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  Chapter XX ♦ The Cycle of Regeneration  · · ·  II ♦ The Work of Schools      Page 132  

Little as we know about schools of regeneration, one aspect of their work cannot be omitted.

We said that their object must be to help a few suitable men to create conscious souls. From one point of view, the success or even partial success of this work would mean that such pupils would acquire many new powers as compared with ordinary men. For example, we described them as becoming aware of their own nature, and of their true relation to the surrounding universe. From this they would begin to understand what they could do, and what they could not do. They would thus be enabled to concentrate all their force on possible objectives, and would be spared the ordinary man's expenditure of great labour and effort on impossible tasks which by the laws of nature can never be accomplished.

Thus all ordinary men spend a vast amount of physical and emotional energy in an endeavour to alter the people about them. They are always requiring their friends, enemies, partners or acquaintances to behave otherwise than their type dictates. They require intellectual people to respect their feelings, emotional people to accept their theories; they require slow types to be quick, impatient types to be patient, gypsies to be diligent, and warriors to be mild. This is all fruitless endeavour.

One of the first things a man who becomes more conscious of himself and his surroundings will learn is that he cannot alter anybody: he can only alter his own point of view. And paradoxically, this understanding, if it really penetrates into him, immediately endows him with quite new powers and quite new freedom. By virtue of it he is at an immense advantage in the world. All his forces are liberated for the attainment of what he really can achieve.

This refers to the subjective acquisition of new powers through being freed from certain common illusions. But beyond this, increased consciousness may also bring objective powers, connected with the working of a new function through a hitherto unused nervous system, as discussed in earlier chapters. Such a power is true telepathy, that is, the power of placing definite thoughts in the minds of others, at will. The question of these objective or true powers does not fall within the scope of the present book. We can only say that their development is possible, and must form part of the work of all true schools.

We have seen how even the elimination of certain illusions gives a man an enormous advantage. The moment he ceases to think that he can alter others, and begins to realize that each man's weakness can be absolutely relied on, one of two questions may arise in him — either, how can he take personal advantage of his new knowledge of others? or, how can he help them? And the very fact that he now sees more clearly, means that he can do either with far greater success than before.

Which of these questions arises is a fundamental test of the man's being. Moreover the two possibilities make clear to us a very essential distinction, which must be clearly understood. Powers have nothing to do with being.

We already saw that lucky gnats are not necessarily better gnats. In the same way, a strong man is not necessarily a good man. These two qualities are incommensurable, because the first refers to powers and the second to being. Thus a strong man may either use his strength to labour for others, or to force others to labour for him, or again he may be too lazy to use his power at all. These three courses refer to different states of being.

Exactly the same problem arises in a very much more acute form in connection with the acquisition of new powers through increased consciousness. For although a strong man may meet a stronger man in any town he comes to, a more conscious man may travel very far through the world without meeting anyone else in a similar position. He may thus appear for some time to be free from force majeure. At the same time, his new powers may be such that, from the point of view of humanity as a whole, they simply cannot be permitted in unprepared men. Imagine, for instance, the terrible effects of the power of telepathy — that is, of being able deliberately to place thoughts in other people's minds — if exercised by a cruel or fearful man, or even by a man still subject to ordinary curiosity, ambition or malice.

It is for these reasons that in all genuine schools work for increased consciousness must be exactly paralleled by work for the improvement and purification of being. This work is chiefly concerned with the way a man regards himself. And for some people it may be the most difficult part of school-work to understand and bear.

At the same time this precautionary work on being is only necessary for a certain while. It is very important during the period when a man already understands more than he can understand in ordinary life, but does not yet understand enough to see the full implications of his new knowledge. During this time, school discipline may appear to be very strict and harsh; for it is now that the learner may destroy both himself and others through partial knowledge. Later when he understands enough, that is, when he sees all the principles involved, and the inevitable results of misuse of new powers, certain wrong courses will become quite impossible for him. Thus the chief danger is that he stops on the way of development, or rests content with a slight improvement in consciousness. And this in turn may be expressed as a failure in being.

Now it becomes possible to see better what is and what is not altered by the cycle of regeneration ruled by the planet Neptune. In favourable periods of this cycle, such as those already mentioned, the acquisition of new powers connected with increase of consciousness may become slightly easier. The problem of being, on the other hand, always remains exactly the same, and work on being is never easier or more difficult than at any other time.

Moreover, while increase in consciousness may be only possible with the help of schools of regeneration, the problem of improvement of being is one that faces all men everywhere by the very fact of their birth into the world. It provides a test for every living individual, and unless this test is successfully passed, the question of schools and their possibilities does not even arise.

  Chapter XX ♦ The Cycle of Regeneration  · · ·  II ♦ The Work of Schools, ii      Page 133  

Earlier on, we referred to the idea that on the way of true development, something old must die in a man, and something new must be barn in him. Now we can discuss this idea further, for in fact all the work of schools is connected with one or other of these processes, and with these alone.

Thus although the secondary aim of a school may be to spread a true understanding of natural laws and of man's nature and possibilities among large numbers, its primary aim in relation to those more intimately attached to it, must be first, to help them destroy their old personalities, and second, to help them acquire conscious souls. And obviously, all those submitting to school discipline must — as far as they personally are concerned — fully understand and concur in both these aims.

It is very necessary to realize that these are two separate processes, not necessarily following one from another. In a very general way, what has been described about the improvement of being may be said to refer to the first process, while direct work for the development of new powers leads towards the second. In any case, quite different school methods and exercises are involved in the two processes, though they may and should go on together. If they do not, it may happen that the old personality is destroyed without a soul being acquired, resulting in some form of possession by another or in insanity. Or it may happen that a soul is acquired without the old personality being destroyed, in which case the latter, with all its weaknesses, cruelties, lusts and ambitions, becomes permanent and is endowed with extraordinary powers of carrying out its irrational impulses. Fortunately, both these cases are very rare, though they may exist as tendencies to be corrected within a general work of development.

The most exoteric work of a school is thus the spread of understanding. This side of its work may affect hundreds or even thousands of people.

The next part of the work of a school is the gradual breaking down of the old personality among its more intimate pupils. This work also may touch in stronger or weaker degree quite a large number. And in an individual the process may go on for years, or even for all that remains of a lifetime.

This process may be compared with the drying-out of nuts in preparation for shelling. When a walnut, for example, is green, it is impossible to remove the shell without seriously damaging the kernel. Shell and kernel then form an inseparable whole. After a suitable drying-out process, however, the shell becomes brittle and separated from the kernel, at which stage a comparatively light tap will split it, revealing the kernel in its perfection.

All those entering a school from the outside may be regarded as 'green': while those who honestly expose themselves to school influence, after a certain number of years begin to approach the state when essence and old personality have become loosened from each other, and a comparatively light blow is sufficient to separate them. This loosening of personality from essence is one of the chief purposes of school discipline. Different methods, ranging from violent reproof to an example of complete humility, may be used by the teacher, according to his nature, to produce the same result.

While this effect is being produced in the pupil by school influence, his own inner work is that of self-purification. Put in another way, this means that he strives to eliminate from his organism everything that he does not want to keep permanently. Such things will include disharmonious physical states and bodily sickness: harmful emotions and uncontrollable attachments and longings: malicious, fearful and self-centred thoughts. Physical purification is not absolutely essential, but if it is ignored, the suffering of the learner at a later stage is greatly increased, and a tremendous strain is put upon his will in order to overcome physical inertia and pain. One of the effects of physical purification is to eliminate .unnecessary suffering.

During this period of preparation, the pupil has also to learn how to make himself do difficult things and how to carry out certain painful or repetitive exercises, which will later be necessary to fix a certain state in him. He should not carry them too far at this stage, because he does not want to fix anything. At the same time, he must master them so that they will be quite familiar at the moment when he needs to use them intensively.

All this preparation leads to the point where it is time for the old personality to die or to be killed. This death depends upon many things and it may come about in many ways. It may be the deed of a teacher, either gradual or in one terrible assault. It may perhaps be induced by some overwhelming pressure from life, which the pupil has voluntarily accepted or invoked. Hardship and sacrifice, spread over many years of preparation, may have reduced personality to a powerless wraith. Pain, prison, starvation, torture, abandonment or ruin — swallowed and not rebelled against — may equally destroy it. As in the analogy of the nut, if desiccation is complete, any blow can split the shell which will fall away of its own accord.

What is left has no position, no money, no family, no acquaintances, no ambition, no power of acting for itself. Many of these things may return to the pupil later in a different way. But at this moment — whether in school, in prison, or on the battlefield he finds himself without anything and without any past. It is as though his body were placed naked on a desert island where it had no previous connections of any kind. For a little while he is as a new born child.

Quite separate from the death of the old personality, though it may take place at the same time, is the conception of a conscious soul in him. This process appears to be analogous to the conception of a physical body. The essence of the pupil plays as it were the female part, and into this a seed from the source of consciousness must be set.

  Chapter XX ♦ The Cycle of Regeneration  · · ·  II ♦ The Work of Schools, iii      Page 134  

These two processes — the killing of the old personality and the planting of a soul — may perhaps be better understood from the analogy of the grafting of a cutting of a cultivated fruit-tree on to the stock of a wild one. First the wild tree is cut down to the ground, leaving only its roots and bole intact. One or two incisions are then made in the bole, and into these are set cuttings from the cultivated tree. Soon sap begins to flow from the wild root into the cutting, and in time a new tree grows, bearing the desired fruit, but fed by the strength and roots of the old tree.

Once the soul has 'taken' in the pupil's essence, the time comes for all to be fixed. And once again, this fixing may appear voluntary or involuntary — it may be a trial deliberately sought, or an unavoidable one borne with understanding.

Perhaps the pupil feels in himself an irresistible call to go away alone, in conditions of special difficulty, without food or drink. Maybe he has received some great ecstasy or enlightenment, and something tells him that that for which he has not paid he cannot hope to keep. Or perhaps a man, not even knowing himself a pupil but come to this same point by another way, is struck down by an agonizing illness which he must summon all his strength to bear.

Alone in his retreat or alone with his agony, he is thrown upon his own resources. Suggestions may be conveyed to him by his teacher, if he has one, by inspiration if he has not. But the way he carries them out, the methods he uses, and the conclusions he comes to, all derive from his own essence.

Now he has to put into practice as intensively as he can all that he previously learned. In general, pain and repetition are fixative agents, and the exercises or experiences of which we speak use one or other or both principles to fix the soul in him and to set in it certain general attitudes, beliefs and principles. Nor does it matter if this pain arise from the fakir's holding up his arm, the explorer's defiance of heat and cold, the stricken man's wound or illness. The repetition may equally consist in a Russian pilgrim's endless repeating of a prayer, a prisoner's endless enduring of his routine. What is important is the attitude which accompanies them. For these experiences may indeed fix permanently in a man a certain attitude towards God, towards his fellow-men, towards his duty. And if they are sufficiently intense, such attitudes will remain with him for the rest of his life.

It is at this time that the effect of preparation and purification is seen. For not only the general attitudes aroused in him by the situation and his suffering will become fixed, but also any casual thoughts, longings, regrets, fears and ambitions still left over from his personality. For example, his anticipation of what he most desires to do when he emerges, he is freed, or he recovers will become set in him as a permanent tendency. If during the fixing experience, he thus finds arising in him regrets, longings or imaginations apart from the understanding he wishes to fix, he must seriously consider whether he is willing to live with such thoughts or feelings for the rest of his life. This idea will give him strength to keep his mind one-pointed.

At this time the value of physical purification also appears. If this has been neglected, abstinence and fixation may involve much suffering. It is true that if the pupil is strong enough, the overcoming of this suffering will give him enormous emotional energy. On the other hand it may prove too great a distraction, and leave him marked with certain fears that he is unable to set aside. But if physical purification has been carried some way in advance, this time of fixing need not to be too difficult. The hardship will not be what it seems to be. In any case, there will be nothing beyond his power to bear.

At the same time, men are right in their natural aversion from the pain and hardship which cause crystallisation, and in their efforts to avoid them. For who is yet ready to have all that he finds within him fixed? And even if he is, let him remember that fixing without understanding is like baking without yeast — something almost impossible of later correction.

For during fixation is set the future course of the man's life and work. All his natural capacities, his acquired interests, everything that he has really learned and mastered, his own understanding, even his own true pleasures contribute to this. All this must come together and combine with the general attitudes and beliefs which he is fixing to show his line of work in the future, and perhaps even some of the external events and stages which will be connected with it.

When his trial is over, the pupil should know without question and permanently what he is, what he believes, and what he must do. It does not mean that these ideas become fixed in a narrow way; it means that certain basic ideals and attitudes are established in him which he can never go back on, and upon which his understanding may grow infinitely in the future.

