Book: Five Years Of Theosophy
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* The allusion here is to those beings of the several kingdoms of the
elements which we Theosophists, following after the Kabalists, have
called the "Elementals." They never become men.
--Ed. Theos.
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Speaking of the second body, Henry More says "the soul's astral vehicle
is of that tenuity that itself can as easily pass the smallest pores of
the body as the light does glass, or the lightning the scabbard of a
sword without tearing or scorching of it." And again, "I shall make
bold to assert that the soul may live in an aerial vehicle as well as in
the ethereal, and that there are very few that arrive to that high
happiness as to acquire a celestial vehicle immediately upon their
quitting the terrestrial one; that heavenly chariot necessarily
carrying us in triumph to the greatest happiness the soul of man is
capable of, which would arrive to all men indifferently, good or bad, if
the parting with this earthly body would suddenly mount us into the
heavenly. When by a just Nemesis the souls of men that are not
heroically virtuous will find themselves restrained within the compass
of this caliginous air, as both Reason itself suggests, and the
Platonists have unanimously determined." Thus also the most
thorough-going, and probably the most deeply versed in the doctrines of
the master among modern Platonists, Thomas Taylor (Introduction.
Phaedo):--"After this our divine philosopher informs that the pure soul
will after death return to pure and eternal natures; but that the
impure soul, in consequence of being imbued with terrene affections,
will be drawn down to a kindred nature, and be invested with a gross
vehicle capable of being seen by the corporeal eye.* For while a
propensity to body remains in the soul, it causes her to attract a
certain vehicle to herself; either of an aerial nature, or composed
from the spirit and vapours of her terrestrial body, or which is
recently collected from surrounding air; for according to the arcana of
the Platonic philosophy, between an ethereal body, which is simple and
immaterial and is the eternal connate vehicle of the soul, and a terrene
body, which is material and composite, and of short duration, there is
an aerial body, which is material indeed, but simple and of a more
extended duration; and in this body the unpurified soul dwells for a
long time after its exit from hence, till this pneumatic vehicle being
dissolved, it is again invested with a composite body; while on the
contrary the purified soul immediately ascends into the celestial
regions with its ethereal vehicle alone."
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* This is the Hindu theory of nearly every one of the Aryan
philosophies.--Ed. Theos.
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Always it is the disposition of the soul that determines the quality of
its body. "However the soul be in itself affected," says Porphyry
(translated by Cudworth), "so does it always find a body suitable and
agreeable to its present disposition, and therefore to the purged soul
does naturally accrue a body that comes next to immateriality, that is,
an ethereal one." And the same author, "The soul is never quite naked
of all body, but hath always some body or other joined with it, suitable
and agreeable to its present disposition (either a purer or impurer
one). But that at its first quitting this gross earthly body, the
spirituous body which accompanieth it (as its vehicle) must needs go
away fouled and incrassated with the vapours and steams thereof, till
the soul afterwards by degrees purging itself, this becometh at length a
dry splendour, which hath no misty obscurity nor casteth any shadow."
