cannot be saved; else would the Creator have his heaven furnished with rescued dummies. When Man was gifted with Divine prerogatives of Will and Intelligence, he was thereby made a responsible self-acting being; he must redeem himself by his own (God-given) volition, not lay aside his initiative in weak reliance on some other will.

And the Spiritual Will is of the Heart; and of the Heart also is Wisdom; yet man in his unredeemed state obeys the leading of the desires and the false images they breed in the imagination. Therefore he will remain enslaved to these desires and will fail to understand the meaning of life unless he cultivates the impersonal Divine life within him. The teaching of the Gospel is directed to showing us how to enter this Way. To the ignorant the Master speaks in parables; but "to you it is given to understand the mysteries of the kingdom." A priceless privilege, but how repudiated! If we would but carry out the injunctions of Jesus the Christ, instead of making his personality into a God—which surely he himself would never have wished—we should be worthier disciples and the greater gainers.

THE NEW EGYPTOLOGY AND THE THEOSOPHICAL RECORDS: by Charles J. Ryan

THE interesting problem of the origin of Egyptian culture is still unsolved by archaeologists, though many new facts have been recently discovered which seem to be leading to something definite. Nestor L'Hôte said sixty years ago:

The further one penetrates into antiquity towards the origins of Egyptian art, the more perfect are the products of that art, as though the genius of the people, inversely to that of others, was formed suddenly.... Egyptian art we only know in its decadence.

M. Jean Capart, the eminent Belgian Egyptologist, Keeper of the Egyptian Antiquities at the Royal Museum, Brussels, supports that opinion, saying, in his recent work on Primitive Art in Egypt, that M. L'Hôte's conclusion was and remains legitimate.

Since L'Hôte's time fine works of art and astonishing beauty have been found in tombs of the Third Dynasty of Egyptian Pharaohs, about whom nothing—or next to nothing—was known until lately; even the Fourth Dynasty, the so-called Pyramid Builders, being historically very obscure, no agreement as to their date having been come to yet. It is fairly decided that they lived more than four or five thousands years b. c. Maspero, speaking of some paintings of the extremely ancient Third Dynasty, says:

The Egyptians were animal painters of the highest power, and they never gave better proof of it than in this picture. No modern painter could have seized with more spirit and humor the heavy gait of the goose, the curves of its neck, the pretentious carriage of its head, and the markings of its plumage.

The human figure was also represented with great artistic skill at the same early period. Even then the characteristic full-faced eye in the profile face was a firmly established convention. We do not know the reasons for this, but it cannot have been accidental.

According to Dr. Petrie, the great Egyptian explorer, the commencement of the Egyptian civilization that we call classical, the Egypt of the Pharaohs with its hieroglyphs, its established style of art, its complicated religion and philosophy, dates back to not less than b. c. 5000. This would be the time of the First Dynasty. Think what that means! A stretch of splendid civilization before the beginning of the Christian era about five times as long as the period that has elapsed since the time of King Alfred to this day, a period which has included almost or quite all that we look upon as worthy of consideration in our history! And yet back of Dr. Petrie's First Dynastic age we now find ourselves face to face with a prehistoric Egyptian civilization or civilizations of absolutely unknown age, possibly of a hundred thousand years duration. The one that immediately preceded the Dynastic or Pharaonic is supposed to be of Libyan origin.

The possibility at least of a civilization of a hundred thousand years' duration should offer little difficulty even to the most critical, now that we have found a well-formed skull and skeleton near London differing very little from the modern type of Englishman, and estimated to be at least 170,000 years old. Long ago H. P. Blavatsky said in The Secret Doctrine and elsewhere that some form of Egyptian civilization had existed for an immensely longer period than the archaeologists imagine, and Katherine Tingley has reasserted this most emphatically, saying that Egyptian civilization will be proved to be even older than the (historic) Indian.

Archaeologists have always felt a great and peculiar difficulty in comprehending the sudden appearance of the high culture of the first Dynastic periods. It is impossible to believe that Egypt's greatness arose full-fledged, without long preparation, and yet where are the evidences of development? M. Jean Capart, the Belgian authority referred to above, has devoted great attention to this problem, and his conclusions are of interest to the student of Theosophy. He considers it exceedingly probable that gradual invasions or colonizations of a highly cultured race broke into the simpler Egyptian civilization from the South or South-east. These people, coming from the "Land of the Gods," Punt, which is commonly supposed to be Somaliland, he thinks came originally from some Asiatic country, bringing with them their arts and sciences and religion. As they blended with the Libyan inhabitants of Egypt, who possessed their own distinctive civilization, they established their already formed culture, and the combination produced what we call the Dynastic or classic Egyptian civilization. This would explain the origin of the classic Egyptian forms on reasonable grounds, and furthermore would make it clear why the Egyptians had so many things in common with the Hindûs in matters of religion, such as the respect paid to the Cow as a symbol of Divine Power.

HALL OF COLUMNS, KARNAK, EGYPT

Lomaland Photo. and Engraving Dept.

SYMBOLIC STATUE OF HORUS, SON OF OSIRIS AND ISIS
IN THE ACT OF PURIFYING A KING
MUSÉE NATIONAL DU LOUVRE, PARIS

H. P. Blavatsky, in Isis Unveiled, quotes the following from the ancient Hindû historian, Kullûka-Bhatta:

Under the reign of Viśvâ-mitra, first king of the Dynasty of Soma-Vanga, in consequence of a battle which lasted five days, Manu-Vina, heir of the ancient kings, being abandoned by the Brâhmans, emigrated with all his companions, passing through Ârya, and the countries of Barria, till he came to the shores of Masra. (Vol. I, p. 627)

She adds:

Ârya is Eran (Persia); Barria is Arabia, and Masra was the name of Cairo, which to this day is called Masr, Musr, and Misro. (Ibid.)