The four processes which have been described — the loosening of the personality and preliminary purification, the death of personality; the implanting of a soul; and the fixing of this soul and the attitudes and understanding characteristic of it — may be more simply represented by the figure of preparing and dyeing wool. First, the wool must be washed and cleaned, the impurities and fats removed. This corresponds to preparation and purification. Second, it must be bleached. This corresponds to the killing of the old nature. Third, it must be dyed to the required colour. This corresponds to the implanting of a soul. Fourth, the dye must be fixed. This corresponds to the period of trial. When all these processes are complete, the wool is ready to be woven into some material and to receive upon it designs or embroideries according to the requirements of a higher intelligence.

As far as we know at present, the destruction of the old personality and the imparting of conscious souls constitute the whole work of schools.

  Chapter XX ♦ The Cycle of Regeneration  · · ·  III ♦ School as a Cosmos      Page 135  

That which distinguishes a true school of regeneration from all other kinds of human society is the fact that it endeavours to simulate and, in successful cases, actually creates a cosmos.

The reason for this is clear. As we have seen, a cosmos and only a cosmos contains all six cosmic processes, including that of regeneration. In order to become regenerate, a man must participate in the process of regeneration in a higher cosmos. But this process, in naturally existing cosmoses, such as the Earth or the World of Nature, is far too slow from the point of view of individual man. With a lifetime of 80 years, it does not help him much to participate in regeneration on the scale of tens or even hundreds of thousands of years. There is only one way out. An artificial cosmos must be created, which will exhibit the same processes and permit the same possibilities — but very much faster. This work is the work of a school.

Little by little the different aspects of a cosmos have been revealed — its circle of life developing logarithmically in time; its informing triangle at the points of which three kinds of 'food' or inspiration from higher cosmoses enter and sustain it; the inner circulation which unites its different functions. All these motions cross and recross, and at their points of crossing definite phenomena are created — 'batteries' or 'organs' which are alternately charged and discharged according to the motions which pass through them. At one certain crossing within the cosmos, regeneration — that is, the escape of an individual 'cell' from a lower to a higher circulation — is possible.

All this must be perfectly known and understood by the leaders of schools. They must understand not only the whole plan of a cosmos, but also the inner meaning of all its motions and parts in the world of men. And they must organize a kind of living ritual, lasting decades or centuries, and in which tens, hundreds or even thousands of men actually perform the movements required of them. If we think of the games of living chess that were sometimes played at the time of the Renaissance, and if we imagine them carried out, not in a single stadium on a particular day, but all over the world for scores of years, and if we further imagine the human pieces actually changing their very being and nature when moved from one square to another, then we shall have a faint idea of what is meant.82

One of the studies traditionally connected with esoteric work is that of acting and the theatre. There are many aspects of this. As he observes himself in a new way, that is, from the point of view of consciousness, the student very early begins to realize that everything happens to him. Whereas before it seemed to him that he was arranging his life, either well or badly, now he sees that his life happens to him, his behaviour happens to him, his friends happen to him, his quarrels and loves all happen to him. His life and everybody else's life seem full of involuntary reaction, unconscious and unwished for conduct which happens to people, just as the colour of their eyes or the shape of their nose happens to them.

At this stage the idea of 'acting' becomes connected with conscious intentional conduct as opposed to conduct that happens. 'Acting' means behaving in a way that one has decided in advance for a reason one has decided in advance. It means deliberately choosing and expressing one feeling out of many contradictory ones that may arise. It means deliberately holding some positive posture in order not to fall into a familiar but unconscious one. Indeed, as the student soon sees, intentional 'acting' in this sense means 'acting' what one wants to become — 'acting' as though one were responsible, in spite of irresponsible impulses, 'acting' from sincere feelings which one's mechanical impulse is to hide, and so on.

Yet though what the pupil may learn from such experiments is unlimited, he is not the chief reason for them. They are the first preparations for a great drama, which somewhere and at some time — will have to be performed. This drama represents the perfection of a cosmos.

Now it is clear why all ordinary societies for the moral or cultural improvement of men, all ordinary religious practices and philosophical methods, differ from true schools of regeneration. Men in ordinary life know nothing about the constitution of a cosmos, or that such a thing exists, and even if they were to be shown its theoretical plan, they could never see its detailed application in the realm of human psychology, or persuade all the different types required to move with understanding, each to his own goal. This is only possible to a man who has reached a completely different level of consciousness, a level of consciousness in which he can actually see the working of cosmoses in the world around him. In fact, a true or complete school can only be initiated by a man of conscious spirit.


82 This idea is touched upon in the author's 'The Theory of Eternal Life', chapter 12, and in a sketch 'The Christian Mystery'.

  Chapter XX ♦ The Cycle of Regeneration  · · ·  III ♦ School as a Cosmos, ii      Page 136  

One of the most difficult things to understand about the working of the cosmos of school is the nature of the informing triangle which connects it with higher cosmoses and endows it with all possibilities. The first point of this triangle, the beginning and the end, the place in ordinary man where the first impulse originates and where the final process of regeneration culminates, we may call 'higher school'. This means school on a higher level than the one being created, school where the regeneration of higher beings than ordinary man is being conducted. From higher school must derive the necessary plan, the necessary knowledge, and the necessary force, in their abstract form.

The second point of the triangle, where breath enters in man, is the visible 'teacher', who appears in the world, gathers men round him, and breathes the 'breath of life' into principles too abstract for them otherwise to understand. At this point stand Christ, Buddha and in higher or lower degree, all the great teachers of humanity.

It is the third point of the triangle which is most difficult for the logical mind to understand. This is the point where perceptions of light enter man, and as a result the possibility of understanding as well as feeling begins. Here lies 'the knowledge of good and evil'. And one of its strangest aspects is that this point also implies disagreement, division, hostility. By blood and breath men understand each other, on a certain level. By perceptions and the different interpretation which each type places upon them men misunderstand each other. The contrast between the peacefulness of primitive 'instinctive' man, and the quarrelsomeness of civilized 'mental' man shows very well the conflicting nature of these two successive stages. Thereafter men can understand each other again only on a very much higher level, when a new function begins to awaken.

In school this point 6 is the mechanism by which instinctive 'belief' must be broken, in order to make possible a higher 'understanding'. All normal men, confronted by a Christ, believe. But how can they be made to understand his work? To achieve this, an artificial opposition or hostility must be created. As when a match is struck, intense friction is necessary in order to produce light. The school thus has to oppose its own fast expression. This is the 'second shock'.

A very interesting hint of this role is expressed in the New Testament by the figure of Saint Paul, who begins by 'persecuting' the first Christians, and later 'persecutes' Christ's own teaching, giving his inner precepts an exterior and organizational form which at once both distorts them and makes them accessible. The implied struggle between Plato and Socrates, or their Sufi counterparts Jellal-edin Rumi and Shems-edin, suggests the same thing. The first teacher is too far from ordinary men, who can love him but cannot understand him. A mediator must also be provided by school who will explain the teacher to the world, who will throw light on him. This mediator will lay the foundations of an organization. And to those who knew and loved the first teacher, it will seem that he is destroying the latter's work.

If we wish, then, to put names to the three sides of the triangle, we can call the first side 'Outflow from Higher School', the second 'Struggle with Resistance' or 'Persecution', and the third 'Return to Higher School'. This triangle will then represent the three aspects of direct communication with the original impulse.

The circle, as in all other cosmoses we have studied, will represent the 'life' of the school in the world, its development in time. Thus the first third, or gestation, will represent the hidden appearance of the ideas of the school in the world, the first few years of the teacher's intimate instruction of his own circle. Then at a certain point, where the circle touches the triangle again, the teacher will throw off his disguise, and appear openly as the representative of higher school. He will seem 'transfigured'.

Figure 15:  School as CosmosFrom this moment, his own group will 'know', doubt will no longer be possible for them. But simultaneously with this, some violent opposition will suddenly arise, both from the outside world and from another aspect of the school. The period of 'persecution' will begin. And precisely the fire of this persecution will wring out of the teacher's influence all the meaning, all the understanding, all the implications, on great and small scales, which it contains. Such a struggle, as we see from the logarithmic scale, may continue for several generations.

At the same time, this necessary tension also implies danger for the school experiment. Precisely here may criminality enter and spoil all. The greater the tension between two aspects of school the higher the possible understanding and achievement. But suddenly this tension may prove too much for the being of those concerned, and the whole mechanism fuse.

An interesting example is found in the great twelfth century flowering. For a while, tension between the more masculine monastic expression of esotericism in northern France and the more feminine and sensuous expression of the Catharists in the Midi produces a richness and completeness in mediaeval culture which has rarely been equalled. The tension mounts: then quite suddenly connects with tides of political rivalry and personal violence which have been lying in abeyance. With appalling cruelty, one pole of the tension is wiped out by the Albigensian Crusade — a crime from which the mediaeval experiment never quite recovers.

  Chapter XX ♦ The Cycle of Regeneration  · · ·  III ♦ School as a Cosmos, iii      Page 137  
Figure 15:  School as Cosmos

We said that the cosmos of school, like every other cosmos, must contain all six processes. It must thus contain crime. Only this crime is not produced by it. It is the crime always and inevitably existing in the world and hearts of men. A certain definite amount of this crime, it is the task of every school experiment to take in and neutralize. Just as for a man, the highest possibility depends upon him taking in and neutralizing pain and corruption within himself.

Inner school knows that the process of crime is neutralized, not by opposition or the process of destruction, as is usually believed, but only by the quite different process of regeneration. As long as this secret knowledge is in control, the experiment triumphs. But sooner or later, someone connected with the school falls into temptation. Patience gives out — and he meets crime, not with regeneration, but first with destruction and then with other crime. In this way, a part of the experiment must always fail. The proportion between this failure and this triumph is the great unknown, the cosmic gamble in every school experiment.

At a second point, however, where the circle again touches the triangle, the figure who has come to personify 'persecution' will also throw off his disguise, will also appear openly as the representative of higher school, will also seem 'transfigured'. Thereafter, the work of the two figures will become fused, the inner and outer forms will be reconciled, and a single 'church' or 'tradition' will stand created. The third third of the circle, developing ever more slowly through many centuries and ever more widely among men, will represent the influence and work of this 'church', this 'tradition'. Until at last the form of this particular school comes to an end, and its experience and achievement is recalled into the higher school from which it sprang.

We now see that the cosmos of a school follows the same time-scale as the cosmos of a civilization. And we at last understand that they are in fact one and the same, since it is only the hidden presence of a school which makes a civilization really self-evolving and thus really a cosmos. 'Civilization' indicates the outer form, 'school' the inner meaning.

From this we also see what 'favourable periods' mean — they mean periods near the points where the informing triangle of influence from higher school actually touches the circle of time. And simultaneously we see that no points are in reality more favourable than others, for the possibility of change for individual man lies not along the circle of time at all, but along the figure of inner circulation which crosses time in all directions, and begins at every point.

The meaning of this figure of internal circulation in relation to school has already been touched on in the chapter on 'Human Psychology'. As in humanity, the 'functions' of school are symbolized by the different types of men, and this circulation thus becomes a conscious speeding up of the interchange between types and a conscious development of balanced 'super-types'. In this aspect, as in its total work, the school represents a controlled experiment, aimed at enormously increasing the general process of regeneration of the universe, within definite limits and conditions.

Thus the figure of circulation must never be regarded as a continuous movement on one level. In school it is a rising or spiral movement, each change being not only to a different type but to that type on a higher level than the one abandoned, accompanied with greater understanding, greater consciousness, and greater perception of the whole.

Unlike the figure of the circle, this motion does not proceed in time, but is a 'flow' composed of the movement of all men of all types who come under the influence of the particular school in all ages. Nevertheless, it will be necessary for the teacher to establish the form of the movement by choosing among his disciples representatives of the six distinct types and helping them to accomplish, each for himself, an actual movement to the next stage. The change from the belligerent, impatient Simon Peter who strikes off the soldier's ear in the Garden of Gethsemane to the wise, understanding, all-embracing, 'jovial' Peter of the Acts of the Apostles is an example of such a 'move'.

It will be noticed that the path of this inner circulation makes many 'crossings' — it crosses itself, twice outside and once inside the triangle; and it crosses the triangle itself, twelve times. Each of these crossings has a definite meaning. In the cosmos of man's body, as has been said, its crossings of the triangle are represented by certain 'batteries', or organs which store the energy of consciousness in a very concentrated form and both collect it from and feed it into the bloodstream. The crossings outside the triangle represent certain fixed forms, like hair or bones, which although an integral part of the organism, do not include the possibility of consciousness available to the rest. The crossing inside the triangle, as explained in the chapter on 'Human Psychology', represents the point where radiance and invisibility coincide, where two different nervous systems cross, and thus where individual cells can finally 'escape' or become regenerate.

In the 'performance' of this figure arranged by the leader of the school, not only have the individual movements of types to be achieved, but corresponding phenomena have to be produced at the crossings. At the twelve crossroads with the triangle definite 'monuments' or 'memorials' have to be created, from which for ever after all men concerned with the school will be able to draw different kinds of inspiration, each according to his type, and which will serve as signposts showing each how he must proceed.