Here it will be seen, we lose sight of the specific difference of the
two future vehicles--the ethereal is regarded as a sublimation of the
aerial. This, however, is opposed to the general consensus of Plato's
commentators. Sometimes the ethereal body, or augoeides, is appropriated
to the rational soul, or spirit, which must then be considered as a
distinct entity, separable from the lower soul. Philoponus, a Christian
writer, says, "that the Rational Soul, as to its energie, is separable
from all body, but the irrational part or life thereof is separable only
from this gross body, and not from all body whatsoever, but hath after
death a spirituous or airy body, in which it acteth--this I say is a
true opinion which shall afterwards be proved by us.... The irrational
life of the soul hath not all its being in this gross earthly body, but
remaineth after the soul's departure out of it, having for its vehicle
and subject the spirituous body, which itself is also compounded out of
the four elements, but receiveth its denomination from the predominant
part, to wit, Air, as this gross body of ours is called earthy from what
is most predominant therein."--Cudworth, "Intell. Syst." From the same
source we extract the following: "Wherefore these ancients say that
impure souls after their departure out of this body wander here up and
down for a certain space in their spirituous vaporous and airy body,
appearing about sepulchres and haunting their former habitation. For
which cause there is great reason that we should take care of living
well, as also of abstaining from a fouler and grosser diet; these
Ancients telling us likewise that this spirituous body of ours being
fouled and incrassated by evil diet, is apt to render the soul in this
life also more obnoxious to the disturbances of passions. They further
add that there is something of the Plantal or Plastic life, also
exercised by the soul, in those spirituous or airy bodies after death;
they being nourished too, though not after the same manner, as those
gross earthy bodies of ours are here, but by vapours, and that not by
parts or organs, but throughout the whole of them (as sponges), they
imbibing everywhere those vapours. For which cause they who are wise
will in this life also take care of using a thinner and dryer diet, that
so that spirituous body (which we have also at this present time within
our proper body) may not be clogged and incrassed, but attenuated. Over
and above which, those Ancients made use of catharms, or purgations to
the same end and purpose also. For as this earthy body is washed by
water so is that spirituous body cleansed by cathartic vapours--some of
these vapours being nutritive, others purgative. Moreover, these
Ancients further declared concerning this spirituous body that it was
not organized, but did the whole of it in every part throughout exercise
all functions of sense, the soul hearing, seeing and perceiving all
sensibles by it everywhere. For which cause Aristotle himself affirmeth
in his Metaphysics that there is properly but one sense and one Sensory.
He by this one sensory meaneth the spirit, or subtle airy body, in which
the sensitive power doth all of it through the whole immediately
apprehend all variety of sensibles. And if it be demanded to how it
comes to pass that this spirit becomes organized in sepulchres, and most
commonly of human form, but sometimes in the forms of other animals, to
this those Ancients replied that their appearing so frequently in human
form proceeded from their being incrassated with evil diet, and then, as
it were, stamped upon with the form of this exterior ambient body in
which they are, as crystal is formed and coloured like to those things
which it is fastened in, or reflects the image of them. And that their
having sometimes other different forms proceedeth from the phantastic
power of the soul itself, which can at pleasure transform the spirituous
body into any shape. For being airy, when it is condensed and fixed, it
becometh visible, and again invisible and vanishing out of sight when it
is expanded and rarified." Proem in Arist. de Anima. And Cudworth
says, "Though spirits or ghosts had certain supple bodies which they
could so far condense as to make them sometimes visible to men, yet is
it reasonable enough to think that they could not constipate or fix them
into such a firmness, grossness and solidity, as that of flesh and bone
is to continue therein, or at least not without such difficulty and pain
as would hinder them from attempting the same. Notwithstanding which it
is not denied that they may possibly sometimes make use of other solid
bodies, moving and acting them, as in that famous story of Phlegons when
the body vanished not as other ghosts use to do, but was left a dead
carcase behind."
In all these speculations the Anima Mundi plays a conspicuous part. It
is the source and principle of all animal souls, including the
irrational soul of man. But in man, who would otherwise be merely
analogous to other terrestrial animals--this soul participates in a
higher principle, which tends to raise and convert it to itself. To
comprehend the nature of this union or hypostasis it would be necessary
to have mastered the whole of Plato's philosophy as comprised in the
Parmenides and the Timaeus; and he would dogmatize rashly who without
this arduous preparation should claim Plato as the champion of an
unconditional immortality. Certainly in the Phaedo the dialogue
popularly supposed to contain all Plato's teaching on the subject--the
immortality allotted to the impure soul is of a very questionable
character, and we should rather infer from the account there given that
the human personality, at all events, is lost by successive immersions
