A New Model of the Universe

Hidden Knowledge

"Hidden knowledge" is therefore sometimes called "ancient knowledge". But of course this does not explain anything. It must, however, be noted that all religions, all myths, all beliefs, all popular heroic legends of all peoples and all countries are based on the recognition of the existence sometime and somewhere of a knowledge far superior to the knowledge which we possess or can possess. To a considerable degree, the content of all religions and myths consists of symbolic forms which represent attempts to transmit the idea of this hidden knowledge.

On the other hand, nothing demonstrates so clearly the weakness of human thought or human imagination as existing ideas as to the content of hidden knowledge. The word, the concept, the idea, the expectation exist, but there are no definite concrete forms of percept connected with this idea. The idea itself has very often to be dug out with great difficulty from beneath mountains of lies, both intentional and unintentional, from deception and self-deception and from naοve attempts to present in intelligible forms adopted from ordinary life that which in its very nature can have no resemblance to them.

The work of finding traces of ancient or hidden knowledge, or even hints of its existence, resembles the work of archaeologists looking for traces of some ancient forgotten civilisation and finding them buried beneath several strata of cemeteries left by peoples who have since lived in that place, possibly separated by thousands of years and unaware of each other's existence. But on every occasion that an investigator comes upon the attempts to express in one way or another the content of hidden knowledge, he invariably sees the same thing, namely, the striking poverty of the human imagination in the face of this idea.

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Desires and Their Expression

In a jocular form this idea of the difficulty of formulating desires and of man's rare success in it is set forth in an Indian tale:

A beggar, who was born blind, led a single life, and lived upon the charity of his neighbours, was long and incessantly assailing a particular deity with his prayers. The latter was at last moved by this continual devotion, but fearing that his votary might not be easily satisfied, took care to bind him by an oath to ask for no more than a single blessing.

It puzzled the beggar for a long while, but his professional ingenuity at last came to his aid.

"I hasten to obey thy behest, generous Lord!" quoth he, "and this solitary boon is all I ask at thy hands, namely that I should live to see the grand-child of my grand-child playing in a seven-storeyed palace and helped by a train of attendants to his meal of milk and rice out of a golden cup." He concluded by expressing his hope that he had not exceeded the limit of the single wish vouchsafed to him.

The deity saw that he had been fairly done, for though single in form, the boon asked for comprised the manifold blessings of health, wealth, long life, restoration of sight, marriage, and progeny. For very admiration of his devotee's astuteness and consummate tact, if not in fulfilment of his plighted word, the deity felt bound to grant him all he asked for.

In the legend of Solomon (1 Kings, 3: 5-15) we find an explanation of these tales, an explanation of what it is that men can receive if they only knew what to wish for.

At Gibeon the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream by night; and God said, "Ask for whatever you want me to give you".

Solomon answered, " ... But I am only a little child and do not know how to carry out my duties. Your servant is here among the people you have chosen.... So give your servant a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong."

The Lord was pleased that Solomon had asked for this. So God said to him, "Since you have asked for this and not for long life or wealth for yourself, nor have asked the death of your enemies but for discernment in administering justice, I will do what you have asked. I will give you a wise and discerning heart, so that there will never have been anyone like you nor will there ever be. Moreover, I will give you what you have not asked for — both riches and honour — so that in your lifetime you will have no equal among kings. And if you walk in my ways and obey my statutes and commandments ... I will give you a long life".

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The Search for Deeper Knowledge

The Holy Grail, the cup from which Christ drank (or the platter from which Christ ate) at the Last Supper and in which Joseph of Arimathea collected Christ's blood, was according to a medieval legend brought to England. To those who saw it, the Grail gave immortality and eternal youth. But it had to be guarded only by people perfectly pure in heart. If anyone approached it who was not pure enough, the Grail disappeared. On this followed the legend of the quest of the Holy Grail by chaste knights. Only the three knights of King Arthur succeeded in seeing the Grail.

Many tales and myths, those of the Golden Fleece, the Fire-Bird (of Russian folklore), Aladdin's lamp, and those about secret riches and treasures guarded by dragons or other monsters, serve to express the relation of man to hidden knowledge.

The "philosopher's stone" of alchemists also symbolised hidden knowledge.

All views on life are divided into two categories on this point. There are conceptions of the world which are based entirely on the idea that we live in a house in which there is some secret, some buried treasure, some hidden store of precious things, which somebody at some time may find and which occasionally has in fact been found. And then from this point of view, the whole aim and the whole meaning of life consist in the search for this treasure, because without it all the rest has no value. And there are other theories and systems in which there is no idea of "treasure-trove", for which all alike is visible and clear, or all alike invisible and obscure.

If in our time theories of the latter kind, that is, those which deny the possibility of hidden knowledge, have become predominant, we must not forget that they have become so only very recently and only among a small, although a very noisy, part of humanity. The very great majority of people still believe in "fairy-tales" and believe that there are moments when fairy-tales become reality.

But it is man's misfortune that at those moments at which something new and unknown becomes possible, he does not know what he wants and the opportunity which suddenly appeared as suddenly disappears.

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The Unknown

The Unknown is not known. But the Unknown may be of different kinds, just as it is in ordinary life. A man may not have precise knowledge of a particular thing, but he may think and make judgments and suppositions about it; he may conjecture and foresee it to such a degree of correctness and accuracy that his actions and expectations in relation to what is unknown in the particular case may be almost right. In exactly the same way, in regard to the Great Unknown, a man may be in different relations to it; he may make more correct or less correct suppositions about it, or he may make no suppositions at all, or he may even altogether forget about the very existence of the Unknown. In the latter case, when he makes no suppositions or forgets about the existence of the Unknown, then even what was possible in other cases, that is, the accidental coincidence of conjectures or speculations with the unknown reality, becomes impossible.

In this incapacity of man to imagine what exists beyond the wall of the known and the possible lies his chief tragedy, and in this also lies the reason why so much remains hidden and why there are so many questions to which he can never find the answer.

In the history of human thought there are many attempts to define the limits of possible knowledge. But there are no interesting attempts to conceive what the extension of these limits would mean and where it would necessarily lead.

Such an assertion may seem an intentional paradox. People clamour so loudly and so often about the unlimited possibilities of knowledge, about the immense horizons opening before science, and so forth; but in actual fact all these "unlimited possibilities" are limited by the five senses — sight, hearing, smell, touch, and taste, plus the capacity of reasoning and comparing — beyond which a man can never go.

We do not take sufficient account of this circumstance or even forget about it altogether, and this explains why we are at a loss when we want to define "ordinary knowledge", "possible knowledge", and "hidden knowledge", or the differences between them.

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Magical Knowledge

Even if "miraculous" knowledge is an approach to knowledge of the Unknown, people do not know how to approach the miraculous. In this they are greatly hindered by the interference of "pseudo-occult" literature, which often strives to abolish the divisions mentioned above and prove the unity of scientific and "occult" knowledge. Thus in such literature one finds assertions that "magic" or "magical" knowledge is nothing but knowledge which is in advance of its time. For instance, it is said that some medieval monks may have had some knowledge of electricity. For their times this was "magic". For us it has ceased to be magic. And what may appear magic for us would cease to be magic for future generations.

Such an assertion is quite arbitrary and, in destroying the necessary divisions, it prevents our finding and establishing a right attitude towards facts. Magical or occult knowledge is knowledge based upon senses which surpass our "five senses" and upon a capacity for thinking which surpasses ordinary thinking, but it is knowledge translated into ordinary language if that is possible, or in so far as it is possible.

In speaking of ordinary knowledge, it is necessary to repeat once more that, though the content of knowledge is not constant, that is, though it changes and grows, it always grows along definite and strictly fixed lines. All scientific methods, all apparatus, all instruments and appliances, are nothing but an improvement upon and a broadening of the "five senses", whereas mathematics and all possible calculations are nothing but the broadening of the ordinary capacity for comparison, judgment, and the drawing of conclusions. But at the same time some mathematical constructions go as far beyond the realm of ordinary knowledge as to lose any connection with it. Mathematics finds such relations of magnitudes or relations of relations as to have no equivalents in the physical world we observe. But we are unable to make use of these mathematical attainments because in all our observations and reasonings we are bound by the "five senses" and the laws of logic.

In every historical period, human knowledge — i.e. "ordinary knowledge" or the "known", the "accepted" knowledge — embraced a definite cycle of observations and deductions made from them. As time went on this cycle grew larger but, if it may be so expressed, it always remained on the same plane. It never rose above it.

Believing in the possibility and existence of "hidden knowledge", people always ascribed new properties to it, always regarded it as rising above the plane of ordinary knowledge and stretching beyond the limits of the "five senses". This is the meaning of "hidden knowledge", of magic, of miraculous knowledge, and so on. If we take away from hidden knowledge the idea that it goes beyond the "five senses", it will lose all meaning and importance.

If, taking all this into consideration, we make a survey of the history of human thought in its relation to the Miraculous, we may find material for ascertaining the possible content of the Unknown. This should be possible because, in spite of all the poverty of its imagination and the divergence of its attempts, humanity has guessed some things correctly.

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States of Consciousness

It has been recognised that, remaining on scientific ground, it is impossible to regard the ordinary state of consciousness, in which we are capable of logical thinking, as the only one possible and the clearest. On the contrary it had been established that in other states of consciousness, which are rare and have been studied very little, we can learn and understand what we cannot understand in our ordinary state of consciousness. This in turn has served to establish the fact that the "ordinary" state of consciousness is only a particular instance of consciousness, and that our "ordinary" conception of the world is only a particular instance of the conception of the world.

The study of these unusual, rare, and exceptional states of man has established, moreover, a certain unity, a certain connectedness and consecutiveness, and an entirely illogical "logicalness" in the content of the so-called "mystical" states of consciousness.

At this point, however, the study of "mystical states of consciousness" has come to a standstill and has never progressed any further.

It is rather difficult to define a mystical state of consciousness by means of ordinary psychological terminology. Judging by outward signs, such a state has much in common with somnambulistic and psycho-pathological states. There is nothing new about establishing the cognitive value of "mystical" states of consciousness. This fact is new only to "science". The reality and value of mystical states of consciousness have been and are acknowledged by every religion which exists or has ever existed. According to the definition of the theologians of the Orthodox Church, mystical states of consciousness cannot disclose or add new dogmas, but they disclose and explain the content of dogmas which are already known by revelation. It is evident from this that mystical states of consciousness are not opposed to basic revelation but are, as it were, regarded as phenomena of the same nature but of less power. They can explain dogmas given by revelation, but cannot add new dogmas. Unfortunately, theological interpretations always keep within the bounds of the dogmas and canonical rules of a particular religion; they cannot overstep these bounds because of their very nature.

Science has shown little interest in mysticism, assigning it to the sphere of pathology, or at best to the sphere of imagination.

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Mysticism

But the use of this word in such a sense is quite wrong, since its fundamental meaning is thus destroyed. Consequently, in this book the word "mysticism" will from now on be used only in its psychological sense, that is, in the sense of special states of consciousness, and ideas and conceptions of the world directly resulting from these states. If it is mentioned in another sense, i.e., in the sense of certain theories, the fact will be specially noted.