These twelve 'batteries' are symbolized in the drama of Christ by the twelve apostles, who establish a series of permanent ideals, to one of which each particular man at the particular point in his movement can aspire or make appeal. Gradually, these 'batteries' are supplemented by concrete expressions of the work of the school in lasting form — on the outgoing side of the triangle by the four Gospels, on the lower side by conflicting 'creeds' and 'dogmas', on the returning side by great cathedrals, rituals and works of art.

In some cases, the creation of a necessary 'battery' will be through the instrumentality of a particular individual chosen by the leader, as a condition, so to speak, of his move. It will, at a certain point, be his 'task' — like Saint John's Gospel or Saint Peter's establishment of apostolic succession. As time goes on, further expressions will continue to be added to each of the different batteries — as various 'orders', 'reformations' and even 'heresies' continued to be added to the Christian tradition.

These twelve batteries thus represent the devices by which the flow of individual types, continuing through the ages, can both feed and draw upon the original creative impulse deriving from higher school.

The crossings outside the triangle manifest in school in a very curious way. They are represented by the fixed bodies of opinion, which have accumulated round one or another external aspect of school, who spend all their time defending this particular aspect, attacking all other aspects, and who have become completely dissociated from the informing triangle which alone gives meaning to the whole. These are they whom Paul pictures declaiming: "I am of Paul; and I of Apollos; and I of Cephas, and I of Christ" — those for whom the group is more important than the work. And in later times they become, on the one hand, 'primitive Christians' who ridicule all forms of ritual and church as hypocritical, and on the other 'professional ecclesiastics', concerned only with perpetuating a particular dogma or a particular organization. Among these two fixed bodies, outside the triangle, there can never be either understanding or consciousness, and the best that can be said for them is that, like the skeleton, they serve to give form and rigidity to the whole.

About the crossing within the triangle little can be said, save that, for all individuals who come in contact with the school in all its ages, this point represents the point of escape, death and rebirth, the actual possibility of regeneration. In the presence of this point, and the actual penetration of the possibilities contained in it, the whole purpose of the school resides.

Thus we see the tremendous trace of school in the past. But the world goes on, principles remain the same. Schools as great exist and must be created, in the present or the future, wherever man shall be found.

  Chapter XXI ♦ Man in Eternity  · · ·  I ♦ Death      Page 138  

In the logarithmic scale of man's life, we came level with the ninth milestone, and then stopped. The ninth milestone is death. In the circle the ninth milestone is also zero or the beginning, conception. Death and conception are one. This is the mystery of love and death. At every milestone a more intense energy entered. At the first milestone the energy for digestion, at the second for motion, at the fourth the energy for building the body, at the fifth the energy for thought, at the seventh the energy for passionate action, at the eighth the energy for sex, creation and self-mastery.

At the ninth an energy of such intensity enters that for ordinary man it is absolute and final, as fire is absolute and final for a piece of wood. His individuality completely vanishes in it. He is destroyed, and it appears to him as death.

But there exists the possibility that this energy, which comes to ordinary man only to destroy him, for other beings could have quite a different meaning. The energy of the candle-flame exists for a moth only to destroy it, but the flame enables man to see. It is too strong for the moth, but this very strength gives man a new perception.

The energy of death is the energy which unites all things, merges all things in one, just as all wooden objects put into a fire are united in the same heat and the same ash. Ordinary man has not enough consciousness to withstand this energy, so he cannot know what such unification means.

What does he know about death? All that we can ordinarily describe are purely physical signs — the immediate cessation of breathing and heartbeat, the gradual loss of bodily heat in 15 or 20 hours, the wave of rigidity which slowly passes from the jaw to the feet and disappears in the same way, and the onset of putrefaction in two or three days.

All this only tells us of the disappearance of an individual body out of the line of historical time. It tells us nothing about what happens to the essence of the man, to his individuality. Nor does it tell us what happens to his consciousness, if he has acquired any. And it throws no light on what unification in death could mean.

Where does a man's essence go at death? What is the mystery of death and conception being one? No ordinary knowledge, no ordinary experience, and certainly no ordinary 'spiritualism' give us any hint at all.

Yet we have found a clue to death. From our scale of times, we can establish that with each breath a man takes, the molecules in his body 'die' and are replaced by new. With each breath, he possesses a quite new molecular body. And in a barely perceptible pulse of attention, 'himself' — all he knows, understands, remembers, all his habits, likes, dislikes, all that he calls 'I' — has fallen asleep and woken again to find everything as before.

Similarly each night, while 'he' sleeps, the cells of his body die and are replaced by new. In the morning he possesses a new cellular body. Yet when he wakes his new body has the exact form, constitution and health of the old, and into it awakes exactly the same self as inhabited the other.

In this way man is continually dying and continually being reborn. Yet himself, his individuality, remains the same. For those parts which die are recreated as they were before. Only an infinitesimal change, sufficient after tens of thousands of repetitions to produce the difference between youth and old age, occurs with each rebirth.

  Chapter XXI ♦ Man in Eternity  · · ·  I ♦ Death, ii      Page 139  

What causes this continuity? It is the relation of cosmoses, and the relation of dimensions. The time of the cell is made up, not of generations of molecules, but of their recurrence, that is, of their fifth dimension. The time of man is made up, not of generations of cells, but of their recurrence, their eternity.

With every breath, man's molecular body dies and is reborn. He falls asleep for a moment. And in that moment each molecule recurs, is reborn the same. Reborn to the identical point in the identical cell it occupied before, at the identical instant of its death, of identical material, and inheriting all the effects it previously produced upon its surroundings — it cannot be other than the same. If it were not so, the cell could not continue.

With every night, man's cellular body dies and is reborn. He falls asleep. In that sleep each cell recurs, is reborn the same. Reborn to the identical point in the human body it occupied before, at the identical instant of its death, of identical material, and inheriting all the effects it previously produced upon its surroundings — it cannot be other than the same. If it were not so, the human body could not continue.

With every life, man's human body dies and is reborn. He falls asleep. In that sleep this body recurs, is reborn the same. Reborn to the identical point in the world of mankind it occupied before, at the identical instant of its death, of identical material, and inheriting all the effects it previously produced upon its surroundings — it cannot be other than the same. If it were not so, mankind could not continue.

We have let the analogy run its course. What is the meaning of this strange and terrible result? It can only mean that each ending life leaves a residue of effects — upon nature, environment, other men and women — which become the automatic causes of a life to come. The impress left by this body's deeds is the exact mould of the next body's form. This impress is the trace of man's being. The trace is the image of its cause, and the cause of its next image. Being and its effects are one.

In the moment of death, the pattern of these effects, transformed by this cosmic lightning into a single sign, is struck through time upon the waiting embryo. This is the secret of what happens to man's essence at death. It causes the same body to be born again, in the same place, of the same parents, at the same time.

Such a possibility cannot belong to ordinary time, that is, to man's fourth dimension. It can only belong to his fifth dimension, his recurrence, his eternity.

Death and conception are one in eternity. Each man's life lies in time, but the sum of his lives lies in eternity. The point at which one life joins the next is the point at which time joins eternity. At that point the effects of his life pass out of one time into another time. What was creates what will be. And all that man calls 'himself must fall asleep to wake again to the same body, the same surroundings, the same problems that he left before — unaware that it was ever otherwise.

Because we cannot penetrate directly to lower worlds, we do not guess what blinding disintegration, explosion and ecstatic fusion the oxygen of our breath brings to the molecules of blood. But for ourselves we realize that this shock which separates the end of one life from the beginning of the next, which severs essence from the corpse and launches it back into the seed, is the most tremendous which a human being is called upon to face. In fact, it is too strong for ordinary man, who has no choice but to forget and fall asleep.

Earlier we compared birth and the end of childhood to the two critical points at which steam changed to water and water to ice. The moment of death and conception could then be likened to a point at which, in a single flash, the ice passed back through all the other stages, split into oxygen and hydrogen, and in the same instant condensed as steam again. But to split the molecule into its separate atoms, and bring these atoms together again, not only heat, but an intense electric shock would be required. The energy of death appears to have some similar effect on the whole being of man, splitting it into its component parts of body, essence, personality and life, and in the same moment rejoining that which survives in a different way.

The instant at which all the unfulfilled causes set up in the past life are torn from the corpse by death is the same terrible instant of impregnation when the genes or signature of the body that will be rush together into their new pattern. This is that.

The old body decays and returns to earth. The magnetic field that was its life flies to the moon. Personality, a reflection in any case, vanishes with the object which reflected it. And essence, now a quintessence of accumulated causes, passes instantaneously across time to launch the body of another life.

But ordinary man has no conscious soul to accompany it. So he cannot know what death is, nor the unification of death. Causes pass from one life to another, unaccompanied by consciousness. If man had a conscious soul, then death would have a different meaning for him.

  Chapter XXI ♦ Man in Eternity  · · ·  II ♦ Recurrence      Page 140  

Man usually pictures his journey to the end of time as the Middle Ages pictured a journey to the end of the world. It was believed, the Earth being flat, that at a certain point one must come to the edge and fall off forever into the unknown. Only when a brave man held a single course and, after great hardships and strange adventures, sailed back to the same scenes from which he had set out, did they learn that the Earth was round and his course a circle.

Now we learn that time too is round, and that our voyage through it must bring us inexorably to the same years we left behind. This is difficult and dangerous knowledge. When men learned the Earth was round, their sense of the known widened, but their sense of the unknown weakened. This is the temptation of new knowledge. The known, however strange, can never be more than zero to the infinite unknown. Only with this saving sense can men use strong ideas.

For instance, we said that the effects of one life become the causes of the next. The same causes give rise to the same effects, and the same effects to the same causes again. This is recurrence. But now we can add that one of the very few different effects that can work directly in man's life is that produced by his attitude towards new knowledge.

To prepare ourselves to think about recurrence it becomes very necessary to understand that the incidents and events which happen to us in a continuous stream from birth to death arise in very different ways. The causes of these events lie at different distances from us, so to speak. And it is important for us, in relation to any given incident, to begin to recognize how near or how far back the cause lies.

For instance, there is one class of events whose cause lies in the incident itself, lies in the present. I am walking along the street in a normal way. Quite suddenly a man rushes out of a shop, collides with me, pushing me into the gutter, and disappears in the crowd. I never see the man again, and the incident closes there. Such events, which are led up to by nothing in the past, and whose cause lies within the moment itself, we call accidents.

Another class of events which happen to us are the result of a general tendency or a series of accumulated causes in the past. Every day I drive my car along a certain road faster than the speed limit. For thirty-five days nothing happens. On the thirty-sixth I am arrested and fined. This arrest cannot be said to be caused only by the actual drive on which it occurred: it is clearly the result of all thirty-six offences put together, for if it had not happened on that day it would certainly have done so a few days later. Such events, the results of a typical and continued tendency, and whose causes lie in time, are similar to what in the east is called 'karma'. They are the product of temporal cause and effect.

For a third class of events, although they are obviously of the deepest and most intimate importance to a man, no cause can be found within his present life. I am born in a certain year on a certain day, at a certain place, and of certain parents. Quite evidently nothing I have done or could do in this life can affect this, for it all happened before I began to create causes. As far as I am concerned, such events are my fate, and we may perhaps say that their causes must lie, not in time, but in recurrence or eternity, that is, in some previous life or lives.

Theoretically, a fourth class of events is also possible for a man. In this case, the cause lies neither in the present, nor in the past, nor even in recurrence. And only if we begin to understand the almost inescapable hold which his fate has over every side of a man's life, shall we realise that from his point of view such events will be miracles.

In this way it becomes clear that if a man wants to study the possibility of recurrence personally, he has particularly to study his own fate, and to begin to distinguish the kind of events which belong to this fate.

Now if one life is a recurrence of that which went before, what we thought of as the circle of human life is in fact a spiral. The destiny or totality of a human being now appears not as a circle existing in time, the long body of a man, but as a spiral existing in eternity, the coiled sequence of his long bodies. His greater form repeats the spiral of the moon's motion about the Earth, the Earth's motion about the Sun, the Sun's motion about the galactic centre. One life coils out of the last, past the insulator of death, as one day coils out of the last past the insulator of sleep.

This is the eternal recurrence which Ouspensky penetrated, and of which Nietzsche wrote: "Desire to live again, for that will be your lot in any case." The circle of one life lies parallel to the circle of that before and the circle of that after, forming as it were a repeated image of it in every detail. The day of a man's birth in this life lies next to the day of his birth in the last life and in the next, the day of his marriage lies next to those other days of his marriage then; the day of his death is paralleled by the days of all his other deaths. And every sight, sound and motion that filled those days before must fill them again, and again.

When a man first hears this idea, he asks: "How can I know? Why cannot I remember?" In the ordinary way he cannot know, and cannot remember. He cannot remember other lives for the same reason that he cannot remember most of his present one — because he is not conscious of his existence in it.

His form of perception, as we saw much earlier, is a faintly warm or aware spot, passing slowly forward always in the same direction — not only round the circle of life, but round and round the spiral of many lives. Its warmth or awareness is barely enough to affect the 'present' of seconds or minutes and to extend even more hazily over days and weeks. Further than this, before and behind the moving spot, is cold and unremembered save for a few bright moments, for the most part irrelevant and unconnected.