into "matter." The following passage from Plutarch (quoted by Madame
Blavatsky, "Isis Unveiled," vol. ii. p. 284) will at least demonstrate
the antiquity of notions which have recently been mistaken for fanciful
novelties. "Every soul hath some portion of nous, reason, a man cannot
be a man without it; but as much of each soul as is mixed with flesh
and appetite is changed, and through pain and pleasure becomes
irrational. Every soul doth not mix herself after one sort; some
plunge themselves into the body, and so in this life their whole frame
is corrupted by appetite and passion; others are mixed as to some part,
but the purer part still remains without the body. It is not drawn down
into the body, but it swims above, and touches the extremest part of the
man's head; it is like a cord to hold up and direct the subsiding part
of the soul, as long as it proves obedient and is not overcome by the
appetites of the flesh. The part that is plunged into the body is
called soul. But the incorruptible part is called the nous, and the
vulgar think it is within them, as they likewise imagine the image
reflected from a glass to be in that glass. But the more intelligent,
who know it to be without, call it a Daemon." And in the same learned
work ("Isis Unveiled ") we have two Christian authorities, Irenaeus and
Origen, cited for like distinction between spirit and soul in such a
manner as to show that the former must necessarily be regarded as
separable from the latter. In the distinction itself there is of course
no novelty for the most moderately well-informed. It is insisted upon
in many modern works, among which may be mentioned Heard's "Trichotomy
of Man" and Green's "Spiritual Philosophy"; the latter being an
exposition of Coleridge's opinion on this and cognate subjects. But the
difficulty of regarding the two principles as separable in fact as well
as in logic arises from the senses, if it is not the illusion of
personal identity. That we are particle, and that one part only is
immortal, the non-metaphysical mind rejects with the indignation which
is always encountered by a proposition that is at once distasteful and
unintelligible. Yet perhaps it is not a greater difficulty (if, indeed,
it is not the very same) than that hard saying which troubled Nicodemus,
and which has been the key-note of the mystical religious consciousness
ever since. This, however, is too extensive and deep a question to be
treated in this paper, which has for its object chiefly to call
attention to the distinctions introduced by ancient thought into the
conception of body as the instrument or "vehicle" of soul. That there
is a correspondence between the spiritual condition of man and the
medium of his objective activity every spiritualist will admit to be
probable, and it may well be that some light is thrown on future states
by the possibility or the manner of spirit communication with this one.
--C. C. Massey
The Nilgiri Sannyasis
I was told that Sannyasis were sometimes met with on a mountain called
Velly Mallai Hills, in the Coimbatore District, and trying to meet with
one, I determined to ascend this mountain. I traveled up its steep
sides and arrived at an opening, narrow and low, into which I crept on
all fours. Going up some twenty yards I reached a cave, into the
opening of which I thrust my head and shoulders. I could see into it
clearly, but felt a cold wind on my face, as if there was some opening
or crevice--so I looked carefully, but could see nothing. The room was
about twelve feet square. I did not go into it. I saw arranged round
its sides stones one cubit long, all placed upright. I was much
disappointed at there being no Sannyasi, and came back as I went,
pushing myself backwards as there was no room to turn. I was then told
Sannyasis had been met with in the dense sholas (thickets), and as my
work lay often in such places, I determined to prosecute my search, and
did so diligently, without, however, any success.
One day I contemplated a journey to Coimbatore on my own affairs, and
was walking up the road trying to make a bargain with a handy man whom I
desired to engage to carry me there; but as we could not come to terms,
I parted with him and turned into the Lovedale Road at 6 P.M. I had not
gone far when I met a man dressed like a Sannyasi, who stopped and spoke
to me. He observed a ring on my finger and asked me to give it to him.
I said he was welcome to it, but inquired what he would give me in
return, he said, "I don't care particularly about it; I would rather
have that flour and sugar in the bundle on your back." "I will give you
that with pleasure," I said, and took down my bundle and gave it to him.
"Half is enough for me," he said; but subsequently changing his mind
added, "now let me see what is in your bundle," pointing to my other
parcel. "I can't give you that." He said, "Why cannot you give me your
swami (family idol)?" I said, "It is my swami, I will not part with it;
rather take my life." On this he pressed me no more, but said, "Now you
had better go home." I said, "I will not leave you." "Oh you must," he
said, "you will die here of hunger." "Never mind," I said, "I can but
die once." "You have no clothes to protect you from the wind and rain;
you may meet with tigers," he said. "I don't care," I replied. "It is
given to man once to die. What does it signify how he dies?" When I
said this he took my hand and embraced me, and immediately I became
unconscious. When I returned to consciousness, I found myself with the
Sannyasi in a place new to me on a hill, near a large rock and with a
big shola near. I saw in the shola right in front of us, that there was
a pillar of fire, like a tree almost. I asked the Sannyasi what was
that like a high fire. "Oh," he said, "most likely a tree ignited by
some careless wood-cutters."