Mitsraîm was the Hebrew name for the land of Cham, Egypt.

Dr. E. A. W. Budge, the learned Keeper of the Egyptian and Assyrian antiquities in the British Museum, says he believes that a series of carvings on the walls of the Temple of Edfû,

represent the invaders in prehistoric times, who made their way into Egypt, from a country in the East, by way of the Red Sea.... In later times the indigenous priesthoods merged the legendary history of the deified king of the "Blacksmiths" is that of Horus, the god of heaven in the earliest times, and in that of Râ which belonged to a later period.

The mythical story of Horus conquering Nubia and Egypt, with which Dr. Budge thinks the true story of incursion was blended, contains the significant assertions that the warriors of Horus, the "Blacksmiths," were armed with weapons of metal, and chains, and were expert builders.

According to the Theosophical records the Great Pyramid was built long before the fifth millennium b. c. There are many mysteries connected with that most stupendous work of man which have not yet been suspected by the Egyptologists, not the least of which is the problem of its date and its builder; but, so far as they go, the stories of Horus' invasion and M. Capart's luminous suggestions as to the origin of the Dynastic Egyptian civilization, are not inconsistent with the account of Kullûka-Bhatta; and in the light of the new discoveries of one or more prehistoric civilizations in the Nile Valley, it looks as if the teachings of Theosophy were being vindicated in a way that was not dreamed of by archaeologists in the days when H. P. Blavatsky opened a small window into the mysterious past of glorious Egypt.

THE SCOPE OF ART: by R. W. Machell

A WRITER in a London weekly (Black and White) makes one or two points in reference to art that are worthy of notice. He says that it is nonsense to talk of art elevating the people, because it is itself the index of their condition. This is just one of those simple fallacies that contain a sufficient amount of the truth to make them misleading. Art is not an index of the condition of the people, but only of a very small part of the people; it would be more true to say that the popular appreciation of art is such an index; but it is not true to say or to imply that the condition of the people governs its range or scope. We are constantly met by the experience of art that is unappreciated by the people in whose midst it appears.

It is necessary to understand the complex nature of man and the vast range of human evolution to be able to see how one man may appear in a nation and display a degree of progress far in advance of his fellows, who also are all in varying stages of their long evolution. The progressed soul incarnates perhaps in a body just like those of the rest of the race, because it cannot get a better; and so it is not at once recognized as an older soul, and for want of right education the man himself may be unable to account for the difference between himself and his fellows of which he is conscious; and so, being unaware of his own inherent divinity and of his relation to his fellows, he may not recognize his responsibility to them as a natural leader, fitted by greater experience to show a light on the path of human progress, and required by Karma or by his kinship to his fellows, to use his experience, or his talents, or his genius, for their guidance rather than for his own glory.

Then passing to the subject of the recent sale of the famous Rembrandt to an American he very wisely points out that this is a private matter, and not in any way a national or an artistic point of interest. As said, the picture (not an English painting) was not in any sense a national possession, nor was it of any importance in the art-life of the nation that it should be added to the already large collection of the master's works now owned by the National Gallery. What the writer maintains is vital to a nation, is to encourage and to appreciate the art of its own day and of its own artists.

Now here we meet the deplorable parochialism that does duty for patriotism, and which is so utterly out of place in connexion with art; for art is not national but universal, and, further, it is not modern or ancient, but again universal; so that an attempt to limit the sympathies of art-lovers to the products of their own age or of their own nation is bound to fail, and can only be tolerated as an antidote to an excessive worship of what is old or of what is foreign, these being matters of perhaps no consequence at all.

It is of course well that people should do the duty that lies nearest to hand first, and so if it be a duty to encourage, to endow, or to patronize art, that duty should begin at home. But this again is a very narrow way of looking at the matter. It is not at all essential that art should be national; on the contrary, art is universal and cannot be bound by any such limits. No barriers stand in the way of one who would admire a foreign painting; one may speak no language but one's own and yet find as much beauty, joy, and inspiration in foreign works of art as in those produced by men of one's own nationality. A visitor to a collection of works of art has to be told by a catalog, or he would not know, what country produced any particular work; so it is with music, and largely with architecture; indeed that which is of Art is universal: the national characteristics are limitations imposed by circumstances upon the free expression of the soul.

The soul of man is not eternally bound within the limits of one nation, but must, in the course of constant reincarnations upon earth, experience the limitations of many varying nationalities. It is bound to the great human family; and it may be, for a certain period, identified with a special group. Nations are evanescent, though family groups may survive, and though an artist may be intimately bound by many ties with the destinies of some one group or family or race, in its reincarnations and in its varying national appearances, yet the artistic part of his nature is just that higher part that rises beyond such limits and appeals to all humanity, and it is the higher part of human nature that responds to the appeal of art and disregards all other limitations, such as questions of time or place or nationality, rising to what is more broadly human or more divine in the nature of man. For "Brotherhood is a fact in nature," and the soul responds unconsciously to the call of the Soul in all nature and in all humanity in such degree as it is able to throw off for a time the temporary bonds of local conditions. So it is a matter rather of satisfaction to see works of art circulating around the world and awaking the deeper sympathies that tend to unite humanity.

MUSIC AND LIFE: by William A. Dunn

THERE is not a problem which perplexes human life that may not be loosened and solved by the aid of music. Based as it is upon the vibratory movements of Nature, and subject to rigid mathematical law and geometrical ratio, music represents an incorruptible and direct medium between the higher and lower natures of man. Its dynamical and spiritual power proceeds from the blend of its related vibrating numbers; which blend is that living force (within outward harmony) that electrifies the heart and mind and lifts the whole nature to the plane of soul. It is that living field of energy in which all numbers, all forces, all substances, are lost in the unity of least-common-multiple of all possible vibrations. It is the Veil of Isis.