  Chapter XXI ♦ Man in Eternity  · · ·  II ♦ Recurrence, ii      Page 141  

In the chapter on 'Human Psychology' we studied what must be the significance of consciousness and memory in relation to the circle of life; how moments of increased consciousness were like points of suddenly intensified heat, which must transmit impulses forward towards the receding moment of perception which it reaches as memory. This ordinary memory corresponds to the phenomenon of conduction of heat along the wire of life.

How could one conceive memory of another life becoming possible? It goes without saying that the greater the consciousness, the further along the line of time will memory penetrate. But when consciousness rises beyond a certain intensity — or when the heated point rises above a certain temperature a quite new possibility enters. We will suppose the successive spirals in our model not actually touching, but separated by a small space. Thus a point in the fifteenth year will lie exactly below but slightly separated from the similar point in the next recurrence.

Should now this point in the fifteenth year become, say, white-hot, it will begin to heat the corresponding points in the spirals above and below — but this time by radiation. The transmission of heat by radiation is under quite different laws from its transmission by conduction, and for this a very much greater heat will of course be necessary. Nevertheless, in this way we can conceive a moment of consciousness so intense that memory is created in another life.

In fact, there is a faculty in us which knows our fate, that is, which preserves memory from previous recurrences. Examples are infinite, though of course they must remain unproven till the event. Stendhal wrote to his most intimate friend: "I consider there is nothing ridiculous about dying in the street, provided one does not do it on purpose." Almost exactly a year later he did die in the street — presumably not on purpose.

Such a faculty has nothing whatever to do with ordinary negative imagination, and indeed appears only to work in its absence or in those who have definitely sacrificed negative imagination concerning themselves, as Stendhal shows that he has in the same letter. "I did not ask the doctor the name of this illness," he wrote, "in order not to put gloomy thoughts into my head". Thus the faculty of knowing one's fate can perhaps only unfold in them who already have a certain impartiality towards it. Memory awakens in those who have found a conviction which will enable them to look beyond memory.

In any case, we may say that increase of consciousness in man's present life must mean increase of consciousness in all directions, that is, not only into the past and future of time, but also into the past and future of eternity.

Having come to an image of the many lives of man in the spiral of recurrence, we can try to represent to ourselves the connection of different individuals in recurrence. Let us suppose that a husband in the prime of life and his wife, a girl, conceive a child. We have in one life three circles 'intersecting, one at the eighth milestone, one at the seventh, and the third, that of their offspring, at the ninth. This relationship will always be fixed for men on ordinary levels, and it is inconceivable that the relative ages of husband, wife and child should change, however many lives one could imagine. Since this day of their conjunction will be the same for each, it must also be the same for all together.

In recurrence we shall have three interwoven spirals, which all cross at the same relative point on each spiral. From this construction it is seen that the lives of all individuals are equal and complete, no matter if the husband live to 100, the wife to 50, and their child only to 10. As soon as we approach recurrence, we leave behind altogether the measurement of time by years, which as we already saw in the decelerating scale of one life-cycle, has only a relative meaning even there.

But we must also remember that this intersection of different life-spirals is only one way of looking at it. For individuals meet also on different levels of energy — by purely physical contact, by community of thought, by sensuality and physical attraction, and by the highest love, reverence or pure sex. Still more important, all these reactions may be blindly undergone, or consciously experienced. Perhaps this can change, and if it could, then everything would both appear the same and yet be utterly different.

As we have seen, recurrence is simply one way of realising the fifth dimension. Seen in this way, the fifth dimension looks like an infinite reliving of the fourth dimension, which is man's known life. But can we be aware of this fifth dimension in other ways?

The fourth dimension is measured by the extension of time from conception to death, by days, months and years as a line without thickness. But we know very well that our sensation of these days and moments is not always as a line without thickness. Whole days do indeed pass with complete 'flatness'. But then comes an instant when time seems suddenly to expand sideways. The moment has a strange intensity, or depth, and this intensity is connected with unknown vistas opening up at right angles to the path of time, on either side of time, so to speak. An hour which yesterday was a duration between high walls which revealed nothing and suggested nothing is today the same duration, but through an immense landscape, stretching to distant mountains and under a huge expanse of sky. This variation in the intensity or depth of the moment must be another way of perceiving the fifth dimension.

And again, we have to recognise that this intensity depends precisely on our degree of consciousness, that increasing consciousness alone brings the means of penetrating into the fifth dimension: that the man, woman and child are connected together not only by age and by functions, but beyond all this, transcending and transmuting these limitations, by their degree of consciousness.

If we now try to represent the interconnection not of three, but of the hundreds of different lives which touch each individual between birth and death, and their interconnection not at one moment but at recurring moments or continuous periods, we shall reach an unimaginable figure of recurrences.

It is unimaginable, because again the dimension has changed. For it is clear that if we extend this interconnection of spirals to include all men existing on earth, there is produced a figure so intricate that it is in fact a solid. The total of all the recurrence-spirals of all human beings produces the solid of humanity, in the same way that the recurrence of all cells produces the solid of a man.

Of this solid we can even have a certain vague apprehension. It will be, as it were, a sort of solid tapestry, composed of billions of threads, which in spite of their inconceivably elaborate weaving, appear all to lie in the same direction which is eternity. We can even suppose each of these threads to have a different nature or colour, according to the level of energy which dominates its totality of lives. And we might find that in large areas or periods of humanity, a certain nature or colour dominates the whole design — the red of purely physical existence, the yellow of intellectual activity, or the green of moving skill and sensation.

Remembering the existence of men with conscious souls, and with conscious spirits, we shall also suppose threads of a different materiality which stand out from the fabric in a quite exceptional way, which impart life to the rest, and about which the whole design of the solid body of humanity is formed.

For those threads are threads only in our metaphor. In fact they are alive and their total mass is alive. They are the cells and capillaries and nerves of a body, the Adam Kadmon of the Kabala, Mankind.

  Chapter XXI ♦ Man in Eternity  · · ·  III ♦ Beyond Recurrence      Page 142  

A man's life, his extension in the plane of history, so to speak, constitutes his own 'time', and in the ordinary way he can know nothing outside this time by direct experience. This is his fourth dimension.

The idea of an eternal recurrence of this life, an infinite repetition of the same historical duration, introduces us to a second dimension of time, that is, to man's fifth dimension.

Theoretically, such a dimension implies an absolutely exact and inexorable re-enactment of life in every detail, like the image of a face reflected backwards and forwards between two mirrors. For if we suppose that anything — even the smallest word or gesture — could be different in a repeated life, then we immediately posit still another dimension, as the smallest deviation in a straight line immediately implies a plane, or as even a minute change of expression in one of the reflected images would mean a miracle.

If we suppose that in another life a man could hear something he did not hear before, meet someone he did not meet before, or visit some place he did not know before, then we have to admit the possibility of movement — however slight — in a third dimension of time, that is, in man's sixth dimension. As we saw in the second chapter, the sixth dimension of any cosmos is that in which all its possibilities are realised. And if even one new possibility is realised that was not realised before, this already means the beginning of movement in the sixth dimension.

Thus the first principle to be realized is that of repetition, that is, that the same habits and tendencies must recreate the same circumstances and situations over and over again, in a hundred lives as surely as they do in one, and each time more inevitably than before. But the second principle that must be equally understood is that nothing can remain the same for ever, and that exactly by sheer weight of repetition things must eventually change. A vehicle which moves over the same lines sufficiently often, must sooner or later either wear out its tracks and come to a standstill, or acquire a new method of progression and rise in the air. The very principle of repetition itself implies that things must become better or worse, that is, they must eventually move in the sixth dimension.

We have then to admit that the idea of a recurrence of lives — though absolutely necessary — is very incomplete. Beyond this must exist for a man a dimension in which all is possible. And it is in this dimension that must be placed the possibilities of heaven and hell, of illumination and damnation, and all the other conceptions of completely new states, unrealized before, which have occupied men's minds since the beginning of thought. If such concepts correspond to any reality at all, that reality must exist in the sixth dimension.

The great mistake that men have made is to suppose change before they even guess the terrible and tremendous truth of recurrence, that is, to try to imagine the sixth dimension without the fifth. This fundamental error has vitiated all ordinary ideas of heaven and hell, and made men think of such states as mere extensions of their physical conditions and their personal lives. It is as impossible to think of omnipotence, omnipresence and immortality, qualities of the sixth dimension, without understanding the impotence, insignificance and inevitability of man's fate in the fifth dimension, as it is to think of the fullness of a sphere without first understanding the flatness of a plane.

Moreover, only deep realization of all the horror and futility of an eternal repetition of ordinary life can generate in man sufficient emotional force to undertake the tremendous task of penetrating consciously into that unknown and unimaginable dimension which lies beyond.

How is such penetration possible? Where do we touch this dimension of all possibilities? Since the beginning of time men have known intuitively that it is at the moment of death. No man in whom conscience is still alive has to be told that here he comes to the threshold of completely new and inconceivable states. The very impossibility of imagining himself or his perceptions or feelings without the physical body which houses and gives rise to them is proof of it. And traditionally man has always attributed to this unknown state both the most magnificent and the most terrible fates which lay within his power to imagine. In other words, he placed there new possibilities, incommensurable with all his experience in this present life.

Yet we already reached the conclusion that the moment of death and conception is one, and at that instant man passes into the beginning of a new life which is no more than a simultaneous repetition of the old. If this is so, then his movement at death is in the fifth dimension, the dimension of eternal recurrence. Where then is our gate to the sixth dimension? What has become of heaven and hell?

  Chapter XXI ♦ Man in Eternity  · · ·  III ♦ Beyond Recurrence, ii      Page 143  

A strange idea now comes to us in connection with the logarithmic scale of life, which we turned back upon itself to form a circle. That scale had no beginning. Like all logarithmic scales, it began not at zero but at one. And at earlier stages on it, beyond one, must lie one-tenth, one-hundredth, one-thousandth, to infinity. In other words, the same scale must have continued from somewhere else, outside the circle of physical life, and thus even outside the spiral of its repetition.

Returning towards birth and beyond towards conception, we found each unit of time filled with more compressed experience, more intensity of growth. At conception the speed of processes was no longer measurable by the time of organic bodies, but by the time of a single cell, which in an earlier chapter we saw to be many thousands of times faster than the time of adult man. Faster than this, processes are too explosive for cellular structure.

The circle thus represents the limit of man's existence in cellular form, the duration of his organic or physical body. In this sense, death marks his exit from the world of cellular matter, and conception his entrance into it. From one point of view the door of his entrance is but the other side of the door of his exit. But is there after all another door at the same threshold? And where could it lead?

The answer can only be, into a faster state of matter. If the logarithmic scale continues to recede at ever-increasing speed towards its unknown source, then we have to imagine, even before conception, individuality attached, not to cellular matter, but to matter in molecular or, beyond that again, in electronic state. We have to imagine the signature of man, his pattern or fundamental nature, impressed first upon a vehicle resembling air, and second upon a vehicle resembling light. That is to say, we have to imagine the individuality of man attached to a soul without a body, and even to spirit without a soul.83

Admittedly we cannot imagine any such thing. Our ideas and imagination, conditioned by the perceptions of the physical sense-organs, are not subtle enough for this task. For in the ordinary way, all our functions — even those that deal in very fine, rare and pervasive matter — are so securely locked into the physical organism, that all their perceptions are received and interpreted in terms of our cellular matter, and its pleasure, pain or well-being. Only in special conditions, such as long fasting or the rare air of very high mountains, do the different functions become a little loosened one from another, and we begin to catch a glimpse of what some of them might mean if freed from their heavy ballast of flesh and its attendant processes of digestion.

What, for example, would the function of logical thought be like, without a material body checking results in the material world? What would be the meaning of emotional function, apart from a cellular body, or sex function apart from the possibility of physical union? What indeed — since all bodies must be made on the same pattern would be the nature of the seven functions of a molecular body, or the seven functions of an electronic one? What would be the anatomy and psychology of the soul, or of the spirit?

Certainly, we have very little material for such speculation. Yet preparation for states after death or states before birth exactly implies such a task in intentional imagination. And if we attempt it we do dimly begin to understand that were human individuality attached to molecular or electronic bodies, such bodies would enjoy all kinds of powers, properties and possibilities, which from the point of view of cellular bodies are inconceivable and miraculous.

Molecular bodies, like gases, could embrace and pervade other bodies, could take any form; would be undecaying and indestructible. At their speed a whole lifetime of experience could be contained in a few weeks. Electronic bodies could travel with the speed of light, like light occupy vast tracts of space simultaneously, like radio-waves produce objective phenomena at a distance without visible means, and above all they would participate in that state where all matter in the Solar System is of the same nature and interchangeable. At electronic speed a human lifetime of experience would be compassed not by years, months or days, but within minutes.

We can then conceive, beyond man's circle of life in the cellular world, another and incommensurable circle of life in the molecular world, and yet another and again incommensurable circle of life in the electronic world; each complete in itself, each leading into the others, and all touching at one point — the simultaneous moment of death and conception, where all is foreordained yet all is possible.

