Freda Bedi Cont'd (#3)

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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#3)

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Part 1 of 2

Swami Dayanand's Charges
by Colonel Henry S. Olcott
President of the Theosophical Society.
Reprinted from Extra Supplement to The Theosophist,
(Bombay) July, 1882, pp. 1-9.

In sorrow, not in anger, I take up the task of answering certain charges recently made against my colleague, Madame Blavatsky, and myself, by Pandit Dayanand Saraswati Swami. The duty is trebly unpleasant since I am compelled to prove, alike to the members of the Arya Samaj and Theosophical Society, the fact that the Founder of the Samaj is either suffering from so grave an impairment of the memory, as to make him unfit for further public service, or has been totally misled by our mutual interpreters. The facts, that I shall present, admit of no other alternative; and I, as one who is sincerely interested in the spiritual and moral welfare of the Aryas, deplore the act of the Swami in publicly dishonouring the names of two persons who, whatever their imperfections and shortcomings, were at least his staunch and unselfish allies. We might have even passed over the offensive language used in his lecture at Bombay on the 26th of March - in fact, had decided to do so, as the editorial paragraph in the May number of this magazine fully shows. But, as though possessed by some evil spirit, he repeated his insults and misrepresentations over and over again in lectures, and in handbills in the Hindi and Gujarathi languages. Our best friends - who, at the same time, are true friends of India - now call upon us to set the case as it really is, and thus once more show the public that - no matter what may be said against us - the Founders of the Theosophical Society have held inflexibly, from first to last, to one straight course and one plain policy. I invite Arya Samajists to patiently read what follows, promising that I shall not imitate the extreme language of the Swami - who publicly called us liars and cheating jugglers, - but leave the Swami of 1882 to be judged by the Swami of 1878, 1879, 1880, and 1881. Epithets would lend no additional strength to the condemnation that the Swami’s own documents stamp upon his recent lectures and handbills.

I may properly ask the reader to take into consideration before passing on to my proofs, one or two psychological facts. Firstly, I note that the minds of those who have studied and practised Yoga science, are continually oppressed with the conviction that a profound secrecy must be ever maintained as to the esoteric instruction given them. It is the most difficult thing in the world to get a Yogi, or even a Yogi’s Chela (pupil), to say what he has learned, or where, or when, or of whom. And, so far does this instinct of caution go that they will deny point-blank all knowledge of Yoga or Yogis if, in their opinion, the asker or the public is not fit to be taught. A glance at Swami Dayanand’s history and utterances shows that his mind is so pre-occupied, and, if we bear this in view, we shall understand certain things which would be otherwise incomprehensible. And, again, the reader will note this very important point, viz., that the retention of Yoga powers - the Siddhis, or peculiar psychical faculties developed by training - for any length of time unimpaired, exacts that the Yogi shall periodically retire to a solitary place, for new training. If this is not done, the Yogi, little by little, becomes like common men, and, indeed, often develops the traits of violent anger, unsteadiness of purpose, even recklessness of language and actions. Nature is, in fact, taking her revenge for the restraint under which the Yogi had been keeping her. Now, with this hint in mind, let the reader turn to the chapters of the Swami’s unfinished autobiography contributed by him (October and December, 1879, and November, 1880) to these pages, and to the report of an interview between him and ourselves at Meerut - when Yoga Vidya was discussed (Theosophist, December, 1880), and see what bearing, if any, this has upon the case at issue. That the Swami practically knew Yoga appears from his own confessions; and, knowing it and having of necessity the ability to recognize Yoga phenomena when shown, and Yogis when met with, he was in 1880 competent to give an opinion upon the phenomena of Madame Blavatsky. He said, when asked by me, that they "were phenomena of Yoga. Some of them might be imitated by tricksters, and then would be mere tamasha; but these were not of that class." If he now says that these same phenomena are produced by "electrical wires under ground," or in some other unscientifically absurd way, his friends are put in the painful dilemma of either believing him to have turned falsifier for a motive, or to have lost his memory. Another example of his change of mind is the fact that when he first visited Bombay to preach, he was a professed Vedantin, scouting the idea of a personal God (as some of his Vedantin members will testify to), and was entertained on that account by Vedantins, whereas he now preaches a religion quite opposed to Adwaitism. So, too, his different expression of views at different times about the Shraddha ceremonies for the dead.(1) These are all symptomatic - to use a medical term - of either a concerted policy of mystification, or a disturbance of mental equilibrium, perhaps resulting from overtraining in Yoga Vidya. I sedulously keep aside the alternative that my late colleague has lost all moral principle, and has deliberately taken to malicious falsification of the facts of history; it would shake my confidence in human nature. But whatever the cause, the case is none the less a hateful injustice towards us, and my present duty none the less disagreeable. Having said this much by way of preface, I will now pass on to the issues of fact.

As all the meat of a nut is packed into the shell, so the whole pith of the Swami’s lecture against us is compressed into the handbill above mentioned. His points are numbered from 1 to 9, and are as follow: -

Point I. - That "from the former correspondence and actions of the Founders of the Theosophical Society, the Swami and his Samajists had concluded that Aryavarta would be under certain obligations to the Society, but this conclusion proves false." And, for the reason, that we now deny what we said in our letters, viz., "that the Theosophical Society is made a Branch of the Arya Samaja."

Point II. - That whereas we wrote that we "were coming to follow the eternal Vedic Religion," and to study the Sanskrit, after coming here, we have "believed in no religion, do not now, nor are likely to believe in any hereafter."

Point III. - That whereas we had written that the fees collected by our Society "would be given to the Samaja in addition to the present of many books," we took back and pocketed Rs. 700 that we had sent to Hurrychund Chintaman; while, instead of presenting books to the Samaja, we "shamelessly charged Babus Chedi Lall and Sheo Narayana for a book presented to them," when these gentlemen had actually expended "hundreds of rupees" for our entertainment. And this we were not ashamed to do, though the Samajis of Saharanpur, Amritsar, and Lahore had received us with all their heart, but got no thanks from us in return. "From what Swamiji says," it is plain that "they have not at all supported him, and if they have, why do they not make the thing public?"

Point IV. - That "first in their letter, and afterwards here, in the presence of Swami and all" we had expressed our belief in a personal God (Iswar), but when we afterwards met him at Meerut we denied such belief.

Point V. - That in the Indian Spectator of 14th July, 1878, we published that we "were neither Buddhists, Christians, nor Bramhans (i.e., believed in the Purans), but were Arya Samajists." But now we say that for many years we have been Buddhists. And he asks "Now, is this not fraud and treachery?" Again "the note of Magha of Samvat 1936 [publish the note, please, if it does,] proves their belief in Iswar," but six months later, at Meerut, we declared our disbelief.

Point VI. - "After coming here and admitting that the Theosophical Society was a branch of the Arya Samaja," we "afterwards said that neither one was a branch of the other," and that the Society was never a branch of the Samaja.

Point VII. - That when we established a Society of our own in Bombay, we, "without the knowledge of Swami," and of our "own free will, put his name in the list of members." Afterwards, we, with the late Mr. Mulji Thakersey, "first saw him upon the subject at Meerut," where he "demanded" our "reasons for doing so," and told us to strike off his name. Then "Colonel Olcott answered that they (we) would not do any such thing hereafter, and would strike out his name." But up to the time we met again - nine months later, at Benares - it was not done. Whereupon Swami "wrote a strong letter" to insist upon it, and we asked, by telegram, "what to substitute for it" [presumably the "it" means his membership of our council or his chieftainship of our branch called the "Theosophical Society of the Arya Samaj,"] and he replied, by telegram, that we "should write him as a Vedic Preacher." He asks if this is not "shameful."

Point VIII. - That notwithstanding we had taken a resolution at Meerut not to tell any Samajist to become a member of our Society, we tried to win over Babu Chedi Lall, whereupon the Swami felt constrained to lecture to the Samajists upon the subject, and tell them that "none of them need join the Theosophical Society since the laws of the Society were not like those of their Samaja." When the Swami came of late to Bombay he had a long conversation with Colonel Olcott, whom he told that he wished him to "remove his (Swami’s) misunderstanding on many points." I evaded an answer. Again, when I went to consult him upon the Cook affair, the Swami again pressed the matter. Finally, he sent me word, through Mr. Panachand Anandji and another gentleman, a man of distinction, that if I did not come and discuss with him "he would deliver a public lecture on the subject." This message Mr. Panachand delivered, but I replied that I would come to the Swami on the 27th March, 1882. Instead of which I went away to Jaipur and wrote from there that as I could not come, Madame Blavatsky would. But she never did. So Swami did give the lecture, read our notes, and "said that it was true that they (we) said one thing, but did another." Instead of good, we are doing harm to India. For instance, "notwithstanding the Swami’s remonstrance," we still "continue speaking of ghosts and spirits" in our journal, which "does harm to the country, as it is against science, and the journal having a wide circulation, the people of Europe and others would think that the Indians are foolish enough to believe in such things."

Point IX. - That the late challenge to Mr. Cook "was dictated by the Swami to the Colonel," but I, instead of writing that if Mr. Cook should discuss the merits of Christianity and Vedism with the Swami, the public could judge for themselves "which religion is divine," inserted the word "most" before "divine." This without his knowledge; and notwithstanding his telling me to strike out the word "most," the incorrect version was published. That in the rules of our Society we have "publicly admitted that "Theosophist" means a believer in Iswara, that the Society exacts no fees, tolerates all religions, should always be against Christianity, and that it should believe in that Iswara who is unborn, made by none, but who has made all things." Whereas, now, we go against all these former statements, disbelieve in Iswar, charge the fee of Rs. 10, and say that that religion is the best which we may, at the time, be lecturing upon.

That the present handbill is issued to warn the Arya-Samajists and all Aryavarta against keeping up relations with us; such "atheists, liars and selfish persons" cannot be expected to do any good to the country. Failing to catch the Swami in our snares, we have now found out a certain Koot Hoomi, who comes to us, speaks to us, &c., &c. "Letters and flowers fall from the ceiling, and he finds out missing things. All these and other things are false." When Madame Blavatsky talked with Swamiji at Meerut on the subject of Yoga, she said that she performed the wonders of the Yoga science by the system of the Sankhya. Where upon Samiji put her questions on Yoga as by this science, but she failed to answer a simple one. In short, "they are like mesmerists or sorcerers, but they know nothing about Yoga. He who had studied Yoga even a little would act truthfully in word and deed, and would run away from falsehood." The document winds up with a Sloka setting forth that the wise man will not stir a step aside from the path of justice.

REPLY.

First, then, I enter a general denial; the indictment is unfounded in almost every particular, and for those who know my character, it would perhaps suffice for me to leave the case there, and offset my word of honour against each and all of these charges. For, those which are not absolutely false, are based upon such gross perversions of fact, and so mix up dates and occurrences as to be in reality scarcely worthy of notice. Still, that we may not be charged with either an evasion of the issue, or concurrence in the mutilation of documents and suppressiones veri upon which the case rests, I will cite my proofs seriatim. A brief historical note must be first given.

In the year 1870 I made the voyage from New York to Liverpool, and met on board two Hindu gentlemen of Bombay, the late Mr. Mulji Thackersey and his friend, Mr. Tulsidass. I heard no more of them until late in 1877, when from an American gentleman I learned that Mr. Mulji was still alive. The Theosophical Society had then been in existence just two years, and the design to come to India to live and die there had already been formed in my mind. I wrote to Mr. Mulji an account of our Society and its plans, and asked his co-operation and that of other friends of Aryan religious philosophies. He responded, and introduced to me Hurrychund Chintaman, President of the Arya Samaj, "a man of learning, for a long time Political Agent at London of the ex-Gaekwar," and author of a commentary on the Bhagwat Gita, "a book full of Aryan philosophy and Aryan thought"; a man who "will be a capital helpmate to our Society," and would give me any information I might need "about Oriental publications." (2)

The Indian Political Department (IPD) was a government department in British India. It originated in a resolution passed on 13 September 1783 by the board of directors of the East India Company; this decreed the creation of a department which could help “relieve the pressure” on the administration of Warren Hastings in conducting its "secret and political business".

-- Indian Political Department, by Wikipedia


At the same time he spoke to me of "a renowned Pandit, Dayanand Saraswati, the best Sanskrit scholar, and now travelling through India to teach people the Vedic doctrines in their true light, and ....... their forefathers’ faith which seems to be the foundation of all religions and civilization."

Now, I had reason to believe that I had been taught something, at least, about that "true light" - i.e., esoteric meaning - of Vedic doctrine, and so I naturally concluded that an Aryan Swami, who was trying to lead his people back to the true light out of the darkness of superstition, was a Yogi-adept, our natural ally and a fit teacher for our members. This opinion was strengthened by the tone of a pamphlet issued, August 25, 1877, by the Lahore Arya Samaj as a memorial to Dr. G. W. Leitner in favour of the Veda Bhashya. It contained as well the Swami’s defence of his Bhashya against the attacks of his critics, in which he quoted approvingly the opinions of Max Muller, Colebrooke, Coleman, and the Rev. Mr. Garrett upon the God of the Vedas - an impersonal, all-pervading Principle. No document ever put forth by the Theosophical Society, nor by Madame Blavatsky, or myself, could - unless my memory is at fault, in which case the publication of the letter by any one who has it would set the matter at rest - have conveyed any other view of the beliefs of the Founders respecting the personality of God. In Isis Unveiled, as in all subsequent publications, it has been said that we could conceive of no God endowed with the attributes and limitations of personality; and that, with the Vedantin Adwaitis, the Arhat mystics, the ancient Mobeds of the Zardushtian period, and all other representatives of the "Wisdom-Religion," we recognized an eternal and omnipresent Principle (called by many different names) in nature - the source of motion and of life.

In writing to our Bombay friends we took great care to make these views clear - as will be seen in the documents which follow, and when we received from them the assurance that the principles of our Society were identical with those of the Swami and his Samaja, we joyfully entertained the proposal for an amalgamation. "I requested this" (the amalgamation) - says Mr. Hurrichund (letter of April 22, 1878), "for two reasons: first, inasmuch as it is acknowledged that the TRUE LIGHT can only be had in the East, and that the Aryans were the first to make a satisfactory progress in the study of the science of Psychology, why not adopt an original name rather than have recourse to a new-coined word; and, second, because ........ all institutions in the work, which have one and the same object, should have one common name throughout." This view appearing reasonable, and we, Founders, having no conceit of leadership, but being more than willing to unite with any body - especially an Aryan one led by a Swami-Adept - that was fitter than ours to head this movement for a revival of the Wisdom-Religion, we acted without delay upon Mr. Hurrichund’s proposal, and passed the act of amalgamation. It must here be observed that in my letters to the Swami I speak on behalf of the Society as a whole, and do not offer myself individually as his Chela. I was already the accepted pupil of a Mahatma, and receiving instruction. But our members at large were not so favoured, and for them I begged the Swami to take up the relation of Teacher. He being in the world, actively at work, I naturally inferred that he would be freer than our Mahatmas to come into relations with such of our members as had not taken the vows of celibacy and total abstinence that I had. And the Adept-Brothers, whom we knew, having refused to instruct any member but an accepted Chela, these members, both in America and Europe, were then most anxious to find such a Teacher. To our eager questions about the Swami, our Teachers gave us the invariable answer: - "He was a Chela, he was a Yogi....... He is a good man. Try him and see. He may be very useful to your American and English members." What we learned of Swami, later on, just after our arrival in India, we are not at liberty to divulge. Mr. Hurrichund (who was endorsed over to me by the Swami as an honourable man and the channel for our correspondence) even suggested that the Swami might come to Europe and America on a preaching mission, and this idea I hailed with joy, though advising delay until the necessary elements of success were provided. He said that meanwhile Swami’s instructions to our Theosophists would "be of the second section of Indian philosophy," as "no real Muni or adept will ever disclose the secret of the third (our 1st) section - the genuine and highest knowledge - to any one unless he is thoroughly satisfied of the merits and aptitude of the recipient; and this knowledge to be given to him in person....... and not in writing;" moreover he told me that while the Swami was "a Sanskrit scholar and a great ADEPT in the ancient literature and Vedic philosophy of the Aryans," he had no "knowledge of the modern scientific development of the West."

And now that it has been shown in what light the Swami, the Arya Samaj, and the President of the Bombay Samaj were presented to our view, the reader is asked to examine the points of the Swami’s charges in connection with the following

DOCUMENTS:

Extracts from the first official letter of the President of the Theosophical Society, Colonel Olcott, to Pandit Dayanund Saraswati, Founder of the Arya Samaj, dated New York, 18th February, 1878, (not included in Swami Dayanand’s recent publications).