No motion can take place without causing sound. This must be equally true of atomic and planetary movements, and all that lies between. All sounds that appear to the senses as different must obviously vibrate in some universal medium which permits movement and unifies their seeming diversity. It is the actual presence of such a medium in man which enables him to perceive that which music is the expression of. Notes and chords are merely alphabetical symbols. These are classified and combined to express ideas as truly as words are combined to convey the thought that lies beyond them.

It has been said that "The Universe is built by number." This is obvious truth when all natural forces and elements are conceived of as modes of vibration (as they actually are) blending and interblending in the universal etheric medium, according to the immutable law of harmonious ratios. Why should the etheric world be thought of as an abstraction or a far-off possibility? It is in reality a nearer thing in life than its comparatively trifling contents. All our thoughts and feelings move in it as their medium, and the process of self-conquest is nothing more than to live in this our universal home, and harmonize dissociated thoughts and feelings into musical symphonies.

This is not rhapsody, but sober common sense, as true for the field-laborer as for the philosopher. As we all live in and breathe the same physical atmosphere, so do we all think and feel in the same mental ether. This fact explains why "Brotherhood is a fact in nature." To accept this principle of Brotherhood as the point from which life is viewed is equivalent to mounting to the hill-top of life from which the surrounding scenery can be seen. Down in the valley a single wall can shut out the whole prospect.

A text-book on chemistry may be consulted with profit as illustrating this fact. A few general principles or laws classify millions of separate facts into harmonious knowledge. The science of chemistry is also the science of true music. Schopenhauer speaks of music

as immediate and direct an objectivation or copy of the Will of the world as the world itself is, as the ideas are of which the universe of things is the phenomenon. Music is not the copy of the ideas, but a representation of the cosmical Will co-ordinate with the ideas themselves.

The literal truth of this statement is known by all who have had contact with that which creates, and breathes life into, a musical masterpiece. The audible notes and phrases are merely classified symbols which express something beyond them, just as the parts of a dynamo are adjusted as medium for the expression of the universal electrical power.

Music, in itself, is the universal life of Nature as she is in vibration. Every movement, from that of planet down to minute atom, emits tone. It is absurd to imagine that our octave of audible receptivity limits the universal fact. It can only do so for us. The refining and extension of receptive range of hearing must undoubtedly reveal the music which ever surrounds our self-imposed deafness. All discoveries and advances in knowledge are simply this: the unfolding of organs of receptivity in which some universal fact may reflect itself. All knowledge and power exist eternally. Man is the only variant (because of his power of choice) and he cripples himself in imagining that the revelation of limited organs of receptivity are equivalent to the universal fact.

Let us picture a great music hall in which an orchestra is performing. No matter what sounds proceed from the many instruments, their united tones vibrate through every particle of air in the building simultaneously. Sound waves may be many, but, every atom of air is participant in all these at one and the same instant. The atom therefore is the synthetic point of universal unity.

Man is an atom in that grand temple of music—the solar system. Through him passes every movement or sound propagated by planet or sun—and all the lesser movements to which they give rise. We actually participate in the total vibration of solar life, but are blind to this because the brain consciousness is attached to a few external sound waves and sets up a conscious focus amid these. A musician will tell us how easily the mind may select a single orchestral instrument and follow its melody to the exclusion of the adjacent parts. How truly this illustrates our separate personal lives! It is impossible to lose anything by detachment from the personal grooves to which so much importance is attached. We can only fall into That which gives the utmost blessing. That silence and solitariness which usually follow the storm of true effort, is the womb of fuller life. The old life has passed, the new not yet born, and we are apt to despond. But courage and patience will surely lead to living joy, for the new life dawns when the inner self is ready to receive it. Right thought, right feeling, and unending patience, will without doubt make all things clear, and from the heart will arise the total music of life, vibrating in tune with all that is.

THE ASTRAL BODY: by H. A. W. Coryn, M.D., M.R.C.S.

IT is safe to say that science will never accept the astral body—by that name: at any rate not until philosophy accepts the prototypal Ideas of Plato.

Yet the evidence, if not for them, then for something discharging the same function and therefore after all for them—is irresistible.

One thinks first of the growth of living animal tissues in glass jars, demonstrated at the Rockefeller Institute. Removed from the body to which they belong and placed in nutritive fluids which they can absorb, they attain a size that would constitute them fatal diseases if they were in situ at home. They would in fact be malignant growths of highly organized types.

Why don't they grow to that size? Because "the nervous system" restrains them within the limit of usefulness. How does "the nervous system" know that limit? Has it a picture in its "mind," a plan according to which it works, according to which it variously restricts or encourages?

When some of the molluscs are cut in two each half grows the part it has lost, the head an after-part, the after-part a head. Two animals result, each exactly like the original. As the severed cells are called upon to perform and do perform new and unexpected work, what and where is the architectural plan by which they do it?

The cells of a leaf have finished their growth. Now comes their work, the fixing of carbon from the air, transpiration, and so on. But cut off, say, a begonia leaf and place it on damp soil properly protected. It proceeds at once upon a wholly new program, sending down roots, sending up stalk, fresh leaves, and finally flower. It is obviously working according to a plan. When a germ cell or seed does that the problem can be concealed by talking about its chemical constitution and so forth. We are told that the seed behaves as it does because it is constituted by nature to do so, molecularly arranged for just that function. But the cells of the leaf were not arranged for that but for quite other functions. How come they to be able to stop their proper line of work and follow this one, generating not only leaves like themselves but all other parts of the plant including seeds?

We are of course pressing the problem of heredity, the persistence of racial and family type. But heredity is only a word that expresses the observed facts without a gleam of explanation.