"No," I said, "it is not like any common fire--there is no smoke, nor
are there flames--and it's not lurid and red. I want to go and see it."
"No, you must not do so, you cannot go near that fire and escape alive."
"Come with me then," I begged. "No--I cannot," he said, "if you wish to
approach it, you must go alone and at your own risk; that tree is the
tree of knowledge and from it flows the milk of life: whoever drinks
this never hungers again." Thereupon I regarded the tree with awe.
I next observed five Sannyasis approaching. They came up and joined the
one with me, entered into talk, and finally pulled out a hookah and
began to smoke. They asked me if I could smoke. I said no. One of
them said to me, let us see the swami in your bundle (here gives a
description of the same). I said, "I cannot, I am not clean enough to
do so." "Why not perform your ablutions in yonder stream?" they said.
"If you sprinkle water on your forehead that will suffice." I went to
wash my hands and feet, and laved my head, and showed it to them. Next
they disappeared. "As it is very late, it is time you returned home,"
said my first friend. "No," I said, "now I have found you I will not
leave you." "No, no," he said, "you must go home. You cannot leave the
world yet; you are a father and a husband, and you must not neglect
your worldly duties. Follow the footsteps of your late respected uncle;
he did not neglect his worldly affairs, though he cared for the
interests of his soul; you must go, but I will meet you again when you
get your fortnightly holiday." On this he embraced me, and I again
became unconscious. When I returned to myself, I found myself at the
bottom of Col. Jones' Coffee Plantation above Coonor on a path. Here
the Sannyasi wished me farewell, and pointing to the high road below, he
said, "Now you will know your way home;" but I would not part from him.
I said, "All this will appear a dream to me unless you will fix a day
and promise to meet me here again." "I promise," he said. "No, promise
me by an oath on the head of my idol." Again he promised, and touched
the head of my idol. "Be here," he said, "this day fortnight." When
the day came I anxiously kept my engagement and went and sat on the
stone on the path. I waited a long time in vain. At last I said to
myself, "I am deceived, he is not coming, he has broken his oath"--and
with grief I made a poojah. Hardly had these thoughts passed my mind,
than lo! he stood beside me. "Ah, you doubt me," he said; "why this
grief." I fell at his feet and confessed I had doubted him and begged
his forgiveness. He forgave and comforted me, and told me to keep in my
good ways and he would always help me; and he told me and advised me
about all my private affairs without my telling him one word, and he
also gave me some medicines for a sick friend which I had promised to
ask for but had forgotten. This medicine was given to my friend and he
is perfectly well now.
A verbatim translation of a Settlement Officer's statement to
--E.H. Morgan
Witchcraft on the Nilgiris
Having lived many years (30) on the Nilgiris, employing the various
tribes of the Hills on my estates, and speaking their languages, I have
had many opportunities of observing their manners and customs and the
frequent practice of Demonology and Witchcraft among them. On the
slopes of the Nilgiris live several semi-wild people: 1st, the
"Curumbers," who frequently hire themselves out to neighbouring estates,
and are first-rate fellers of forest; 2nd, the "Tain" ("Honey
Curumbers"), who collect and live largely on honey and roots, and who do
not come into civilized parts; 3rd, the "Mulu" Curumbers, who are rare
on the slopes of the hills, but common in Wynaad lower down the plateau.
These use bows and arrows, are fond of hunting, and have frequently been
known to kill tigers, rushing in a body on their game and discharging
their arrows at a short distance. In their eagerness they frequently
fall victims to this animal; but they are supposed to possess a
controlling power over all wild animals, especially elephants and
tigers; and the natives declare they have the power of assuming the
forms of various beasts. Their aid is constantly invoked both by the
Curumbers first named, and by the natives generally, when wishing to be
revenged on an enemy.
Besides these varieties of Curumbers there are various other wild tribes
I do not now mention, as they are not concerned in what I have to
relate.
I had on my estate near Ootacamund a gang of young Badagas, some 30
young men, whom I had had in my service since they were children, and
who had become most useful handy fellows. From week to week I missed
one or another of them, and on inquiry was told they had been sick and
were dead!
One market-day I met the Moneghar of the village to which my gang
belonged and some of his men, returning home laden with their purchases.