........... "Orientalists, so called, who acquire Sanskrit and other old languages, forge and mutilate the Vedas and other sacred books in translating them. We wish to print and circulate correct translations by your learned Pandits, with their own commentaries on the text. To counteract the drift of Society towards materialism, we would expound the doctrines of old upon man’s soul and spirit, show that difference there is between them, and what are the limitations and potentialities of each. We would teach the truth about man’s origin and destiny, and the relative importance of this life and the future one. We would show how the highest degree of wisdom and happiness may be reached here upon earth. To the Christians we would prove whence their doctrines were derived, what part of them is error, what truth. To science we would show the true nature of matter, force and spirit, and how far their doctrine of evolution has been carried by Eastern philosophy. The ‘Spiritualists’ we would convince that their phenomena are full of danger to the investigator and the ‘medium’; being caused by low beings, some of the elements and not human, others human, but evil and earth-bound. See, respected teacher, the vast, the solemn, the important field of labour we are traversing. Will you honour us by accepting the Society’s Diploma of ‘Corresponding Fellow’? Your countenance and favour will immensely strength us. We place ourselves under your instructions. Perhaps we may directly and indirectly aid you to hasten the accomplishment of the holy mission in which you are engaged; for our battlefield extends to India, and from the Himalayas to Cape Comorin there is work that we can do. We labour to establish a true Brotherhood of Humanity, in which the supreme tie of kinship will be the love of truth. Dogmas, creeds and theologies, we aspire to help sweep away, for by whatsoever people created, or, by whatsoever authority supported, they are dark clouds across the sun of spiritual light.

You, venerable man, who have learned to pierce the disguises and masks of your fellow-creatures, look into our hearts, and see that we speak the truth....... If you will take us under your guidance, we beg that you will notify our Brother, Mulji Thackersey, who has charge of your diploma, awaiting your decision........

IN BEHALF OF THE SOCIETY I subscribe myself,

H. S. OLCOTT,
President of the Theosophical Society.

It is but too apparent from the above that the actual character of the Swami had been misrepresented to us. This language is addressed to a typical Aryan Adept and Swami, to whom all men and religions were alike interesting, and in whose heart prevailed the feeling of Universal Brotherhood. Observe that there was now no idea of the amalgamation of the two Societies, but he was offered the Diploma of a Corresponding Fellow of our Society. He answered thus: -

Pandit Shyamji Crishnavarma’s translation of Swami Dayanund’s letter, dated 21st April, 1878: (3)

"Hail! It is to you, my noble-minded Brothers, Members of the Theosophical Society, including the honored President, Mr. Henry S. Olcott, the worthy Secretary, Madame H. P. Blavatsky, that I, Dayanund Saraswati Swami, want to convey my benedictions. You are endowed with prosperity and adorned with stainless virtues, you are for the eternal and true religion, you are inclined to get rid of false doctrines, and you have every desire to worship only one God. I enjoy here perfect happiness, and always wish you the same.

I FEEL EXCEEDINGLY HAPPY TO RECEIVE THE DIPLOMA YOU SENT ME from the hands of the kind-hearted gentlemen, Messrs. Mulji Thakersey, Hurrichund Chintamon and Toolsidas Yadavaji. Though we [Aryans] have been separated for the last five thousand years, and though you, our beloved Brothers, have been living in America, while we in Aryavarta, the time has fortunately come once more for correspondence and interchange of ideas, resulting in mutual friendship and welfare. Oh! all this change has come about by the grace of that Lord of the Universe, who deserves all endless praise, who is omnipotent and all-pervading, who stands as a mine of all good qualities, namely, truth, knowledge, all-joy, justice, and mercy; who is infinite, undivided, unborn, immutable, without destruction; who is the prime cause of creation, protection, and destruction; who is naturally accompanied by true qualities and actions; who is unerring and all learned.

"I undertake with great pleasure to keep correspondence with you in future; you can forward letters to me through Messrs. Moolji Thakersey and Hurrichund Chintamon, and I shall do the same; I am prepared to give you every possible aid that lies in my power. I hold the same opinion regarding Christianity and other religions as you do. As God is one, men cannot but have one religion; it must be borne in mind that the true religion should be no other than the one consisting in the worship of, and obedience to, the Supreme Governor; it must be in accordance with the Vedic views, and at the same time beneficial to all human beings; it must be worthy of being followed by men, learned and deserving confidence; it must stand the test of logical maxims, and should not contradict the laws of nature; it must be accompanied by justice and impartiality; it must be pleasing to every heart and must brighten itself with truth, so as to produce happiness. It is my firm belief that all other religions, different from the above-mentioned, are meant to serve the selfish motives of mean-minded and ignorant persons. To give life to a dead man, to heal leprosy and other diseases, to uphold a mountain, to pound the moon, and all other wonders of the world betray irreligion, and are sure to give rise to many misfortunes; they are averse to true happiness, as mutual contradiction plays a prominent part in all of them. I always pray to the Supreme Soul that the true religion, practiced by the Aryas from generation to generation may, by the grace of the Almighty and human efforts, eradicate the so-called wonders, and prevail amongst all the people....... We shall be very happy to keep correspondence, to do some service to the people. This will suffice for the present, as long lectures are of no avail to the most learned persons."

And, now, turn to the Swami’s Point VII., and see whether or not it is answered, and whether he ever accepted fellowship in the Theosophical Society. As to his acceptance of a place on the General Council, we shall see further on.

On the 22nd of February - four days after writing the first letter to the Swami - I addressed to Mr. Hurrichund the enquiry contained in the following extract. This, in course of mail, must have reached him on or about the 22nd of March, and in ample time to be forwarded to Swami before he wrote to me on the 21st of April: -

Extract from Colonel H. S. Olcott’s letter, to Hurrichund Chintamon, Esq., dated New York, 22nd February, 1878: -

"Will you not oblige us by explaining to me the exact differences between the Bramho and the Arya Samajees? As nearly as I can understand them, the former accepts the doctrine of a personal God, capable of being moved by supplications and propitiated by promises, while the latter is a Society which teaches the existence of an Eternal, Boundless, Incomprehensible Divine Essence, too great to be made personal, too awful to be even apprehended by the finite mind. Tell me, my Brother, if I am right; or, if not, wherein consist the differences in the two. With such a Samaj as the latter (if as I depict it), the Theosophical Society has the closest kinship. In fact, so far as its religions department of work is concerned, it is an Arya Samaj already without having known it..... If the Arya Samaj is what I fancy, I would be proud to be admitted a member and proclaim the fact in the face of all the Christian public. Send me all necessary documents, that I may understand just what it teaches."

This definition of the views of the Arya Samaj was duly accepted as correct by Mr. Hurrichund, and so the matter was by us considered settled beyond cavil. But to make it impossible that there should be any obscurity about the subject, I sent to Mr. Hurrichund the following: -

Extract of a letter to Mr. Hurrichund Chintamon, dated New York, 29th, May, 1878: -

............ "We feel highly honoured not alone by his (Swami Dayanund Saraswati’s) acceptance of our Diploma, but also by the very kind phrases in which he communicates his decision to us...... I have ventured to send you, for publication, a brief exposition of Theosophical views to avoid any possible misconception, in India as to the same. We want to be open and candid in coming before a new audience, so that those may be attracted to us who are in accord with us, and these who oppose us may do so with all the facts before them."

Extract of a letter from Colonel Olcott, to the Editor of the "Indian Spectator," dated New York, 29th, May, 1878:

......... "We understand Buddhism to really mean the religion of Bodh or Buddh [Wisdom] - in short, Wisdom-Religion. But we, in common with most intelligent Orientalists, ascribe to the popular Buddhistic religion only an age of some twenty-three centuries - in fact, not so much as that. As we understand it, Sakkya Muni taught the pure Wisdom, or "Buddh," Religion, which did antedate the Vedas; for when the Aryas came to the Punjab, they did not bring the Vedas with them but wrote them on the banks of the Indus. That "Wisdom-Religion" is all contained in the Vedas; hence the Aryas had it, and hence, as has been said, it must have ante-dated the Vedas. It was a secret doctrine from the first; it is a thousand times more so now to our Modern Scientists, few of whom are any wiser than Max Muller, who calls all in the Vedas he cannot understand "theological twaddle!" Being a secret doctrine - comprehensible fully but by the brightest minds, the priests of every creed distorted it......... It is this Wisdom-Religion which the Theosophical Society accepts and propagates, and the finding of which in the doctrines expounded by the revered Swami Dayanund Saraswati Pandit, has led us to affiliate our Society with the Arya Samaj, and recognize and accept its Chief as our supreme religious Teacher, Guide and Ruler. We no more permit ourselves to be called Joss-worshipping Buddhists than Joss-worshipping Catholics; for in the former, no less than in the latter, we see idolators who bow down to gross images, and are ignorant of the true Supreme, Eternal, Uncreate Divine Essence which bounds all, fills all, emanates everything, and, in the fullness of cycles, re-absorbs everything, until the time comes for the next one in the eternal series of re-births of the Visible from the Invisible. You see, then, that we are neither Buddhists in the popular sense, nor Brahminists as commonly understood, nor certainly Christians..... The Theosophical Society prays and works for the establishment of a Universal Brotherhood of races. We believe it will come about in time." ......
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#3)

Postby admin » Wed Mar 03, 2021 1:24 am

Part 2 of 2

The same idea is conveyed in my letter to Piyaratana Tissa, a learned Buddhist priest: -

Extract of a letter from Colonel Olcott, to the Reverend Piyaratna Tissa Tirunanasee, dated New York, 19th August, 1878: -

........... "We have formed a close alliance with that reformatory religious society called the Arya Samaj, whose Chief Pandit, Dayanund Saraswati Swami ...... labours to restore the purest form of ancient Aryan philosophy, and sweep away the corrupting idolatry and superstitions which have so long smothered the sacred truth...... We, the leaders of the Theosophical Society, believe in the Incomprehensible Principle and the divine philosophy taught by Sakkya Muni. We see in every human faith some portion of the Truth, and that is the spark from which the light must spread, if at all. That one portion of Truth is the common ground upon which men of all creeds can meet. It is upon that common ground that we build our Society."......

Kindly couched as the Swami’s letter was, it yet outlined views of a personal God, which could not be accepted on behalf of a Theosophical Society proper, having no official creed, and whose two chief Founders could never subscribe to them. Personally, any member had a perfect right to believe in a God of any description, and to be respected in that belief, but no one member had any right to make the whole Society responsible for his private belief. So, to clear up the matter, the following letter was sent: -

Extract of a letter from Colonel Olcott, to Mr. Hurrichund, dated New York, 23rd August, 1878: -

....... "It is my imperative duty to the Cause, as President of the Theosophical Society, to come to a perfect understanding with you as President of the Arya Samaj. In the eyes of my Fellows, you stand for the present as the representative of Indian Esoteric Wisdom - for they see in you one who would not have been chosen to such a high responsibility in such a Society as they regard the Arya Samaj to be, unless you were thoroughly versed in every branch of Indian philosophy. In short, they naturally clothe you with attributes of right only possessed by our revered Swami." ......

Then came the Rules of the Samaj, translated for us by Pandit Shyamaji, and they were duly printed for the use of our members. What their effect was may be inferred from the following: -

Extract of a letter from Col. Olcott, to Mr. Hurrichund Chintaman, dated New York, 24th September, 1878: -

"Either we have been especially unfortunate in misconceiving the ideas of our revered Swami Dayanund, as conveyed to us in his valued letters to me, or he teaches a doctrine to which our Council, and nearly all our Fellows, are forced to dissent. Briefly, we understand him as pointing us towards a more or less personal God - to one of finite attributes, of varying emotions - one to be adored in set phrases, to be conciliated - one capable of displeasure..... I cannot worship him in such a guise. The Deity of my spiritual perceptions is that Eternal Principle which I understood you to say, was what the Arya Samaj recognized as contradistinguished from the personal God of the Unitarian Bramhos. Relying upon this view of the case, I united with our Sister H. P. Blavatsky to carry through the Council the vote of affiliation and allegiance. When! along comes the Swami’s letter speaking of a God whom at least Brother Chrisnavarma’s translation points to us as a Being of parts and passions - at least of the latter if not the former, and at once we two are taken to task. Protests from every side, a hasty reconsideration of the former sweeping vote of affiliation, the adoption of a resolution to make the Theosophical Society of the Arya Samaj, a Vedic Section instead of the whole body in a transformed shape, and the consignment to the flames of the whole edition of the proposed circular and preparation of a revised introduction to the "Rules of the Arya Samaj" - these thing followed. Perhaps it as well as it is, for we keep a broader platform for men of various creeds to stand upon, and our work for and with the Arya Samaj, is not to be affected in the least. We will be just as zealous and loyal as heretofore, will send the Initiation Fees the same as ever, and continue to regard the revered Swami as dutifully and our Hindu Brothers as affectionately as though this shadow had not passed athwart our horizon. I wish you would define to me somewhat more clearly just what is the doctrine of the Arya Samaj respecting God and the divine inspiration of the Vedas. I understood you to say (and certainly that is my own idea) that the Vedas were written by Rishis in a state of spiritual illumination and inspiration to which every man may attain who passes by initiation through the several phases of self-conquest and exaltation to the condition of seership and adeptship ....... I must frankly apprize you that you cannot count upon many more Fellows to follow a lead right towards the Orthodox Christian ambuscade from which we have so thankfully escaped ..... What we want to teach these Western people is the ‘Wisdom-Religion,’ so called, of the pre-Vedic and Vedic periods - which is also the very essence of Gautama Buddha’s philosophy (of course, not popular Buddhism). This religion you seem to have taught both in your letters and your books, and I certainly gather from the revered Swami’s defence of his Bhashya against his critics that this is the identical religion he propagates. But this does not agree with the tone of his esteemed letters to me - at least as I have them in the English translation......"

Could any thing have been more frank and open? But no answer was returned, either from the Swami or his Bombay agent; the latter writing me (30th September, 1878,) that we would come to an understanding about all matters when we should meet at Bombay. He also notified me that he had duly forwarded all my letters to the Swami, who was then travelling in the North-Western Provinces.

During the two years antecedent to the alliance with the Arya Samaj and formation of the link-branch of the "Theosophical Society of the Arya Samaj," or Vedic Section of our Parent Society, no fees had been exacted of our members. I had defrayed the expenses myself. But now, with the view of assisting the Arya Samaj, our General Council re-imposed the Initiation Fee of five dollars (£1, or Rs. 10), and these were duly remitted to Mr. Hurrichund from New York and London. In this way some Rs. 609 were sent. At last, in February, 1879, the Founders arrived at Bombay, and a number of painful experiences followed, which having been discussed in the newspapers of the day, I need not dwell upon at length. Suffice it to say that the Samaj had never received a penny of the money remitted, that we recovered it from Mr. Hurrichund under pressure, and on the 30th of April met the Swami face to face for the first time at Saharanpur, North-Western Provinces. Our much lamented and staunch friend, the late Mulji Thackersey, was with us, and acted as interpreter in the long and animated discussions that ensued between the Swami and ourselves at Saharanpur on that and the following day, and then at Meerut on the 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th of May. I have notes of all these conferences in my Diary for the year 1879, the entries being written, as is my custom, on each day before retiring to sleep. They bring the facts vividly to mind, and I am, therefore, not left to my memory to recall them, as would otherwise be the case. My entry for the day of the first conference says: -

"Swami came to the Dak Bungalow at 8 a.m. Defined Nirvana and Moksha as H. P. B. has. His God is Parabrahma. I described to him the phases of Western Spiritualism." The next day’s entry reads: - "Conference with Swami. He agreed to the new Rules of the T. S. Accepted a place on the Council. Gave me full proxy powers. Recommended the expulsion of Hurrichund. Admits the reality of all Western phenomena [Mediumistic] and explains them as H. P. B. has. Is not a sectarian. Approves of other sectarian sections in the T. S."

This is clear enough certainly: he perfectly coincided with our views upon all the points that had been mooted, and, in proof of his concurrence, accepted the office of Councillor of our Society. This, he has since denied on more than one occasion, and our conduct in using his name against his wishes and "of our own accord," has been stigmatized as cunning and unprincipled. But I know well that there are some partisans who would be quite ready to challenge my Diary, rather than conceded my veracity; so I will call the Swami himself to the stand. Here is a lithographed fac-simile of one of the two papers given me at Saharanpur by him, after accepting the office of Councillor. It was intended to serve as a general proxy, under which, at all meetings of the General Council at which he might not be personally present, I should cast his vote as Councillor. And the second clause also gave me a general authority to represent him in the issuing of orders, or transaction of business arising in connection with our link-branch, the Theosophical Society of the Arya Samaj. If words mean anything, this documents means just what is above stated. Here it is: -

Image

Further evidence of his conscious and willing membership of our General Council is to be found in the following reply by Mrs. Gordon, wife of Colonel W. Gordon, B.S.C., to an official enquiry as to the circumstances of her initiation as a member of our Society: -

"Glenarm, Simla, June 19, 1882.