The consciousness of the mollusc, as an individual, and that of the leaf on a lower plane, can be only sensational. They do not intelligently arrange and design what they are doing. But to ascribe it to molecular mechanism only, is no better than to say God did it. Either is such a form of mere words as unwise parents throw at a too questioning child to stop, without satisfying, its mind. No idea corresponds. The gap in conception remains exactly what it was.

When a chimney is blown down, the builder notes the gap and builds another. His mind contains a picture of what ought to be there.

An architect does not deliver the whole plan of his building to each of the workmen. Each follows his ordinary work, being merely told where to begin and when to stop. When all of them have done their part the building is complete.

Why may we not suppose that the cutting-in-two of a mollusc constitutes some such appeal to some intelligence somewhere in nature as the missing chimney constitutes to the builder? The force flowing in the cells of the injured animal is thereupon directed to the work unexpectedly required. Science now speaks freely of human "subconsciousness," meaning sub-mental consciousness in man. And it knows that that sub-mental consciousness can, when properly called upon (and also habitually on its own account), do reparative work upon the body whose method is not comprehensible to the man himself. It is, within its limits, intelligent; it knows what it has to do and what it is wanted to do; and it commands the necessary forces—which are beyond the man's reach, owner of them as he may be or think he is.

This subconsciousness is embodied with the man, but is not the man and is not an ego. May it not be regarded as a part of nature-consciousness, focused in an organic body and with the intelligence necessary to do its work?

And it does not follow that the lower down the scale of mental intelligence is an organism, the lower down a parallel scale is this intelligence. What we call, when in our own bodies, the subconscious, may be just as fully present and just as intelligently at work, in the bodies of plants and animals.

If we say that the plan of repair and the plans of hereditary type are in the conscious intelligence of this diffused nature-mind, we are at any rate reasonably proceeding from the known and not glossing the unknown with mere words. The astral body of any plant or animal is its plan of structure in this nature-mind. It is subjective substance, just as is a picture in our own mind. And it contains the vital energy necessary for the guidance of the protoplasmic matter that will clothe it, an energy that guides but is not one of the physical forces. As an analogy from higher up the planes of being, conscience guides mental thoughts and desires but is not among their number nor of their nature. It is the divine-astral form or plan, of what the thinking man should be. On both planes the form and the guiding energy setting from it become the negative and positive aspects of one thing.

THE BIRTH OF DAY
by A. F. W. (Manchester, N. H.)

FROM the darkness, O Eternal One,

From the pale light of diamond stars,

From the quietude of dreamless night,

Into the grayness and the formless mist,

Comes the first whisper, the first murmur

Of Life awakening.

Merges then the dim outline and the shadow,

Floating nothings, pregnant with the promise

Of the coming birth of Morning.

Gradually, slowly, silently,

The shapes resolve themselves

And grow less misty and more huge;

The grayness becomes less gray;

And, as it so becomes, the horizon

Erstwhile faint and indistinct,

Slowly as a line appears, not sharp,

But blended with both earth and sky.

A sleepy twitter from the birds, the first call

Of mate to mate; the faint, soft rustle

Of the leaves, the vapor rising from the earth—

All betoken the oncoming.

The ghostly outlines of the forms

Are clearer now; and the vivid streamers

Of the eastern sky change to the white light

Of the advancing Morn.

Now approach the fuller tones of nature:

Insistent the notes of the tiny feathered ones,

And from the nests and branches come

The piping calls to morning quest.

Now the silver white takes on the faint

Tinging of the purple glow.

The purple to a blue transforms itself;

The gnomes of dawn are hard at work

Transmuting the base metal into finer gold.

As distant fire, urging on the horses of wild Fear

Mounts higher and more high,

So Apollo urges on his horses, and the golden gleam

Of his chariot heralds itself

To follow after.

The horizon blazes with the power of Light—

More red and fiery grows the hue;

A point appears, a rim, an arc

Of coppery luster; then

Glowing with the radiance of the parent Life

The Sun!—And Day is born.

H. P. BLAVATSKY AND THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY

In 1887 William Q. Judge wrote of the Theosophical Society and H. P. Blavatsky as follows:

THE Society has had, like all sentient beings, its periods of growth, and now we believe it has become an entity capable of feeling and having intelligence. Its body is composed of molecules, each one of which is a member of the Society; its mental power is derived from many quarters, and it has a sensibility that is felt and shared by each one of us. For these reasons we think it is a wise thing for a person to join this body, and a wiser yet to work heart and soul for it.

And we would have no one misunderstand how we look upon H. P. Blavatsky. She is the greatest woman in this world in our opinion, and greater than any man moving among men. Disputes and slanders about what she has said and done move us not, for we know by personal experience her real virtues and powers. Since 1875 she has stood as the champion and helper of every Theosophist; each member of the Society has to thank her for the store of knowledge and spiritual help that has lifted so many of us from doubt to certainty of where and how Truth might be found; lovers of truth and seekers after spiritual knowledge will know her worth only when she has passed from earth; had she had more help and less captious criticism from those who called themselves co-laborers, our Society would today be better and more able to inform its separate units while it resisted its foes. During all these years, upon her devoted head has concentrated the weighty Karma accumulated in every direction by the unthinking body of Theosophists; and whether they will believe it or not, the Society had died long ago, were it not for her.

The following are extracts from an article also by William Q. Judge, written after H. P. Blavatsky's death:

That which men call death is but a change of location for the Ego—the immortal self—a mere transformation, a forsaking for a time of the mortal frame, a short period of rest before one reassumes another human frame in the world of mortals. The Lord of this body is nameless; dwelling in numerous tenements of clay, it appears to come and go; but neither death nor time can claim it, for it is deathless, unchangeable, and pure, beyond Time itself, and not to be measured. So our old friend and fellow-worker has merely passed for a short time out of sight, but has not given up the work begun so many ages ago—the uplifting of humanity, the destruction of the shackles that enslave the human mind....