An examination of what is known of mysticism and mystical states of consciousness is of great interest in connection with the idea of hidden knowledge. If we follow neither the religious nor the scientific view but try to compare descriptions of the mystical experiences of people of entirely different races, different periods, and different religions, we shall find a striking resemblance among these descriptions which can in no case be explained by similarity of preparation or by resemblance in ways of thinking and feeling. In mystical states utterly different people in utterly different conditions learn one and the same thing and, what is still more striking, in mystical states there is no difference of religions. All the experiences are absolutely identical; the difference may be only in the language and the form of the description. In the mysticism of different countries and different peoples the same images, the same discoveries, are invariably repeated. As a matter of fact there may be enough of this material upon which to build a new synthetic religion. But religions are not built by reason. Mystical experiences are intelligible only in mystical states. All that we can get from an intellectual study of mystical states will be merely an approximation to, a hint of, a certain understanding. Mysticism is entirely emotional, entirely made up of subtle, incommunicable sensations which are even more incapable of verbal expression and logical definition than are such things as sound and colour and taste.

In relation to the idea of hidden knowledge, mysticism can be regarded as a breaking through of hidden knowledge into our consciousness. This does not however mean that all mystics invariably recognise the existence of hidden knowledge and the possibility of acquiring it through study and work. For many mystics, their experiences are an act of grace, a gift of God, and from their point of view no knowledge can ever lead people to this grace or make the acquisition of it easier.

Thus, from one point of view, mysticism could not exist without the hidden knowledge, and the idea of the hidden knowledge could not be known without mysticism. From the other point of view, the idea of hidden knowledge which is possessed by somebody or other and can be found by intellectual means is unnecessary for mysticism, for the whole of knowledge is contained in the soul of man, and mysticism is the way to this knowledge and the way to God.

In view of this dual attitude of mysticism towards hidden knowledge, it is necessary to make a distinction between these two ideas.

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Circles of Humanity

According to this idea, humanity is regarded as two concentric circles. All humanity which we know and to which we belong forms the outer circle. All the history of humanity that we know is the history of the outer circle. But within this circle there is another of which men of the outer circle know nothing and the existence of which they only sometimes dimly suspect, although the life of the outer circle in its most important manifestations, and particularly in its evolution, is actually guided by the inner circle. The inner or the esoteric circle forms, as it were, a life within life, a mystery, a secret in the life of humanity.

The outer or exoteric humanity, to which we belong, is like the leaves on a tree that change every year. In spite of this it considers itself the centre of life, not understanding that the tree has a trunk and roots, and that besides leaves it bears flowers and fruit.

The esoteric circle is, as it were, humanity within humanity, and is the brain, or rather the immortal soul, of humanity, where all the attainments, all the results, all the achievements, of all cultures and all civilisations are preserved.

One can look at the question from another angle and try to find in man himself an analogy with the relation between the esoteric and the exoteric circles of humanity.

Such an analogy can be found in man; it consists in the relation of the "brain" to the rest of the human body. If we take the human organism and examine the relation of the "higher" or the "nobler" tissues, that is to say, mainly the nerve and brain matter, to other tissues of the organism, such as muscle tissue, connective tissue, the cells of the skin, and so on, we shall find an almost complete analogy with the relation of the inner circle to the outer.

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The Life History of Brain Cells

This is almost all that can be said about brain-cells if we remain on recognised scientific ground. But what is accepted is far from being sufficient for understanding the nature of the life of brain-cells. Too many facts have to be ignored before it becomes possible to accept the theory of a permanent stock of brain-cells which only diminishes and diminishes. The theory of a permanent stock completely disagrees with the other theory, according to which brain-cells perish or are burnt up in great numbers at every thought process, especially during intense mental work. If it were so, no matter how many there are they would not have lasted long! And bearing this in mind we are forced to admit that the life of brain-cells still remains unexplained and very mysterious.

Indeed, though it is not recognised by science, the life of cells is very short and the replacement of old cells by new ones in a normal organism proceeds continually and may even be increased. It does not enter the scope of the present book to show how this proposition can be proved. For existing scientific methods, any observation of the life of individual cells in the human organism presents almost insurmountable difficulties. However if, reasoning purely by analogy, we suppose that brain-cells must be born from something similar to them, and if at the same time we take it as proved that brain-cells do not multiply, then we must presume that they evolve from some other cells.

The possibility of the regeneration or evolution or transformation of one kind of cell into another kind is definitely established for, after all, all the cells of the organism develop from one parent cell. The only question is, from what kind of cells can brain-cells evolve? Science cannot answer this question.

One can only say that if cells of a certain kind regenerate into brain-cells, by this very fact they disappear from their former plane, leave the world of their kin, die on one plane and are born on another, just as the egg of a butterfly, becoming a caterpillar, dies as an egg, ceases to be an egg; as a caterpillar, becoming a chrysalis, dies as a caterpillar, ceases to be a caterpillar; and as a chrysalis, becoming a butterfly, ceases to be a chrysalis, that is, leaves the world of its own kin and passes to another plane of being. Similarly, brain-cells, in passing to another plane of being, cease to be what they were before, die on their former plane of being, and begin to live on a different plane of being. On this new plane, while remaining invisible and unknown, they govern the life of other cells, either in their own interests or in the interests of the whole organism. And part of their activity consists in finding among the more evolved tissues cells which are capable of evolving into brain-cells, because brain-cells do not multiply by themselves.

Thus, if these two circles exist, we find in the human organism a complete analogy with the relation of the inner circle of humanity to the outer circle of humanity.

Before proceeding further it is necessary to establish the exact meaning of certain concepts which will constantly be met with later.

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Evolution

The idea of evolution has occupied a predominant place in Western thought. To doubt evolution has long been regarded as the final sign of retrogression. Evolution has become a kind of universal key which opens all locks.

This general acceptance of a very hypothetical idea in itself arouses doubt. The idea of evolution is comparatively new. Darwin did not make use of this word. The popularisation of the idea of evolution is chiefly due to Herbert Spencer, who was the first to explain cosmic, biological, psychological, moral, and sociological processes from the point of view of one general principle. But individual attempts to regard the world-process as the result of mechanical evolution existed long before Spencer. Astronomical philosophy on the one hand and the biological sciences on the other hand created the modern conception of evolution which is now applied to everything in the world from social forms to marks of punctuation on the basis of the general principle accepted in advance: that everything evolves. "Facts" are selected for this principle. That which does not fit the principle of evolution is rejected.

According to the ordinary dictionary definition, the word "evolution" means "an orderly and progressive development" governed by certain exact but unknown laws.

In order to understand the idea it must be noted that in the concept of evolution, not only what is included in this word is important but also what is excluded by it. The idea of evolution first of all excludes the idea of a "plan" and of a guiding mind. Evolution is an independent and a mechanical process. Further, evolution excludes "accident", that is the entering of new facts into mechanical processes, which incessantly changes their direction. According to the idea of evolution, everything always proceeds in the same direction. One "accident" corresponds to another. And moreover the word "evolution" has no direct antithesis — although dissolution and degeneration, for instance, can hardly be called evolution.

The dogmatic meaning which is attached to the word evolution constitutes its most characteristic feature. But this dogmatism has no foundation whatever. On the contrary, there exists no more artificial and feeble idea than that of the general evolution of everything that exists.

The scientific foundations of evolution are: first, the Kant-Laplace theory of the origin of worlds, with all the later additions, restrictions, and alterations which have left scarcely anything of the old theory; and second, Darwin's theory of the origin of species, also with all the later additions, alterations, and denials.

But the Kant-Laplace theory of worlds, no matter what names are connected with it, belongs to the domain of pure speculation. In fact it is only a classification of existing phenomena which, through misunderstanding and for lack of anything better, is regarded as a theory of the world-process. As a theory it is not based on any facts.

The evolution of organic forms in the sense of the development of new species and classes in all the kingdoms of Nature is "scientifically" based on a whole series of facts from comparative anatomy, morphology, embryology, palaeontology, etc., which are supposed to confirm it; but in reality all these "facts" have been artificially selected to prove the theory. Every decade denies the facts of the preceding decade and replaces them by new facts, but the theory remains unshakeable.

In the very beginning, in introducing the idea of evolution into biological conceptions, a bold assumption was made — because without it no theory could be formed. Later it was forgotten that it was only an assumption. I refer to the famous "origin of species".

The point is that, keeping strictly to facts, it is possible to accept evolution based on selection, adaptation, and elimination only in the sense of "preservation of species", because only this can be observed. In reality the appearance of new species, their formation and transition from lower forms to higher, have never been observed anywhere. Evolution in the sense of "development" of species has always been only a hypothesis, which became a theory simply through misunderstanding. The only fact here is the "preservation of species". How they appear we do not know and we must not deceive ourselves on this point.

At this point science has substituted one card for another. That is, having established the evolution of varieties or breeds, it has applied the same evolution to species using the method of analogy. This analogy is quite illegitimate, and in calling it substitution I do not in the least exaggerate.

The evolution of varieties is an established fact, but varieties all remain within the limits of the particular species and are very unstable; that is, with the alteration of conditions they change after several generations or revert to the original type. Species is a firmly established type only in comparison with variety or breed, which is a type changing almost before our eyes.

In view of the enormous difference between varieties and species, to apply to species what has been established only in relation to varieties is at least a "deliberate mistake". But the magnitude of this deliberate mistake and the almost general acceptance of it as a truth in no way oblige us to take it into account or to presume behind it a hidden possibility.

Moreover, the data of palaeontology, far from confirming the idea of an orderly change of species, completely overthrow the idea of species itself and establish the facts of jumps, retardations, reversions, the sudden appearance of entirely new forms, etc., which are inexplicable from the point of view of evolution. Also the data of comparative anatomy, to which "evolutionists" are much inclined to refer, begin to turn against them; for instance, it has been found quite impossible to establish any evolution in the case of separate organs such as the eye, organs of smell, and the like.

To this it must be added that the concept of evolution in its strictly scientific meaning has already undergone considerable change, and there is now a great difference between the popular meaning of the word in imitatively scientific "essays" and "outlines" and its really scientific meaning.

Evolution is not as yet denied by science. But the word itself is already admitted to have been unsuccessful and attempts are being made to find another word that would express a less artificial idea and would include not only the process of "integration" but also the process of dissolution.

This last idea will become clear if we understand the fact already mentioned that the word evolution has no antithesis. The meaning of this emerges with particular distinctness in attempts to apply the word evolution to the description of social or political phenomena, where the results of degeneration or disintegration are constantly taken for evolution, and where evolution, which by the meaning of the word cannot be dependent on anyone's will, is constantly confused with the results of voluntary processes which are also recognised as possible. In reality the appearance of new social or political forms does not depend either on will or on evolution, and in most cases they are only an unsuccessful, incomplete, and contradictory realisation — or, to put it better, non-realisation — of theoretical programmes behind which lie personal interests.

The confusion of ideas in relation to evolution is largely dependent on the comprehension, which cannot be altogether obliterated from men's minds, of the fact that in life there is not only one process but many processes which cross one another, break into one another, and bring new facts into one another.

Very roughly, these processes can be divided into two categories: creative processes and destructive processes. Both kinds are equally important, because if there were no destructive processes there would be no creative processes. Destructive processes give material for creative, and all creative processes without exception pass sooner or later into destructive processes. But this does not mean that creative processes and destructive processes together constitute what can be called evolution.

Western thought, in creating the theory of evolution, has overlooked the destructive processes. The reason for this lies in the artificially narrowed field of view of the last few centuries of European culture. Owing to this, theories are built upon an insufficient number of facts. None of the observed processes is taken in its entirety and, in observing only part of the process, men say that this process consists in progressive change or in evolution. It is curious that the inverse process on a large scale cannot be conceived by people of our time. Destruction or degeneration or dissolution proceeding on a large scale will inevitably appear to them as progressive change or evolution.