"Dear Colonel Olcott,
"I was initiated into the Society on the 17th December, 1879, by Swami Dayanand Saraswati, in the presence of yourself, Madame Blavatsky, and Mr. Damodar. At the same time, he explained to me at length the rules for the practice of Yog Vidya.

"Faithfully yours,
(Signed) "Alice Gordon."

The main complaint in Point VII. is thus effectually disposed of, and with it various reiterations that have been made in the course of our relations during the past three years. As to the answer sent by Swamiji to our telegram, in answer to our question whether he wished his name stricken out of the Council-list, its text was as follows: - "Benares City, 14-4-80. Announce as accepted, in American correspondence." I have no copy of the dispatch to him, or I would gladly print it; but, if I am not mistaken in its character, then this reply means that in our American correspondence we might continue to use his name as a Councillor. And nothing in it about a Vedic Preacher!

One of the points made by the Swami, - for brevity’s sake omitted above - was that he had signed a certain diploma sent to him from America. This he did, and that diploma is that which has been issued to all who preferred to be enrolled in the link-branch of the Theosophical Society of the Arya Samaj, and to none others. If the original vote of amalgamation had not been rescinded, it would have been the general diploma of the Parent Society; but, as it turned out, it was only used as above stated. In September, 1878, a circular letter was addressed by me, to members, from the New York Head-quarters, promulgating the translation by Pandit Shyamaji of the Arya Samaja Rules, for their information. In it I stated: "The observance of these rules is obligatory upon such Fellows only as may voluntarily apply for admission to the Arya Samaj; the rest will continue to be, as heretofore, unconnected with the special work of the Samaj..... Those who join the Samaj will, of course, be expected to comply as strictly as practicable with its rules, including that of the contribution of the fixed percentage of monthly income." And to show what we expected of the Arya Samaj upon the strength of Mr. Hurrichund’s representations - I added: "Fellows will observe [in Rule IX.] that, equally with the Theosophical Society, the Arya Samaj has a separate class of ‘ascetics,’ who aim to acquire spiritual, rather than secular, wisdom, power and advantage, and to devote themselves in an especial manner to the promotion of the Society’s work." That the programmes of the two Societies were identical, we were further assured by our very talented and esteemed brother, Shyamaji, who, in a letter, dated at Bombay, the 5th July, 1878, says our "aims and objects are not only identical with those of our Samaja, but, &c., &c.," The reader will then bear in mind that there was correspondence about two diplomas; one that of Corresponding Fellow, the other the new diploma of the link-branch.

That we re-affirmed on coming to India the independence of the Theosophical Society proper in its relation with the Arya Samaja, can be shown by every document ever issued by us subsequently, and by every lecture of mine, in which the topic was discussed. I even went to the trouble of writing out a lecture, in which the conflicting rules of the two doctrines were quoted, and the eclecticism of our programme was unmistakably shown. I delivered it first on the 6th September, 1880, before the Meerut Arya Samaj, when Swamiji was himself present, and, later, before the Samajis of Amritsar, Lahore, Multan, Cawnpur, &c. But I need not rest my case even upon this, since, again, I am able to cite the complainant to testify for the defence. In a letter of date July 26, 1880, the learned Swami wrote me as follows: -

Extracts from a letter by Swami Dayanand to H. S. Olcott, dated 26 July, 1880:-

......................"You will please to circulate in the Theosophical Society, as I shall in the Arya Samaj, the fact that neither the Arya Samaj, nor the Theosophical Society, is a branch of the other, but that the Vedic section of the old Theosophical Society is a branch of both the Theosophical Society and of the Arya Samaj; and that this Vedic section, which is like an intermediary, links both the Arya Samaj and the Theosophical Society together. It is not proper that this fact should remain secret, for it is but right that the exact position of the members of the Vedic section of the Theosophical Society and of the Arya Samaj, should be rightly understood, told and published. No doubt will then remain in any one’s mind after the publication of this fact, and the true position being properly known, it will delight all. What I have told Mr. Sinnett is all right, for I do not consider it proper to see and show such matters of ‘tamasha,’ whether they be done by sleight-of-hand, or by Yoga power; because no one can realise the importance of Yoga and have a true love for it, without the practice and teaching of Yoga by himself personally. But they (the witnesses) are only thrown into doubt and astonishment, and are all the time desirous of examining those who exhibit them, and of seeing the "tamasha," leaving aside matters of improvement. They do not endeavour to acquire it themselves. I have shown no phenomena to Mr. Sinnett, nor desire any thing to be shown to him, whether he be pleased or displeased with me, for if I were to be ready to do that, all fools, as also Pandits, will ask me to show to them similar phenomena by Yog, as I may have shown to him. It is also, because, I would have been pestered with this worldly ‘tamasha’ affair, just as Madame H. P. Blavatsky is. Instead of enquiring after, and accepting from her scientific and religious information, by means of which the soul, being purified, acquires happiness, every one who goes to her asks for the exhibition of ‘tamasha.’ For such reasons I neither encourage directly or indirectly such things. But if one wishes, I can teach him Yog so that by its practice he may himself experience Siddhis.

"I now communicate to you a piece of news that will please you. It is this: A will, appointing eighteen persons - in which, of course, will be yourself, Madame Blavatsky, and sixteen eminent persons of Arya Samaj of Aryavarta, - will be sent to you in a registered cover and to the rest, so that, hereafter, there may be no confusion, and all my things will be appropriated by you, all for the public good, and this body will be recognised as my representative. Therefore, you will please to take very great care of the paper, so that it may afterwards be useful for very great purposes ..... And another thing is that after I have published a circular about the relation between the Theosophical Society and the Arya Samaj, [a copy of] it will be sent to you. On seeing it you will be much pleased."

I think, the intelligent reader will see that all misunderstanding must have been removed from the Swami’s mind respecting the connection between our two societies, and will attribute the tone of his recent lectures and handbills to a lapse of memory due to the engrossing cares of his public duties. I think, also, that his expressed views with respect to the exhibition of Yoga phenomena strongly bear out my remark, at the beginning of this article, about his feeling obliged to carry on the policy of secrecy in regard to the mysteries of adeptship. No stronger proof of his entire confidence in the good faith and honourable disposition of the Founders of the Theosophical Society, could have been given by him, than his choice of them as co-trustees under his last will and testament.

The document, last referred to in the above letter, was a handbill, or proclamation, to the public, which the Swami had printed and circulated. It ran as follows: -

[TRANSLATION]

Swami Dayanand’s Circular of 1880:

TO ALL GOOD MEN.

As many people began to question me and others, as to the correct relation between the Theosophical Society and the Arya Samaj, and considered the latter a Branch of the former, it has become of the highest importance for me to issue the present circular, with a view to clear the matter, for, if it be not done, misconception may arise in the minds of people, which might lead to unfavourable consequences.

After an exchange of information of Rules, &c., of the two Societies by means of correspondence between Babu Hurrichund Chintamon, the then President of the Bombay Arya Samaj, on one hand, and Colonel H. S. Olcott, Saheb Bahadoor, (?) President of the New York Theosophical Society, and Madame H. P. Blavatsky, on the other, I received a letter in the month of Chaitra of the Vikrama era 1935, asking for instructions in the Archaic Vedic Religion of Aryavarta, - to which I replied with the greatest pleasure that I would comply with their request as far as I could. Afterwards they sent me a diploma as it was then intended to make the Theosophical Society a Branch of the Arya Samaj of Aryavarta; when this diploma was returned to New York, a meeting was held, in which many members most cheerfully accepted the new arrangement, while many others deferred action until they knew more of, and thought well over, the matter.

Owing to such a diversity of opinion, my advice was asked, as to what should be done. In my reply, I said that, if in Aryavarta itself many people reject the rules of the Arya Samaj, while a few only accept them, what wonder is there if, in New York, people should adopt this course, and, therefore, those who, of their own accord, would accept the rules of the Arya Samaj, would be the followers of Vedism, and those, who would not, might remain simple members of the Society, as it was not desirable that the connection of the latter with it should be cut off. (4)

This reply I forwarded to Babu Hurrichund, with a request to transmit its English translation to its destination. But he did not do so. And, notwithstanding, that the reply was not thus received in due time, the very same arrangement, as proposed by me, was carried out in New York, that those who would regard the Vedas as divine, sacred and eternal, might be reckoned as the members of the Vedic Section, which was to BE A BRANCH OF THE ARYA SAMAJ, BUT AT THE SAME TIME THIS SECTION WAS ALSO TO BE A BRANCH OF THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY, AS IT WAS, BUT A PART OF IT. Of course, neither the Arya Samaj, nor the Theosophical Society, was to be considered a Branch of the other, but only the Vedic Section of the Theosophical Society - of which Colonel H. S. Olcott, Saheb Bahadur, Madame H. P. Blavatsky and some others were members (5) - is a Branch of both the Arya Samaj and the Theosophical Society. And it is proper that all good men should understand it in this light and improper to view it in any other mark. How very phenomenal is the fact, that just at the very time the Arya Samaj was founded in Bombay, the Theosophical Society was established in New York! The very same objects and Rules, as defined by the Arya Samaj for itself, were also adopted independently of the latter by the Theosophical Society for its own part; and, moreover, before the receipt of my third letter, the very same proposal made by me in it, as to the Vedic Section and the Theosophical Society, was also carried out! What? Are not all these results the effects of Divine Providence? And are not these beyond the power of ordinary mortals - that the very same events happening here on this hemisphere should also take place on the other, at its antipodes, i.e., Patala (America)? I offer millions on millions of praises to that Almighty God, by whose power these miraculous occurrence have come to pass, namely, that after five thousand years a bond of brotherhood should be formed between religious men of Aryavarta and those of Patala (America) in connection with the ancient, well-examined Vedic religious practices! Oh! Almighty, all-pervading, merciful, just Paramatma! Mayest Thou strengthen all religiously disposed, learned men all over the world in the Vedic Religion as Thou hast done this! So that mutual antagonism may die out, and friendly feelings, arising among all peoples, the spirit of doing injury to others may be vanquished, and a desire for mutual benevolence may spring up, &c., &c.

The document closes with a lengthy ascription of praise to God for effecting the union between the long-separated sons of the common Aryan Mother.

Points I., II., IV., V., VI., and VII., are now disposed of. Points III., VIII., and IX., remain in part, uncovered. The facts as to the first, not above stated, are briefly as follow: - The Rs. 609-9-4, recovered from Mr. Hurrichund, were taken by us on our trip to the North-Western Provinces in April, 1879, - two months after our arrival in India - and at Saharanpur, through the interpretation of Mr. Muljee Thackersy, offered to the Swami for the Arya Samaj. He refused to accept the money, saying - as Mr. Muljee interpreted him to us - that our Society needed it, and that he was even in favour of having his whole Samaj contribute towards our Society’s expenses. He mentioned his wish that the subscriptions should be graded according to the monthly incomes of the Samajists. As regards the disposal of our proffered donation to his cause, his views are seen in the following excerpt from the official report of an extraordinary Council meeting held by him and ourselves - he sitting as a Councilor - at Saharanpur: -

Extract from the Minutes of a Council of the Theosophical Society held at Saharanpur, North-Western Provinces, on this 30th day of April, 1879: -

.......................................................................................................................
"Resolved - that any available funds of the Society be appropriated to defray
the cost of the journey of the present Committee from Agra to Sharanpur and return."
.......................................................................................................................
The Council then adjourned.

(Signed) Mooljee Thackersey,
Recording Secretary pro tem.

(True Copy.)
G. K. Deb.

This motion was put by the Swami, and seconded by Mr. Muljee. The Rs. 609 were properly accounted for in the Treasurer’s Report for the twenty-nine months ending April 30, 1881, and the item will be found on page 1 of the "THEOSOPHIST" Supplement for May, 1881. The account in question - officially audited - shows that over and above this Rs. 609, and all other income, the Society had received from the two Founders the sum of Rs 19,546-3-1, as their private contribution towards its expenses. I have mentioned this only for the information of such as may not have seen the Financial Statement above referred to. The only promise of a gift of "many books" that could ever have been made, must have been a conditional bequest of the private libraries of Madame Blavatsky and myself, in the event of our lives being lost on the voyage out from America to India. We never sold Babus Chedi Lall and Sheo Narayana the book referred to. But Mr. Muljee Thackersey, who had brought his own private copy of Isis Unveiled with him to read, as chance offered, did sell it to the gentlemen named and received and spent the money, as he had a perfect right to do. If our kind hosts at Meerut "spent hundreds of rupees" in entertaining us, we were never aware of it until now. We were put up in their private residence on the 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th of May, 1879 - when the book affair occurred; we ate the same vegetable food as the family, and if our entertainment cost "hundreds of rupees," then one must need a princely income to live at Meerut! But that we did receive from our friends there a welcome so hearty and affectionate, as to lay us under most lasting obligations - is true. And the same remark applies to our fraternal receptions at Lahore, Amritsar, Multan, Cawnpore, Allahabad, Benares, and elsewhere by Arya Samajists, who treated us everywhere with the utmost kindness, and a hospitality so generous as to force us sometimes to protest. If our gratitude was not warmly enough expressed, our words must have ill translated the feelings of our hearts.

The charge in Point VIII., that we improperly influenced members of the Samaj to join our Society, may well be regarded as answered by the Swami’s own circular of July, 1880, in which the Link-Branch is recognized as a Branch of the Arya Samaj, and, therefore, we were only asking some two or three good Samajists to enter that Branch to promote the interest of their own Samaj, as well as of our Society. It was after that visit to Meerut that we learned of the Swami’s pronunciamento - after the fashion of the Mussalman Caliph Omar’s at Alexandria - that no Samajist should join any other Society than his own; for, as he said to the Meerut Samaj, if that other Society professed the same principles as the Samaj, to join it was useless, inasmuch as they were already in the Samaj, while if its principles were different, then they should not join it anyhow!

No threatening message of the kind alleged in Point VII. to have been sent me by Swamiji, through Mr. Panachand, was ever delivered to me by that gentleman; nor - as he has himself assured me - was it ever confided to him for delivery. I was told that Swami wished to see me, and I replied that I would come with pleasure, if I could find an hour’s leisure time. But I never found it before leaving Bombay (February 17th) on my annual official tour, nor have I found it since. The fact is that such a thing as an idle day or an unoccupied hour has not been seen by me since, in 1875, I joined Madame Blavatsky in founding the Theosophical Society, and from present indications, I doubt if I shall ever see one until I die - in the harness!

Certainly, we do speak and write much about "ghosts and spirits," and treat them as scientific questions. Moreover, I may say that I have not found among "the Indians" one in a hundred, who is not "foolish enough to believe in such things" as phenomena of some kind. The entry of April 30, 1879, in my Diary, would seem to show that Swamiji entertained the same opinions respecting them as ourselves; while his letter of July 26, 1880, proves that he believed himself then able to produce the phenomena of adeptship before Mr. Sinnett.

The charge in Point IX., as to the insertion of the word "most" before the word "divine," is too trifling to dwell upon at any length. There were two copies made of the Swami’s challenge to Mr. Cook, to discuss, in one of which the "most" originally written there, was stricken out while, by an oversight, in the other the change was not made. The reading preferred by the Swami will be found in the pamphlet, entitled "The Whole Truth about the Theosophical Society" (page 29, line 7), of which 5,000 copies were printed by public subscription and circulated gratuitously throughout India and other countries.

I shall say no more, in reply, to the affirmation in the concluding para. of the "bill of indictment," that Madame Blavatsky, having failed to entrap the Swami with her "tamasha," has now taken refuge under the Himalayan adepts, as she possesses no psychical powers of her own, than to refer the reader to the report of the famous interview between Swamiji and ourselves at Meerut ("THEOSOPHIST," December, 1880), and to print the following certificate from the two learned gentlemen who kindly served us as interpreters on that occasion: -

To

COLONEL H.S. OLCOTT,
President of the Theosophical Society, Bombay.

DEAR SIR,
In justice to you and your learned colleague, Madame Blavatsky, we cannot help contradicting the statement in the May number of the Arya, made on the authority of the Bombay Gazette, that "the Pandit of the Samaj (meaning Swami Dayanand Saraswati) informs the public, that neither Colonel Olcott, nor Madame Blavatsky, know anything of Yoga Vidya..... that they may know the art of clever conjuring," for, in the month of August, 1879, when both of you were staying here at Babu Chedi Lall’s bungalow, Swamiji, who was also at the time in the station, stated before us and several other witnesses, including many Arya Samajists, on two different occasions, that the phenomena performed by Madame Blavatsky, were the result of, and produced through, the agency of real Yoga power, and not that of "clever conjuring." Therefore, we cannot believe the statement of the Arya quoted above to be correct, since a learned and wise man, like Swami Dayanand Saraswati, who has taken upon himself the duties of a Teacher and a Reformer of India, cannot be expected - even though he may be on terms of variance with you - to contradict himself so palpably.