That she always knew what would be done by the world in the way of slander and abuse I also know, for in 1875 she told me that she was then embarking on a work that would draw upon her unmerited slander, implacable malice, uninterrupted misunderstanding, constant work, and no worldly reward. Yet in the face of this her lion heart carried her on. Nor was she unaware of the future of the Society. In 1876 she told me in detail the course of the Society's growth for future years, of its infancy, of its struggles, of its rise into the "luminous zone" of the public mind; and these prophecies are being all fulfilled.

Her aim was to elevate the race. Her method was to deal with the mind of the century as she found it, by trying to lead it on step by step; to seek out and educate a few who, appreciating the majesty of the Secret Science and devoted to "the great orphan Humanity," could carry on her work with zeal and wisdom; to found a Society whose efforts—however small itself might be—would inject into the thought of the day the ideas, the doctrines, the nomenclature of the Wisdom-Religion, so that when the next century shall have seen its seventy-fifth year the new messenger coming again into the world would find the Society still at work, the ideas sown broadcast, the nomenclature ready to give expression and body to the immutable Truth, and thus to make easy the task which for her since 1875 was so difficult and so encompassed with obstacles.

HELENA PETROVNA BLAVATSKY
FOUNDRESS OF THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY

THE LEADERS OF THE THEOSOPHICAL MOVEMENT
H. P. BLAVATSKY
KATHERINE TINGLEY WILLIAM Q. JUDGE

THE PATH—SOME WORDS OF WILLIAM Q. JUDGE

IN 1886, William Q. Judge, the pupil and colleague and afterwards the successor of H. P. Blavatsky, founded and edited The Path, the first American Theosophical magazine. After his death, this magazine was continued by his successor, Katherine Tingley, and was by her finally merged into and combined with a weekly magazine, published under the title of the Century Path. This has again given place to The Theosophical Path, thus distinctly calling attention to the teachings it promulgates and sets forth, while preserving the name "The Path" of the first American Theosophical Magazine.

The Theosophical Path in its first issue pays honor to both these great-hearted Teachers, H. P. Blavatsky and William Q. Judge. All humanity owes them a debt of gratitude for pointing out once more the path of true progress and happiness. Through their self-sacrifice, even of their lives, "the pathway is once more seen to that realm where the Gods abide."

In the first issue of The Path, William Q. Judge wrote:

The solution of the problem, "What and Where is the Path to Happiness?" has been discovered by those of old time. They thought it was in the pursuit of Râja Yoga, which is the highest science and the highest religion—a union of both....

The study of what is now called "practical occultism" has some interest for us, and will receive the attention it may merit, but it is not the object of this journal....

True occultism is clearly set forth in the Bhagavad Gîtâ, where sufficient stress is laid upon practical occultism, but after all, Krishna says, the kingly science and the kingly mystery is devotion to and study of the light which comes from within. The very first step in true mysticism and true occultism is to try to apprehend the meaning of Universal Brotherhood, without which the very highest progress in the practice of magic turns to ashes in the mouth.

We appeal, therefore, to all who wish to raise themselves and their fellow creatures—man and beast—out of the thoughtless jog trot of selfish everyday life. It is not thought that Utopia can be established in a day; but through the spreading of the idea of Universal Brotherhood, the truth in all things may be discovered. Certainly, if we all say that it is useless, that such high-strung sentimental notions cannot obtain currency, nothing will ever be done. A beginning must be made, and it has been by the Theosophical Society. Although philanthropic institutions and schemes are constantly being brought forward by good and noble men and women, vice, selfishness, brutality, and the resulting misery, seem to grow no less. Prisons, asylums for the outcast and the magdalen, can be filled much faster than it is possible to erect them. All this points unerringly to the existence of a vital error somewhere. It shows that merely healing the outside by hanging a murderer or providing asylums and prisons will never reduce the number of criminals nor the hordes of children born and growing up in hotbeds of vice. What is wanted is true knowledge of the spiritual condition of man, his aim and destiny. This is offered in Theosophical literature, and those who must begin the reform are those who are so fortunate as to be placed in the world where they can see and think out the problems all are endeavoring to solve, even if they know that the great day may not come until after their death. Such a study leads us to accept the utterance of Prajâpati to his sons: "Be restrained, be liberal, be merciful"; it is the death to selfishness.

In an article "A Year on the Path," Mr. Judge wrote, at the close of the first year of the magazine:

The question is always naturally asked, "What is the Path?" or "What is the Philosophy?" which is the same thing, for of course the following of any path whatever will depend upon the particular philosophy or doctrines believed in. The path we had in view is held by us to be the same one which in all ages has been sought by Heathen, Jew, and Christian alike. By some called the path to Heaven, by others the path to Jesus, the path to Nirvâna, and by Theosophists the path to Truth. Jesus has defined it as a narrow, difficult and straight path. By the ancient Brâhmans it has been called, "the small old path leading far away on which those sages walk who reach salvation"; and Buddha taught it was a noble four-fold path by which alone the miseries of existence can be truly surmounted....

The immortal spark has manifested itself in many different classes of men, giving rise to all the varied religions, many of which have forever disappeared from view. Not any one of them could have been the whole Truth, but each must have presented one of the facets of the great gem, and thus through the whole surely run ideas shared by all. These common ideas point to truth. They grow out of man's inner nature and are not the result of revealed books. But some one people or another must have paid more attention to the deep things of life than another. The "Christian" nations have dazzled themselves with the baneful glitter of material progress. They are not the peoples who will furnish the nearest clues to the Path. A few short years and they will have abandoned the systems now held so dear, because their mad rush to the perfection of their civilization will give them control over now undreamed of forces. Then will come the moment when they must choose which of two kinds of fruit they will take. In the meantime it is well to try and show a relation between their present system and the old, or at least to pick out what grains of truth are in the mass.