At the beginning we saw how the spatial measures of man's body could represent time or fourth dimension for the cell, eternity or fifth dimension for the molecule, and absolute or sixth dimension for the electron. Now we perceive that the reverse is also true. The disintegration of this cellular body of man into the molecular world at death represents his advent into eternity or recurrence; while the disintegration of his molecular body into the electronic world would mean his entrance into the sixth dimension, his merging with an absolute.

This principle — of successive existence in different states of matter — we must accept as a completely mechanical feature of the universe. In it there is nothing moral, nothing desirable or undesirable, nothing dependent in the least degree on individual merit or defect. For the great masses of ordinary men such transition, if it is a fact, is no more significant than the change of a given quantum of energy from coal and heat to mechanical motion and electricity. And were the signature of such men released at death into the electronic world, this need be no different from the release of millions of tunes and words into this same world by radio at every hour of the day and night.

Figure 16: The Scheme of the Universe

Death and transformation are man's unchosen and unchangeable fate. All that he can choose and change is consciousness. But to change this is to change all. For now at last we begin to discern the one immense difference between men on Earth. Their common possession of a physical body, with a head, two arms, and two legs, may in this world tempt us to discount the difference between conscious and unconscious man. In the sense that food goes in and words come out from both their mouths, Christ and the criminal are equal. It is only the disintegration of this deceptive body, and the passage of what remains into Other states of matter, that reveals to us the vast gulf between sleeping man and him who has created a permanent and indestructible principle of consciousness.

The one is a mechanical impulse endlessly reproducing itself, the other a human spirit inheriting all possibilities and tasks which the universe contains. And the great work is to build a bridge between them, which either shall pass across. For how otherwise shall creation become conscious of its origin, and all its infinite promise be fulfilled?


83 This argument is continued further in 'The Theory of Eternal Life.'

  Appendices ♦ 1 - 14        Page 144  
  Appendix One     The Logical and Super-Logical Minds in Scientific Illumination  (see Introduction)

(a) Sir Arthur Eddington on the limitations of the logical mind:

"Let us suppose that an ichthyologist is exploring the life of the ocean. He casts a net into the water and brings up a fishy assortment. Surveying his catch he proceeds in the usual manner of a scientist to systematise what it reveals. He arrives at two generalisations.

  1. No sea-creature is less than two inches long.
  2. All sea-creatures have gills.

"These are both true of his catch, and he assumes tentatively that they will remain true however often he repeats it.

"In applying this analogy, the catch stands for the body of knowledge which constitutes physical science, and the net for the sensory and intellectual equipment which we use in obtaining it. The casting of the net corresponds to observation: for knowledge which has not been or could not be obtained by observation is not admitted into physical science.

"An onlooker may object that the first generalisation is wrong. 'There are plenty of sea-creatures under two inches long, only your net is not adapted to catch them.' The ichthyologist dismisses the objection contemptuously, 'Anything uncatchable by net is ipso facto outside the scope of ichthyological knowledge, and is not part of the kingdom of fishes which has been defined as the theme of ichthyological knowledge. In other words, what my net can't catch isn't fish!' Or — to translate the analogy — 'If you are not simply guessing, you are claiming a knowledge of the physical universe discovered in some other way than by the methods of physical science and admittedly unverifiable by such methods. You are a metaphysician! Bah!'

". . .When the ichthyologist rejected the onlooker's suggestion of an objective kingdom of fishes as too metaphysical, and explained that his purpose was to discover laws (i. e. generalisations) which were true for catchable fish, I expect the onlooker went away muttering: "I bet he does not get very far with his ichthyology of catchable fish. I wonder what his theory of the reproduction of catchable fish will be like. It is all very well to dismiss baby fishes as metaphysical speculation; but they seem to me to come into the problem.'"

"The Philosophy of Physical Science." (pp. 16 -17, 62)

(b) The German chemist, Kekulé, and the discovery of the idea of the benzene ring:

"But it did not go well (the writing of his chemical text-book); my spirit was occupied with other things. I turned the chair to the fireplace and sank into half-sleep. The atoms flitted before my eyes. Long rows variously, closely unite; all in movement; wriggling and turning like snakes. And see, what was that? One of the snakes seized its own tail and the image whirled scornfully before my eyes. As though from a flash of lightning I awoke. I occupied the rest of the night in working out the consequences of the hypothesis . . . Let us learn to dream, gentlemen."

Quoted: "The Art of Scientific Investigation", W. L. W. Beveridge, p .66

(c) The mathematician, Gauss, on the solving of an arithmetical theorem:

"Finally, two days ago, I succeeded, not on account of my painful efforts, but by the grace of God. Like a sudden flash of lightning, the riddle happened to be solved. I myself cannot say what was the conducting thread which connected what I previously knew with what made my success possible."

Quoted: "Man is a Microcosm", J. A. V. Butler, p. 147.

(d) The French mathematician, H. Poincaré, on the solution of the problem of fuchsian functions:

"Just at this time, I left Caen, where I was living, to go on a geologic course under the auspices of the School of Mines. The incidents of the travel made me forget my mathematical work. Having reached Coutances, we entered an omnibus to go to some place or other At the moment when I put my foot on the step, the idea came to me without anything in my former thoughts seeming to have paved the way for it, that the transformations I had used were identical with those of non-Euclidean geometry. I did not verify this idea; I should not have had time, as, upon taking my seat in the omnibus, I went on with a conversation already commenced -but I felt a perfect certainty. On my return to Caen, for conscience's sake, I verified the result at my leisure."

H. Poincare: "The Foundations of Science."

(e) The astronomer Kepler on the discovery of his third law:

"What I prophesied twenty-two years ago, as soon as I discovered the five solids among the heavenly orbits . . . what sixteen years ago I urged as a thing to be sought, that for which I settled in Prague, for which I have devoted the best part of my life to astronomical contemplations, at length I have brought to light, and have recognised its truth beyond my most sanguine expectations. Not indeed in the manner which I imagined (that is not the least part of my delight), but in another very different yet most perfect and excellent way. It is now eighteen months since I got the first glimpse of light, three months since the dawn, very few days since the unveiled sun — most marvellous to gaze on — burst upon me ... If you forgive me, I rejoice: If you are angry I can bear it. The die is cast, the book is written. It may well wait a century for a reader, as God has waited six thousand years for an observer."

Kepler: "Harmonicis Mundi", Book V.

(f) Francis Bacon on the discovery of laws:

"Men are rather beholden generally to chance, or anything else, than to logic, for the invention of arts and sciences ... The present system of logic rather assists in confirming and rendering inveterate the errors founded on vulgar notions, than in searching after truth, and is therefore more hurtful than useful."

Quoted: "The Art of Scientific Investigation", W. L. W. Beveridge, p. 81.


Schiller on the discovery of laws:

"It is not too much to say that the more deference men of science have paid to logic, the worse it has been for the scientific value of their reasoning . . . Fortunately for the world, however, the great men of science have usually been kept in salutary ignorance of the logical tradition."

Quoted: ibid, p. 82.


Max Planck on the discovery of laws:

"Again and again the imaginary plan on which one attempts to build up order breaks down and then we must try another. Imaginative vision and faith in ultimate success are indispensable. The pure rationalist has no place here."

Quoted: ibid, p. 55.


Albert Einstein on the discovery of laws:

"There is no logical way to the discovery of these elemental laws. There is only the way of intuition, which is helped by a feeling for the order lying behind appearance."

Quoted: ibid, p. 56.

(g) A modern commentator on scientific method:

"There are, I believe, two different levels of 'simplicity', and between them there is a region of 'complexity'.

There is the lower kind of simplicity which we find when we isolate one fragment of Nature from the rest, and ignore all awkward facts that refuse to fit into the scheme which applies to the fragment.

There is, or there well may be, a higher kind of simplicity, where we have recognised the fundamental structure of Nature as a whole, and have seen how the structure of special regions of Nature is just a special case of these fundamental relations.

But, in order to pass from the lower to the higher kind of simplicity, we must traverse an intermediate stage of confusion and complexity, in which we confront the lower simplicity with awkward facts which it has ignored

. . . The final stage, that of finding the simple plan on which all this complexity is constructed, can only be accomplished by men who combine the insight of the genius with technical mathematical ability of the higher order

. . . We still await the man who will show us in detail how the world of physics and the world of sensible appearance are united into the one whole of Nature."

C. D. Broad: "Scientific Thought", p. 547.

(a) Sir Arthur Eddington
    ■ on the limitations of the logical mind:

(b) The German chemist, Kekulé,
    ■ and the discovery of the idea
       of the benzene ring:

(c) The mathematician, Gauss,
    ■ on the solving of an arithmetical
       theorem:

(d) The French mathematician, H. Poincaré,
    ■ on the solution of the problem
       of fuchsian functions:

(e) The astronomer Kepler
    ■ on the discovery of his third law:

(f) Francis Bacon
    ■ on the discovery of laws:

(g) A modern commentator
    ■ on scientific method:

  Appendix Two      Table of Times and Cosmoses  (see Chapter 2)
   Cosmos
Moment of
Recognition     
Breath
Minute
Hour
Day
Week
Month
Year
Lifetime
   Electron
 -  -  -   -   -  -  -  - 1/1500 s.
   Molecule
   × 28,000
 -  -  -   - 1/1500 s. 1/200 s. 1/50 s ¼ s. 18 sec. 
   Blood-Cell
   × 4,800
- 1/1500 s. 1/90 sec. ⅔ s. 18 sec.  1¾ min.  7 mim.  1½ hr.  6 days 
   Man
   × 28,000
1/30 sec. 3 sec. 1 min. 1 hr. 1 day  7 days  29 days  1 year  76 y. 
   Nature
   × 365
¼ hour 1 day 18 days 3¼ y. 76 y.  537 y.  2150 y. 25,800 y.  2¼ mn. y.
   Earth
   × 7,800
3½ days 1 year 18 years 1075 y. 25,800 y.  187,000 y.     750,000 y.     9½ mn. y.     750 mn. y.   
   Sun
   × 100,000          
75 years 7000 y. 135,000 y. 8 mn. y.     200 mn. y.      -   -   -  5.612 y.
   Milky Way 7½ mm. y. 700 mn. y.     13,500 mn. y.      -  -   -   -   -  5.617 y. 
  Appendix Three     The Theory of Octaves  (see Chapter 6)

Extracts from 'Grand Memento Encyclopedique Larousse', Paris 1937.

"The seven sounds in the order: do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, do, serve as basis of musical or tonal progression in the whole of music. The range of sounds produced by voice or musical instruments ... is represented by linking several times over the seven notes of this musical progression . . . The sequence of sounds is called ascending when the development is from below upward, and descending when the development is from above downwards ....

"The steps of this progression are unequally separated from each other. They are separated either by a semitone or by a tone. The semitone is the smallest distance between two following steps: there is a semitone between mi and fa, si and do. The tone is the largest distance between two following steps: there is a tone between do and re, re and mi fa and sol, sol and la, la and si."  ♦ II, p. 938.

"To determine the frequency of all the sounds constituting an harmonic scale (octave) it suffices to fix the frequency of one of them. . . These sounds, ranged by increasing sharpness and separated by the simple intervals of an harmonic scale, bear the names of 'notes'':

Names of notes:    do    re     mi     fa     sol     la   si    do
Intervals of the notes in relation to do:   1 9/8 5/4 4/3 3/2 5/3  15/8    2

"The eighth note, at the octave of the tonic or first note, has a frequency double that of the tonic: it bears the same name and serves as starting point, that is, tonic, for a new scale, whose notes bear similar names to those of the preceding octave and are respectively separated by an octave from the similarly-named notes of that octave."  ♦ II, p. 413, para. 588.

  Appendix Four     Planetary Tables  (see Chapters 3 and 6)
  (a) The Solar System as Transformer
        
— comparative theoretical tensions of planetary coils.
 