In spite of all that has been stated, the term "evolution" can be very useful and, applied to facts that really exist, it helps to elucidate their content and their inner dependence upon other facts.

For instance the development of all the cells of an organism from one parent cell can be called the evolution of the parent cell. The continuous development of cells of higher tissues from cells of lower tissues can be called evolution of cells.

Strictly speaking, all transforming processes can be called evolutionary. The development of a chicken from an egg, of an oak from an acorn, of wheat from a grain; the development of a butterfly from an egg, a caterpillar, and a chrysalis; all these are examples of evolution actually existing in the world.

The idea of evolution (in the sense of transformation) in ordinary thought differs from the idea of evolution in esoteric thought in this respect, that esoteric thought recognises the possibility of transformation or evolution where scientific thought does not see or recognise such a possibility.

Apart from this meaning, the word "evolution" can be used for the designation of processes favouring improvement of the breed and preservation of the species, as opposed to processes impairing the breed and leading to degeneration of the species.

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The "Mysteries"

In many ancient countries, Egypt and Greece, for example, there existed side by side two religions, one dogmatic and ceremonial, the other mystical and esoteric. The one consisted of popular cults representing the half-forgotten forms of ancient mystical and esoteric myths, while the other was the religion of the Mysteries. The latter religion went far beyond popular cults, explaining the allegorical and symbolic meaning of myths and uniting those who were connected with the esoteric circle or were striving towards it.

Comparatively very little is known about the Mysteries. Their rτle in the life of ancient communities, the part they played in the creation of ancient cultures, is completely unknown to us. Yet it is precisely the "Mysteries" which explain many historical enigmas and, among others, perhaps the greatest historical enigma of all — the sudden appearance of Greek culture in the 7th century following upon the completely dark 8th and 9th centuries.

In historical Greece the Mysteries appertained to secret societies of a special kind. These secret societies of priests and initiates arranged every year, or at definite intervals, special festivals which were accompanied by allegorical theatrical performances. These theatrical performances, to which in particular the name of Mysteries was given, were held in different places. The best known were held at Delphi and Eleusis in Greece and on the island of Philae in Egypt. The character of the performances of allegorical dramas played there was fairly constant. Both in Greece and in Egypt the idea was always one and the same, namely the death and subsequent resurrection of a god. The thread of this idea ran through all the Mysteries. Its meaning may be interpreted in several ways. Probably the most correct is to think that the Mysteries represented the journey of the worlds or the journey of the soul, the birth of the soul in matter, its death and resurrection, that is, its return into the former life.

But the theatrical presentations, which for the people formed the whole content of the Mysteries, were actually of secondary importance. Behind these representations stood schools, which were the essence of the whole thing. The purpose of these schools was the preparation of men for initiation. Only those who were initiated into certain secrets might take part in the Mysteries. Initiation was accompanied by complicated ceremonies, some of which were public, and by various tests which the candidate for initiation had to pass. For the crowd, for the masses, this constituted the content of initiation, but the ceremonies of initiation were really nothing but ceremonies. The actual tests took place not at the moment immediately before formal initiation, but over a whole course, in some cases a very long one, of study and preparation. An initiation was of course not an instantaneous miracle, but rather a consecutive and gradual introduction to a new cycle of thought and feeling, as is initiation into any science, into any branch of knowledge.

Several suppositions exist as to what ideas prevailed among the peoples at the period immediately connected with the Mysteries about that which initiation gave or could give.

One of these suppositions was that initiation gave immortality. The Greeks, and also the Egyptians, had a very gloomy idea of life beyond the grave — such was the Hades of Homer, such were the Egyptians ideas of the life beyond. Initiation gave freedom from the gloom, gave a way of escape from the never-ending anguish of the "abodes of the dead", gave a kind of life in death.

This idea is expressed more clearly than anywhere else in the Easter Hymn of the Orthodox Church, which undoubtedly comes from very remote pre-Christian antiquity and links the Christian idea with the idea of the Mysteries.

There is a remarkable analogy between the content of the Mysteries and the earthly life of Christ. The life of Christ, taken as we know it from the Gospels, represents the same Mystery as those which were performed in Egypt on the island of Philae, in Greece at Eleusis, and in other places. The idea was the same, namely the death of the god and his resurrection. The only difference between the Mysteries as they were performed in Egypt and Greece and the Mystery which was played in Palestine lies in the fact that the latter was played in real life, not on the stage but amidst real nature, in the streets and public places of real towns, in real country, with the sky, mountains, lakes and trees for scenery, with a real crowd, with real emotions of love, malice and hatred, with real nails, with real sufferings. All the actors in this drama knew their parts and acted them in accordance with a general plan, according to the aim and purpose of the play. In this drama there was nothing spontaneous, unconscious, or accidental. Every actor knew what words he had to say and at what moment; and he did in fact say exactly what he had to say and in the exact way in which he had to say it. This was a drama with the whole world as an audience for hundreds and thousands of years. And the drama was played without the smallest mistake, without the smallest inexactness, in accordance with the design of the author and the plan of the producer, for in compliance with the idea of esotericism there must certainly have been both an author and a producer.

[Note. I found a certain coincidence with this idea in John M Robertson's book, Pagan Christs (issued for the Rationalist Press Association, Limited) in the chapter on The Gospel Mystery-Play.

The author comes very near to the idea of the "drama of Christ" being a theatrical performance similar to the Mysteries. And the first impression which this chapter gives is that the author says exactly the same thing as has been set forth above. In reality, however, the coincidence is not complete, though it is very curious. The author of Pagan Christs, through studying the ancient Mysteries on the one hand and the Gospel text on the other, came to the conclusion that the Gospels do not describe historical events, but a play which was performed for a special purpose and which in its idea is similar to the ancient Mysteries, whereas in its form it is analogous to the later medieval Mysteries. He brings together the idea of the ancient Mysteries and the idea of the medieval Mysteries, which consisted of episodes of the life of Christ, and asserts that the legend of the historical Christ was based on precisely such a mystery-play, composed of five acts — The Last Supper, Prayer in the Garden of Gethsamane, the Passion, Trial, and Crucifixion, to which later was added the Resurrection from the Dead, a play that had been performed no one knows where and when, and that was described in the Gospels as a real event taking place in Jerusalem. — PDO]

The idea and the aim of the Mysteries were hidden as well as the substance of initiation. For those who knew of the existence of the hidden knowledge, the Mysteries opened the door to that knowledge. This was the aim of the Mysteries, this was their idea.

When the Mysteries disappeared from the life of peoples, the link which existed between terrestrial mankind and the hidden knowledge was broken. The very idea of this knowledge gradually became more and more fantastic and diverged more and more from the accepted realistic view of life. In our days, the idea of esotericism is opposed to all the usual views of life.

From the point of view of modern scientific psychological and historical opinions, the idea of the inner circle is obviously quite absurd, fantastic, and without foundation. It also appears equally fantastic from the point of view of idealistic philosophy, since the latter admits the hidden and incomprehensible as existing only outside physical life, outside the world of phenomena.

From the point of view of the less "intellectual" doctrines, such as dogmatic Church Christianity or spiritualism and the like, the idea of esotericism in its pure form is equally inadmissible because it does not recognise the authority of the Church and does not admit "miracles" with tables and chairs, or miraculous cures, and the like. At the same time, the idea of esotericism brings the mysterious and miraculous into real, earthly life, introduces into life a fairy-tale element which is equally difficult for men of different views — the scientific, philosophical, and the so-called "mystical" or dogmatic religious — to accept.

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History of Humanity

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Esotericism

Knock, and it shall be opened unto you; ask and it shall be given unto you.

The question very often arises: why, if the esoteric circle really exists, does it do nothing to help ordinary man to emerge from the chaos of contradictions in which he lives and come to true knowledge and understanding? Why does the esoteric circle not help men to regulate their life on Earth, and why does it allow violence, injustice, cruelty, wars, and so on?

The answer to all these questions lies in what has just been said. Esoteric knowledge can be given only to those who seek, only to those who have been seeking it with a certain amount of consciousness, that is, with an understanding of how it differs from ordinary knowledge and how it can be found. This preliminary knowledge can be gained by ordinary means, from existing and known literature, easily accessible to all. And the acquisition of this preliminary knowledge may be regarded as the first test. Only those who pass this first test, i.e., those who acquire the necessary knowledge from the material accessible to all, may hope to take the next step, at which point direct individual help will be accorded them. A man may hope to approach esotericism if he has acquired a right understanding from ordinary knowledge, that is, if he can find his way through the labyrinth of contradictory systems, theories, and hypotheses, and understand their general meaning and general significance. This test is something like a competitive examination open to the whole human race, and the idea of a competitive examination alone explains why the esoteric circle appears reluctant to help humanity. It is not reluctant. All that is possible is done to help men, but men will not or cannot make the necessary efforts themselves. And they cannot be helped by force.

The Biblical story of the Golden Calf is an illustration of the attitude of the people of the outer circle towards the endeavours of the inner circle and an illustration of how the people of the outer circle behave at the very time when the people of the inner circle are striving to help them.

Thus, from the standpoint of the idea of esotericism, the first step towards hidden knowledge has to be made in a province open to everybody. In other words, the first indications of the way to true knowledge can be found by everybody in the ordinary knowledge accessible to all. Religion, philosophy, legends, fairy-tales, abound with information about esotericism. But one must have eyes to see and ears to hear.

People of our time possess four ways that lead to the Unknown, four forms of conception of the world — religion, philosophy, science, and art. These ways diverged long ago, and the very fact of their divergence shows their remoteness from the source of their origin, that is, from esotericism. In ancient Egypt, in Greece, in India, there were periods when the four ways constituted one whole.

If we apply the principle of Abba Dorotheos, which I quoted in Tertium Organum, to the general examination of religion, philosophy, science, and art, we shall see clearly why our forms of conception of the world cannot serve as a way to truth. They are forever being broken up, for ever being divided, and they for ever contradict both themselves and each other. Obviously, the more they are broken up and separated from one another, the further they depart from truth. Truth is at the centre, where the four ways converge. Consequently, the nearer they are to one another, the nearer they are to truth; the further from one another, the further from truth. Moreover, the division of each of these ways within itself, that is to say, the sub-division into systems, schools, churches, and doctrines, denotes great remoteness from the truth; and we see in fact that the number of divisions, far from diminishing, increases in every domain and every sphere of human activity. This in its turn may show us, provided we are able to perceive it, that the general trend of human activity leads, not to truth, but in the very opposite direction.

If we try to define the significance of the four ways of the spiritual life of humanity, we see first of all that they fall into two categories. Philosophy and science are intellectual ways; religion and art, emotional ways. Moreover each of these ways corresponds to a definite intellectual or emotional type of human being. But this division does not explain everything that may seem to us unintelligible or enigmatic in the sphere of religion, art, or knowledge, since in each of these spheres of human activity there are phenomena and aspects which are entirely incommensurable and which do not merge into one another. Yet it is only when they are combined into one whole that they will cease to distort truth and to lead men away from the right path.

Many people will of course protest vehemently and even revolt at the suggestion that religion, philosophy, science, and art represent similar, equivalent, and equally imperfect ways of seeking truth.

To a religious man, the idea will appear disrespectful to religion. To a man of science it will appear insulting to science. To an artist it will appear a mockery of art. To a philosopher it will appear to be a naοvetι based on a lack of understanding of what philosophy is.

Let us now try to define the basis of the division of the "four ways" at the present time.

Religion is founded on revelation.