As regards the Arya’s statement about you, we have nothing to say, for we do not remember to have heard Swamiji acknowledging that you yourself knew Yoga Vidya practically.

In conclusion, we have to add, that as we had to perform the duty of interpreters between yourself, Madame Blavatsky and Swamiji at the time, we are in a position to certify that the account of the discourse, about Yoga Vidya, between yourself (Madame included) and the Swamiji, which appeared in the "THEOSOPHIST," is, to the best of our knowledge, true and correct.

We are, Sir,
Yours sincerely,

JWALA PRASADA,
Judge’s Office, Meerut.

BULDEO PRASAD SANKDHAR,
Head Master, Normal School.

Meerut, the 16th June, 1882.

I might largely swell this narrative by printing a number of confirmatory documents, but our case is already made out, as every candid mind must admit. No consideration, short of the absolute necessity to clear up once for all this unhappy controversy, would have moved me to say even a single word in answer to the recent attacks upon us. As was remarked above, I cannot permit myself to believe that a man so learned, and so patriotic an Aryan as the Swami Dayanund, has been actuated by dishonourable motives. He and we have scarcely ever exchanged an hundred words, except through interpreters. It must be that our ideas have been mainly misunderstood by him, and such portions of our conversations as he did understand have slipped his memory. He may have never known the contents of the letters which passed between his Bombay agent, Hurrichund, and ourselves, if that faithless person suppressed them (as there is too much reason to suspect he did); and thus our views about Parabrahma may have been quite unknown to him before we met in person, and what has transpired since been forgotten. I cannot say. And since we have had to depend upon third parties to interpret his oral and written communications to us, I shall most assuredly abstain from putting any harsh construction upon conduct which, at first sight seems not only indefensible, but incomprehensible. Now, that the documents are filed, and the case stated as fairly as lies within my power, no doubt the Swami will himself be glad to have the errors into which he has inadvertently fallen thus corrected, and the consistent course of his loyal allies vindicated to a large extent by what he has himself written in friendlier days.

_______________

Notes

(1) See the first pages of Swami’s "Sattyartha Prakasha," on the necessity for Shraddha ceremonies and compare with what he says now. - H. S. O.

(2) This work was sent me by the author and in it (see Preface, p. viii.,) we read the following: - "In Hindustan, as in England, there are doctrines for the learned, and dogmas for the unlearned; strong meat for men, and milk for babes; facts for the few, and fictions for the many; realities for the wise, and romances for the simple; esoteric truth for the philosopher, and exoteric fable for the fool." This fitted in so exactly with our own knowledge of all religions, that it was no wonder we were led to believe Mr. Hurrichund was the very treasure his friend Mulji depicted him. Our disillusioning came after we personally met the man at Bombay and looked under his mask. - H. S. O.

(3) Pandit Shyamji Crishnavarma, who has now become so widely known among European Sanskritists and Orientalists, and who is now in Oxford, will certainly recognize his own translation and recollect the original as a letter in his own handwriting, a genuine document in short. - Ed.

(4) This shows that when we had learned what kind of a God the Swami was preaching, we had even offered then to break the alliance. - H. S. O.

(5) Not active, but official, members, as the Founders are ex-officio members of every Branch, not being allowed, under the Society’s rules to favour any religion or sect to the prejudice of any other represented in any other Branch. Neither has ever attended the religious meetings of the Samaj, as a participant, while, as for Madame Blavatsky, who was upbraided for her absence by the Swami, she plainly told him that she was his friend and staunch ally, but not his follower. - Ed.
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Hermetic Brotherhood of Light
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Accessed: 3/2/21

The Hermetic Brotherhood of Light was a Fraternity that descended from the Fratres Lucis in the late 18th century (in turn, derived from the German Order of the Golden and Rosy Cross), and was the seed from which Ordo Templi Orientis (O.T.O.) ('Order of the Temple of the East' or 'Order of Oriental Templars') was created.

Carl Kellner and Paschal Beverly Randolph were members of the Hermetic Brotherhood of Light. In Theodor Reuss' 1917 O.T.O. Constitution, it states in Article 1, Section 1:

Under the style and title: ANCIENT ORDER OF ORIENTAL TEMPLARS, an organization, formerly known as: "The Hermetic Brotherhood of Light", has been reorganized and reconstituted. This reconstituted association is an international organization, and is hereinafter referred to as the O.T.O.


Sources

• Greenfield, Allen. The Story of the Hermetic Brotherhood of Light. Luxor Press
• ____. Hermetic Brotherhood Revisited. Luxor Press
• Godwin, Joscelyn. (1990). "The Brotherhood of Light." Theosophical History, Vol. III, No. 3

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Fratres Lucis, Chapter 18, Excerpt from The Brotherhood of the Rosy Cross
by Arthur Edward Waite
1924

I have met with no first-hand memorials of the Golden and Rosy Cross in the second half of the eighteenth century, excepting the Rituals which arose out of the Reformation of or about 17771. We do not know certainly whether that reform came about in the course of a natural development, as for example in exchanging the astral workings for those of alchemical experiment, or whether it was the result of disruption. It was a stormy period, and the history of Secret Societies—Masonic or otherwise— indicates that titles of adeptship may have had many claims on the good pleasure of Divine favour and recognition but they had few upon the peace of God. I conclude that the Golden and Rosy Cross underwent a revolution which it characterised by a different name. There is another point of uncertainty. We have no means of determining whether the circle about which we have learned so much owing to the survival of its Rituals was the only one of its kind in Germany and otherwhere on the Continent of that period. There may have been several branches admitting no allegiance to one another, but following their own path. In any case the Order survived, and there came a time when two of its important members—who were not, however, Supreme Superiors within the initiated circle—were the chief advisers of Frederick William II, with their hands on the helm of the Prussian ship of state. I refer to Johann Rudolf Bischoffswerder and Johann Christoph Wöllner2. The King himself had been received within the ranks, and for a period of eleven years there was the strange spectacle of a Rosicrucian triad ruling over the destinies of an European kingdom. But this period began in 1786 and the initiation of Bischoffswerder must have taken place—under whatever Obedience of the Order—prior to 1773; that of Wöllner is altogether uncertain; it may have been subsequent to the King’s reception, which is referable to circa 1780. I do not propose to pursue this subject because it offers nothing to my purpose and information concerning it is available in many quarters3. We are told that the King was a tool in the hands of his brother-adepts and that Wollner in particular must be called his evil genius. In both cases, however, they were working for their own ends and not for those of the Order. This point seems perfectly clear from all that we know of their history. I set aside, of course, the bare possibility that the King’s treasury might at need have furnished money to the heads of the Rosy Cross through the influence of his two advisors, but no suggestion of the kind has been made from any direction. On the contrary, it would seem that the advantage of a royal patron and member was regarded in another light, for—at the value of such records—it is in evidence that the Master of a House or Temple at Hamburg, speaking in the name of the Highest Superiors, welcomed in absentia a Brother, then newly joined, under the name of Ormesus Magnus, as one who might be able to advance the Kingdom of Christ and the spread of the Order—presumably as a herald of His reign to come. Now Ormesus Magnus was the mystic name of Frederick William II as a Brother of the Rosy Cross4.

Meanwhile the Reformation of 1777 had by no means eliminated undesirables or malcoutents5. The impostor Schrepfer is an example of the first class his pretended evocations made him the comet of a season and there must be some ground on which he called himself a Rosicrucian, for he seems to have been acknowledged by Bischoffswerder, who ought to have known a fellow-initiate. The malcontents also were in evidence, and this fact led to the establishment of other Rites and Orders by what may be called a process of segregation. They were made in the likeness of their original and advanced corresponding claims, e.g., to hold the key of Masonic Symbolism, possessing therefore all its secrets, or to represent the true and original Order of the Rosy Cross. We have seen that there were similar pretensions in France, but they owed nothing to each other and in all probability knew nothing of each other’s existence. Three years after the Reformation, or circa 1780, Clavel says that a last schisrn in the Order produced the Initiated Brothers of Asia in Austria and Italy, but coincidently therewith or proceeding immediately therefrom was an association of Fratres Lucis, otherwise Knights of Light, and this shall be the subject of investigation in the first place as considerable consequence has been attached to it in some modern occult circles. It has been named by a few continental historians of Freemasonry and has figured in a few lists, like those of Ragon, but there was no knowledge concerning it till the late Mrs. Isabel Cooper-Oakley took up the subject with that earnestness which always characterised her excursions in research. She had unfortunately no critical faculty and her sense of evidential values made her judgments worthless, but she was to be trusted implicitly about facts within her first-hand knowledge, and if she said that a document was in her hands, it was most certainly there. The point is of vital importance in the present connection.

Her study of the Fratres Lucis was based by Mrs. Oakley on one of many rare MSS. which were once in the library of the late Count Wilkoroki of Warsaw. In connection with the Rosy Cross in Russia, we shall see that this library was looted by Catherine II, but Mrs. Oakley found access to the collection, which is or was in the Imperial Library at Petrograd. It would seem also that she was permitted or found it possible to make extracts or a transcript in full, for she states that the documents belonging to the Fratres Lucis passed — apparently from herself — into the charge of a member of the Theosophical Society, “having been committed to his care for possible future use. Many years have elapsed, however, and it does not appear that any result has followed. The original MS. claimed to comprise or embody the system of the Wise, Mighty and Reverend Order of the Knights or Brothers of Light, working five Degrees, the titles and content of which will appear immediately6. It was either divided formally or falls naturally for purposes of consideration into two main sections — otherwise the Laws of the Order and the Rituals worked thereby.

The second division of the manuscript contains the Ceremonies of the Order in what is presumably a rough outline or at least summary form. Preliminary to the whole appear the general conditions on which reception is possible and may become actual. They may be enumerated in the following order: (1) As in the Brotherhood of the Golden and Rosy Cross, Candidates must be Master Masons, raised in a regular Lodge; (2)they must be free from physical defects, thus recalling the whole manhood required by the Craft itself, but the stipulation in the present case connotes something more than perfect limbs, this being insured already by the first condition: it is possible that there is a sex-implicit; 3) they must not be initiates of any other Secret Order: alternatively they must resign there-from, but it is unlikely that this undertaking was fulfilled by the Heads of the Fratres Lucis; (4) they must be at least twenty-seven years of age or otherwise Master Masons of seven years’ standing, thus intimating that minors were eligible for Masonic initiations at the place and time; (5) they must not be oppressors of the poor; (6) they must not be disputatious and quarrelsome, or must have repented sincerely, as the banal clause adds; (7) they must submit to a probation of seven months, five of which would be occupied by the Superiors of the Order with inquiries into their Masonic conduct and reputation. The significance of these rules is to be sought in all that is omitted rather than anything that is expressed: it will be seen that they turn upon questions of moral fitness, Craft status and tolerably good citizenship. There is no word as to spiritual qualifications, religious aims or attainments, although — by the hypothesis of its Grades — the Rite was one of priesthood. Supposing that the Intelligence Department reported favourably the seven-months’ child of its concern might then be born into the Order.

On the day fixed for his reception the Candidate was placed in a vestibule, where he was proved in the Three Craft Degrees, after which he was passed to the Chamber of Reception, otherwise the Chapter House, and there signed the following preliminary Pledge: “ I, N. N., Master Mason, do promise in the Name of the one God, and by the duty of an honest man, that I will respect all the Mysteries and will observe all the Statutes which shall be imposed upon me by the Reverend, Wise and Worthy Chapter of Knights and Brothers of Light, Novices of the third year, and will hold them as a revelation of the ultimate forces of Nature, even if they seem difficult to follow and dealing with unheard of things.” The execution of this undertaking entitled the Candidate to be acquainted with the Laws under which he must abide as a Novice. These may be summarised as follows : (1) He was required to abstain from any action which might militate against the Order itself, its Chapters or its Grades; (2) to exhibit dutiful submission — as pledged — in respect of all its Laws; (3) to prosecute its Mysteries throughout the days of his life, because they emanate from the True Light; (4) to ask nothing respecting their source or those by whom they have been delivered;(5)to maintain, so far as may be possible, the Three Degrees of Freemasonry, seeing that they are the Elementary School of the Sublime Order; (6) to guard and shield the Reverend, Mighty and Wise Order itself.

Having signified his adhesion to these undertakings in writing, the Novice was then escorted into the Chapter itself, where he was questioned as to when and by whom he had been made a Mason, and as to his age in the Master Grade. The Headship being familiar already with these points of his career, the testimony was exacted presumably for the information of those who were auditors. Having been given and approved, an Officer denominated the Corrector of Novices called the Chapter to prayer by sounding a bell. The Invocation which follows has, however, been mangled in translation or is represented badly by the original7. “Thy Name, 0 God our Creator, is known throughout the earth8, and we give Thee thanks in Heaven. Out of the mouth of babes Thou hast established Thy strength against Thine enemies, that Thou mightest put to silence the accuser and the avenger.9 I behold the heavens, the work of Thine hands, the moon and the stars which Thou hast made.10 They that have ears let them hear what the Spirit saith unto the Churches To him that overcometh I will give to eat of the Tree of Life which is in the Paradise of God.11 And to the Angel of the Church of Smyrna write, saying: This is the first and the last, He that was dead and shall live again.12 They that have ears, etc. (repeated). To him that overcometh I will give of the hidden manna, and I will give him a good testimony written in his name (sic), but none shall know it save he that owneth it13. For all this hath the Lord spoken, and the word of the Lord is pure, even as pure silver, purged seven times.”14

The Corrector of Novices then exhorted the Candidate, bidding him pray to "the good elements of all creatures that the One and the Three and the Five and * * * * * * * may be with us and that they may direct thee on the path which thou hast entered.” Robing and unrobing followed, with the recitation of a Psalm, which is not otherwise specified. The Candidate was then warned that he had been brought within the secret circle in order that he might study the Laws of Divine Wisdom, Justice, Mercy and Power. He was called upon to abide among his Brethren in sincerity of heart, with the spirit of goodwill and submission, with love and devotion to the true ends of the Order. In the fulfilment of these conditions it was said that he would be taught “our Mysteries” fully and would be directed to that point when he himself should enter the light. On the faith of this prospect he ratified another Pledge as follows: "I, N. N., do swear by the one law of the True and Unknown Being that I will continue through all my life in fidelity to the duties of Knights and Brothers of Light. If I violate even one of them, may my Superiors, by the miraculous power of Magic, render me the most pitiable of all creatures. May the powers of evil rise up against me for ever, the cruel spirits which hide themselves from the light. May the powerful Princes of Darkness assemble about me all terrors of darkness, to encompass me as with a cloud. May they expel all light from my spirit, my soul and my body, and may the Source of Good, which is One and Three, shut me out for ever from its mercy."15

The Signs and Passwords are communicated in the next place, after which another Master of Novices delivers the Historical Discourse. It affirms the existence of various occult Societies from past times immemorial and under various names. In all cases their knowledge and objects were concealed in hieroglyphics, and thus reserved to the elect. The centre was always in Asia, and there on a day it came about that certain Knights were admitted who took part in the war against Saracens under the Banner of the Cross. They learned after this manner many mysteries in Asia, but the time came when part of them perished under a thousand tortures. The reference is of course to the suppression of the Knights Templar, whose story is told in brief. It is added that out of this ruin there arose what is called the Radiz, otherwise Knights of St John, as also "the German Order" — presumably Teutonic Knights — and the Golden Fleece.16 The wreckage of the Templar Mysteries was inherited by these Associations. Apparently, however, they were not the only heirs, for it is said that the Order of Freemasons, more ancient than any of the above, is that which has best preserved the hieroglyphics of Templar Knights. The Temple of Solomon was their most catholic symbol of all, yet it was used by the Chivalry itself, the Sanctuary of Israel being divided apparently into symbolic portions corresponding to the Grades of the Knighthood. The discourse is confused at this point and it is scarcely possible to understand what is intended. We hear of moral interpretations applied by Templars to sacraments and picture-symbols. It recurs then to Masonry and affirms without further preface that its real objects have been invariably those of Alchemy, Theosophy and Magia, but they have not been pursued owing to the ignorance of Brethren. The Fratres Lucis were, however, in a position to intervene and atone for this deficiency, by means of clear instructions, which would be given to deserving Novices.