  Planet
Coils in 84 years
Volts  
Amperes
  
  Neptune    .5 1 10,000    
  Uranus 1 2 5,000    
  Saturn     2.75    5.5 1,820    
  Jupiter  7 14 770    
  Mars    43.5 87 115    
  Earth 84 168 60    
  Venus  137.5 275 36    
  Mercury    343.5 687 14.5    
  (b) The Solar System as Transformer
       — tensions theoretically corrected for cross-sectional area and conductivity.
  Planet
Section
million
squ. kil.
Metal
Conductivity*
Section ×
Conductivity
S × C ×
equalizing
factor (6.6)
Amperes   
(see (a))   
  Neptune  2.14 Silver 60 128.4 8474 10,000   
  Uranus   1.86 Gold 41   76.2 5029 5,000   
  Saturn  11.43 Antimony    2.5   28.6 1888 1,820   
  Jupiter  15.95 Bismuth      .77   12.3   812 770   
  Mars     .03 Copper 56     1.7   112 115   
  Earth     .13 Iron    7.2      .9    59 60   
  Venus     .12 Strontium  4      .5    33 36   
  Mercury      .02 Brass  9      .2    13 14.5  

  * Reciprocals of resistance factor: "Tables of Physical and Chemical Constants" Kaye and Laby. p. 85.  
  (c) Distance of Planets from the Earth — (millions of kilometres)
  Planet Minimum Distance Maximum Distance     Coefficient of variation
  Neptune 4,350   4,660     1 : 1.07
  Uranus  2,880   3,160     1 : 1.1
  Saturn  1,180   1,650     1 : 1.4
  Jupiter  585   966     1 : 1.7
  Mars  45   401     1 : 8.9
  Venus  28   260     1 : 6.8
  Mercury  78   222     1 : 2.8
  (d) Planets' Speed in Relation to the Earth  
  Planet
Orbital Speed
(kils. per second)
Maximum
Angle
Maximum Speed
in relation to Earth
(kils. per second)
  Neptune 5.3     2.5   .16     
  Uranus  6.5    4     .24  
  Saturn  9.6    6     .52  
  Jupiter  13      11     1.6   
  Mars  30      40     13.3   
  Venus  36      90     36     
  Mercury  48      90     48     
  (e) Estimated Strength of Magnetic Fields of the Planets in the Earth's Atmosphere
        (Mass × orbital speed × reciprocal of the square of the distance)
 
  Sun 62,000 amps.*       
  Moon (at equinoxes) 5,300 amps.*      
 
Maximum amps. 

 Minimum amps. 
 
  Jupiter  1,300      500       
  Venus  1,200     50      
  Mars  125     3      
  Saturn   75     8      
  Mercury  40     5      
  Uranus  1.3   1      
  Neptune .5   .5    

  * Sydney Chapman: "The Earth's Magnetism."
 

(a) The Solar System as Transformer
 ■ comparative theoretical tensions
    of planetary coils.

(b) The Solar System as Transformer
 ■ tensions theoretically corrected for
    cross-sectional area and conductivity.

(c) Distance of Planets from the Earth
    (millions of kilometres)

(d) Planets' Speed in Relation to the Earth

(e) Estimated Strength of Magnetic Fields
  of the Planets in the Earth's Atmosphere

  Appendix Five     Table of the Elementsappendix five
  Appendix Six     Table of Human Functions  (see Chapter 10)
  
  Note   

Planet

Gland

Function

System
Category  
of Energy   

  Speed
  Key
Element
   Deriving
     from
  
  do

Sun

Thymus

Growth

?

VIII
3 mm per day-
1 cm per hour

?
}
 
 








  
  re

Moon

Pancreas
Digestion,
assimilation of food

Lymphatic

VII
1 cm per hour-
1 m per hour

?
  
  mi

Mercury

Thyroid
Respiration,
combustion of air

Pulmonary

VI
1 m per hour-
1 cm per sec.
24 Cr
30 Zn
 
  

Venus
Para-
thyroids
Blood-circulation,
tissue-building
Arterial and
Connective tissue

V
3 cm per sec.-
3 m per sec.

20 Ca
}
 
 








  
  fa

Mars

Adrenals     
Exterior motion,
fight and flight
Cerebro-spinal and
voluntary muscle

IV
3 m per sec.-
300 m per sec.

19 K
  
  sol

Jupiter
Posterior
Pituitary
Inner reflexes,
physical sensation

Sympathetic and
involuntary muscle

III
300 m per sec.-
30 km per sec.

11 Na
  
  la

Saturn
Anterior
Pituitary
Mind and reason,
bone structure
Cerebral cortex
and skeletal

II
30 km per sec.-
3000 km per sec.

9 F(?)
}
 
 








  
  si

Uranus

Gonads
Reproduction,
creation, higher emotion   

Genital, Vagus

I
3000 km per sec.-
300,000 km per sec.

1 H
  do Neptune      Pineal ? ? 0 300,000 km per sec.-    
  Appendix Seven     Table of Organic Compounds  (see Chapters 7 and 12)

The molecular weights of certain organic and inorganic substances in relation to a scale of descending octaves.

  do    
  — narcotics: agents of magic
  si certain vitamins:   agents of reproduction (regeneration)  
  la certain poisons: anaesthetic agents (degeneration)
  sol    amino-acids: agents of growth
  fa dyes: agents of colour (destruction)
  — narcotics: agents of magic
  mi natural drugs: agents of healing
  re sugars: agents of digestion

appendix seven

  Appendix Eight     The Cycle of Civilizations  (see Chapter 16)
(do) Greek Civilization
       (BC 590 - AD 187)

  Incubation   

590 BC Solon archon of Athens: his reforms, code of laws, poetry.

640-562 Thales of Miletos: science and cosmology.

580 Code of Pittakos at Mytilene.

  Development   

ca 570 Francois vase.

561-527 The Golden Age of Pisistratus.

ca 535 First Tragic Festival at Athens.

ca 550 Anaximander of Miletos: technical instruments; founds colony of Apollonia.

ca 530 Pythagoras: foundation of Pythagorean colony at Croton.

530-480 Doric temples at Paestum, Agrigento, Selinunte.

ca 510 Organization of free peasant class in Athens.

ca 510 Heracleitos of Ephesos: 'Concerning the Universe'.

ca 510 End of archaic sculpture: beginning of Ionic style.

  Maturity   

494-479 Medic Wars: Marathon, Thermopylae, Salamis: fortification of Athens
            and building of the Piraeus.

ca 490-460 fl. Aeschylus.

ca 470-410 Sophocles.

ca 450-405 Euripides.

468-457 Temple of Zeus at Olympia.

447-438 The Parthenon, Phidias.

470-399 Socrates.

427-348 Plato.

ca 440 Age of Pericles: colonization in Southern Italy, Sicily, Black Sea.

ca 400 Beginning of Corinthian style.

ca 385-322 Aristotle, teacher of Alexander the Great.

323 Maximum diffusion of Greek culture under Alexander.

283 Ptolemy Soter develops Alexandria as Greek city.

146 Greece falls under Roman domination.

260 AD Greece overrun by the Goths.

(re) Roman Civilization
       (BC 312 - AD 465)

  Incubation   

312-304 BC End of Samnite War: Roman rule over Campania and Apulia.

312 Appius Claudius censor: opening of the Appian Way to Capua, first Roman road: earliest aqueduct.

322 Stoic school at Athens under Zeno.

306 school of Epicurus at Samos: formative influences of Roman culture.

  Development   

280-275 Pyrrhic War: unification of Italy.

264-241 First Punic War: conquest of Sicily.

ca 300-240 Development of military machine, the legion.

284-204 Livius Andronicus: translator of Greek classics.

  Maturity   

219-201 Second Punic War; conquest of Spain.

ca 220-190 fl. Plautus, ca 160 Terence.

ca 200 Introduction of Oriental religions to Rome.

168 Conquest of Macedonia, 146 Greece and Tunisia, 133 Asia Minor.

146 Destruction of Carthage.

87 All Italians made Roman citizens.

74-63 Conquest of Syria and Palestine by Pompey: 58-51 of Gaul by Caesar.

70-13 Cicero, 71-19 Virgil, 59-17 AD Livy, 2-66 AD Seneca.

31 BC Conquest of Egypt.

29 BC-14 AD Augustan Age: rebuilding of Rome: Pax Romana.

41-54 AD Conquest of Britain: the senate opened to Gauls.

ca 100 Maximum expansion of Roman Empire under Trajan.

100-300 Provincial Emperors from Spain, Illyria, Syria.

211 Roman citizenship made universal.

270-300 Revolts in Gaul, Africa, Greece, Syria, Egypt.

410 Sack of Rome by Alaric.

453 Ravaging of Italy by Attila.

476 Imperial ensigns sent to Constantinople by Odeacer the Vandal: end of Western Empire.

(mi) Early Christian Civilization
       (AD 28 - 805)

  Incubation   

28-33? Supposed teaching of Christ.

  Development   

ca 35-60 'The Acts of the Apostles': travels of St. Paul: foundation of churches at
            Antioch, Ephesus and Rome.

ca 100 The Gospels and the Apocalypse of St. John of Patmos.

ca 100 Establishment of 'the seven churches in Asia' and the authority of bishops.

  Maturity   

ca 150-200 Establishment of Churches at Alexandria, Carthage and Lyons.

ca 200-220 Tertullian of Carthage attacks heresies.

ca 200-258 Persecution of Christians by Imperial Rome.

ca 230-250 Origen of Alexandria combines Christian and Hellenic philosophy.

285 Beginning of monastic life in Egyptian desert: first pilgrimages to the Holy Places.

ca 300-400 Cult of martyrs developed.

320 Christianity made official religion of Roman Empire by Constantine.

314 Synod of Arles.

325 Council of Nicaea.

ca 350 Athanasian creed.

ca 400 Beginning of Western monasticism: Tours, Lerins.

ca 390-430 St. Augustine: 'The City of God': his struggle with the Manichaeans.

ca 480-500 Conversion of the Franks under Clovis.

ca 500 Schism between Western Church at Rome and Eastern Church at Constantinople.

640 Destruction of the Library at Alexandria by the Arabs.

800-850 Lowest level of the Papacy.

(fa) Monastic Christian Civilization
       (AD 522 - 1299)

  Incubation   

ca 520 fl. St. Benedict, Dionysius the Areopagite, Boethius, Priscian.

523 Boethius: 'The Consolation of Philosophy'.

ca 526 Building of pilgrimage shrines at Jerusalem by Justinian:
           development of school of mosaic work.

529 St. Benedict founds the Monastery of Monte Cassino.

  Development   

532-537 Building of Santa Sophia at Constantinople.

547 Building of St. Vitalus at Ravenna: mosaic work.

529-534 Code, Digest and Institutes of Justinian.

533-554 Pacification of the Mediterranean: recovery of North Africa from the Vandals,
             Italy from the Ostrogoths, Spain from the Visigoths.

563 St. Columba at Iona, converts the Scots: from 600, in Ireland.

589 Conversion of the Visigoths.

590-604 Pope Gregory the Great: 596, sends Augustine to Britain.
             First monk to become pope:
             his 'Dialogues' link between classical and mediaeval teaching:
             his school of music at Rome establishes Gregorian chant.

  Maturity   

627-635 Christianization of England by Augustine.

656-682 First Benedictine monasteries in England: Peterborough, Wearmouth, Jarrow.

732 Defeat of the Arabs at Poitiers by Charles Martel.

741-768 Spread of monasticism in France under Pepin the Pious.

768-814 Christian empire of Charlemagne: court school under Alcuin.

754-800 Christianization of Germany by St. Boniface: 800, of Scandinavia:
             864, of Moravia and Bohemia.

917 Foundation of the Abbey of Cluny, 926-942 Odo abbot, 948-994 Maieul, 994-1049 Odilo.

ca 1100 Maximum extent of Cluniac empire in Europe under Abbot Hugh.

1215 Albigensian crusade against heretics.

1228, establishment of the Inquisition.

1250-1300 Decadence of monasticism, and control by secular powers.

1306 Holy Roman Empire separates from Rome.

1309 The Pope held captive at Avignon.

(sol) Medieval Christian Civilization
        (AD 1088 - 1865)

  Incubation   

1089-1130 Abbey Church of Cluny rebuilt under Hugh: maximum extent of Cluniac influence.

ca 1090-1110 School at Chartres under Ivo: at Mont St. Michel: at Canterbury under Anselm.

1073-1085 Cluniac pope, Gregory VII: 1088-1099 Urban II.

ca 1090 Building of cathedrals at Pisa, Mainz, Winchester, St. Albans.

ca 1070-1110 Normanization of England and Sicily.

1095 First crusade rids France of warlike elements.

  Development   

1100 Norman kingdom set up in Palestine.

ca 1110-1140 Adelard of Bath in Near East: research mission from Chartres in Spain:
               translation of the Koran, logarithmic tables, alchemical works.

1122-1152 Suger, Abbot of St. Denis, leading French statesman under Louis VI and VII.

1118 Order of Knights Templars founded.

1134-1150 Western facade of Chartres cathedral:
             scientific and classical studies established there by Thierry.

1148 Norman conquest of Tunis and Tripoli.

  Maturity   

ca 1165-1200 Notre Dame de Paris, Sens, choir of Canterbury, Chichester, campanile of Pisa.

ca 1215 St. Francis of Assisi, Walter von der Vogelweide, Nibelungenlied.

1167-1243 Universities of Oxford 1167, Padua 1222, Naples 1224, Toulouse 1229, Salamanca 1243.

1200-1240 Cathedrals of Lincoln, Chartres, Rheims, Amiens, Mainz, Laon, Wells,
              Peterborough, Ripon, Bamberg, Burgos, Toledo.

1200-1225 Peak of Venetian power: Venetian-Oriental trade: German-Russian trade:
              St. Gotthard Pass: Lubeck a free city.

ca 1260 fl. Cimabue, Roger Bacon: ca 1300 Dante, Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas, Chaucer.

1347-1351 The Black Death in Europe.

1378 The Great Schism: two popes at Rome and Fondi.

ca 1480-1500 Spanish Inquisition under Torquemada.