Revelation is something proceeding immediately from the higher consciousness or higher powers. If there is no idea of revelation, there is no religion. And in religion there is always something unknowable by the ordinary mind and ordinary thinking. For this reason, no attempts to create an artificial synthetic religion by intellectual methods have ever led or can ever lead anywhere. The result is not religion, but only bad philosophy. All reformations and attempts at simplifying or rationalising a religion bring about equally negative results.

On the other hand, "revelation" or what is given by revelation must surpass all other knowledge. And when we find, on the contrary, that religion is centuries, or even, as happens in many cases, thousands of years behind science and philosophy, the main inference is that it is not religion but only pseudo-religion, the withered corpse of what once was or may have been religion. Unfortunately, all religions that are known to us in their church form are only "pseudo-religions".

Philosophy is based on speculation, on logic, on thought, on the synthesis of what we know, and on the analysis of what we do not know. Philosophy must include within its confines the whole content of science, religion, and art. But where can such a philosophy be found? All that we know in our times by the name of philosophy is not philosophy, but merely "critical literature" or the expression of personal opinions, mainly with the aim of overthrowing and destroying other personal opinions. Or, which is still worse, philosophy is nothing but self-satisfied dialectic surrounding itself with an impenetrable barrier of terminology unintelligible to the uninitiated and solving for itself all the problems of the Universe without any possibility of proving these explanations or making them intelligible to ordinary mortals.

Science is based on experiment and observation. It must know no fear, must have no dogmas, must create no "taboo" for itself. But contemporary science, by the mere fact of having cut itself sharply off from religion and "mysticism", i.e., by having set up for itself a definite "taboo", has become an accidental and unreliable instrument of thought. The constant feeling of this "taboo" compels it to shut its eyes to a whole series of inexplicable and unintelligible phenomena, deprives it of wholeness and unity, and as a result brings it about that "we have no science, but only sciences". [The words of Bazaroff, the hero of Turgenieff's novel, Father and Sons. — PDO]

Art is based on emotional understanding, on the feeling of the Unknown which lies behind the visible and the tangible, and on creative power — the power, that is, to reconstruct in visible or audible forms the artist's sensations, feelings, visions, and moods, and especially a certain fugitive sensation which is in fact the feeling of the "soul" of things and phenomena. Like science and philosophy, art is a definite way of knowledge. In creating, the artist learns much that he did not know before. But an art which does not reveal mysteries, which does not lead to the sphere of the Unknown, which does not yield new knowledge, is a parody of art, and still more often is not even a parody, but simply a commerce or an industry.

Pseudo-religion, pseudo-philosophy, pseudo-science, and pseudo-art are practically all that we know. We are fed on subtitutes, on "margarine" in all aspects and forms. Very few of us know the taste of genuine things.

But between genuine religion, genuine art, genuine science on the one hand, and the "substitutes" which we call religion, art, and science on the other, there exist many intermediate stages corresponding to the different levels of man's development, with different understanding pertaining to each level. The cause of the existence of these different levels lies in the existence of the deep radical inequality which exists between men. It is very difficult to define this difference between men, but it exists, and religions as well as everything else are divided in accordance with it.

It cannot be said, for instance, that paganism exists and that Christianity exists. But it can be said that there are pagans and that there are Christians. A Christianity can be paganism, and a paganism can be Christianity. In other words there are many people to whom Christianity is paganism, that is to say, those people who turn Christianity into paganism just as they would turn every religion into paganism. In every religion there are different levels of understanding; every religion may be understood in one way or in another way. Literal understanding, deification of the word, of the form, of the ritual, makes paganism of the most exalted, the most subtle, religion. Capacity for emotional discrimination, for the understanding of the essence, of spirit, of symbolism, the manifestation of mystical feelings, can make an exalted religion out of what may externally seem to be a primitive cult of savages and semi-savages.

The difference lies not in the ideas but in the men who receive and reproduce the ideas, and so it is in art, in philosophy, and in science. One and the same idea is understood in different ways by men of different levels, and it often happens that their understanding differs completely. If we realise this it will become clear to us that we cannot speak of religion, art, or science, etc. Different people have different sciences, different arts, and so on. If we knew how and in what respect men differ from one another, we should understand how and in what respect various religions, arts, and sciences differ one from another.

This idea can be expressed more precisely (taking the example of religion) by saying that all ordinary divisions such as Christianity, Buddhism, Mohammedanism, Judaism, as well as divisions within Christianity like the Orthodox Church, Catholicism, Protestantism, and further sub-divisions within each creed, such as sects and so on, are so to speak divisions on one plane. It must be understood that besides these divisions there exist divisions of levels, that is to say, there is the Christianity of one level of understanding and feeling, and there is the Christianity of another level of understanding and feeling, beginning from a very low outward ritual or hypocritical level which passes into the persecution of all heterodox thinking up to the very level of Jesus Christ himself. Now these divisions, these levels, are unknown to us and we can understand their idea and principle only through the ideas of the inner circle. This means that if we admit that there is truth at the origin of everything and that there are different degrees of distortion of the truth, we shall see that in this way truth is gradually brought down to our level, though of course in a completely unrecognisable form.

The idea of esotericism also reaches people in the form of pseudo-esotericism, pseudo-occultism. The cause of this lies again in the above-mentioned difference in the levels of men themselves. Most people can accept truth only in the form of a lie. But while some of them are satisfied with a lie, others begin to to seek further and may in the end come to truth. Church Christianity has completely distorted the ideas of Christ but, starting from the Church form, some people who are "pure in heart" may by the way of feeling come to a right understanding of the original truth. It is difficult for us to realise that we are surrounded by distortions and perversions and that apart from these we can receive nothing from outside.

We have difficulty in understanding this because the fundamental tendency of contemporary thought consists precisely in examining phenomena in the order opposite to that just mentioned. We are accustomed to conceive every idea, every phenomenon, whether in the domain of religion, art, or public life, as appearing first in a rude primitive form, in the form of a mere adaptation to organic conditions and of rude savage instincts, of fear, of desire, or memory of something still more elementary, still more primitive, animal, vegetable, embryonic, and gradually evolving and becoming more refined and more complicated, affecting more and more sides of life, and thus approaching the ideal form.

Of course such a tendency of thought is directly opposed to the idea of esotericism, which holds that the very great majority of our ideas are not the product of evolution but the product of the degeneration of ideas which existed at some time or are still existing somewhere in much higher, purer, and more complete forms.

To the modern way of thinking, this is a mere absurdity. We are so certain that we are the highest product of evolution, that we know everything, so sure that there cannot be on this Earth any significant phenomena such as schools or groups or systems which have not hitherto been known or acknowledged or discovered, that we have difficulty even in admitting the logical possibility of such an idea.

If we want to master even the elements of the idea, we must understand that they are incompatible with the idea of evolution in the ordinary sense of this word. It is impossible to regard our civilisation, our culture, as unique or the highest; it must be regarded as one of the many cultures which have succeeded one another on the Earth. Moreover these cultures, each in its own way, distorted the idea of esotericism which lay at their foundation, and not one of them ever rose, even approximately, to the level of its source.

But such a view would be far too revolutionary, for it would shake the foundations of all modern thought, would involve a revision of all scientific philosophies of the world, and would make perfectly useless, even ridiculous, whole libraries of books written on the basis of the theory of evolution. Above all, it would necessitate the withdrawal from the scene of a whole series of "great men" of the past, present, and future. This view, therefore, can never become popular and is not likely to take its place side by side with other views.

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Successive Civilisations

Of course the division of periods of barbarism and periods of culture must not be understood literally. Culture may entirely disappear in one continent and be partly preserved in another which holds no communication with the first. We may think in precisely this way of our own culture as times of indubitable profound barbarism in Europe may have been times of a certain culture in parts of Central or South America, and perhaps in some countries of Africa, Asia, and Polynesia. The possibility of a culture being preserved in some parts of the world in a period of general decadence does not affect the main principle that culture proceeds in great waves, separated by long periods of more or less complete barbarism. It is very possible that periods occur, particularly if they coincide with geological cataclysms, with changes in the state of the Earth's crust, when every semblance of culture disappears and the remnants of all the earlier humanity start a new culture from the beginning, from the stone-age.

According to the idea of esotericism, not all the valuable things gained by humanity during periods of culture are lost in periods of barbarism. The main substance of what has been gained by humanity in a period of culture is preserved in esoteric centres during a period of barbarism, and afterwards serves for the beginning of a new culture.

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Civilisation and Barbarism

The beginning of culture comes from the inner circle of humanity, and often it comes by means that are violent. Missionaries of the inner circle civilise savage races by fire and sword because there can be no other means but violence to deal with a savage people. Later, the principles of civilisation develop and gradually create those forms of man's spiritual manifestation which are called religion, philosophy, science, and art, and also those forms of social life which create for the individual a certain freedom, leisure, security, and the possibility of self-manifestation in higher spheres of activity.

This is civilisation. As has been pointed out, its beginning, that is the beginning of all its ideas and principles and of all its knowledge, comes from the esoteric circle.

But, simultaneously with the beginning of civilisation, violence was admitted, and the result is that, side by side with civilisation, barbarism grows too. This means that parallel with the growth of the ideas which come from the esoteric circle, there evolve other sides of life which originated in humanity in the barbarous state. Barbarism bears within itself the principles of violence and destruction. These principles do not and cannot exist in civilisation.

In our culture it is very easy to trace these two lines, the line of civilisation and the line of barbarism.

The savage killed his enemy with a club. Cultured man has at his disposal every sort of technical appliance, explosives of terrible power, electricity, aeroplanes, submarines, poisonous gases, and so on. All these means and contrivances for destruction and extermination are nothing but evolved forms of club, and they differ from it only in the power of their action. The culture of the means of destruction and the culture of the means and methods of violence are the culture or barbarism.

Further, an essential part of our culture consists in slavery and in all possible forms of violence in the name of the state, in the name of religion, in the name of ideas, in the name of morals, in the name of everything imaginable.

The inner life of modern society, its tastes and interests, are also full of barbarous traits. Passion for shows and amusements, passion for competitions, sport, gambling, great suggestibility, a propensity to submit to all kinds of influences, to panic, to fear, to suspicion — all these are features of barbarism. They all flourish in our life, making use of all the means and contrivances of technical culture.

Culture strives to establish a boundary between itself and barbarism. Already the manifestations of barbarism are called "crimes", but existing criminology is insufficient to isolate barbarism. It is insufficient because the idea of "crime" in existing criminology is artificial, for what is called crime is really an infringement of "existing laws", whereas "laws" are very often a manifestation of barbarism and violence. Such are the prohibiting laws of different kinds which abound in modern life. The number of these laws is constantly growing in all countries and, owing to this, what is called crime is very often not a crime at all, for it contains no element of violence.

On the other hand, unquestionable crimes escape the field of vision of criminology, either because they have not the recognised form of crime or because they surpass a certain scale. In existing criminology there are concepts: a criminal man, a criminal profession, a criminal society, a criminal sect, a criminal caste, and a criminal tribe, but there is no concept of a criminal state, or a criminal government, or criminal legislation. Consequently what is often regarded as a "political" activity is in fact a criminal activity.

This limitation of the field of vision of criminology, together with the absence of an exact and permanent definition of the concept of crime, is one of the chief characteristics of our culture.

The culture of barbarism grows simultaneously with the culture of civilisation. But the important point is that the two cannot indefinitely develop on parallel lines. The moment must inevitably come when the culture of barbarism arrests the development of civilisation and gradually, or possibly very swiftly, completely destroys it.