... A new age is not far away. The huge unwieldy flower of the 19th century civilization has almost fully bloomed, and preparation must be made for the wonderful new flower which is to rise from the old. We have not pinned our faith on Vedas nor Christian scriptures, nor desired any others to do so. All our devotion to Aryan literature and philosophy arises from a belief that the millions of minds who have trodden weary steps before ours, left a path which may be followed with profit, yet with discrimination. For we implicitly believe that in this curve of the cycle, the final authority is the man himself.

In former times the disclosed Vedas, and later, the teachings of the great Buddha, were the right authority, in whose authoritative teachings and enjoined practices were found the necessary steps to raise man to an upright position. But the grand clock of the Universe points to another hour, and now Man must seize the key in his hands and himself—as a whole—open the gate. Hitherto he has depended upon the great souls whose hands have stayed impending doom. Let us then together enter upon another year, fearing nothing, assured of strength in the Union of Brotherhood. For how can we fear death, or life, or any horror or evil, at any place or time, when we well know that even death itself is a part of the dream which we are weaving before our eyes.

Our belief may be summed up in the motto of the Theosophical Society, "There is no Religion higher than Truth," and our practice consists in a disregard of any authority in matters of religion and philosophy except such propositions as from their innate quality we feel to be true.

SAVING FOREST WASTE: Note by a Student

IN the Yearbook of the Department of Agriculture just issued, it is pointed out that conservation of the timber supply involves the co-operation of the public, the lumbermen, and the wood-consuming industries, as well as of the National Government. Forest conservation is not possible at the low prices of former days, and in general prices must advance before much can be done. Then the public must be prepared to accept new woods; the farmer must give up using cedar, white-oak, and chestnut posts; railroads must cease using white-oak ties; builders must accept other lengths and widths. Meantime the Government co-operating with Wisconsin University, has established a thoroughly equipped wood-testing laboratory at Madison, where many problems are being investigated, from the standpoints of forest conservation and commercial requirements.

In the valuable magazine American Conservation, for May 1911, it is stated that Argentina has a hundred million acres of wooded land, mostly quebracho and yerba tree, both in increasing demand. In Brazil there is about a thousand million acres of wooded land. There ruthless destruction cannot go on, as most concessions now require proper conservation of the rubber and other trees. Bolivia has quebracho, rubber, coca, cinchona, and other trees useful in the arts. The timber tracts of Colombia are practically unexploited. The slopes of Ecuador are richly wooded. The forests of Peru occupy about three hundred million acres, and its government has taken steps to ensure conservation, and contemplates experiment stations.

Copyright by Katherine Tingley, 1911 Lomaland Photo. and Engraving Dept.

SCENES FROM "THE AROMA OF ATHENS"
CENTRAL FIGURE IN FRONT PHIDIAS, BEHIND HIM PERICLES

Copyright by Katherine Tingley, 1911 Lomaland Photo. and Engraving Dept.

CENTRAL FIGURE PERICLES, ON THE LEFT PHIDIAS, ON THE RIGHT DIOCHARES

Copyright by Katherine Tingley, 1911 Lomaland Photo. and Engraving Dept.

ATHENIAN SOLDIERS

Copyright by Katherine Tingley, 1911 Lomaland Photo. and Engraving Dept.

SOCRATES AND HIS DISCIPLES

"AROMA OF ATHENS" STRIKES NEW NOTE IN THE DRAMA. Katherine Tingley to Open Greek Theater to the Public: Unrivaled Natural Scenery: Marvelous Acoustics. Notes by a Dramatic Critic

A NEW-OLD note in drama has been struck here on the Pacific Coast, which, we feel quite safe in prophesying, will be recorded in many histories. The English-speaking world has been fretting after some new inspiration. We are tired of imitating the Elizabethans; for the time being, that spring would seem to have run dry. What belongs to our own day peculiarly tends to be mere boisterous horseplay or flippant shallowness; vulgar both, and not in any way to be called art. What we have that is good, the work of a few writers, is not so startling in quantity or quality, nor so profoundly original, as to cause us to hope for a new great art period in our own or our children's day. And yet there has been the demand. The public has turned to strange well-springs and found the waters bitter, cloying, soon to run dry; the critics have filled their press columns, both here and in England, with clamorings, prognostications, hasty or timorous judgments, a sense of a great need and expectations. Decidedly the time is ripe for a new birth in the drama.

MEETS NEEDS OF THE TIME

Now the question arises, what needs must this new birth and order meet? Great art meets the needs of its time, sternly turning away from its mere wants; for that reason it is often rejected for awhile by a public clamorous after lower levels of things. Such a clamor we find in our own day after sensationalism—give us action, more action, say the managers; but is this a real need? The world is agog with action as it is; such a riot of action as one might imagine the Gadarene swine indulged in on their seaward last tumultuous journey. The motif is threadbare; we have torn it to tatters and it is time to turn to new modes. Personalism, too, is rampant and bears fruit in an ugly and jangled civilization. What is needed, then, is an art that shall be calm, dignified, beautiful, impersonal; a pointer to and promise of better ways of living.

One turns back to the great art of the Greeks with a sense of relief after all our modern, breathless, tom-tom beating. There we find beauty, calm movement, dignity, national, and not merely personal motifs; above all, an insistence on the higher and eternal verities. We need the Aroma of Athens on our modern stage; because it is precisely that that we need in our modern life.