In this manner the claim of the Order itself begins to emerge distinctly for the first time, and thereafter the Discourse proceeds to explain the Entered Apprentice Degree of Craft Masonry. The dark room used prior to reception signifies that the First Matter of the Great Work is found in a black earth. It is an earth which contains no metals, and these are removed from the Candidate prior to his reception for this reason. When he is divested of various garments the reason is that “Our Matter is stripped of the veil that Nature has given it.” It is said also that it can be “drawn as from the breast of a mother.” When the shoe also is removed the reference is to a certain mystical severance and is “one of the most ancient hieroglyphics known to the Israelites,” being connected with the refusal to take the wife of a deceased brother, the renunciation of an inheritance, and so forth. The battery which is made upon the floor as a token of affirmation or consent to the reception of Candidates “signifies that we procure our Matter from its habitation in a volcano and that the Order has for its chief objects the physical mysteries wrought by fire.” The hoodwink indicates that although the First Matter is luminous, shining and clear in itself, yet it can be found only in a most darksome abode—meaning the black earth already mentioned. The three circumanibulations which are made in the course of reception are called “laborious journeys “ and with their connected discourses and procedure are not interpreted alchemically: they signify’ the obedience, fidelity and silence which must be shown towards Chiefs, as well as “the toils, reflections, upright heart and open soul,” by which only the Novice can hope to rise towards them. But it is obvious that this is a blundering digression which has forgotten that its business of interpretation is at work on a Craft Grade. The confusion persists throughout the following clauses. The point of the sword making contact with the breast is a reminder that “no two-edged weapon must ever be used to slay our Hiram and obtain his precious blood, which is shown afterwards by a ‘weak’ Brother and his blood-stained handkerchief.” It is affirmed that this unintelligible reference — which has no Masonic application in our own day — is explained to the Knight-Novice of the seventh year. The silence preserved in. the Lodge intimates that our Matter,” after its due preparation, operates the dissolution of all metals in stillness. The compasses brought forward on a plate of blood and afterwards applied to the Candidate, with the subsequent elevation of the plate, intimate that “ we have another poniard,” being that which “we thrust into the bosom of our matter" and cause it to pour forth blood.” Whatsoever is repeated thrice indicates that the Matter is animal, vegetable and mineral. Finally, the name of Thooelkam (sic), conferred on the Candidate in virtue of his admission, is another reference to the fact that “our Matter lies where the volcano has its fire and its dwelling.”

The Tracing-Board offers an opportunity for further confusion between Masonic symbolism and that of the Fratres Lucis. The four cardinal points or quarters intimate that God has endowed the Chiefs of the Order with such wisdom that they are raised above all mortality, and that to them nothing is unknown. The four principal winds, considered as symbols, offer the same lesson. When the Smaragdine Tablet testifies that “the wind bears it in its belly,” the meaning is “carry the Matter, for it is the source and end of all things.” The border and the pointing finger are said to denote “our unchangeableness,” but this seems pure nonsense. The Masonic flooring reveals the well-known magic squares.

The Sign of the Hexagram appeared on the Tracing-Board and is connected with the words Aesh Mazor, whence it is said to signify the watery-flame or flaming water which belongs to the Hermetic work. The Sun and Moon typify the male and female elements, active and passive, corresponding to Jakin and Boaz. But it is affirmed that these have also their meaning in the operations of Divine Magic, to which statement is appended an unintelligible sentence, referring presumably to the Pillars of tile Sephirotic Tree, the Mystery of MERCABA, being the Symbolic Chariot of Kabalism. The last episode of the Grade was a further historical recitation, dealing more especially with the Order of Fratres Lucis and including a sketch of the Theosophia, Magia and Chemia belonging to the First Degree.

It seems that according to the ridiculous nomenclature of the Rite the Mason admitted to the First Degree became a Knight-Novice of the Third Year and that having been proved as such for a period of three years he was entitled to the Second Degree, which is Knight-Novice of the Fifth Year. It is difficult to believe that such a contradictory symbolical scheme of times could have obtained in any sane Ritual, and my inference is that Mrs. Cooper-Oakley, who was always a confused writer, has mismanaged her material. The ceremonial of the Second Degree is said to be substantially the same as the first, and it comes about for this reason that she presents some selections only from certain addresses delivered in the Chapter. They would appear to be explanations of Fellow-Craft Symbolism, though this is little better than speculation in the state of the summaries given. We hear of the “entrance" — whether of the Chapter or the Candidate it is impossible to say — and that it signifies an approaching union of those principles that are separate in themselves. The letter F, placed in the centre of a Blazing Star, signifies the active principle of the Creative Elohim. There is also an allusion to "the Seven Degrees,” which are not specified by name and it is impossible therefore to identify the Masonic Rite they correspond, however, to the seven metals which have to be perfected in the Hermetic Work and to the least number of “the true Jewish name of our Matter.” The following cryptic sentence is appended to this statement “Thus Zechariah saw one stone with seven eyes and finally seven wheels, which are our last workmen, by means of whom we raise ourselves to perfection.”18 The degrees, moreover, signify seven stars, the power of which is explained in our Kabalistic science, for Natural Magic is very useful and indeed necessary to our Chiefs in their work.”

The time of probation for the Third Degree is not specified, but its title is Knight-Novice of the Seventh Year, and it is either in analogy with the Craft Master Grade or the latter is expounded as to its inner meaning therein. (1) The Temple of Solomon is declared to be the general synthesis of the Hermetic Art. (2) It is affirmed to be clear from Ezekiel that Hiram has an universal meaning — namely, NEPHESH, URIM, THUMMIM — and also that he was slain.19 (3) He signifies “our Matter, killed by three workmen in order that they may obtain the Word,”which Word is Jehovah, otherwise the Central Fire.20 (4) He was buried and the murderers secured his caput mortuum: it is said to appear “ as if the spirit were excited by rage” and that the Acacia is an illustration of the fact. (5) As to the nature of the Matter, this is shewn in the Master Grade: it comprises three kingdoms, and these are symbolised in that Grade by (a) the touchstone,21 corresponding to the mineral kingdom; (b) the “dead-head,” corresponding to the animal; and (c) by the Acacia, which represents the vegetable kingdom. (6) The Name or Symbol of Jehovah, which appears in the centre of a triangle, denotes the fulfilment of the Work, and this itself is called the Central Fire, otherwise “the greatest light.” After these explanations, however they may happen to have been communicated in the course of addresses, the Candidate is told as follows: “This Matter, Reverend Brother, is our book, which is here exhibited before thee, and after close study thou shalt find that it is adorned with all these qualities.” Mrs. Cooper-Oakley makes tiresome omissions and at points which seem to be vital, but I conceive it possible that some of them were actuated by a desire to reserve what she might regard as Masonic Secrets. If the Philosophical Matter of the Fratres Lucis was literally a book, it is obvious that the work was not physical—in the sense of metallic transmutation — and if the qualities which it is said to contain are a reference to the three kingdoms specified above, then the latter must be understood in an allegorical or mystical sense. One is inclined to speculate whether the Knight-Novice of the Seventh Year had the Bible held up before him and was told that this was the touchstone — otherwise a key to all things — a “dead-head” or caput mortuum in respect of the cortex or external meaning, and the Acacia or sign of life and resurrection, a gage of immortality in respect of its inner meaning. As regards the Third Degree of the Order, I may add that there is one reference to Hiram, King of Tyre, of whom it is said that according to the Chaldaean book JALKOT he gained inexhaustible riches by his wisdom and was eight hundred years old. But a time came when he thought himself equal with God, and this led to his destruction. He fashioned two "beams” by his art and raised seven heavens upon them, in which he caused an altar to be erected, after the fashion of the Altar of God. The purpose of this adventure in emblematic building does not transpire, nor why it was counted against him as an evil work ; but the story says that God sent Ezekiel to pronounce judgment upon him, that he fell from the height which he had raised and was slain subsequently by men.

In the Fourth Degree the Candidate passes from Grades of supposed Knighthood into offices of priesthood, but as no one can see why his previous experiences should connect with the idea of chivalry, so now there is no reason on the surface, or perhaps beneath it, to account for him becoming a Levite. There may be, however, an explanation in the procedure which does not appear in the extracts. A Catechism contains the following unconnected and mostly inexplicable points. (1) Perfection is 1, 2, 3 and 4, but the sum of these numbers is 10, and the meaning may be that perfection is in the keeping of the whole Law alternatively the allusion may be to the denary scale of the Sephiroth and the emblematic mystery of their ascent. (2) The Perfect Flame is that which illuminates, blazes and destroys not. (3) The word Majim must not be pronounced while proving pure stones of marble. (4) Elohim is Eli and Ki, the light without will and the light with will, otherwise colourless and coloured, will being the source of colour. (5) The serpent which flies through the air and burns is represented by the ant found within its scale — referring, I think, to some rabbinical myth. (6) Moses was forty days with Scharnajim and brought back the natural laws, inscribed on a stone. Mrs. Oakley says that there are many more questions and answers, after which the officiating Brother offers the following Prayer “I beseech Thee, 0 Lord, to grant me two graces, and may they abide with me through all my life. Take away my idolatry and falsehood ; give me neither poverty nor riches, but only my daily bread. Vouchsafe unto me reason and wisdom, that I may learn both good and evil.” It may be added that the whole Ceremony is much shorter than those of the previous Degrees. Considerable stress is laid upon the ethical side of the Candidate’s life.

In the Fifth Degree and last the Levite becomes a Priest and is told that he has reached the end of the Secret Mysteries of a Royal and Sacerdotal Order. It is said also that he is approaching a barrier, through which he may pass, if God wills, being “enlightened by the light.” He is caused to perform certain ceremonial acts before a Sacred Fire which has been kindled with religious observances. Thereafter the Closing is taken. After making every allowance for a piecemeal translation which may be also indifferently done, it will be seen that on the surface at least the Candidate has learned little enough throughout and that there is practically nothing in the Degrees to deserve calling Ritual. In view of the references to light Mrs. Oakley cherished an opinion that the teaching of the Fratres Lucis was designed to lead members from the darkness of sense-life into that illumination of spiritual being which is our heritage. Her opinion on any subject having debatable elements cannot be said to count, and there is nothing apparently in her original to support the view. The barrier referred to in the Ritual most probably means the guarded threshold of the Fifth Degree, or alternatively the threshold of that secret knowledge which would have been held to lie behind the whole Rite. The intimations concerning it point to a medley of doctrine in combination with a medley of occult practices. As such the Order of Fratres Lucis does not stand alone there are other Rites in its likeness, though there is nothing to indicate that they have drawn therefrom. The characteristic, I am afraid, of all is that they lead nowhere. The highest Orders and Degrees of Masonry are shadows of things which have never passed into plenary expression, but they can open great vistas of symbolism beyond their own measures this is the distinction between them and a thousand others which were dead before they were born, which contain nothing and impart nothing in themselves, and have no windows from which we can look beyond.

Having exhibited the general Ritual-horizon of the Fratres Lucis, I will complete the available information concerning them by reference to the same source. The Order was divided into Provinces, particulars of which are wanting. If the scheme, as it may have been, was laid out on an elaborate scale, it will be understood that most of them were in a state of potential subsistence only, awaiting a day to come when Fratres Lucis would have acquired the Masonic world. Actually or hypothetically, each Province was governed by a Head elected by the Brethren over whom he was subsequently to rule. The Chapter on such occasion was in the hands of a Provincial Administrator, who sounded a bell seven times. The process of election began, the votes were taken, the result was announced in due course and the Head-Elect was installed immediately after. Psalm ii: “Why do the heathen rage?” was recited, after which the Chancellor-Assessor and Sword-Bearer uncovered the breast and head of the elected Knight. The questions of the time were then put, namely, (1) Whether he promised to have faith in the Good Author of all creatures to the end of his life; (2) whether he would observe the Statutes of the Order and maintain the same inviolate; (3) whether he would love the Brethren more than he loved himself. When the Assembly had been satisfied on these points, the Chancellor took a golden cup containing oil and anointed the head of the Knight-Elect crosswise on the crown, saying “God chooses thee as the Chief of His Elect.” Afterwards the left hand and breast were anointed, with the words: "David said unto the Philistines,22 etc. He was also and finally anointed on the right hand, but seemingly with no verbal formula. He was invested thereafter with the robes of his Office and with the Cap, the Chancellor saying “He who is the Chief Priest among his Brethren, on whose head has been poured the holy chrism and whose hands have been anointed, shall be clothed with this sacerdotal garment, and let him not uncover his head or rend his robe.” There were other exhortations, ending with this Prayer: “They who have ears to hear let them hear: he that overcometh shall have the first Tree of Life [sic] in the Paradise of God. And to the Angel of the Church [sic, meaning the Church in Smyrna] he shall write This is the First and the Last, Who shall die and live again [sic]. To him that overcometh I will give of the Hidden Manna, and I will give him a good certificate23 [sic], and this certificate he alone that hath shall know it [sic]. The lightning shall arise from the Altar, and also the Thunder and the Voice. And seven lighted candle­sticks shall be before the Altar which represent the Seven Spirits of God. May God bless thee and keep thee: may God teach thee and be gracious unto thee: may God turn His countenance and give unto thee peace there­from.”24

As regards the Laws of the Order they may be extracted thus: (1) The Grades comprised by the Rite, as already given; (2) Regulations concerning voting, election and so forth; (3) The decorations of the Temple, in the centre of which there was to be a seven-branched candlestick of gold; (4) Offences against the Order and complaints; (5) Rules for the preservation of right and order; (6) The vestments used in the Rite, but they are omitted by the translator; (7) Concerning alms; (8) Dues payable in the Order; (9i) The Chronology of the Order, and this is given as follows: The Chronology begins with the year of the reform which was inaugurated by John the Evangelist, Founder and Head of the Seven Unknown Churches of Asia, seven years after the death of Christ. By subtracting from A.D. 1781, the year in which the Order was founded, the 33 years of Christ’s life on earth and the seven which elapsed before St. John began his work, making 40 years, we arrive at the symbolical or rather mythical year which was arrogated to itself by the Order, namely, 1741. Were it revived at this day on the same basis it would assume the age of 1883 years. The subsequent Laws are devoted to questions of correspondence and business details.

It remains to be said that the manuscript on which Mrs. Cooper-Oakley depended was addressed to the Seven Wise Fathers, Heads of the Seven Churches of Asia, wishing peace in the Holy Number “—presumably the number seven. The Order comes therefore before us as that of a hidden Church or Holy Assembly, ex hypothesi like that of Eckartshausen, but passing into substituted manifestation by virtue of its ceremonial workings. The analogy ends at this point; but the reference to the Seven Churches opens a further question. We are taken back to the Asiatic Brethren or Initiated Brothers of Asia, otherwise the Knights and Brethren of St. John the Evangelist for Asia in Europe, which claimed to possess and to propagate the only true Freemasonry. According to Findel, the system consisted of two probationary Degrees of seeking and suffering,25 which were followed by (1) Consecrated Knight and Brother, (2) Wise Master, (3) Royal Priest or Perfect Rosicrucian, called otherwise the Degree of Melchisedek. It should be understood as regards the last that it was neither the Eighteenth Degree of the Rite of Perfection nor any variant thereof but that it drew from the Golden and Rosy Cross of circa 1777 and from Rosicrucian things antecedent thereto in Ritual, so far as served its purpose.26 The proof is that the Initiated Brothers of Asia were almost beyond question a foundation of the Brothers Ecker und Eckhoffen prior to the Knights of Light. Findel seems to be the only writer who has thrown any doubt upon the point, but he has created uncertainty solely by contradicting himself. He says in one place that Baron Hans Heinrich was propagator rather than founder and that he was helped by an Israelite named Hirschmann in recasting the Rituals; but in another place we are told that because he had failed in “obedience, trust and peaceful behaviour” he had been expelled from the Rosy Cross and that in revenge he founded the Asiatic Order. It is possible that this is a correct version of the matter and it seems certain also that the only Rituals to remodel were those of the Rosy Cross.

There is no trace of the Initiated Brothers prior to 1780,27 and by Findel’s own shewing the expulsion of Hans Heinrich could not have taken place till very late in the previous year, for in 1779 he is said to have been editing for the Rosicrucians a “collection of Masonic [sic] speeches,” delivered in the “ancient system,” that is, prior to the Reformation of 1777. But the Fratres Lucis based their symbolic chronology, as we have seen, on 1781. It is clear therefore that they arose concurrently with the Initiated Brothers, or alternatively that they were different branches or names of one thing. In support of the latter possibility we find that the heads of the Initiated Brothers claimed to have been Directors of the Seven Invisible Churches of Asia, or in other words that they are the very persons to whom the Wilkoroki manuscript was addressed. Moreover, the chief stipulation with Candidates was the same in both cases, or “not to inquire by whom the secrets were communicated, whence they came now or might emanate in the future.” Finally, the Initiated Brothers dated by their hypothesis from the year A.D. 40, when the Fratres Lucis originated under the auspices of St. John the Evangelist. There could be no two emblematical peas more like unto each other in one pod of the Mysteries. It ought not to need adding that nothing attaches to the identity or distinction between the two groups. In modern occult circles of the theosophical type a considerable rumour of importance has grown up about the Fratres Lucis, but — against all intention on her part — it has been dispersed by the publication of Mrs. Cooper-Oakley’s analysis of the Warsaw document. The two Orders concern us only as derivatives of the Rosy Cross in the eighteenth century under the Masonic aegis. They are serviceable as illustrating the circumstances under which new branches of the Order or things made in its likeness came suddenly into being, making great claims on present possession of knowledge and on an immemorial past, but with very little behind them and, as it happened in both these cases, with no horizon in front. According to Clavel, the Initiated Brothers were in trouble with the police in 1785 — where, however, being omitted — and in 1787 a writer named Rollig put an end to them by revealing their secrets. My experience of Secret Orders, Masonic and otherwise, shews that they do not suffer death in this manner more often they undergo change.