It may be asked why barbarism must inevitably destroy civilisation; why civilisation cannot destroy barbarism.

It is easy to answer this question. First of all such a thing has never been known to happen in all the history we know, whereas the opposite phenomenon, the destruction of civilisation by barbarism, the victory of barbarism over civilisation, has occurred continuously and is occurring now. We may judge the fate of a great wave of culture by the fate of the smaller waves of culture of individual races and peoples.

The root cause of the evolution of barbarism lies in man himself; in him are innate the principles which promote the growth of barbarism. In order to destroy barbarism it is necessary to destroy these principles. But we can see that never since the beginning of history as we know it has civilisation been able to destroy these principles of barbarism in man's soul; therefore barbarism always evolves parallel with civilisation. Moreover barbarism usually evolves more quickly than civilisation, and in many cases barbarism stops the development of civilisation at the very beginning. It is possible to find many historical examples of the civilisation of a nation being arrested by the development of barbarism in that very nation.

It is quite possible that in separate cases of small, or even fairly large but isolated cultures, civilisation temporarily conquered barbarism. But in other cultures existing at the same time, it was barbarism that overcame civilisation, and in time it invaded and overcame the civilisation of those separate cultures which in their own countries had overcome barbarism.

The second reason which can always be seen for the victory of barbarism over civilisation lies in the fact that the original forms of civilisation cultivated certain forms of barbarism for the protection of their own existence, their own defence, their own isolation, such as the organisation of military force, an army, the encouragement of military technique and military psychology, the encouragement and legalisation of various forms of slavery, the codification of barbarous customs, and so on.

These forms of barbarism very soon outgrow civilisation as they begin to see the aim of their existence in themselves. Their strength lies in the fact that they can exist by themselves without help from outside. Civilisation, on the contrary, having come from outside, can exist and develop only by receiving outside help, that is, the help of the esoteric circle. But the evolving forms of barbarism very soon cut civilisation off from its source, and then civilisation, losing confidence in the reason for its separate existence, begins to serve the developed forms of barbarism in the belief that here lies its aim and destiny. All forms created by civilisation undergo a process of change and adapt themselves to the new order of things, that is to say, become subservient to barbarism.

Theocratic government is transformed into despotism. Castes, if they have been recognised, become hereditary. Religion, taking the form of "church", becomes an instrument in the hands of despotism or hereditary castes. Science, transformed into technique, subserves the aims of destruction and extermination. Art degenerates and becomes a means for keeping the masses on the level of imbecility.

This is civilisation in the service of barbarism, in the captivity of barbarism. Such a relation between civilisation and barbarism can be observed throughout the whole of historical life. But such a relation cannot exist indefinitely. The growth of civilisation becomes arrested. Civilisation is, as it were, recast in the culture of barbarism. Finally it must stop altogether. Thereupon barbarism, without receiving an inflow of strength from civilisation, begins to descend to more and more elementary forms, returning gradually to its primitive state, until it becomes what it really is and has been during the whole period in which it was disguised in gorgeous trappings borrowed from civilisation.

Barbarism and civilisation can co-exist in this mutual relationship for only a comparatively short period of time. There must come a period when the growth of the technique of destruction will begin to proceed so swiftly that it will destroy the source of its origin, namely, civilisation.

When we examine modern life, we see how small and unimportant a place is occupied in it by the principles of civilisation which are not in servitude to barbarism. How small a place, indeed, in the life of the average man is occupied by thought or the quest of truth! But the principles of civilisation in falsified forms are already used for the aims of barbarism as a means for subjugating the masses and keeping them in subjection, and in these forms they flourish.

It is only these falsified forms which are tolerated in life. Religion, philosophy, science, and art which are not in immediate servitude to barbarism are not acknowledged in life except in feeble limited forms. Any attempt on their part to grow beyond the very small limits assigned to them is immediately arrested.

The interest of everyday humanity in this direction is exceedingly weak and helpless.

Man lives in the satisfaction of his appetites, in fears, in struggle, in vanity, in distraction and amusements, in stupid sports, in games of skill and chance, in greed of gain, in sensuality, in dull daily work, in cares and anxieties of the day, and more than anything else in obedience and in the enjoyment of obedience, because there is nothing that the average man likes better than to obey; if he ceases to obey one force he immediately begins to obey another. He is infinitely remote from anything that is not connected directly with the interests of the day or with the worries of the day, from anything which is a little above the material level of his life. If we do not shut our eyes to all this, we shall realise that we cannot, at the best, call ourselves anything but civilised barbarians, that is, barbarians possessed of a certain degree of culture.

The civilisation of our time is a pale sickly growth which can hardly keep itself alive in the darkness of profound barbarism. Technical inventions, improved means of communication and methods of production, increasing powers in the struggle with nature, all take away from civilisation probably more than they give.

True civilisation exists only in esotericism. It is the inner circle which is in fact the truly civilised portion of humanity, and the members of the inner circle are civilised men living in a country of barbarians, among savages.

This throws light from another point of view on the question which is often put and to which I have already alluded — why is it that members of the inner circle do not help men in their life, why do they not take their stand on the side of truth, why are they not eager to uphold justice, to help the weak, to remove the causes of violence and evil?

But if we imagine a small number of civilised men living in a large country peopled by savage and barbarous tribes in perpetual hostility and war with one another; even if we imagine that these civilised people live there as missionaries with full desire to bring enlightenment to the average masses, we shall see that they will certainly not interfere in the struggle of different tribes or take one side or another in conflicts which may arise. Let us suppose that slaves raise a revolt in this country; that does not mean that civilised men must help the slaves, because the whole object of the slaves is to subjugate their masters and to make them their slaves, while they become masters. Slavery in its most varied forms is one of the characteristic features of this savage country, and the missionaries can do nothing against it; they can only offer, to any one who may wish, that they should enter schools and study in them, and so become free. For those who do not enter schools the conditions of life cannot be altered.

This is an accurate picture of our life and of our relation to esotericism, if esotericism exists.

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Origin of the Human Race

If we now take the biological side, then in the origin and variation of species there appear, even for a scientific mind, many circumstances utterly inexplicable by accident or adaptation. These circumstances compel us to suppose the existence of a plan in the workings of what we call Nature. Once we suppose or admit the existence of the plan, we have to admit the existence of some kind of mind, of some kind of intelligence, that is to say, the existence of certain beings who work upon this plan and watch over the realisation of it.

In order to understand the laws of the possible evolution or transformation of man, it is necessary to understand the laws of Nature's activity and the methods of the Great Laboratory which controls the whole of life and which scientific thought endeavours to replace by "accident" occurring always in the same direction.

Sometimes, in order to understand bigger phenomena, it is useful to find smaller phenomena in which are manifested the same causes that operate in the bigger phenomena. Sometimes, in order to understand the complexity of the principles lying at the base of big phenomena, it is necessary to realise the complexity of phenomena which look small and insignificant.

There are many phenomena of Nature which have never been fully analysed and which, being represented in a wrong light, form a basis for various false theories and hypotheses. At the same time, when seen in the right light and rightly understood, these phenomena explain many things in the principles and methods of the activity of Nature.

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Mimicry

In reality the two phenomena belong to the same order and it is impossible to divide them. Moreover, the term "protective resemblance" is entirely unscientific, because it presupposes a ready-made explanation of the phenomena of resemblance, which in reality is entirely unexplained and contains many features which contradict the definition protective.

In view of this, the word "mimicry" is taken from this point in its full meaning, that is, in the sense of any imitation or copying by living forms either of other living forms or of the natural conditions surrounding it.

The phenomena of mimicry are most clearly manifested in the world of insects.

Certain countries are especially rich in insects which embody in their structure or colouring the various conditions of their surroundings, or the plants on which they live, or other insects. There are insect-leaves, insect-stones, insect-mosses, and insect-stars — fireflies. Even a general and casual study of these insects reveals a whole world of miracles. Butterflies, whose folded wings represent a large, dry leaf with serrated edges, with symmetrical spots, veins, and an intricate design, stuck to the tree or whirling in the wind. Beetles which imitate grey moss. Wonderful insects, the bodies of which are exact copies of small green twigs, sometimes with a broad leaf at the end. These latter insects are found, for instance, on the Black Sea shore of the Caucasus.

In Ceylon there is a large green insect which lives in a certain kind of bush and copies the exact form, colour, and dimensions of the leaves of this plant (Phyllium siccifolium). At a distance of about a yard, it is quite impossible to distinguish the insect among the leaves from a genuine leaf. The leaves are almost round in shape, an inch and a half or two inches in diameter, with a pointed end, fairly thick, with veins and serrated edges, and with a red peduncle below. Precisely the same veins and serrations are reproduced on the upper part of the insect. Underneath, where the peduncle begins on the real leaf, is a small red body with thin legs and a head with feelers. It is quite invisible from above. The "leaf" covers it and protects it from curious eyes.

Mimicry was for a long time "scientifically" explained as the result of the survival of the fittest, which possess better protective appliances. Thus, for instance, it was said: one of the insects may have been "accidentally" born a greenish colour. Thanks to this greenish colour, it was successful in concealing itself among green leaves and had a greater chance of leaving progeny. In this progeny the specimens of a greenish colour survived more easily and had a greater chance of continuing their race. Gradually, after thousands of generations, there resulted an insect which was entirely green in colour. One of these happened "accidentally" to be flatter than the others and, thanks to this, was less noticeable among the leaves. It could hide better from its enemies and had a greater chance of leaving progeny. Gradually, again after thousands of generations, there resulted a green and flat variety. One of these green insects of the flat variety resembled a leaf in shape. Thanks to this it was more successful in hiding among leaves, had a greater chance of leaving progeny, and so on.

This theory was repeated so many times in various forms by scientists that it became almost universally accepted, though in reality it is the most naοve of explanations.

If you examine an insect which resembles a green leaf, or a butterfly whose folded wings are like a withered leaf, or the insect which imitates a green twig with a leaf, you see in each of them not one feature which makes it similar to a plant, not two or three such features, but thousands of features, each of which, according to the old "scientific" theory must have been formed separately independently of others, for it is utterly impossible to suppose that one insect suddenly, "accidentally", became similar to a green leaf in all its details. "Accident" may be admitted in one direction, but it is quite impossible to admit it in a thousand directions at once. We must either presume that all the most minute details were formed independently of one another, or that some kind of "plan" existed. Science could not admit a "plan". "Plan" is not a scientific idea at all. There remained only "accident". In that case every vein in the insect's back, every green leg, the red neck, the green head with the feelers — and of all these, every minutest detail, every tiniest feature — must have been formed independently of all the others. In order to form an insect exactly like a leaf of the plant on which it lives, not one, but thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands of repeated accidents would have been necessary.

Those who invented "scientific" explanations of mimicry did not take into consideration the mathematical impossibility of this kind of "accidental" series of combinations and repetitions.

If we trace the amount of intentional and, to a certain degree, conscious work which is necessary to obtain an ordinary knife-blade from a lump of iron ore, we shall never think that a knife-blade could come into being "accidentally".

It would be an entirely unscientific idea to expect to find in the earth ready-made blades with the trade mark of Sheffield or Solingen on them. But the theory of mimicry expects much more. On the basis of this or a similar theory, one might expect to find in some stratum of rock a typewriter which has been formed naturally and is perfectly ready for use.

The impossibility of combined accidents is precisely what was for a long time not taken into consideration in "scientific" thinking.