The moment he saw me he stopped, and coming up to me, said, "Mother, I
am in great sorrow and trouble, tell me what I can do!" "Why, what is
wrong?" I asked. "All my young men are dying, and I cannot help them,
nor prevent it; they are under a spell of the wicked Curumbers who are
killing them, and I am powerless." "Pray explain," I said; "why do the
Curumbers behave in this way, and what do they do to your people?" "Oh,
Madam, they are vile extortioners, always asking for money; we have
given and given till we have no more to give. I told them we had no
more money and then they said,--All right--as you please; we shall see.
Surely as they say this, we know what will follow--at night when we are
all asleep, we wake up suddenly and see a Curumber standing in our
midst, in the middle of the room occupied by the young men." "Why do
you not close and bolt your doors securely?" I interrupted. "What is
the use of bolts and bars to them? they come through stone walls.... Our
doors were secure, but nothing can keep out a Curumber. He points his
finger at Mada, at Kurira, at Jogie--he utters no word, and as we look
at him he vanishes! In a few days these three young men sicken, a low
fever consumes them, their stomachs swell, they die. Eighteen young
men, the flower of my village, have died thus this year. These effects
always follow the visit of a Curumber at night." "Why not complain to
the Government?" I said. "Ah, no use, who will catch them?" "Then give
them the 200 rupees they ask this once on a solemn promise that they
exact no more" "I suppose we must find the money somewhere," he said,
turning sorrowfully away.
A Mr. K---is the owner of a coffee estate near this, and like many
other planters employs Burghers. On one occasion he went down the
slopes of the hills after bison and other large game, taking some seven
or eight Burghers with him as gun carriers (besides other things
necessary in jungle-walking--axes to clear the way, knives and ropes,
&c.). He found and severely wounded a fine elephant with tusks.
Wishing to secure these, he proposed following up his quarry, but could
not induce his Burghers to go deeper and further into the forests; they
feared to meet the "Mula Curumbers" who lived thereabouts. For long he
argued in vain, at last by dint of threats and promises he induced them
to proceed, and as they met no one, their fears were allayed and they
grew bolder, when suddenly coming on the elephant lying dead (oh, horror
to them!), the beast was surrounded by a party of Mulu Curumbers busily
engaged in cutting out the tusks, one of which they had already
disengaged! The affrighted Burghers fell back, and nothing Mr. K---
could do or say would induce them to approach the elephant, which the
Curumbers stoutly declared was theirs. They had killed him they said.
They had very likely met him staggering under his wound and had finished
him off. Mr. K---was not likely to give up his game in this fashion.
So walking threateningly to the Curumbers he compelled them to retire,
and called to his Burghers at the same time. The Curumbers only said,
"Just you DARE to touch that elephant," and retired. Mr. K---thereupon
cut out the remaining tusk himself, and slinging both on a pole with no
little trouble, made his men carry them. He took all the blame on
himself, showed them that they did not touch them, and finally declared
he would stay there all night rather than lose the tusks. The idea of a
night near the Mulu Curumbers was too much for the fears of the
Burghers, and they finally took up the pole and tusks and walked home.
From that day those men, all but one who probably carried the gun,
sickened, walked about like spectres, doomed, pale and ghastly, and
before the month was out all were dead men, with the one exception!
A few months ago, at the village of Ebanaud, a few miles from this, a
fearful tragedy was enacted. The Moneghar or headman's child was sick
unto death. This, following on several recent deaths, was attributed to
the evil influences of a village of Curumbers hard by. The Burghers
determined on the destruction of every soul of them. They procured the
assistance of a Toda, as they invariably do on such occasions, as
without one the Curumbers are supposed to be invulnerable. They
proceeded to the Curumber village at night and set their huts on fire,
and as the miserable inmates attempted to escape, flung them back into
the flames or knocked them down with clubs. In the confusion one old
woman escaped unobserved into the adjacent bushes. Next morning she
gave notice to the authorities, and identified seven Burghers, among
whom was the Moneghar or headman, and one Toda. As the murderers of her
people they were all brought to trial in the Courts here,--except the
headman, who died before he could be brought in--and were all sentenced
and duly executed, that is, three Burghers and the Toda, who were proved
principals in the murders.
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