It is reported also that the Fratres Lucis were broken up in 1795, but the fact is exceedingly doubtful on other considerations than are adduced by Mrs. Cooper-Oakley. She refers to a publication entitled DER SIGNATSTERN, and terms it an official organ of the Order. It began to appear in small volumes about 1804 and continued for several years, but was not a periodical publication in numbers or in any way corresponding to Transactions. It is in reality a collection of archives, and according to these and the general title of the work there were Seven Grades of Mystical Freemasonry, otherwise of the Order of Knights of Light. I can speak with certainty only of the ninth part or division, comprised in a duodecimo volume of three hundred pages and containing (1) a long disquisition on the Mysteries of Egypt and their alleged analogies with those of Freemasonry; (2) the Constitution and Laws or Statutes of the St. John’s Lodge Ferdinand zum Felsen at the Orient of Hamburg, dated in 1790 and signed by Hans Karl Freyherr von Ecker und Eckhoffen; (3) a sheaf of orations emanating from the Grand Lodge Royal York of Friendship. If the archives as a whole are to be judged by these examples, they offer no evidence on the perpetuation of the Fratres Lucis. I have no doubt that the Asiatic Brethren survived the revelations of Rollig, and I should regard it as exceedingly doubtful that the concordant or identical association was actually broken up in 1795. It is probable that both lapsed gradually and that the second had passed out of sight at the beginning of the nineteenth century.

As regards the fraudulent antiquity claimed by both Orders, it is alleged concerning the Asiatic Brethren (1) that it underwent some kind of reform in 1541; (2) that it was working at Prague in 1608; (3) that it was closely connected with the Rosicrucians and had been helped by Christian Rosencreutz from time to time — a reference to its supposed activities, in the early fifteenth century; (4) that according to one of its traditions it was to continue till the Head should return — presumably C :. R :. C :.. The Jew Hirschmann is said to have supplied Kabalistic and Talmudic elements, including instructions on the four worlds of Atziluth, Briah, Yetzirah and Assiah. According to Mrs. Oakley the Fratres Lucis were incorporated originally at Berlin, but were first made public as an Order at Vienna in 1780, or immediately after the death of the Empress Maria Theresa. The evidence does not appear, and we have seen that their own chronology points to the year 1781. It appears from the Warsaw manuscript that few Rosicrucians were admitted, it being alleged that they had fallen away from their original ideal, were tainted with the thirst for gold and the search after power.

It remains to say that Hans Heinrich von Ecker und Eckhoflen — who seems to have worked always in conjunction with Karl his brother — was a gentleman of the bedchamber and counsellor of the Duke of Coburg-Saalfeld. According to his own statements, he became a Freemason in his sixteenth year and a Rosicrucian at no long date after. We have seen that he was expelled from the latter Order, or such is the recurring allegation, whatever its value.

_______________

Notes:

1. My reference is to official documents, actual or assumed. An important memorial belonging to the period itself, although at the last end, is H. C. Albrecht’s GEHEIME GESCHICHTE EINES ROSENKREUZERS, from their own documents, published at Hamburg in 1792. It is concerned entirely with the post 1777 period and in particular with (1) the revelations of a certain Cedrinus; (2) the history of Freemasonry; (3) the Order of the Temple; (4) the Convention of Wilhelmsbad; (5) a Rosicrucian romance called DON SYLVIO; (6) an ADDRESS to the Rosicrucians of the Old System, belonging to the year 1781 and connected with an attempt by Fraxinus to establish or revive the Rosy Cross in Vienna, the nature of which experiment was exposed by Cedrinus; (7) the activities of Theoretical Brethren ; and (8) the PHYSICA MYSTICA and PHYSICA SACRA SANCTISSIMA of Johann Gottfried Jugel.
2. Bischoffswerder was a native of Saxony, and was born on Nov. 23, 1741. He had been in the service of the Duke of Courland prior to that of the King, and before he became a Rosicrucian he belonged to the Strict Observance and many of the Secret Rites. He died in 1803. Wöllner was born at Dobritz in 1732 and belonged to the Lutheran ministry. He entered the service of the Prussian King in 1786 as Privy Councillor of Finance. He died on September 11, 1800.
3. Mr. Gilbert Stanhope’s MYSTIC ON THE PRUSSIAN THRONE, 1912, gives an excellent general account, with a long list of authorities but it should be understood that the writer neither has nor claims acquaintance with Rosicrucian history, outside the place and period with which he is concerned. As regards these the following summary particulars will clear up the chief issues, and those who are concerned further may be referred to Mr. Stanhope’s work. (1) Bischoffswerder had served during the Seven Years’ War and again in the Bavarian campaign, at the end of which he was attached to the suite of Frederick William, then Prince of Prussia. (2) He had attained already a high position in the Rosicrucian Fraternity and was a firm believer in the healing power of an elixir known to the Order. (3) It was used in an illness which befell the Prince, and his recovery was attributed to its virtues. (4) Bischoffswerder thereupon induced him to join the Order, concerning which it is said that the real leaders worked in secrecy, exacting implicit obedience: in a word, they were Unknown Superiors. (5) Delighted as they were—this is of course speculation—at the advent of a royal recruit, they imposed on him a year’s probation—as it is said, “to impress him more deeply with the sanctity and seriousness of their authority.” (6) On their own part, as stated at an Order-Convocation and mentioned in the text above, they looked upon his advent from the standpoint of its possible spiritual profit, in view of his exalted position. (7) Bischoffswerder is regarded as sincere, at least at that time; but Wollner, the son of a pastor, had belonged to the rationalistic party which flourished under Frederick the Great, and is thought to have entered the Order for the furtherance of his own schemes. (8) When Frederick William ascended the throne in 1786 he desired a return to the “orthodox religion,” and Wöllner co¬operated. (9) The number of Rosicrucians and mystics multiplied about the new King, and their influence was resented by many of the German princes, including Duke Frederick of Brunswick and Prince Eugene of Würtemberg. (10) Such was the entourage of Frederick William II, so far as occult circles were concerned ; but if the Rosy Cross in Prussia does not shine in any favourable light, there is nothing to shew that its representatives at the German Court were doing anything but play for their own hands. Mr. Stanhope says that the reactionary tendency of Austria made it sympathetic to Bischoffswerder, who regarded it as “a bulwark of monarchical and ecclesiastical authority against the approaching tide of liberalism in religion and politics.” But this at least exhibits a Rosicrucian on the less intolerable of two sides when neither made for goodness. Moreover, the case against Wöllner may call for amendment. It is possible for a rationalist to be sincere when he turns to things represented by the religious side of the Rosy Cross. When he said in a Circle of the Order “0 my Brethren, the time is not far off when we may hope that the long-expected Wise Ones will teach us and bring us into communion with High and invisible Beings “—it is scarcely fair to suggest that this was a mere pose. In any case the statement is valuable for my own purpose, as it shews that he was addressing a Lodge of Expectation, a Lodge of Quest, not one of attainment.
4. That of Bischoffswerder was Farferus Phocus Vibron de Hudlohn, while Wöllner was known as Chrysophiron in outer circles and Helioconus at the ruling centre. The King’s sacramental title, having regard to its claim on fabulous inventions of the past was most certainly provided or conferred and not chosen by himself. It indicates the hope of the Order in his respect.
5. Though Findel knew little of the Rosicrucian subject, and in view of his Masonic hypotheses found little reason for knowing, he has drawn facts belonging to the period under review from various quarters and aids in the extension of our knowledge. (1) We hear of Dr. Schluss of Löwenfeld, Sulzbach, Bavaria, called Phocon in the Order, and Dr. Doppelmayer of Hof as “ stars of the first magnitude “ in what is denominated “the new Order“—otherwise in “the latter half of the eighteenth century.” (2) As regards Shrepfer, who was a native of Nürnberg, it is said that he was the first who became a public apostle of the “Golden Rosicrucian Order,” but this was before the Reformation—an event with which Findel seems unacquainted—and before it is possible to speak, even incorrectly, of a new Order. (3) Schrepfer shot himself on October 8, 1774, at the age of thirty-five. 4.) He is said to have confessed previously that he was an emissary of the Jesuits, Findel having a mania in this direction, and almost anything served as evidence. (5) There is a story of Schröder—but I know not which as intended of the two Masonic celebrities who bore the name—and according to this he became acquainted with the Rosicrucians and “ their first three Degrees “ through an unknown alchemist. (6) He is said to have propagated the Order zealously till he lost the address of the person with whom he was directed to communicate. (7) This is on the authority of Lenning, and if the story is not a myth, the Schroder in question can hardly be he whom we shall meet with in the next chapter. (8) The activities of the Brotherhood caused the Order to take toot in Lower Germany—especially Hamburg; it appeared in Silesia circa 1773, at Berlin in 1777, and soon after at Potsdam, which became its headquarters. (9) The members claimed direct derivation from the old establishment, and the inheritance of all its secrets, including the only solution of Masonic symbols. (10) About 1782 it is stated that Wöllner placed himself at the head of the new Order,” using three different names in the three different Degrees this is exceedingly doubtful and Findel has admitted previously that the Degrees were nine. (11) According to certain MSS. in the possession of a Dr. Puhlmann, Wöllner corresponded with members at a distance and promoted greatly the extension of the Order. (12) But the BERLINER MONATSCHRIFT exposed the propaganda and declared the whole thing an invention of the jesuits. (13) In addition to attacks like this, the Order is affirmed to have carried within it the seeds of its own destruction—of what kind does not appear. (14) But when it became evident that the subjection of German Masonic Lodges to its yoke was beyond all expectation, a command went forth in 1787 from Southern Germany, enjoining the suspension of activities. (15) The event coincided with the time when “the credulous were anticipating the last and most important disclosures of that new and general plan which had been promised them.” (16) In the North the Rosicrucians survived till the Prussian crown “changed hands,” dying out in 1797-98. (17) I can see no reason for reliance upon these statements, which indicate a Rosicrucian headship in the South apart from that of the North, after placing Wöllner in charge of the whole Order. (18) As a fact, there seems no evidence for regarding Potsdam as the Rosicrucian headquarters or Wöllner as more than the chief of a single province.
6. Each Degree was called a Chapter and membership was graded on reducing multiples of the number 27. That of the First Degree was 27 x 5 = 135 ; of the Second 27 x 4 = 108 of the Third 27 x 3 = 81 ; of the Fourth 27 x 2 = 54 of the Fifth 27 x 1 = 27. It will be seen that according to so-called theosophical addition the number 9 ruled throughout, e.g., 27 = 2 + 7 = 9, and so forward. According to Eliphas Levi, the number 9 is that of initiation, while in Martinism it is of evil import; but there is neither harmony nor analogy between the numerous competitive systems of occult numerology, except in the sense that they appear to be at once arbitrary and worthless.
7. I speak under certain reserves: there is no end to the follies and confusions of minor Masonic Rituals, as there is no end to the common¬places and ineptitudes of those which rank as major. The Invocation above is, in any case, a mere chaos of Scripture-quotations.
8. Cf. Ps. viii, 1: How excellent is Thy Name in all the earth.”
9. Ibid., 2 : Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast Thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that Thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger."
10. Cf. ibid., 3
11. APOCALYPSE i, 7.
12. Ibid, 8, but read ‘‘which was dead and is alive.’’
13. APOCALYPSE, 17, but read: “will give him a white stone, and in the Stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it.”
14. Cf. Ps. xvii, 6.
15. In the imposition of such a Pledge the Order of Fratres Lucis is condemned out of its own mouth, for it is certain that nothing true and of good report would require a Candidate to invoke an eternal judgment on himself. The Masonic Rites and Degrees are content with penal clauses which threaten the destruction or maiming of the body.
16. We have seen that the Order of the Golden Fleece originated in 1429 in connection with an event belonging to that date and to nothing else ; the Knights of St. John were founded in 1124; and the Teutonic Knights in 1191. It follows that none of these institutions “arose“ out of the suppression of the Templars in 1307.
17. It is said alternatively that the path, according to its affirmed significance, can be found only in secrecy, after great trials, and by firm and fearless constancy.
18. For the stone with seven eyes see ZECHARIAH iii, 9, but the prophecy has no reference to wheels. In the Vision of Ezekiel the wheels are four in number.
19. There is no reference to Hiram in Ezekiel, whether the king or the builder and artificer. It is impossible therefore to speculate on the meaning of this statement. Hiram the worker in brass is mentioned only in 1 KINGS, vii, and 2 CHRONICLES iv.
20. I conclude that this is an attempt to allegorise in a Hermetic sense for the purpose of saving the Masonic situation when it communicates familiar Divine Names and, other formulae as great secrets protected by solemn pledges and Words or Names of power.
21. I conclude from this interpretation that German Craft Masonry must have incorporated stone-symbolism into the Third Degree ; but it may be mentioned for the benefit of non-Masons that it is not to be found in any English working, wheresoever practised.
22. The use of the plural notwithstanding it is not unlikely that reference is intended to 1 SAMUEL, xviii, 45—47: “Then said David to the Philistine, i.e. to Goliath. Compare ibid., xxix, 8 “and David said unto Achish,” i.e. the King of Gath, who was a Philistine; but this is without application.
23. Cf. the “testimony“ of the previous prayer.
24. Cf. Ps. iv, 6: “Lift up the light of Thy countenance upon us."
25. There were three, according to Mrs. Cooper-Oakley, namely, (1) Seekers, (2) Endurers, (3) Probationers, all classed under the general denomination of Sufferers. She does not cite her authority. See THEOSOPHICAL REVIEW, Vol. XXIV, 1899.
26. A Grade of Melchisedek connotes Eucharistic procedure and symbolism, but, according to Findel, Hans Heinrich established a Melchisedek Lodge at Hamburg into which non-Christians were admitted, as they were also in Berlin. He promised to unfold the meaning of all Masonic “hieroglyphics.”
27. This is the date of organisation given by Mackey, an American historian of Masonry. He terms the Asiatic Brothers a Rosicrucian schism.
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Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor
by Wikipedia
Accessed: 3/2/21

-- Liber LII, Manifesto of the O.T.O., by Aleister Crowley
-- Magick in Theory and Practice, by Aleister Crowley
-- Magick Without Tears, by Aleister Crowley
-- Moonchild, by Aleister Crowley
-- The Book of Lies, by Aleister Crowley
-- The Book of the Law, by Aleister Crowley
-- The Diary of a Drug Fiend, by Aleister Crowley
-- The Heart of the Master, by Aleister Crowley
-- The Vindication of Nietzsche, by Aleister Crowley
-- Aleister Crowley and Coprophagy: The Limits of Transgression, by Georgia van Raalte
-- Aleister Crowley as Political Theorist, by Kerry Bolton
-- Ordo Templi Orientis Spermo-Gnosis: Carl Kellner, Theodor Reuss, Aleister Crowley, by P.R. Koenig
-- The OTO & the CIA -- Ordis Templis Intelligentis, by Alex Constantine
-- Ordo Templi Orientis Spermo-Gnosis: Carl Kellner, Theodor Reuss, Aleister Crowley, by P.R. Koenig
-- 13th Degree: Royal Arch of Enoch (or Knights of the Ninth Arch), by Charles T. McClenechan
Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica, by Wikipedia
-- Knights Hospitaller, by Wikipedia
-- Nosferatu's Baby (Much Too Much) Too hot To Handle, by Peter-R. Koenig
-- Ordo Templi Orientis Outer Head of the Order?, by Karl Germer
-- The Templar's Reich Milieu: The Slaves Shall Serve, by Peter-Robert Koenig
-- Theodor Reuss: The Programme of Construction and the Guiding Principles of the Gnostic Neo-Christians O.T.O., published in 1920, by P.R. Koenig
-- A Note on Gerard Aumont, by Ordo Templi Orientis International Headquarters
-- The Scented Garden of Abdullah the Satirist of Shiraz, by Ordo Templi Orientis
-- Ananda Metteyya [Charles Henry Allan Bennett]: The First British Emissary of Buddhism [Excerpt], by Elizabeth J. Harris
-- Honour Thy Fathers: A Tribute to the Venerable Kapilavaddho ... And brief History of the Development of Theravāda Buddhism in the UK, by Terry Shine
-- Convert to Compassion: Allan Bennett, from Theravada Buddhism and the British Encounter: Religious, Missionary and Colonial Experience in Nineteenth Century Sri Lanka [Excerpt], by Elizabeth J. Harris
-- Charles Henry Allan Bennett, by Wikipedia
-- Allan Bennett, by AstrumArgenteum.org
--Allan Bennett, by George Knowles
-- Tibet House US: Overview, by Tibet House US
-- Tibet Society: Our Story, by tibetsociety.com
-- Tibetan Friendship Group, by tibet.org
-- Tibet, the ‘great game’ and the CIA, by Richard M. Bennett
-- Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ) about Parapsychology, DRAFT 3, by cia.gov
-- Committee for a Free Asia, by Central Intelligence Agency
-- The Dalai Lama, by The Central Intelligence Agency
-- The Indian Communist Party and the Sino-Soviet Dispute, by Office of Current Intelligence, Central Intelligence Agency
-- The Sino-Indian Border Dispute, by Central Intelligence Agency
-- Communist Party Weekly, Vol. X, No. 44, New Delhi, November 4, 1962, Approved for Release: 8/27/2000: CIA-RDP78-03061A000100070014-0, by Central Intelligence Agency
-- Nehru on Communism: An Awakening, by cia.gov
-- Scientology Guardian's Office Debbie Sharp Reveals Secret CIA Human Experiments
-- Sex, Drugs and the CIA, by Douglas Valentine
-- The CIA's Secret War in Tibet, by Kenneth Conboy and James Morrison
-- Project MKULtra, by Wikipedia


The Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor was an initiatic occult organisation that first became public in late 1894, although according to an official document of the order[1] it began its work in 1870. According to this document, authored by Peter Davidson, the order was established by Max Theon, who when in England was initiated as a Neophyte by "an adept of the serene, ever-existing and ancient Order of the original H. B. of L."[2]

The Order's relation, if any, with the mysterious "Brotherhood of Luxor" that Helena Blavatsky spoke of is not clear.[3]

Theon thus became Grand Master of the Exterior Circle of the Order. However, apart from his initiatory role, he seems to have little to do with the day to day running of the order, or of its teachings. He seems to have left these things to Peter Davidson, who was the Provincial Grand Master of the North (Scotland), and later also the Eastern Section (America).