When one trait makes an animal invisible in its surroundings, as a white hare is invisible in the snow or a green frog in the grass, it may at a stretch be explained "scientifically". But when the number of these traits becomes almost incalculable, such an explanation loses all logical possibility.

In addition to what has been stated, the insect-leaf possesses another feature which attracts attention. If you find such an insect dead, you will see that it resembles a faded and half-withered curled leaf.

The question arises: why is it that if a live insect resembles a live leaf, a dead insect resembles a dead leaf? The one does not follow from the other. In spite of the outward resemblance, the histological structure of the one and of the other must be quite different. Thus the resemblance of the dead insect to the dead leaf is also a trait which had to be formed quite separately and independently. How did science explain it?

What was it able to say? That at first one dead insect slightly resembles a faded leaf. Owing to this it had a greater chance of concealing itself from its enemies, of begetting more numerous progeny, and so on. Science could not say anything else, because this is a necessary deduction from the principle of protective or utilitarian resemblances.

Modern science cannot altogether follow these lines, and though it still retains the Darwinian and post-Darwinian terminology of "protectiveness", of "friends" and "enemies", it cannot now regard the phenomena of resemblance and mimicry from the utilitarian point of view alone.

Many strange facts have been established. For instance, many cases are known in which a change of colouring and form makes an insect or an animal more conspicuous, subjects it to greater danger, makes it more attractive and more inviting to its enemies.

The principle of utilitarianism had to be abandoned, and in modern scientific thought one may now meet with meaningless and diffuse explanations that the phenomena of mimicry owe their origin to the "influence of the environment acting similarly on different species" or to a "physiological response to constant mental experiences, such as colour sensation". [Enc. Brit., 14th ed., vol. 15. Mimicry. — PDO]

It is clear that this also is no explanation at all.

In order to understand the phenomena of mimicry and resemblance in general in the animal and vegetable worlds, it is necessary to take a much broader view, and only then will it be possible to succeed in finding their leading principle.

Scientific thought, owing to its definite limitations, cannot see this principle.

The principle is the general tendency of Nature towards decorativeness, "theatricality", the tendency to be or to appear different from what she really is at a given time and place.

Nature tries always to adorn herself and not to be herself. This is the fundamental law of her life. All the time she is dressing herself up, all the time changing her costumes, all the time turning before a mirror, looking at herself from all sides, admiring herself — then again undressing and dressing.

Her actions often appear to us accidental and aimless because we always try to attribute to them some utilitarian meaning. In reality, however, nothing can be further from Nature's intentions than a working towards "utility". Utility is attained only by the way, only casually. What can be regarded as permanent and intentional is the tendency towards decorativeness, the endless disguise, the endless masquerade, by which Nature lives.

Indeed all these small insects of which I have spoken are dressed up and disguised; they all wear masks and fancy dresses. Their whole life is passed on the stage. The tendency of their life is not to be themselves, but to resemble something else, a green leaf, a bit of moss, a shiny stone.

At the same time one can imitate only what one actually sees. Even man is unable to devise or invent new forms. An insect or an animal is forced to borrow them from its surroundings, to imitate something in the conditions among which it is born. A peacock dresses itself in round sun-flecks, which fall on the ground from the rays passing through the foliage. A zebra covers itself with shadows from the branches of the trees. A fish living on a black slimy bottom will imitate slime in its colouring. An insect living among the green leaves of one particular bush in Ceylon will disguise itself as a leaf of this bush. It cannot disguise itself as anything else. Should it feel a tendency to decorativeness and theatricality, a tendency to wearing strange apparel and to masquerading, it will be forced to imitate the green leaves among which it lives. These leaves are all that it knows, and it can invent nothing else. It is surrounded by green leaves, and it dresses up as a green leaf, pretends to be a green leaf, plays the part of a green leaf. We can see in this only one thing — a tendency not to be oneself, to appear to be something one is not. [This tendency not to be oneself and the tendency to theatricality (in human life) are interestingly described in N N Evreinov's book, The Theatre in Life (St Petersburg, 1915. G G Harrap & Co., London). — PDO]

Of course it is a miracle, and a miracle which contains not one but many enigmas.

First of all, who or what dresses up, who or what strives to be or to appear, something that he, she, or it is not?

Obviously not the individual insects or animals. An individual insect is only a costume.

There is somebody or something behind it.

In the phenomena of decorativeness, in the shapes and colouring of living creatures, in the phenomena of mimicry, even in "protectiveness", there can be seen a definite plan, intention, and aim; and very often this plan is not utilitarian at all. On the contrary, the disguise often contains much that is dangerous, unnecessary, and inexpedient.

What then can it be?

It is fashion, fashion in Nature!

Now what is fashion in the human world? Who creates it, who governs it, what are its leading principles, and in what lies the secret of its being imperative? It contains an element of decorativeness — though this is often wrongly understood — an element of protectiveness, an element of the emphasising of secondary traits, an element of desire not to appear or not to be what one is, and also an element of imitating what most strikes the imagination.

Why was it that in the 19th century, with the beginning of the reign of machines, cultured Europeans, with their top hats, black trousers, and frock coats, were transformed into stylised smoke-funnels?

What was it? "Protective resemblance"?

Mimicry is a manifestation of this same "fashion" in the animal world. All imitation, all copying, all concealment, is "fashion". Frogs which are green among greenery, yellow in the sand, almost black on black earth — this is not merely "protectiveness". We can trace here an element of what is "done", what is respectable, what everybody does. In the sand a green frog would attract too much attention, would stand out too much, would be a "blot". Evidently, for some reason this is not permitted, is considered contrary to the good taste of Nature.

The phenomena of mimicry establish two principles for understanding the working of Nature: the principle of the existence of a plan in everything Nature does, and the principle of the absence of simple utilitarianism in this plan.

This brings us to the question of methods, to the question of how it is done. And this question in its turn leads to another: how is not only this, but everything in general, done?

Scientific thought is forced to admit the possibility of strange "jumps" in the formation of new biological types. The quiet and well-balanced theory of the origin of species of the good old days was long ago abandoned, and there is now no possibility of defending it. "Jumps" are evident and overthrow the entire theory. According to biological theories which became "classical" in the second half of the 19th century, acquired traits become permanent only after accidental repetitions in many generations. In actual fact, however, new traits are very often transmitted at once and in an intensified degree. This fact alone destroys the whole of the old system and obliges us to presume the existence of some kind of powers which direct the appearance and stabilising of new traits.

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A Great Laboratory

In the beginning we see no order and no aim in these experiments. Certain experiments like noxious insects or poisonous snakes, appear to us a malicious joke of Nature's at the expense of man.

But gradually we begin to see a system and a definite direction in the work of the Great Laboratory. We begin to understand that the Laboratory experiments only with man. The task of the Laboratory is to create a "form" evolving by itself, that is, on the condition of help and support, but with its own forces. The self-evolving form is man.

All other forms are either preliminary experiments for working out material to feed more complicated forms, or experiments for working out definite properties or parts of the machine; or unsuccessful experiments, or the refuse of production, or used material.

The result of all this complicated work is the first humanity — Adam and Eve.

But the Laboratory began to work long before the appearance of man. A multitude of forms was created, each of them for perfecting one or another trait, one or another appliance. And each of these forms, in order to contain life, should have included in itself some of the fundamental cosmic laws, and should have appeared as their symbols or hieroglyphs. Owing to this, the once created forms did not disappear after having served their purpose, but continued to live so long as favourable conditions lasted or so long as they were not destroyed by similar but more perfect forms. The "experiments", so to say, ran away from the Laboratory and began to live by themselves. Later on, the theory of evolution was invented for them. Nature, of course, had in view no evolution for these "experiments" that ran away. Sometimes in creating these experimental forms Nature employed material which had been already used in man, which was useless for him, and which was incapable of transformation in him.

In this way, all the work of the Great Laboratory had in view one aim — the creation of Man. Out of the preliminary experiments and the refuse of the production there were formed animals.

Animals which, according to Darwin, are our "ancestors", are in reality not our ancestors, but very often as much the "descendants" of long-vanished human races as we ourselves are. We are their descendants, and animals are also their descendants. In us are embodied their properties of one kind, in animals are embodied their properties of another kind. Animals are our cousins. The difference between us and animals is that we, successfully or unsuccessfully, adapt ourselves to the changing conditions, or in any case have the faculty of adaptation. Animals, however, have stopped at some one trait, one property which they express, and they go no further. If conditions change, animals die out. They are incapable of adapting themselves. In them are embodied properties which cannot change. Animals are the embodiment of those human properties which became useless and impossible in man.

This is why animals so often seem to be caricatures of men.

The whole of the animal world is a continuous caricature of human life. There is much in men that has to be cast away before they can become real men. People are afraid of this because they do not know what they will be left with. Perhaps something will remain, but very little; and would anyone have the courage to make such an experiment? Perhaps some people will dare. But where are they?

The properties which are destined sooner or later for the zoological garden still govern our life, and people are afraid to give them up because they feel that if they lose them there will be nothing left. The worst of it is that in the majority of cases, they are perfectly right.

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The Garden of Eden

Culture began and, as the first man had not yet the habit of mistakes nor the practice of misdeeds nor the memory of barbarism, the culture developed with extraordinary speed. Moreover, this culture did not develop negative sides, but only positive sides. Man was living in full unity with Nature; he saw the inner properties in all things, in all beings; he understood these properties, and he gave names to all things according to their properties. Animals obeyed him; he was in constant converse with the higher powers which had created him. Man rose to great heights with great rapidity because he made no mistakes in his ascent. But this incapacity to make mistakes and the absence of the practice of mistakes, while on the one hand hastening his progress on the other hand exposed him to great danger because it carried with it the incapacity to avoid the results of the mistakes which nevertheless remained possible.

Eventually man did make a mistake. And he made this mistake when he had already risen to a great height.

This mistake consisted in his beginning to regard himself as being still higher than he actually was. He thought that he already knew what was good and what was evil; he thought that by himself he could guide and direct his life without help from outside.

The mistake might possibly not have been so great, its results might have been corrected or altered, if man had known how to deal with the results of his mistakes. The mistake began to grow, began to assume gigantic proportions, until it began to manifest itself in all side of man's life. Man began to fall. The wave went down. Man rapidly descended to the level from which he started plus the acquired sin.

After a more or less long stationary period, the arduous ascent with the help of higher powers began again. The only difference was that this time man had the capacity for making mistakes: he had a sin. The second wave of culture began with fratricide, with the crime of Cain, which was placed as the cornerstone of the new culture.

But apart from the "karma" of sin, man had acquired a certain experience through his former mistakes and therefore, when the moment for the fatal mistake recurred, it was not the whole of humanity which made it. There happened to be a certain number of people who did not commit the crime of Cain, who did not associate with it an any way or profit by it in any respect.

From that moment the paths of humanity diverged. Those who made the mistake began to fall until they again reached the lowest level. But the moment they began to need help, those who did not fall, that is those who did not make the mistake, were now able to give the help.

Such in short is the scheme of the earliest cultures. The myth of Adam and Eve is the history of the first culture. Life in the Garden of Eden was the form of civilisation which was reached by the first culture. The Fall of Man was the result of his attempt to rid himself of the higher powers who guided his evolution and to start a life on his own, relying only on his own judgment. Every new culture commits this fundamental mistake in its own way. Every new culture develops some new features, arrives at new results, and then loses all. But everything that is really valuable is preserved by those who did not make mistakes, and it serves as material for the beginning of the succeeding cultures.