PLAY DELIGHTED AUDIENCE

A few weeks ago Katherine Tingley presented a new play, The Aroma of Athens, at her Isis theater in San Diego, which struck all who saw it with profound surprise and delight. There was first the ideal poetic beauty of the setting, a thing unrealizable unless seen. The foremost of the London managers—men like Tree—have made a specialty of beautiful setting, astonishing the theatrical world with the splendor of their work in this line—and with its good taste. They have had enormous resources to draw upon, and have spared no expense in time, money, or thought. It may safely be said that none of them has produced anything more beautiful than this Aroma of Athens; it may safely be said that none of them has produced anything so beautiful. One rubbed one's eyes in astonishment, wondering how such things could be, and concluded that Madame Tingley at Point Loma had greater resources to draw upon than are to be found in London, Paris, Berlin, or New York. It is a wonderful thing, prophetic of the time when the culture-metropolis of the world will be right here among us on the Pacific Coast. Madame Tingley long ago said that San Diego would be the Athens of America, and today this is far nearer than we dream. If one would learn what those greater resources of hers are, one must examine her teachings, one must look into that marvelous scheme of education of hers, the Râja Yoga system, which enabled, for example, those little children on the stage to be as graceful, as un-self-conscious as any figures on a Grecian vase. Have you seen children, young children, on the stage, do well, wonderfully well; and then, when the applause rolled in, do better still, remaining sublimely unconscious of the applause? We applauded these children and looked to see, as a matter of course, the aroma of Athens vanish in a series of smirks. But no; clapped we never so loudly, it made no difference to them. They played their Greek games; they were merry and classical; they were Grecian, unstilted, poetic, faery. One's mind went back to Keats' ode:

"What little town by river or sea-shore,

Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,

Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?"

And the answer was: Athens, Periclean Athens in all her superb flawless beauty and splendor; yes, those were real Athenians; of whom we have read in Keats and Swinburne; that we have seen sculptured in the Elgin marbles. Here they were, in the flesh and blood; here was the heyday of historic beauty, shedding its supreme aroma on us; with these tones Plato and Aeschylus would have spoken; in this manner Phidias and Pericles would have moved. It was a revelation, a marvelous artistic realization—indeed, it is a shame to use such cant hackneyed phrases for a thing so beautiful, so august—and yet so completely natural and unstrained.

GREATER THINGS PROMISED

So much for its performance in a modern theater, but greater things are promised. If all this is true of a play which was first thought of ten days before it was presented—and that is the fact—what is not to be hoped from the new presentation of it on April 17, a presentation of which, we are told, the former ones were but little more than sketches, and which is to be given in a real Greek open-air theater?

The Greek theater at Point Loma, the first in America, was built by Madame Tingley in 1901. It has the true Greek setting, looking out over the sea. A wild cañon runs down from it seaward, full of miniature hills and precipices, among which, now visible and now unseen, winds the path by which the players enter or leave the stage. There will be torchlight processions under the moon new-risen, moving along that path and over the broad stageplace; Greek chanting will be heard; real Greek music, and music with that ineffable something in it lacking in all, or nearly all, modern music, which suggests the hidden life of nature, the weird majesty of Delphi, of Nemesis, of the pipes of universal Pan; the very aroma of Sophoclean drama, plus an echo of that older and even more entrancing Greece,

"Of deities or mortals, or of both,

In Tempe or the dales of Arcady,"

When—

"Liquid Peneus was flowing

And all dark Tempe lay

In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing

The light of the dying day,

Speeded by Pan's sweet pipings."

KINGDOM OF PAN UNCONFINED

One has long suspected that, with luck, one might well come upon a faun in the wild places of that cañon, at least in April, when the rains are newly over and the hillside a riot of bloom and delight. For indeed the kingdom of Pan is not confined; he has provinces here in California, and you may come upon the dales of Arcady in any of the four quarters of the world.

Were Pan or some legate of his to be piping far down the cañon, you would not fail to catch every note of it from every part of the auditorium in the theater; what is whispered on the stage is clearly heard on the topmost tier of seats. The place is a Wonder of the West if only for its marvelous acoustic properties. It has never been opened to the public before for a performance. And it should be remembered that Madame Tingley leaves nothing to chance; she stands out grandly independent in her art; leaves no detail to be excused by the generosity of the audience; permits nothing whatever of which you could say: "This is excellent—for amateurs; this is splendid—considering what a short time it has taken to get up." It may be quite safely affirmed that this presentation on April 17 will have a prominent place in all future histories of the drama.—San Diego Union, Friday morning, April 7, 1911.

SOME NOTES ON "THE AROMA OF ATHENS"
As given in the Greek Theater, Point Loma, on Saturday Morning, April 22, 1911; With the Prolog to the Play: by Kenneth Morris

THERE never was a play so difficult to appraise or criticise justly and intelligently as this one. One had read many press notices from expert dramatic critics, all of them enthusiastic; but when one came to see the performance, it struck one that the best of them were inadequate, wholly beside the point. And yet one sees the excuse for saying just as much as language can be stretched to express. If one did not put on the enthusiasm without stint or measure, one would convey a suggestion that the presentation was unworthy of enthusiasm; the truth being that enthusiasm is somehow unworthy of the presentation.

Since seeing it, one has been searching mind and memory for some means of accounting for its extraordinary effect. We have seen it put down to the beauty of the spectacle, harmony of colors, perfect natural setting, and so forth. It is true that one failed to find any jarring note in the acting; that the cañon, running down to the Pacific, seen through the pillars of the Greek temple there, is a piece of landscape thrilling in its beauty, for the like of which you must go to lands where nature is at her most beautiful, and where there are the relics of mighty builders of old, that give a focal point to the natural beauty, and an inspiration to all artists. It is true also that there was a perfect art in the color scheme of the dresses—an absolute justness, balance and harmony of colors in themselves exquisite; that one could imagine no improvement in the grouping; that the enunciation, movements, and gesticulations, were in all cases just, clear, simple, natural, and graceful. But I am convinced that one might see and hear all that, and come away conscious that there was more to be said. None of these things, either considered separately or en masse, are enough to account for the enthralling effect of the play.