Peter Davidson, cofounder of the Hermetic Brotherhood of Light (HBL), a nineteenth-century British occult order, was born and raised in Forres, Scotland. In 1866 he married Christina Ross. He became a violin maker and in 1871 published a book, The Violin, that surveyed the historical and technical aspects of the instrument.

Image
Violin

-- Davidson, Peter (1842-1929), by Encyclopedia.com


The order's teachings drew heavily from the magico-sexual theories of Paschal Beverly Randolph, who influenced groups such as the Ordo Templi Orientis (O.T.O.) (later headed by Aleister Crowley) (Greenfield 1997) although it is not clear whether or not Randolph himself was actually a part of the Order.[4]

Prior to the rise of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn in 1888 the HBoL was the only order that taught practical occultism in the Western Mystery Tradition. Among its members were a number of occultists, spiritualists, and Theosophists. Initial relations between the Order and the Theosophical Society were cordial, with most members of the order also prominent members of the T.S.[5]

Later there was a falling out, as the Order was opposed to the eastern-based teachings of the later Blavatsky (Davidson considered that Blavatsky had fallen under the influence of "a greatly inferior Order, belonging to the Buddhist [sic] Cult").
Conversely, the conviction in 1883 of the Secretary of the Order, Thomas Henry Burgoyne for fraud, was claimed by the Theosophists to show the immorality of the Order.

Thomas H. Burgoyne [Thomas Dalton]

Unlike the case of Peter Davidson, there are no descendants or local historians anxious to bear witness to the virtues and achievements of Thomas Henry Dalton (1855?-1895? [Date of birth deduced from prison records; death record searched for, without success, by Mr. Deveney.]), better known as T.H. Burgoyne, whose misdemeanors are amply chronicled in the Theosophical literature [B.6]. The “Church of Light,” a still active Californian group which descended from Burgoyne’s teachings, disposes of his life up to 1886 as follows:

T.H. Burgoyne was the son of a physician in Scotland. He roamed the moors during his boyhood and became conversant with the birds and flowers. He was an amateur naturalist. He also was a natural seer. Through his seership he contacted The Brotherhood of Light on the inner plane, and later contacted M. Theon in person. Still later he came to America, where he taught and wrote on occult subjects. [“The Founders of the Church of Light.”]


While this romanticized view cannot entirely be trusted, there is no doubt that Burgoyne was a medium and that he was developed as such by Max Theon. Burgoyne told Gorham Blake that he “visited [Theon’s] house as a student every day for a long time” [B.8.k], and gave this clue to their relationship in The Light of Egypt:

… those who are psychic, may not know WHEN the birth of an event will occur, but they Feel that it will, hence prophecy.

The primal foundation of all thought is right here, for instance, M. Theon may wish a certain result; if I am receptive, the idea may become incarnated in me, and under an extra spiritual stimulus it may grow and mature and become a material fact.


Burgoyne was making enquiries in occult circles by 1881, when he wrote to [The Rev W. A.] Ayton asking to visit him for a discussion of occultism. The clergyman was shocked when he met this “Dalton,” who (Ayton says) boasted of doing Black Magic [B.6.f], and forthwith sent him packing [B.6.k]. Later Ayton would be appalled to learn that it was this same young man with whom, as “Burgoyne,” he had been corresponding on H.B. of L. business. Having decided that the mysterious Grand Master “Theon” was really Hurrychund Chintamon, Ayton deduced that the young Scotsman must have learned his black magic from this Indian adventurer.

Image

This lovely picture raises as many questions as it answers. Adam McLean tells me in a private e-mail (3-18-08) that the book Philalethes Illustratus is about alchemy. He adds:

The ouroboros is a well know symbol in alchemy, as is the interwoven triangles. These were often brought together in alchemical emblems. There was a particular focus on this image in the early 18th century, through its use as an illustration in the influential 'Golden Chain of Homer', written or edited by Anton Josef Kirchweger, first issued at Frankfurt and Leipzig in four German editions in 1723, 1728, 1738 and 1757. A Latin version was issued at Frankfurt in 1762, and further German editions followed. In the late eighteenth century Sigismund Bacstrom made a rather poor translation of the work into English. Blavatsky was very interested in this work and apparently wanted to write a commentary on it. Part of this was published in the Theosophical Society Journal 'Lucifer' in 1891. The Rev W. A. Ayton, the alchemical enthusiast, and contact of Blavatsky, used a variation of this image as a letterhead on his papers.


Image

This is a copy of the letterhead of Rev W. A. Ayton which Adam McLean sent me. Ayton is mentioned in Blavatsky's diary in 1878 and 1879 (BCW I, p 410, 421 and II, p. 42). Note that where Blavatsky's seal has astrological connotations with for instance the sign of the Leo in the right-bottom corner, Ayton has an actual lion in exactly the same spot as well as a sun and moon. Adam McLean notes (3-18-08) that Ayton was a member of the Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor and his seal is similar to theirs.

It's clear at this point that the Theosophical Seal has a western esoteric background. Seen through the Eliphas Levi seal the cross was turned into an Egyptian cross, which makes sense as an Egyptian source for the early theosophical adepts was hinted at in their name: the Brotherhood of Luxor (whether a connection with the Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor should be assumed is an open question of theosophical history).

The circle on top with the swastika inside is present in Blavatsky’s seal. I have not been able to find any precursors to that. In this respect Blavatsky’s seal was clearly the example for the Theosophical Seal.

-- Early history of the Theosophical Seal, by Katinka Hesselink 2006, 2008


Hurrychund Chintamon had played an important part in the early Theosophical Society and in the move of Blavatsky and Olcott from New York to India. He had been their chief Indian correspondent during 1877-1878, when he was President of the Bombay Arya Samaj (a Vedic revival movement with which the early Theosophical Society was allied). After Blavatsky and Olcott arrived in Bombay in 1879 and met Chintamon in person, they discovered that he was a scoundrel and an embezzler, and expelled him from the Society. Chintamon came to England in 1879 or 1880, and stayed until 1883, when he returned to make further trouble for the Theosophists in India. Perhaps the fact that Chintamon was in England when Burgoyne first met Theon led some to conclude that they were the same person. But this cannot be the whole story. Ayton claimed very clearly and repeatedly that he had proof of Burgoyne’s being in company with Chintamon. In a letter in the private collection, Ayton writes:

I have since discovered that Hurrychund Chintaman the notorious Black Magician was in company with Dalton at Bradford. By means of a Photograph I have traced him to Glasgow & even to Banchory, under the alias of Darushah Chichgur. Friends in London saw him there just before his return to India. This time coincides with that when I noticed a great change in the management. Chintaman had supplied the Oriental knowledge as he was a Sanskrit scholar & knew much. Theon was Chintaman! Friends have lately seen him in India where he is still at his tricks.


Before her disillusion[ment] with Chintamon, Blavatsky had touted him to the London Theosophists as a “great adept.” After the break that followed on her meeting with him in person, Chintamon allied himself to the rising Western opposition to esoteric Buddhism exemplified by Stainton Moses, C.C. Massey, William Oxley, Emma Hardinge Britten, Thomas Lake Harris, and others. From this formidable group, Burgoyne first contracted the hostility towards Blavatsky’s enterprise that would mark all his writings.

Chintamon also appears in connection with “H.B. Corinni,” the otherwise unidentifiable (and variously spelled) “Private Secretary” of Theon, who was thought by the police to be just another of Burgoyne’s aliases. Ayton, however, believed Corinni to be Chintamon’s son, who he said offered Blavatsky’s old letters for sale to the President of the London Branch of the Theosophical Society, Charles Carleton Massey. [Ayton to unnamed American neophyte, 11 June 1886, based on what he had been told by Massey.] The flaw in Ayton’s thesis is of course the existence of a real and independent Max Theon, of whom we, unlike Ayton, have documentary evidence. Nonetheless, after more than a hundred years, the whole tangle of misidentifications involving Chintamon, “Christamon,” and “Metamon” [see B.9.c-3] with the Order cannot be entirely resolved.

By October 1882, Burgoyne was in Leeds, working in the menial trade of a grocer. [This is the trade ascribed to him in the court records. The records of the Leeds Constabulary call him “medium and astrologer.”] Here he tried to bring off an advertising fraud [B.6.d] so timid as to cast serious doubt on his abilities as a black magician! As a consequence, he spent the first seven months of 1883 in jail. He had probably met Theon before his incarceration, and, as we have seen, worked for a time in daily sessions as Theon’s medium. On his release he struck up or resumed relations with Peter Davidson, and became the Private Secretary to the Council of the H.B. of L. when it went public the following year.

Burgoyne contributed many letters and articles to The Occult Magazine, usually writing under the pseudonym “Zanoni.” He also contributed to Thomas Johnson’s Platonist [see B.7.c], showing considerably more literacy than in the letter that so amused the Theosophists [B.7.b]. But he never claimed to be an original writer. In the introduction to the “Mysteries of Eros” [A.3.b] he states his role as that of amanuensis and compiler. The former term reveals what the H.B. of L. regarded as the true source of its teachings – the initiates of the Interior Circle of the Order. The goal of the magical practice taught by the H.B. of L. was the development of the potentialities of the individual so that he or she could communicate directly with the Interior Circle and with the other entities, disembodied and never embodied, that the H.B. of L. believed to populate the universes. If Gorham Blake is to be credited [B.6.k], Davidson and Burgoyne “confessed” to him that Burgoyne was an “inspirational medium” and that the teachings of the Order came through his mediumship. Stripped of the bias inherent in the terms “medium,” and “confess,” there is no reason to doubt the statement of Burgoyne’s role. In the Order’s own terminology, however, his connection with the spiritual hierarchies of the universe was through “Blending” – the taking over of the conscious subject’s mind by the Initiates of the Interior Circle and the Potencies, Powers, and Intelligences of the celestial hierarchies – and through the “Sacred Sleep of Sialam” (see Section 15, below).

Shortly after arriving in Georgia, for all the Theosophists’ efforts to intercept him [B.6.1], Burgoyne parted with Davidson. From then on, the two communicated mainly through their mutual disciples, squabbling over fees for reading the neophytes’ horoscopes and over Burgoyne’s distribution of the Order’s manuscripts, with each man essentially running a separate organization. This split may be reflected in the French version of “Laws of Magic Mirrors” [A.3.a], which was prepared in 1888 and which bears the reference “Peter Davidson, Provincial Grand Mater of the Eastern Section.”

Burgoyne made his way from Georgia first to Kansas, then to Denver, and finally to Monterey, California, staying with H.B. of L. members as he went. According to the Church of Light, Burgoyne now met Normal Astley, a professional surveyor and retired Captain in the British Army. After 1887 Astley and a small group of students engaged Burgoyne to write the basic H.B. of L. teachings as a series of lessons, giving him hospitality and a small stipend. Astley is actually said to have visited England to meet Theon – something which is hardly credible in the light of what is known of Theon’s methods. We do know, however, that Burgoyne advertised widely and took subscriptions for the lessons, and that they were published in book form in 1889 as The Light of Egypt; or The Science of the Soul and the Stars, attributed to Burgoyne’s H.B. of L. sobriquet “Zanoni.”

With The Light of Egypt, the secrecy of the H.B. of L.’s documents was largely broken, and they were revealed – to those who could tell – to be fairly unoriginal compilations from earlier occultists, presented with a strongly anti-Theosophical tone. Only the practical teachings were omitted. The book was translated into French by Rene Philipon, a friend of Rene Guenon’s, and into Russian and Spanish, and a paraphrase of it was published in German. We present [B.8] the most important reactions to this work, which has been reprinted frequently up to the present day.


After the political upheavals in Tibet in the 1950s, Pallis became active in the affairs of the Tibetan [Tibet] Society, the first Western support group created for the Tibetan people. Pallis also was able to house members of the Tibetan diaspora in his London flat. Pallis also formed a relationship with the young Chögyam Trungpa, who had just arrived in England. Trungpa asked Pallis to write the foreword to Trungpa’s first, autobiographical book, Born in Tibet. In his acknowledgment, Trungpa offers Pallis his “grateful thanks” for the “great help” that Pallis provided in bringing the book to completion. He goes on to say that “Mr. Pallis when consenting to write the foreword, devoted many weeks to the work of finally putting the book in order”.

Pallis studied music under Arnold Dolmetsch, the distinguished reviver of early English music, composer, and performer, and was considered “one of Dolmetsch's most devoted protégés”. Pallis soon discovered a love of early music—in particular chamber music of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries—and for the viola da gamba. Even while climbing in the region of the Satlej-Ganges watershed, he and his musically-minded friends did not fail to bring their instruments.


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Viola da gamba

Pallis taught viol at the Royal Academy of Music, and reconstituted The English Consort of Viols, an ensemble he had first formed in the 1930s. It was one of the first professional performing groups dedicated to the preservation of early English music. They released three records and made several concert tours in England and two tours to the United States.

According to the New York Times review, their Town Hall concert of April 1962 “was a solid musical delight”, the players having possessed “a rhythmic fluidity that endowed the music with elegance and dignity”. Pallis also published several compositions, primarily for the viol, and wrote on the viol’s history and its place in early English music.

The Royal Academy of Music, in recognition of a lifetime of contribution to the field of early music, awarded Pallis an Honorary Fellowship. At age eighty-nine his Nocturne de l’Ephemere was performed at the Queen Elizabeth Hall in London; his niece writes that “he was able to go on stage to accept the applause which he did with his customary modesty.” When he died he left unfinished an opera based on the life of Milarepa...

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Pallis described "tradition" as being the leitmotif of his writing. He wrote from the perspective of what has come to be called the traditionalist or perennialist school of comparative religion founded by René Guénon, Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, and Frithjof Schuon, each of whom he knew personally.

Frithjof Schuon (/ˈʃuːɒn/; German: [ˈfʀiːtˌjoːf ˈʃuː.ɔn]) (18 June, 1907 – 5 May, 1998), also known as ʿĪsā Nūr ad-Dīn ʾAḥmad (عيسیٰ نور الـدّين أحمد),[1] was an author of German ancestry born in Basel, Switzerland. He was a spiritual master, philosopher, and metaphysician inspired by the Hindu philosophy of Advaita Vedanta and Sufism and the author of numerous books on religion and spirituality. He was also a poet and a painter...

Schuon's father was a concert violinist and the household was one in which not only music but literary and spiritual culture were present.

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Violin

-- Frithjof Schuon, by Wikipedia


As a traditionalist, Pallis assumed the "transcendent unity of religions" (the title of Schuon's landmark 1948 book) and it was in part this understanding that gave Pallis insight into the innermost nature of the spiritual tradition of Tibet, his chosen love. He was a frequent contributor to the journal Studies in Comparative Religion (along with Schuon, Guénon, and Coomaraswamy), writings on both the topics of Tibetan culture and religious practice as well as the Perennialist philosophy.