In the first culture man had no experience of mistakes. His rise was very rapid, but it was not sufficiently complex, not sufficiently varied. Man did not develop in himself all the possibilities that were in him because many things were attained by him too easily. But after a series of falls, with all his luggage of errors and crimes, man had to develop other possibilities inherent in him in order to counterbalance the results of those errors. Further, it will be shown that the development of all possibilities inherent in each point of creation forms the object of the progress of the Universe, and the life of mankind must be studied also in connection with this principle.

In the later life of the human race and in its later cultures, the development of these possibilities is effected with the help of the inner circle. From this point of view all the evolution possible to mankind consists in the evolution of a small number of individuals spread, possibly, over a long period of time. The mass of humanity itself does not evolve; it merely varies a little, adapting itself to the change of surrounding conditions. Mankind, like an organism, evolves by means of the evolution of a certain very small number of the cells of which it consists. The evolving cells pass, as it were, into the higher tissues in the organism, and thus these higher tissues receive nourishment by absorbing the evolving cells.

The idea of the higher tissues is the idea of the inner circle.

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Sociology

Thus from time to time there arose in sociology the question as to whether humanity could be regarded as an organism and human communities as smaller organisms; that is, is a biological view of social phenomena possible? Contemporary sociological thought adopts a negative attitude in relation to this idea, and it has long been considered unscientific to regard a community as an organism. The mistake, however, lies in the way the problem is formulated. The concept "organism" is taken in too narrow a sense and only in one preconceived idea. If a human community, nation, people, race is taken as an organism, it is taken as an organism either analogous to the human organism or higher than the human organism. Actually, however, this idea can be correct only in relation to the whole of mankind. Separate human groups, no matter how large they may be, can never be analogous to man, and still less can they ever be superior to him. Biology knows of, and has established, the existence of entirely different orders of organisms. If in examining the phenomena of social life we bear in mind the difference between organisms on different rungs of the biological ladder, the biological view of social phenomena becomes much more possible — but only on condition that we realise that every human community, such as a race, a people, a tribe, is a lower organism as compared to an individual man.

A race or a nation regarded as an organism has nothing in common with the highly developed and complex organism of individual man, which for every function has a special organ, very great capacity for adaptation, possesses free movement, etc. In comparison with an individual man, a race or nation as an organism stands on a very low level — that of "animal plants". These organisms are amorphous, for the most part immobile, masses, beings which have no special organs for any of their functions and do not possess the capacity for free movement, but are fixed at a definite place. They put out something like feelers in different directions, and by means of these they seize other beings like themselves and eat them. The whole life of these organisms consists in their eating one another.

There are some organisms which possess the capacity for absorbing a quantity of smaller organisms and so temporarily become very large and strong. Then two of these large organisms meet one another, and a struggle begins between them in which either one or both are destroyed or weakened. The whole external history of humanity, the history of the struggles between peoples and races, consists of nothing but the process which has just been described: of "animal plants" eating one another.

But in the midst of all this, underneath it all, as it were, proceed the life and activity of the individual man, that is, of the individual cells which form these organisms. The activity of these individual men produces what we call culture or civilisation. The activity of the masses is always hostile to this culture, it always destroys it. Peoples create nothing. They only destroy. It is individual men who create. All inventions, discoveries, improvements, all technical progress, the progress of science, art, architecture, engineering, philosophical systems, religious teachings — all these are results of the activity of individual men. The destruction of the results of this activity, their distortion, annihilation, obliteration from the face of the earth — this is the activity of the human masses.

This does not mean that individual men do not serve destruction. On the contrary, the initiative of destruction on a large scale always belongs to individual men, and the masses are merely the executive agency. But masses can never create anything, although they can destroy on their own account.

If we understand that the masses of humanity, that is, peoples and races, are lower beings as compared with individual man, we shall understand that peoples and races cannot evolve in the same measure as individual man.

We have even no idea of the evolution possible to a people or to a race, though we often speak of such an evolution. As a matter of fact, all peoples and nations within the limits of our historical observation follow one and the same course. They grow, develop, reach a certain degree of size and power, and then begin to be divided up, decline, and fall. Finally they disappear entirely and become component parts of some other being like themselves. Races and nations die in the same way as individual man. But individuals have certain other possibilities besides death, which the great organisms of the human masses have not, for their souls are as amorphous as their bodies.

The tragedy of individual man lies in the fact that he lives, as it were, within the dense mass of such a lower being, and all his activity is in the service of the purely vegetable functions of this blind jelly-like organism. At the same time the conscious individual activity of man, his efforts in the domain of thought and creative work, run contrary to these big organisms, in spite of them, and in defiance of them. But of course it would not be true to say that all the individual activity of man consists in a conscious struggle against these big organisms. Man is conquered and made a slave. And it often happens that man thinks he is serving and must serve these big beings by his individual activity. But the higher manifestations of the human spirit, the higher activities of man, are entirely unnecessary to the big organisation; in most cases, indeed, they are unpleasant, hostile, and even dangerous to them, since they divert to individual work the forces which might otherwise have been absorbed into the vortex of the life of the big organism. In an unconscious, merely physiological, way, the big organism endeavours to appropriate all the powers of the individual cells which are its components, using them in its own interests — that is to say, mainly for fighting other similar organisms.

When we remember that the individual cells, that is, men, are far more highly organised beings than big organisms, and that the activities of the former go far beyond the activities possible to the latter, we shall understand that what is called progress or evolution is that which is left over of individual activities after all the struggle between the amorphous masses and this individual activity has taken place. The blind organisms of the masses struggle with the manifestation of the evolutionary spirit, annihilate and stifle it, and destroy what has been created by it. But even so they cannot entirely annihilate it. Something remains, and this is what we call progress or civilisation.

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Three Biblical Myths

These three myths are not connected in the Bible and stand separately, but in reality they express one and the same idea and mutually complete one another.

The first myth is the story of the Great Flood and of Noah's Ark; the second is the story of the Tower of Babel, of its destruction and the confusion of tongues; and the third is the story of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah of Abraham's vision, and of the ten righteous men for whose sake God agreed to spare Sodom and Gomorrah, but who could not be found there.

The Great Flood is an allegory of the fall of civilisation, of the destruction of culture. Such a fall must be accompanied by the annihilation of the greater part of the human race as a consequence of geological upheavals, of wars, of the migration of human masses, epidemics, revolutions, or similar causes. Very often all these causes coincide. The idea of the allegory is that at the moment of the apparent destruction of everything, that which is really valuable is saved according to a plan previously prepared and thought out. A small group of men escapes from the general law and saves all the most important ideas and attainments of the given culture.

The legend of Noah's Ark is a myth referring to esotericism. The building of the "Ark" is the "School" — the preparation of men for initiation, for transition to a new life, for new birth. "Noah's Ark", which is saved from the Flood, is the inner circle of humanity.

The second meaning of the allegory refers to individual man. The flood is death, unavoidable, inexorable. But man can build within himself an "Ark" and assemble in it specimens of everything that is valuable in him. In such a case these specimens will not perish. They will survive death and be born again. Just as mankind can be saved only through its connection with the inner circle, so an individual man can attain personal "salvation" only by means of a link with the inner circle in himself, that is, by connecting himself with the higher forms of consciousness. This cannot be done without outside help, that is, without the help of the "inner circle".

The second myth, that of the Tower of Babel, is another version of the first; but the first speaks of salvation, that is, of those who are saved, while the second speaks only of ruin, that is, of those who shall perish.

The Tower of Babel represents culture. Men dream of building a tower of stone "whose top may reach unto heaven", of creating an ideal life on Earth. They believe in intellectual methods, in technical means, in formal institutions. For a long time the tower rises higher and higher above the Earth. But the moment infallibly arrives when men cease to understand each other or, rather, realise that they have never done so. Each of them understands the ideal life on Earth in his own way. Each of them wants to carry out his own ideas. Each of them wants to fulfil his own ideal. This is the moment when the confusion of tongues begins. Men cease to understand one another even in the simplest things; lack of understanding provokes discord, hostility, struggle. The men who built the tower start killing one another and destroying what they have built. The tower falls in ruins.

Precisely the same thing occurs in the life of the whole of humanity, in the life of peoples and nations, and in the life of individual man. Each man builds a Tower of Babel in his own life. His strivings, his aims in life, his attainments constitute his Tower of Babel.

But it is inevitable that the tower will fall. A slight shock, an unfortunate accident, an illness, a small miscalculation, and of his tower little or nothing remains. Man sees it, but it is already too late to correct or alter it.

Or a moment may come in the building of the tower when the different Is of a man's personality lose confidence in one another, see all the contradictions of their aims and desires, see that they have no common aim, cease to understand one another or, more exactly, cease to think that they understand. Then the tower must fall, the illusory aim must disappear, and the man must feel that everything that he has done was fruitless, that it has led to nothing and could lead to nothing, and that before him there is only one real fact — death.

The whole life of man, the accumulation of riches or power or learning, is the building of a Tower of Babel, because it must end in catastrophe, namely in death, which is the fate of everything that cannot pass to a new plane of being.

The third myth — that of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah — shows still more clearly than the first two the moment of the interference of the higher forces and the causes of this interference. God agreed to spare Sodom and Gomorrah for the sake of fifty righteous men, for the sake of forty-five, for the sake of thirty, for the sake of twenty, at last for the sake of ten. But ten righteous men could not be found and the two cities were destroyed. The possibility of evolution had been lost. The "Great Laboratory" brought the unsuccessful experiment to an end. But Lot and his family were saved. The idea is the same as in the other two myths, but it particularly emphasises the readiness of the guiding will to make all possible concessions so long as there is any hope of the realisation of the aim set for human beings. When this hope disappears, the guiding will must inevitably interfere, save what deserves salvation, and destroy the rest.

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Myths of Non-human Races

The legends and epics of all countries contain much material relating to non-human beings who preceded man or even existed at the same time as man but differed from man in many ways. This material is so abundant and significant that not to make an attempt to explain these myths would mean intentionally shutting our eyes to something we ought to see. Such, for instance, are the legends of giants and the so-called "Cyclopean" structures which one involuntarily associates with these legends.

Unless we wish to ignore many facts or believe in three-dimensional "spirits" capable of building stone edifices, we must suppose that pre-human races were as physical as man and came, just as man did, from the Great Laboratory of Nature, that Nature had made attempts at creating self-evolving beings before man. Further, we must suppose that such beings were let out of the Great Laboratory into life, but that they failed to satisfy Nature in their further development and, instead of carrying out Nature's designs, turned against her. Nature then abandoned her experiment with them and began a new experiment.

Strictly speaking, we have no grounds for considering man as the first or the only experiment of a self-evolving being. On the contrary, the myths mentioned above give us the possibility of presuming the existence of such beings before man.

If this is so, if we have grounds for supposing the existence of physical races of pre-human self-evolving beings, where then should we look for the descendants of these races, and are we in any way justified in supposing the existence of such descendants?

We must start from the idea that in all her activity Nature aims at the creation of a self-evolving being.

But can it be supposed that the whole of the animal kingdom is the by-product of one line of work — the creation of man?

This may be admitted in relation to mammals; we may even include in it all vertebrates; we may consider many lower forms as preparatory forms; and so on. But what place shall we give in this system to insects, which represent a world in themselves and a world not less complex than the world of vertebrates?

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Insects

Passing to facts, we must admit that insects are in no way a stage preparatory to the formation of man. Nor could they be regarded as the by-product of human evolution. On the contrary, insects reveal in their structure and in the structure of their separate parts and organs forms which are often more perfect than those of man or animals. We cannot help seeing that for certain forms of insect life which we observe, there is no explanation without very complicated hypotheses which necessitate recognition of a very rich past behind them and compel us to regard the forms we now observe as degenerated forms.