1520 Luther launches the Reformation.

1530-1540 Independence of the Anglican Church: dissolution of the English monasteries.

1789 French Revolution:

1793 dispossession of the church in France and 'abolition of Christianity':
       destruction of abbey of Cluny.

ca 1830 Gothic revival in England.

1867 Karl Marx -'religion the opiate of the masses'.

1870-1880 Abolition of Catholic orders and congregations in Germany, of monasteries and theological faculties in Rome; expulsion of Catholic orders from France, of Papal Nuncios from Belgium and Switzerland.

(la) Renaissance Civilization
       (AD 1446-2223)

  Incubation   

1439 Visit of Emperor John Paleologus to Florence.

1440 Invention of printing by Gutenberg.

1453-1456 Printing of the Gutenberg Bible at Mainz.

1440 First public library formed by Cosimo Medici.

1450 Formation of the Vatican Library by Nicolas V.

ca 1440-1460 Platonic Academy at Florence.

ca 1440-1460 Schools of painting and architecture in Italy Botticelli at Florence,
                Mantegna at Padua, the Bellinis at Venice, Alberti at Rome.

1453 Capture of Constantinople by the Turks drives scientist and artist refugees to Italy.

  Development   

1450-1480 Universities of Cambridge (Queens) 1447, Glasgow 1451, Freiburg 1457,
             Oxford (Magdalen) 1458, Basle 1459, Ingolstadt 1472, Buda 1475,
             Mainz and Tubingen 1477, Copenhagen 1479.

1463 Completion of the Doge's Palace at Venice
1489, of the Sistine Chapel at Rome
1506, foundation stone of St Peters' Rome
1520, of Medici Chapel, Florence.

ca 1500-1520 fl. Michelangelo, Leonardo, Raphael, Durer.

1509 Establishment of the Aldine Press at Venice.

1487-1500 Voyages to Cape of Good Hope by Diaz 1487, San Salvador by Columbus 1492,
        Labrador by Cabot 1498, Calcutta by Vasco da Gama 1498, Venezuela by Vespucci 1499,
        Brazil by Cabral 1500, round the world by Magellan 1519-1522.

1519-1521 Conquest of Mexico by Cortes, 1532-1534 of Peru by Pizarro.

ca 1520 fl. Erasmus, Sir Thomas More, Machiavelli, Anosto.

  Maturity   

ca 1530-1560 Beginnings of modern medicine by Paracelsus, astronomy by Copernicus,
                 anatomy by Vesalius, zoology by Gessner.

ca 1590-1620 Elizabethan Renaissance in England: Spenser, Shakespeare, Bacon, Marlowe, Donne ca 1600 fl Cervantes, Montaigne, Galileo, El Greco. 1620 Boehme, Spinoza, Rembrandt.

ca 1600-1630 Discovery of terrestrial magnetism by Gilbert 1600,
                 laws of gravitation by Galileo 1602,
                 laws of planetary motion by Kepler 1603,
                 logarithms by Napier 1614,
                 laws of refraction by Snellius 1616,
                 circulation of the blood by Harvey 1628.

1661 Foundation of modern chemistry by Boyle, modern microscopy by Leeuwenhoek.

1675 Discovery of speed of light by Ole Roemer.

1700-1780 First encyclopaedias, Chambers 1727, Diderot's 1751-80, Britannica 1771.

ca 1800 Beginnings of modern music fl Beethoven, Haydn, Mozart.

1810-1835 First public scientific societies, museums, picture galleries.

1874 Universal education in England.

ca 1890 Popularization of newspapers, public libraries.

(si) Contemporary Civilization
       (AD 1859 -2636)

  Incubation   

1859 Darwin, 'Origin of Species': J. S. Mill, 'On Liberty'.
      1862 Victor Hugo, 'Les Miserables'.
      1865 Clerk Maxwell, 'Treatise on Electricity and Magnetism'; Tolstoy, 'War and Peace'.
      1866 Dostoievsky, 'Crime and Punishment'.
      1867 Ibsen, 'PeerGynt'.
      1863 Salon desRefuses.

1865 Principles of heredity established by Mendel, antiseptic surgery by Lister.

1861 Emancipation of serfs in Russia.
      1862 State socialism advocated by Lasalle.
      1864 International Workers Association.
      1867 Karl Marx 'Das Kapital'.

1859 Suez Canal begun: first oil-well discovered in U.S.
      first electric-light plant in New York: discovery of spectroanalysis.

1861 construction of telephone by Reiss.
      1866 of dynamo by Siemens, of transatlantic cable.
      1867 invention of dynamite, the typewriter, the collotype process.

ca 1866 Madame Blavatsky in New York: Mary Baker Eddy founds Christian Science.
      1860-85 Shri Ramakrishna teaching in India.

1865 Unification of the United States after the Civil War, of Mexico after French intervention.

  Development   

1868 Bakunin's 'Alliance Internationale'.
      1869 German Social Democratic Party.
      1871 Trades Unions legalized in England.

1870 Franco-Prussian War.

1871 First Impressionist Exhibition in Paris.

1874 International Red Cross.
      1875 International Postal Union.

1872 Wundt, 'Principles of Physiological Psychology'.
      1895 Freud, Psycho-analysis.

1875 Foundation of the Theosophical Society by Madame Blavatsky.
      1876 Max Müller's programme for translation of the Sacred Books of the East.

1876 Invention of telephone by Bell.
      1877 phonograph by Edison.
      1878 repeating-rifle by Mannlicher, microphone by Hughes.
      1879 electric bulb by Edison.
      1883 first automobile factories.

1883 Nietzsche, 'Zarathustra'.
      1889 Shaw, 'Fabian Essays'.
      1898 Tolstoy, 'Resurrection'.

1881 Canadian Pacific Railway Co. formed: Panama Canal begun.
      1884 St. Gotthard Tunnel.
      1889 Eiffel Tower.
      1891-1901 Trans-Siberian Railway.
      1894 Trans-Andean Railway.
      1895 electric submarine.
      1895 Discovery of the cinema, wireless, x-rays.
      1897 Discovery of helium, 1898 of radium.

1903 Formation of Bolshevist Party in Russia under Lenin and Trotsky.

1902 Lorentz' electron theory.
      1900 Max Planck's quantum theory.
      1905 Einstein's theory of relativity.

1908 Early aeroplane nights by Wright brothers, airship flights by Zeppelin and Santos Dumont.

1914-1918 First World War.
      1910 Mexican Revolution
      1917 Russian Revolution.

ca 1915 Popularisation of the cinema.
      ca 1920 Popularisation of the automobile.
      ca 1925 Popularisation of radio.
      ca 1935 Popularisation of air transport.

  Maturity   

1939-1945 Second World War.

1944 The splitting of the atom.
      1945 first atomic bombs.

These tables should be studied with the chart of civilizations given in chapter 16. Influences producing the conception and growth of the civilizations, and those leading to their disintegration are included without distinction.

(do) Greek Civilization
      (BC 590 - AD 187)

(re) Roman Civilization
      (BC 312 - AD 465)

(mi) Early Christian Civilization
      (AD 28 - 805)

(fa) Monastic Christian Civilization
      (AD 522 - 1299)

(sol) Medieval Christian Civilization
      (AD 1088 - 1865)

(la) Renaissance Civilization
      (AD 1446-2223)

(si) Contemporary Civilization
      (AD 1859 -2636)

  Appendix Nine     Planetary Cycles and Human Activity  (see Chapter 17)

In the left-hand column are given both cycles of observed periodicity in various human and biological phenomena:
   ■ With the names of observers, and also cycles of phenomena referred to in the present book.

The right-hand column shows the relation of such cycles to the synodic periods of the planets, and multiples of them, which are given in days.
   ■ Major synodic periods or half-periods, i.e. of planet, earth, sun and zodiac, are italicised.

  Observed Cycles
Planetary Cycles
  41 month cycle (days)
  ■ Prices, industrial production, sales (Beveridge, Hoskins, Dewey)
  ■ Whooping-cough (King)
 
 
  1170 Mars × 1½ (opposition)  
  1170 Venus × 2
  1170 Mercury × 10
  1170 Jupiter and Saturn × 3

  4 year cycle
  ■ Number, migration, epidemics of lemmings, mice, squirrels, foxes (Elton)  
 
  1462 Venus × 2½
  1462 Moon × 50
  Observed Cycles
Planetary Cycles
  6 years 5 months cycle (days)
  ■ One-twelfth of human lifetime
 
 
 
  2340 Mars × 3 
  2340 Venus × 4
  2340 Asteroids × 5
  2340 Jupiter and Saturn × 6  

  7.5 year cycle
  ■ Barometric pressure (Clayton)
  ■ Tree-rings, lake-deposits, rock-laminate (Gillette)
  2730 Mars × 3½
  2730 Saturn × 7¼
  Observed Cycles
Planetary Cycles
  8 year cycle (days)
  ■ Cotton-prices (Dewey)
  
 
  2925 Venus × 5
  2295 Mercury × 25
  2295 Moon × 100

  9 year cycle
  ■ Prices, stock-market, suicides (see chapter 18)   3276 Asteroids × 7

  9 years 8 months cycle
  ■ Salmon catch (Canada), tent-caterpillars (N.J.),
  ■ Chinch-bugs (Shelford and Flint)
  ■ Lynx-skins (Canada), ozone (London and Paris)
  ■ One-eighth of human life
  3510 Mars × 4½
  3510 Venus × 6
  3510 Jupiter and Saturn × 9
  3510 Mercury × 30
  Observed Cycles
Planetary Cycles
  11.2 year cycle (days)
  ■ Weather, sunspots, etc.   4095 Venus × 7 

  12 years 10 month cycle
  ■ One-sixth of human life
 
 
 
 
  4680 Mars × 6
  4680 Venus × 8
  4680 Asteroids × 10
  4680 Jupiter and Saturn × 12
  4680 Mercury × 40
  Observed Cycles
Planetary Cycles
  15 year cycle (days)
  ■ Wars (see chapter 17)
 
  5460 Mars × 7
  5460 Saturn × 14½

  18 year cycle
  ■ Real estate, building (Dewey and Dakin)
  ■ Electric potential (Kew) 
  6552 Asteroids × 14

  Observed Cycles
Planetary Cycles
  22.4 year cycle (days)
  ■ Temperature in S. Dakota
  ■ Level of African lakes, sunspots
  ■ Nile-floods, tree-rings (Clayton)
 
  8190 Mars × 10½
  8190 Venus × 14
  8190 Jupiter and Saturn × 21
  8190 Mercury × 70

  36 year cycle
  ■ European weather (Bruckner)  
 
  13,104 Asteroids × 28
  13,134 Jupiter × 33
  Observed Cycles
Planetary Cycles
  54.5 year cycle (days)
  ■ U.S. price-level, English wheat prices
  ■ Securities, coal production
  ■ Industrial periods (Kondratieff)
  
  19,890 Venus × 34 
  19,656 Asteroids × 42
  19,900 Jupiter × 50
  19,890 Mercury × 170

  77 year cycle
  ■ Human lifetime (see chapter 11)  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  28,080 Mars × 36
  28,080 Venus × 48
  28,080 Asteroids × 60
  28,080 Jupiter and Saturn × 72
  28,080 Mercury × 240
  28,080 Moon × 960
  28,094 Uranus × 76
  Observed Cycles
Planetary Cycles
  84 year cycle (days)
  ■ Sex (see chapter 19)
  
  30,646 Jupiter × 77
  30,627 Uranus × 83

  165 year cycle
  ■ Regeneration (see chapter 20)    
  Appendix Ten     The Cycle of War  (see Chapter 17)

The dates above the sections are those between which the planet Mars passed from 15° Libra to 15° Gemini.

  • The historical events are based on Steinberg's 'Historical Tables' and Langer's 'Encylopaedia of World History', and for the most part refer to wars originating in Europe.
  • As the earlier peaks fall earlier and earlier in the summer, there is a tendency for outbreaks to become shifted to the previous year, probably for seasonal reasons of weather and harvest.
  • Striking exceptions to the cycle are:
    ■ The American Civil War (1861-5)
    ■ the Polish Revolution (1863-4)
    ■ the Ethiopian War (1934-6)
    ■ the War in China (1937-9)
■ the French Expedition to Mexico (1863-4)
■ the Seven Weeks' War (1866)
■ the Spanish Civil War (1936-9)
 

In fact, war is continuous, and these peaks seem only to represent its moments of maximum tension.

 July 3, 1794 – May 26, 1795
 Feb. - Mar. 1793 France declares war on Britain, Holland and Spain.
 1793-4 General fighting throughout Europe.
 March 1794 Kosciusko's rising in Poland.
 1793-4 Reign of Terror in France.
 Sept. 1795 British occupy Cape of Good Hope.
 