Generally speaking, again, it is true that "the play's the thing." In this case I think it is not true. There is, in the ordinary sense, hardly any action or dramatic thrill. We underline dramatic, because thrill of some deeper and hitherto unexperienced kind there was; action too, there was—the action of a people on the World's stage; in that sense it was all one deep thrill, and the action of real life. But the dialog was mainly philosophic discussion, deep thought, art criticism from the Greek standpoint—just, sound, basic, noble; but not fiery or dramatic, as we commonly understand the terms; and there was none of that brilliant play of wit which in some modern plays compensates for the lack of a plot.

Here indeed, you may say that plot there was none. The Athenians are holding their Flower Festival, to which the Satrap Pharnabazus is welcomed as a guest. He is desirous to learn the secret of Athenian brilliance, and one by one his hosts give utterance, in response, to the principles of Athenian art, philosophy, etc. While they are speaking, the herald of Sparta is announced; here there is, indeed, a central incident of most stirring dramatic effect in the declaration of the Peloponnesian War. Socrates prophesies the downfall of Greece, and the rise of a new Athens in the west of the world in after-ages; after which follows an effect which, for mystic beauty and thrill does certainly stand out, so that you do know exactly why you are moved by it—a procession of scarlet-draped women with torches, that comes winding up the cañon, through the temple, and across the arena through clouds and volumes of colored mist, a wonderful bit of Katherine Tingley's art work, an incident impressive to the last degree, which were it done just so on any stage in the world, and by any actors, would create a sensation. But indeed, it is safe to say that such an effect has never been produced before, on any stage in the world.

But be it noted that the enthralment of The Aroma of Athens began long before this; and that even this was rather a visual glory than a dramatic coup according to the received canons.

Of spectacular value, too, was the archaic dancing of the children; and let it be said that there was something about these children which is never to be seen on the stages of the world, nor with any other children than those of the Râja Yoga College at Point Loma. And yet, when one has said that they were perfectly classic, and at the same time perfectly merry and natural—one realizes that one has still barely begun to account for what happened.

One little woman who professed to have some knowledge of art, yet was quite unfamiliar with the period which the play presented, almost tearfully deplored the fact that the actors did not seem to pay any attention to the audience during the production. The fact that they did not do so was one of the charms of the whole presentation. They were not playing a part but giving a most realistic presentation of life, and were, as they should have been, as if there were no audience. To those who saw the motif of the play, it would have been a blur if the players had shown any consciousness of the audience, or had in any way "played to the gallery" or for personal attention.

Item by item, one might mention everything that was seen or heard, and one would remain certain that however perfect and beautiful each might be in itself, and even however perfect might be the harmony of them as an ensemble, they yet were not enough to explain the total value: and that even if you were able to explain the total value artistically, from the standpoint of art as we understand the term, there would yet be a kind of value, an invoking of one's inner nature without words, which for lack of a better term one must call a spiritual value—not only moral, or mental—which would remain unexplained. In short, that there was here shown an element, a kind of value, which is wholly unfamiliar to the critics of the present day.

When we speak of the drama as an educational element, we conceive of its possible effects along artistic lines, or as setting forth moral principles, or high intellectual ideas. This play did all that, it is true; but it did all that, plus x; and what that x represents is not known in our present civilization—or at least, so one suspects. It produced a silence of the senses and of all personal voices within, an uplift and a reverent feeling: yes, a sense that one had been given a revelation of what the great mystics of the world have meant by the word spiritual. Deeper places in one's being were touched, than any that respond to the work of the greatest actors of the present or of recent times.

So that any enthusiasm, any praise, seems something like an insult. To speak of the Genius of the one that produced the play—Katherine Tingley—that too seems a kind of insult. We have not attached to the term genius, a breadth of meaning great enough to include the qualities necessary for the production of a result so unlike anything that has gone before.

We have seen it compared with the work of the premier actors of the age, and that to the advantage of the Point Loma production. The remark is not good criticism. The difference is not one of degree, but one of kind. No actor manager, probably, would have handled this play; none could produce, with any play of the greatest dramatists, results that so baffle description, so affect one's conceptions in those parts of one's being that lie behind and deeper than formal mentality or imagination, or artistic appreciation. Perhaps Katherine Tingley could explain how it is done. I think no one else could.

It is delightful to hear that Mrs. Tingley is making plans for larger facilities for seating the people, as even with its present great size, the Greek Theater at Point Loma cannot meet the demands. It is whispered also that she has several more Greek and other plays in preparation, which in course of time will be presented in the Greek Theater, and possibly at her Isis Theater in San Diego as well.

THE PROLOG

You are in Athens now, and you shall see

The splendor of that age of long renown

When Perikles was prince in Pallas' town

Amidst a people mighty-souled and free

Whose eminence and bright supremacy

Made Zeus grow jealous, and wan Clotho frown,

So that the nations rose to bring her down,

To bring high Athens down, till she should be

A name, a memory only; yet a name

That burns—a beacon on the heights of time,

Lighting the ages' darkness, making sublime

The fame of Hellas with its smokeless flame.

And you shall see and hear now, all those men

That shone round Perikles: Thucydides,

Ariston, Crito, Phidias, Sokrates,

And many high-souled women, famous then,

Teachers and seers and sages whose far ken

Pierced deep the hidden realms of being.

These

Are gathered midst the Academian bowers

To keep their Anthesterian Feast of Flowers

Held every year in Athens. To their feast

Comes one sent by that Great King in the East

Whose sire was countered in the perilous hours

Of Salamis and Marathon. But now

To seal a pact with Athens, with high vow