This last consideration relates mainly to the organised communities of ants and bees. It is impossible to become acquainted with their life without giving oneself up to emotional impressions of astonishment and bewilderment. Ants and bees alike call both for our admiration by the wonderful completeness of their organisation and at the same time repel and frighten us and provoke a feeling of indefinable aversion by the invariably cold reasoning which dominates their life and by the absolute impossibility for an individual to escape from the wheel of life of the ant-hill or the beehive. We are terrified at the thought that we may resemble them.

Indeed what place do the communities of ants and bees occupy in the general scheme of things on our Earth? How could they come into being such as we observe them? All observations of their life and their organisation inevitably lead us to one conclusion. The original organisation of the "beehive" and the "ant-hill" in the remote past undoubtedly required reasoning and logical intelligence of great power, although at the same time the further existence of both the beehive and the ant-hill did not require any intelligence or reasoning at all.

How could this have happened?

In could have happened in only one way. If ants or bees, or both, of course at different periods, had been intelligent and evolving beings and then lost their intelligence and their ability to evolve, this could have happened only because their "intelligence" went against their "evolution". In other words, because in thinking that they were helping their evolution, they managed somehow to arrest it.

One may suppose that both ants and bees came from the Great Laboratory and were sent to Earth with the privilege and the possibility of evolving. But after a long period of struggle and efforts, both the one and the other renounced the privilege and ceased to evolve, or, to be more exact, ceased to send forth an evolving current. After this, Nature had to take her own measures and, after isolating them in a certain way, to begin a new experiment.

If we admit the possibility of this, may we not suppose that the old legends of falls which preceded the fall of man relate to ants and bees? We may find ourselves disconcerted by their small size as compared to our own. But the size of living beings is, first of all, a relative thing, and secondly it changes very easily in certain cases. In the case of certain classes of beings, for instance fishes, amphibious animals, and insects, Nature holds in her hands the threads that regulate their development at a certain stage. Everyone has seen small fishes exactly like large fishes, small frogs, etc. This is still more evident in the vegetable world. But of course it is not a universal rule, and some beings such as man and most of the higher mammals reach almost the largest size possible for them. As regards the insects, ants and bees most probably could be much larger than they are now, although this point may be argued; and it is possible that the change of size of the ant or the bee would necessitate a considerable alteration in their inner organisation.

It is interesting to note here the legions of gigantic ants in Tibet recorded by Herodotus and Pliny (Herodotus, History, Book XI; Pliny, Natural History, Book III).

Of course it will be difficult at first to imagine Lucifer as a bee, or the Titans as ants. But if we renounce for a moment the idea of the necessity of a human form, the greater part of the difficulty disappears.

The mistake of these non-human beings, that is, the cause of their downfall, must inevitably have been of the same nature as the mistake made by Adam. They must have become convinced that they knew what was good and what was evil, and must have believed that they themselves could act according to their understanding. They renounced the idea of higher knowledge and the inner circle of life and placed their faith in their own knowledge, their own powers, and their own understanding of the aims and purposes of their existence. But their understanding was probably much more wrong and their mistake much less naοve than the mistake of Adam, and the results of this mistake were probably so much more serious — that ants and bees not only arrested their evolution in one cycle, but made it altogether impossible by altering their very being.

The ordering of the life of both bees and ants, their ideal communistic organisation, indicate the character and the form of their downfall. It may be imagined that at different times both bees and ants had reached a very high, although a very one-sided culture, based entirely on intellectual considerations of profit and utility, without any scope for imagination, without any esotericism or mysticism. They organised the whole of their life on the principles of a kind of "Marxism", which seemed to them very exact and scientific. They realised the socialistic order of things, entirely subjugating the individual to the interests of the community according to their understanding of those interests. Thus they destroyed every possibility for an individual to develop and separate himself from the general masses.

Yet it was precisely this development of individuals and their separation from the general masses which constituted the aim of Nature and on which the possibility of evolution was based. Neither the bees nor the ants wished to acknowledge this. They saw their aim in something else: they strove to subjugate Nature. In some way or other they altered Nature's plan and made the execution of this plan impossible.

We must bear in mind that every "experiment" of Nature, that is, every living being, every living organism, represents the expression of cosmic laws, a complex symbol or a complex hieroglyph. Having begun to alter their being, their life, and their form, bees and ants, taken as individuals, severed their connection with the laws of Nature, ceased to express these laws individually, and began to express them only collectively. Then Nature raised her magic wand, and they became small insects incapable of doing Nature any harm.

In the course of time their thinking capacities, absolutely unnecessary in a well-organised ant-hill or beehive, became atrophied; automatic habits began to be handed down automatically from generation to generation, and ants became "insects" as we know them; bees even became useful. [The nature of the automatism that governs the life of a beehive or an ant-hill cannot be explained with the psychological conceptions existent in Western literature. I will speak of it in another book in connection with the exposition of the principles of the teaching which was mentioned in the introduction. — PDO.]

Indeed, when observing an ant-hill or a beehive, we are always struck by two things: first by the amount of intelligence and calculation put into their primary organisation; secondly by the complete absence of intelligence in their activities. The intelligence put into this organisation was very narrow and rigidly utilitarian; it calculated correctly within the given conditions, but it saw nothing outside these conditions. Yet even this intelligence was necessary only for the original calculation and estimation. Once started, the mechanism of a beehive or of an ant-hill did not require any intelligence; automatic habits and customs were automatically learned and handed down, and this ensured their being preserved unchanged. "Intelligence" in a beehive or ant-hill is not only useless: it would even be dangerous and harmful. Intelligence could not hand down all the laws, rules, and methods of work with the same exactness from generation to generation. Intelligence could forget, could distort, could add something new. Intelligence could again lead to "mysticism", to the idea of a higher intelligence, to the idea of esotericism. It was therefore necessary to banish intelligence from an ideal socialistic beehive or ant-hill as an element harmful to the community — which in fact it is.

Of course there may have been a struggle, a period when the ancestors of ants or bees who had not yet lost the power of thinking saw the situation clearly, saw the inevitable beginning of degeneration and strove to fight against it, trying to free the individual from its unconditional submission to the community. But the struggle was hopeless and could have no result. The iron laws of the ant-hill and beehive very soon dealt with the restless element; after a few generations such recalcitrants probably ceased to be born, and the ant-hill gradually became the ideal communistic state. [I cannot refrain from mentioning an article by Obitatel "On Ants" in the Paris newspaper, Vozrojdenie, of 10 February, 1930 (in Russian). The author comes very near the ideas set out above. I should have liked to quote some of his remarks, but my book was already finished and was in the translator's hands. — PDO.]

In his book The Life of the White Ant, Maurice Maeterlinck experiences the same strange emotional feeling of which I spoke earlier.

...it makes them almost our brothers, and from certain points of view, causes these wretched insects, more than the bee or any other living creature on earth, to become the heralds, perhaps the precursors, of our own destiny.

Further, Maeterlinck dwells upon the antiquity of the termites, which are much more ancient than man, and upon the number and great variety of their species.

After this Maeterlinck passes to what he calls the "civilisation of the termites".

Their civilisation which is the earliest of any is the most curious, the most complex, the most intelligent and, in a sense, the most logical and best fitted to the difficulties of existence, which has ever appeared before our own time on this globe. From several points of view this civilisation, although fierce, sinister, and often repulsive, is superior to that of the bee, of the ant, and even of man himself.

In the termitary the gods of communism become insatiable Molochs. The more they are given, the more they require; and they persist in their demands until the individual is annihilated and his misery complete. This appalling tyranny is unexampled among mankind; for while with us it at least benefits the few, in the termitary no one profits.

The discipline is more ferocious than that of the Carmelites or Trappists; and the voluntary submission to laws or regulations proceeding one knows not whence is unparalleled in any human society. A new form of fatality, perhaps the cruellest of all, the social fatality to which we ourselves are drifting, has been added to those we have met already and thought quite enough. There is no rest except in the last sleep of all: illness is not tolerated, and feebleness carries with it its own sentence of death. Communism is pushed to the limits of cannibalism and coprophagy.

...compelling the sacrifice and misery of the many for the advantage or happiness of none — and all this in order that a kind of universal despair may be continued, renewed, and multiplied so long as the world shall last. These cities of insects, that appeared before we did, might almost serve as a caricature of ourselves, as a travesty of the earthly paradise to which most people are tending.

Maeterlinck shows by what mechanism this ideal regime is bought.

They used to have wings, they have them no more. They had eyes which they surrendered. They had a sex; they have sacrificed it. [The Life of the White Ant, by Maurice Maeterlinck, translated by Alfred Sutro (George Allen & Unwin, London, 1927. — PDO]

The only thing he omits to say is that before sacrificing wings, sight, and sex, the termites had to sacrifice their intelligence.

In spite of this process through which the termites passed, Maeterlinck still calls it evolution. This comes about because, as I have said before, every change of form taking place over a long period of time is called evolution by modern thought. The power of this obligatory stereotype of pseudo-scientific thinking is truly astounding. In the Middle Ages philosophers and scientists had to make all their theories and discussions agree with the dogmas of the Church, and in our day the rτle of these dogmas is played by evolution. It is quite clear that thought cannot develop freely in these conditions.

The idea of esotericism has a particularly important significance at the present stage of the development of the thought of humanity because it makes quite unnecessary the idea of evolution in the ordinary sense of this word. It was said earlier what the word evolution may mean in the esoteric sense, namely, the transformation of individuals. In this meaning alone evolution cannot be confused with degeneration as is constantly done by "scientific" thought, which regards even its own degeneration as evolution.

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The Psychological Method

Generally the mind is regarded much too simply, without taking into account that the limits of useful action of the mind are both very well known and very restricted. The psychological method takes these limitations into consideration in the same way as, in all ordinary circumstances of life, we take into consideration the limitations of the machines or implements with which we have to work. If we examine something under a microscope, we take into consideration the power of the microscope; if we do some work with a particular instrument, we take into consideration properties and qualities of the instrument — weight, sharpness, etc. The psychological method aims at doing the same in relation to the mind, that is, it aims at keeping the mind constantly in the field of view, and at regarding all conclusions and discoveries relatively to the mind.

From the point of view of the psychological method there are no grounds for thinking that our mind, that is, our apparatus of cognition, is the only possible one or the best in existence. Equally there are no grounds for thinking that all discovered and established truths will always remain truths. On the contrary, from the point of view of the psychological method there can be no doubt that we shall have to discover many new truths, either entirely incomprehensible truths the very existence of which we never suspected, or truths fundamentally contradicting those which we have recognised until now.

Of course nothing is more terrifying and nothing is more inadmissible for all kinds of dogmatism. The psychological method destroys all old and new prejudices and superstitions; it does not allow thought to stop and remain contented with the attained results, no matter how tempting and pleasant these results may appear, and no matter how symmetrical and smooth all deductions made from them may be. The psychological method gives the possibility of re-examining many principles which have been considered as finally and firmly established, and it finds in them entirely new and unexpected meaning. The psychological method makes it possible in many cases to disregard facts or what are taken for facts, and allows us to see beyond facts.

Although it is only a method, the psychological method nevertheless leads us in a very definite direction, namely towards the esoteric method, which is in reality an enlarged psychological method, though enlarged in that sense in which we cannot enlarge it by our own efforts.

1912-1929.

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