July 10, 1809 – June 2, 1810
 May-June 1808 Spanish insurrection against France.
 Aug. 1808 - Nov. 1809 Anglo-French War in Spain.
 Aug. 1807 - Sept. 1809 Russo-Finnish War.
 Aug. 1807 - Sept. 1809 Danish-Swedish War.
 Feb. - Oct. 1809 Austro-French War.
 July - Dec. 1809 British expedition to Walcheren.
 1810 Mexican War of Independence.
  July 18, 1824 – June 10, 1825
  April 1823 War between France and Spain.
  May 1824 - Feb. 1826 Burmese War.
  1825 Wars of Independence of Brazil, Bolivia, Uruguay.
  Dec. 1825 Revolt in Russian Army.
 
  July 25, 1839 – June 17, 1840
  Oct. 1838 First Afghan War.
  Nov. 1838 France declares war on Mexico. 
  Dec. 1838 Boer-Zulu War in Natal. 
  July 1839 Opium War in China. 
  1839 Turkish-Egyptian War.
  August 4, 1854 – June 25, 1855
  June 1854 Austria occupies Danubian principalities.
  Mar. 1854 - Sept. 1855 Crimean War.
  Feb. - Mar. 1855 Taiping Rebellion in China.
 
  August 13, 1869 – July 3, 1870
  July - Sept. 1870  Franco-Prussian War.
  August 21, 1884 – July 10, 1885
  Oct. 1884 Beginning of War in Sudan.
  Jan. 1885 Siege of Khartoum.
  Aug. 1884 -
  Feb. 1885
German occupation of African colonies.
  March 1885 Anglo-Russian tension in Far East reaches maximum. 
  Sept. 1885   Revolution in Roumelia and Serbo-Bulgarian War. 
 
  August 30, 1899 – July 19, 1900
  1898 Spanish-American War in Cuba.
  Oct. 1899 Outbreak of Boer War.
  Jan. 1900 Acute Anglo-German naval tension.
  May 1900 Boxer Rising in China.
  Sept. 1900 Annexation of Transvaal by Britain.
  Sept. 1900 Annexation of Manchuria by Russia.
  September 7, 1914 – July 28, 1915
  Aug. 1914 General declarations of war 
  Sept. 1914 Battle of the Marne.
  1914 -
  1915
General fighting on Eastern and Western Fronts,
and in Near East.
 
  September 14, 1920 – August 5, 1930
  Jan. 1930 Outbreak of Bolivian-Paraguayan War in the Chaco.
  Sept - Oct. 1930 Revolutions in the Argentine and Brazil.
  September 16, 1944 – August 15, 1945
  July 1944 Invasion of Normandy by the Allies.
  Oct. 1944 Invasion of the Philippines by the U.S.
  1944-5 General fighting in Western Europe and the Pacific
  August 1945 Atom bombs on Japan
   
  Appendix Eleven     Relation between the Jovial and Solar Systems  (see Chapter 18)
Solar System
  Satellite  Distance (mil. kils.) 
Real     Bodes Law
Speed
    (mil. kils. per day)  
 Sideral Period
 (years.days)
 Diameter  
  (thousand kils.)  
  (0) ? —  —   —  —  —     
  (1) Mercury 58 60 4.64    .88  4.7     
  (2) Venus 108 105 2.96    .225 12.4     
  (3) Earth 150 150 2.56   1.      12.7     
  (4) Mars 228 240 1.44   1.322 6.9     
  (5) Asteroids     416 420  —  —  —      
  (6) Jupiter 778 780 1.12  11.315 142      
  (7) Saturn 1427 1500   .83 29.167 120      
  (8) Uranus 2868           2880   .61 84.7   51      
  (9) Neptune 4494  —   .46 164.280 55      
  (10) Pluto 5850 5870   .40 247.248 8      
Jovial System
  Satellite Distance (mil. kils.)
Real    Bodes Law
Speed
  (mil. kils. per day)  
 Sideral Period
 (days.hours)
 Diameter  
 (thousand kils.)  
  (5) ? .181 —   2.64  .12 —   
  (1) Io .419 .420 1.60  1.18 3.8   
  (2) Europa .667 .600 1.31  3.13 3.4   
  (3) Ganymede   1.064 1.020 .96      7.4      5.8   
  (4) Callisto 1.871 1.680 .70 16.16 4.0   
? 3.120  —  — —   
? 6.000 —   
  (6) }      { 11.356 11.760 .29 251. }
—   
  (7) 11.852     260. —   
  (8) } 23.920        23.280  .21 739. }
—   
  (9) 25.337     745. —   
  Comparison
      Sun          Jupiter       Factor
  Rotation period 29.5 days  10 hours        × 70
  Diameter   1,391,000 kils.          142,000 kils           × 10
  Density .25 Earth .25 Earth        same
  Mass 331,950 Earth 315 Earth        × 1000  
  Distance of satellites    average        × 141
  Period of satellites average        × 50
  Speed of satellites average        × 2.5
  Appendix Twelve     The Cycle of Sex  (see Chapter 19)

The years suggested as representing the feminine and masculine phases of Uranus are those in which the planet presents its north and south poles respectively to the Earth and the Sun. The former occurs when Uranus is at 15° Gemini and the latter at 15° Sagittarius.

  Feminine
  Phase
  Masculine  
Phase  
1945 1987
1861 1903
1777 1819
1693 1735
1609 1651
1525 1567
1441 1483
1357 1399
1273 1315
1189 1231
1105 1147
  Appendix Thirteen     The Cycle of Regeneration  (see Chapter 20)

The dates above the sections are those in which Neptune stands at 15° Libra, that is, every 165 years.

  • It is by no means claimed that all the societies mentioned were in fact schools of regeneration, for such periods are equally marked by imitations, both sincere and fraudulent, and in most cases we have no means of distinguishing the true from the false.
  • Nor are the historical figures named necessarily the product of schools, though they are representative of a deep interest in the idea.
  • The purpose of the table is only to show how a general inclination to the idea of regeneration reaches a maximum according to a definite cycle.
  30 BC
  1-35 AD Supposed lifetime of Christ.
  ca 1 AD Essenes in Palestine: Therapeutae in Egypt.
  50 BC -50 AD    Development of the Kabala: the Zohar of Simon-ben-Joachai.  
  40 BC -40 AD Union of Platonism and the Kabala by Philo of Alexandria.
  ca 1 -90 AD Lifetime of Apollonius of Tyana.
  135 AD
  ca 80 -130    Carrying of Buddhism from India to China.
  ca 80 -120 Spread of Buddhism in NW India and Afghanistan under Kanishka.  
  ca 70 -100 The editing of the Gospels.
  ca 95 -100 The Apocalypse of St. John of Patmos.
  300 AD
  244 -305 Development of Neoplatonism by Plotinus and Porphyry: Hermetic writings.  
  270 -277    Foundation of Manichaeism, Gnostic sect, by Mane in Persia.
  285 Beginning of Christian pilgrimages: of monastic life in Egyptian desert.
  311 Circumcellians founded by Donatus, Bishop of Carthage.
  311 The Emperor Constantine tolerates Christianity.
  320 Emperor Constantine makes Christianity official.
  465 AD
  432 -461 St. Patrick's evangelisation of Ireland.
  ca 480 -500    Spread of Christianity among the Franks under Clovis.   
  ca 500 Neoplatonic writings of Dionysius the Areopagite.
  630 AD
  ca 600 -615    Irish monks under St. Columba.
  622 Mahomet flees from Mecca to Medina (Hegira).
  632 Mahomet dies.
  627 -635 Christianisation of Northumbria, East Anglia and Wessex by St. Augustine of Canterbury.  
  795 AD
  747 -797 Buddhist teaching of Padma Sambhava in Tibet.
  760 Kailasa temple at Ellora: Buddhist revival.
  790 Greatest period of Mayan temple building: Palenque, Chichen Itza.  
  ca 750 -800    Christianisation of Germany by St. Boniface.
  822 Hrabanus Maurus Archbishop of Fulda.
  790 -804 Charlemagne's court school under Alcuin.
  813 Foundation of Abbey of Cluny.
  960 AD
  931 Papal charter of independence for Cluny.
  924 -942 Papal charter of independence for Odo abbot.
  954 - 994    Papal charter of independence for Maieul.
  959 - 978 St. Dunstan Archbishop of Canterbury under Edward the Martyr, King of England.  
  989 The Truce of God in France.
  987 Mayan New Empire and Renaissance: Kukulcan.
  1125 AD
  1089 - 1130 Abbey Church of Cluny rebuilt.
  1122 Peter the Venerable abbot.
  1097 - 1105 St. Anselm at Rome and Cluny.
  1115 St. Bernard founds the Cistercian order.
  1115 Chancellor Bernard reorganises:
■ Cathedral school at Chartres.
■ Cathedral schools of music at Rheims.
■ Cathedral schools of astronomy at Mont St. Michel.
  1118 Foundation of the Knights Templars in Palestine by Hugh des Payens and Godfrey de St. Omer.  
  1122-1152 Abbot Suger of St. Denis leading French statesman.
  ca 1125 Arrival of Catharists from the East in Toulouse and Orvieto.
  ca 1100 -1135    Teaching of Milarepa in Tibet.
  1145 Building of Angkor Vat.
  ca 1100 -1150 Greatest period of temple-building in India: Khajraho, Puri, Konarak.
  1290 AD
  1273 Death of Jellaledin Rumi in Turkey: founding of Mevlevi Dervish order.
  1270 Thomas Aquinas, 'Summum Bonum'.
  1292 Dante, 'La Vita Nuova'.
  ca 1290    Apostolic Cathari under Colcino in Italy.
  ca 1290 Schools of troubadours in Southern France: Peter Cardinal.
  ca 1200 Catholic alchemists: Albert the Great, Roger Bacon, Raymond Lully.
  ca 1290 German and English mystics: Meister Eckhart, Matilda of Magdeburg, Duns Scotus.  
  1455 AD
  ca 1440 -1460    Cosimo Media's Platonic Academy in Florence.
  1455 Death of Fra Angelico.
  1471 Death of Thomas a Kempis.
  ca 1450 -1500 Schools of painting in Italy.
  1442 -1458 John of Cologne builds towers of Burgos cathedral: Milan cathedral in progress.  
  1446 Bursfelde congregation of German Benedictine monasteries.
  1450 Bohemian and Moravian Communion of Brethren formed.
  1620 AD
  ca 1590 -1605    Age of Akbar in India, his attempt to synthesise Oriental and Western religions.
  ca 1600 Foundation of Society of Rosicrucians.
  1615-20 Publication of original Rosicrucian literature.
  1620 -1630 Medical and physical discoveries by Rosicrucian doctors:
■ Michael Meyer physician-in-ordinary to the Emperor Rudolph
■ Harvey — circulation of the blood
■ Gilbert — magnetism
■ Kepler — planetary laws
  1616 St. Francis de Sales, 'Traité de 1'Amour de Dieu': Jacob Boehme, 'Mysterium Magnum', etc.  
  1620 Francis Bacon, 'Novum Organum'.
  1627 Francis Bacon, 'New Atlantis'.
  ca 1630 Descartes, Pascal, the Jansenists.
  1785 AD
  1760 -1785 Foundation of Swedenborgian rites.
  1736 -1790    Wesleyan revival movement in England at maximum.
  1760 Illuminati of Avignon.
  1766 Illuminated Theosophists of Paris.
  1783 Order of the Universal Aurora: Cagliostro, Mesmer, St. Germain.
  1754 Foundation of Martinism by Martinez Paschalis.
  1768 -1788 Foundation of Martinism in Paris and Lyons.
  ca 1780 Foundation of Martinism extended to Germany and Russia by Claude de St. Martin and Prince Repnin.  
  1780 Order of Asiatic Brethren founded by Baron Ecker.
  ca 1785 fl. Goethe, Kant, Hegel, Beethoven.
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Bragg, Sir William. Electricity. London 1936.

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Calder, Ritchie. Profile of Science. London 1950.

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Davey and Dakin. Cycles, the Science of Prediction. New York 1947.

da Vinci, Leonardo. Movement of the Heart and Blood. London 1952.

Doig, Peter. A Concise History of Astronomy. London 1950.

Donnelly, Ignatius (ed. Egerton Sykes). Atlantis: The Antediluvian World. N.Y. 1949.

Durant, Will. The Renaissance. New York 1953.

Eddington, Sir Arthur. The Philosophy of Physical Science. Cambridge 1939.

Eisler, Robert. The Royal Art of Astrology. London 1946.

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Larousse. Grand Memento Encyclopédique (2 vols. ed. Paul Augé). Paris 1937.

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Poincare, Henri. Science and Method. London n. d.

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Scientific American, passim.

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Sherwood Taylor, F. Science Past and Present. London 1949.
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Sparks, John B. The Histomap of Evolution. Chicago n. d.

Spencer Jones, Sir Harold. General Astronomy. London 1946.

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Various authors. Golden Ages of Great Cities. London 1952.

Vernadsky, W. La Biosphere. Paris 1929.
     La Geochimie. Paris 1931.

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Weizsacker, C. F. v. The World View of Physics. London 1952.

Whitaker's Almanack. London 1953.

Whyte, Lancelot Law. The Next Development in Man. New York 1950. (ed.)
     Aspects of Form. London 1951.

World Almanac. New York 1953.

Young, Col. G. F. The Medici. New York 1930.