-- Marco Pallis, by Wikipedia


Burgoyne’s last years were spent in unwonted comfort if, as the Church of Light says, Dr. Henry and Belle M. Wagner – who had been members of the H.B. of L. since 1885 – gave $100,000 to found an organization for the propagation of the Light of Egypt teachings. Out of this grew the Astro-Philosophical Publishing Company of Denver, and the Church of Light itself, reformed in 1932 by Elbert Benjamine (=C.C. Zain, 1882-1951). Beside Burgoyne’s other books The Language of the Stars and Celestial Dynamics, the new company issued in 1900 a second volume of The Light of Egypt. This differs markedly from the first volume, for it is ascribed to Burgoyne’s spirit, speaking through a medium who was his “spiritual successor,” Mrs. Wagner. As the spirit said, with characteristically poor grammar: “Dictated by the author from the subjective plane of life (to which he ascended several years ago) through the law of mental transfer, well known to all Occultists, he is enabled again to speak with those who are still upon the objective plane of life.”

Max Theon wrote to the Wagners in 1909 (the year after his wife’s death), telling them to close their branch of the H.B. of L. [Information given to Mr. Deveney by Henry O. Wagner.] By that time, the Order had virtually ceased to exist as such, while the Wagners continued on their own, channeling doctrinal and fictional works. Their son, Henry O. Wagner, told Mr. Deveney that he, in turn, received books from his parents by the “blending” process, to be described below. In 1963 he issued an enlarged edition of The Light of Egypt, which included several further items from his parents’ records. Some of these are known to have circulated separately to neophytes during the heyday of the H.B. of L. (see Section 10, below), while others were circulated by Burgoyne individually on a subscription basis to his own private students (all of whom were in theory members of the H.B. of L.) from 1887 until his death. These include a large body of astrological materials and also treatises on “Pentralia,” “Soul Knowledge (Atma Bodha)” and other topics. They are perfectly consistent with the H.B. of L. teachings, but appear to have been Burgoyne’s individual production, done after his separation from Peter Davidson, and they are not reproduced here.

-- The Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor: Initiatic and Historical Documents of an Order of Practical Occultism, by Joscelyn Godwin


See also

• Hermetic Brotherhood of Light

References

1. Godwin, Chanel, Deveney, 1995, pages 92-97
2. Godwin, Chanel, Deveney, 1995, page 95
3. Godwin, Chanel, Deveney, 1995, page 6
4. Godwin, Chanel, Deveney, 1995, page 44
5. Godwin, Chanel, Deveney, 1995, page 52

Sources

• Godwin, Joscelyn; Chanel, Christian; Deveney, John Patrick (1995), The Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor: Initiatic and Historical Documents of an Order of Practical Occultism, Samuel Weiser
• T. Allen Greenfield. The Story of the Hermetic Brotherhood of Light. Looking Glass, 1997.

External links

• The Hermetic Brotherhood Of Luxor at kheper.net

************************************

Lodges of Magic
LUCIFER
Vol. III., No. 14
London
October 15, 1888.

When fiction rises pleasing to the eye,
Men will believe, because they love the lie;
But Truth herself, if clouded with a frown,
Must have some solemn proofs to pass her down."

-- Churchill


One of the most esteemed of our friends in occult research, propounds the question of the formation of “working Lodges” of the Theosophical Society, for the development of adeptship. If the practical impossibility of forcing this process has been shown once, in the course of the theosophical movement, it has scores of times. It is hard to check one’s natural impatience to tear aside the veil of the Temple. To gain the divine knowledge, like the prize in a classical tripos, by a system of coaching and cramming, is the ideal of the average beginner in occult study. The refusal of the originators of the Theosophical Society to encourage such false hopes, has led to the formation of bogus Brotherhoods of Luxor (and Armley Jail?) as speculations on human credulity. How enticing the bait for gudgeons in the following specimen prospectus, which a few years ago caught some of our most earnest friends and Theosophists.

Students of the Occult Science, searchers after truth, and Theosophists who may have been disappointed in their expectations of Sublime Wisdom being freely dispensed by Hindu Mahatmas, are cordially invited to send in their names to . . . ., when, if found suitable, they can be admitted, after a short probationary term, as Members of an Occult Brotherhood, who do not boast of their knowledge or attainments, but teach freely” (at £1 to £5 per letter?), “and without reserve (the nastiest portions of P. B. Randolph’s “Eulis”), “all they find worthy to receive” (read: teachings on a commercial basis; the cash going to the teachers, and the extracts from Randolph and other “ ove-philter” sellers to the pupils!)* [Documents on view at Lucifer Office, viz., Secret MSS. written in the handwriting of----- (name suppressed for past considerations), “Provincial Grand Master of the Northern Section," One of these documents bears the heading, “A brief Key to the Eulian Mysteries,” i.e. Tantric black magic on a phallic basis. No; the members of this Occult Brotherhood “do not boast of their knowledge.” Very sensible on their part: least said soonest mended.]


If rumour be true, some of the English rural districts, especially Yorkshire, are overrun with fraudulent astrologers and fortune-tellers, who pretend to be Theosophists, the better to swindle a higher class of credulous patrons than their legitimate prey, the servant-maid and callow youth. If the “lodges of magic,” suggested in the following letter to the Editors of this Magazine, were founded, without having taken the greatest precautions to admit only the best candidates to membership, we should see these vile exploitations of sacred names and things increase an hundredfold. And in this connection, and before giving place to our friend’s letter, the senior Editor of Lucifer begs to inform her friends that she has never had the remotest connection with the so-called “H(ermetic) B(rotherhood) of L(uxor),” and that all representations to the contrary are false and dishonest. There is a secret body— whose diploma, or Certificate of Membership, is held by Colonel Olcott alone among modern men of white blood— to which that name was given by the author of “Isis Unveiled” for convenience of designation,* [In "Isis Unveiled," vol. ii. p. 308. It may be added that the "Brotherhood of Luxor" mentioned by Kenneth Mackenzie (vide his Royal Masonic Cyclopaedia) as having its seat in America, had, after all, nothing to do with the Brotherhood mentioned by, and known to us, as was ascertained after the publication of “Isis" from a letter written by this late Masonic author to a friend in New York. The Brotherhood Mackenzie knew of was simply a Masonic Society on a rather more secret basis, and, as he stated in the letter, he had heard of, but knew nothing of our Brotherhood, which, having had a branch at Luxor (Egypt), was thus purposely referred to by us under this name alone. This led some schemers to infer that there was a regular Lodge of Adepts of that name, and to assure some credulous friends and Theosophists that the "H. B. of L.” was either identical or a branch of the same, supposed to be near Lahore!!— which was the most flagrant untruth.] but which is known among Initiates by quite another one, just as the personage known to the public under the pseudonym of “Koot Hoomi,” is called by a totally different name among his acquaintance. What the real name of that society is, it would puzzle the “Eulian” phallicists of the “H. B. of L.” to tell. The real names of Master Adepts and Occult Schools are never, under any circumstances, revealed to the profane; and the names of the personages who have been talked about in connection with modern Theosophy, are in the possession only of the two chief founders of the Theosophical Society. And now, having said so much by way of preface, let us pass on to our correspondent’s letter. He writes:

A friend of mine, a natural mystic, had intended to form, with others, a Branch T. S. in his town. Surprised at his delay, I wrote to ask the reason. His reply was that he had heard that the T.S. only met and talked, and did nothing practical. I always did think the T.S. ought to have Lodges in which something practical should be done. Cagliostro understood well this craving of humans for something before their eyes, when he instituted the Egyptian Rite, and put it in practice in various Freemason lodges. There are many readers of Lucifer in ----- shire. Perhaps in it there might be a suggestion for students to form such lodges for themselves, and to try, by their united wills, to develop certain powers in one of the number, and then through the whole of them in succession. I feel sure numbers would enter such lodges, and create a great interest for Theosophy.” “A.”


In the above note of our venerable and learned friend is the echo of the voices of ninety-nine hundredths of the members of the Theosophical Society: one-hundredth only have the correct idea of the function and scope of our Branches. The glaring mistake generally made is in the conception of adeptship and the path thereunto. Of all thinkable undertakings that of trying for adeptship is the most difficult. Instead of being obtainable within a few years or one lifetime, it exacts the unremittent struggles of a series of lives, save in cases so rare as to be hardly worth regarding as exceptions to the general rule. The records certainly show that a number of the most revered Indian adepts became so despite their births in the lowest, and seemingly most unlikely, castes. Yet it is well understood that they had been progressing in the upward direction throughout many previous incarnations, and, when they took birth for the last time, there was left but the merest trifle of spiritual evolution to be accomplished, before they became great living adepts. Of course, no one can say that one or all of the possible members of our friend A.’s ideal Cagliostrian lodge might not also be ready for adeptship, but the chance is not good enough to speculate upon: Western civilization seems to develop fighters rather than philosophers, military butchers rather than Buddhas. The plan “A.” proposes would be far more likely to end in mediumship than adeptship. Two to one there would not be a member of the lodge who was chaste from boyhood and altogether untainted by the use of intoxicants. This is to say nothing of the candidates’ freedom from the polluting effects of the evil influences of the average social environment. Among the indispensable pre-requisites for psychic development, noted in the mystical Manuals of all Eastern religious systems, are a pure place, pure diet, pure companionship, and a pure mind. Could “A.” guarantee these? It is certainly desirable that there should be some school of instruction for members of our Society; and had the purely exoteric work and duties of the Founders been less absorbing, probably one such would have been established long ago. Yet not for practical instruction, on the plan of Cagliostro, which, by-the-bye, brought direful suffering upon his head, and has left no marked traces behind to encourage a repetition in our days. “When the pupil is ready, the teacher will be found waiting,” says an Eastern maxim. The Masters do not have to hunt up recruits in special ----- shire lodges, nor drill them through mystical non-commissioned officers: time and space are no barriers between them and the aspirant; where thought can pass they can come. Why did an old and learned Kabalist like “A.” forget this fact? And let him also remember that the potential adept may exist in the Whitechapels and Five Points of Europe and America, as well as in the cleaner and more “cultured” quarters; that some poor ragged wretch, begging a crust, may be “whiter-souled” and more attractive to the adept than the average bishop in his robe, or a cultured citizen in his costly dress. For the extension of the theosophical movement, a useful channel for the irrigation of the dry fields of contemporary thought with the water of life, Branches are needed everywhere; not mere groups of passive sympathisers, such as the slumbering army of church-goers, whose eyes are shut while the “devil” sweeps the field; no, not such. Active, wide-awake, earnest, unselfish Branches are needed, whose members shall not be constantly unmasking their selfishness by asking “What will it profit us to join the Theosophical Society, and how much will it harm us?” but be putting to themselves the question “Can we not do substantial good to mankind by working in this good cause with all our hearts, our minds, and our strength?” If “A.” would only bring his ----- shire friends, who pretend to occult leanings, to view the question from this side, he would be doing them a real kindness. The Society can get on without them, but they cannot afford to let it do so.

Is it profitable, moreover, to discuss the question of a Lodge receiving even theoretical instruction, until we can be sure that all the members will accept the teachings as coming from the alleged source? Occult truth cannot be absorbed by a mind that is filled with preconception, prejudice, or suspicion. It is something to be perceived by the intuition rather than by the reason; being by nature spiritual, not material. Some are so constituted as to be incapable of acquiring knowledge by the exercise of the spiritual faculty; e.g. the great majority of physicists. Such are slow, if not wholly incapable of grasping the ultimate truths behind the phenomena of existence. There are many such in the Society; and the body of the discontented are recruited from their ranks. Such persons readily persuade themselves that later teachings, received from exactly the same source as earlier ones, are either false or have been tampered with by chelas, or even third parties. Suspicion and inharmony are the natural result, the psychic atmosphere, so to say, is thrown into confusion, and the reaction, even upon the stauncher students, is very harmful. Sometimes vanity blinds what was at first strong intuition, the mind is effectually closed against the admission of new truth, and the aspiring student is thrown back to the point where he began. Having jumped at some particular conclusion of his own without full study of the subject, and before the teaching had been fully expounded, his tendency, when proved wrong, is to listen only to the voice of his self-adulation, and cling to his views, whether right or wrong. The Lord Buddha particularly warned his hearers against forming beliefs upon tradition or authority, and before having thoroughly inquired into the subject.

An instance. We have been asked by a correspondent why he should not “be free to suspect some of the so-called ‘precipitated’ letters as being forgeries,” giving as his reason for it that while some of them bear the stamp of (to him) undeniable genuineness, others seem from their contents and style, to be imitations. This is equivalent to saying that he has such an unerring spiritual insight as to be able to detect the false from the true, though he has never met a Master, nor been given any key by which to test his alleged communications. The inevitable consequence of applying his untrained judgment in such cases, would be to make him as likely as not to declare false what was genuine, and genuine what was false. Thus what criterion has any one to decide between one “precipitated” letter, or another such letter? Who except their authors, or those whom they employ as their amanuenses (the chelas and disciples), can tell? For it is hardly one out of a hundred “occult” letters that is ever written by the hand of the Master, in whose name and on whose behalf they are sent, as the Masters have neither need nor leisure to write them; and that when a Master says, “I wrote that letter,” it means only that every word in it was dictated by him and impressed under his direct supervision. Generally they make their chela, whether near or far away, write (or precipitate) them, by impressing upon his mind the ideas they wish expressed, and if necessary aiding him in the picture-printing process of precipitation. It depends entirely upon the chela's state of development, how accurately the ideas may be transmitted and the writing-model imitated. Thus the non-adept recipient is left in the dilemma of uncertainty, whether, if one letter is false, all may not be; for, as far as intrinsic evidence goes, all come from the same source, and all are brought by the same mysterious means. But there is another, and a far worse condition implied. For all that the recipient of “occult” letters can possibly know, and on the simple grounds of probability and common honesty, the unseen correspondent who would tolerate one single fraudulent line in his name, would wink at an unlimited repetition of the deception. And this leads directly to the following. All the so-called occult letters being supported by identical proofs, they have all to stand or fall together. If one is to be doubted, then all have, and the series of letters in the “Occult World,” “Esoteric Buddhism,” etc., etc., may be, and there is no reason why they should not be in such a case—frauds, clever impostures,” and “forgeries,” such as the ingenuous though stupid agent of the “S .P .R” has made them out to be, in order to raise in the public estimation the “scientific” acumen and standard of his “Principals.”

Hence, not a step in advance would be made by a group of students given over to such an unimpressible state of mind, and without any guide from the occult side to open their eyes to the esoteric pitfalls. And where are such guides, so far, in our Society? “They be blind leaders of the blind,” both falling into the ditch of vanity and self-sufficiency. The whole difficulty springs from the common tendency to draw conclusions from insufficient premises, and play the oracle before ridding oneself of that most stupefying of all psychic anaesthetics— IGNORANCE.
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#3)

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Part 1 of 2

No Hurry for Hurree: Hurree Chunder Mukherjee [Hurree Babu] [Excerpts from Kim, by Rudyard Kipling]

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Thomas Henry Dalton, better known as T.H. Burgoyne. whose misdemeanors are amply chronicled in the Theosophical literature. The “Church of Light,” a still active Californian group which descended from Burgoyne’s teachings, disposes of his life up to 1886 as follows:

T.H. Burgoyne was the son of a physician in Scotland. He roamed the moors during his boyhood and became conversant with the birds and flowers. He was an amateur naturalist. He also was a natural seer. Through his seership he contacted The Brotherhood of Light on the inner plane, and later contacted M. Theon in person. Still later he came to America, where he taught and wrote on occult subjects. [“The Founders of the Church of Light.”]


While this romanticized view cannot entirely be trusted, there is no doubt that Burgoyne was a medium and that he was developed as such by Max Theon. Burgoyne told Gorham Blake that he “visited [Theon’s] house as a student every day for a long time”...

Burgoyne was making enquiries in occult circles by 1881, when he wrote to [The Rev W. A.] Ayton asking to visit him for a discussion of occultism. The clergyman was shocked when he met this “Dalton,” who (Ayton says) boasted of doing Black Magic, and forthwith sent him packing. Later Ayton would be appalled to learn that it was this same young man with whom, as “Burgoyne,” he had been corresponding on H.B. of L. business. Having decided that the mysterious Grand Master “Theon” was really Hurrychund Chintamon, Ayton deduced that the young Scotsman must have learned his black magic from this Indian adventurer.

Hurrychund Chintamon had played an important part in the early Theosophical Society and in the move of Blavatsky and Olcott from New York to India. He had been their chief Indian correspondent during 1877-1878, when he was President of the Bombay Arya Samaj (a Vedic revival movement with which the early Theosophical Society was allied). After Blavatsky and Olcott arrived in Bombay in 1879 and met Chintamon in person, they discovered that he was a scoundrel and an embezzler, and expelled him from the Society. Chintamon came to England in 1879 or 1880, and stayed until 1883, when he returned to make further trouble for the Theosophists in India. Perhaps the fact that Chintamon was in England when Burgoyne first met Theon led some to conclude that they were the same person. But this cannot be the whole story. Ayton claimed very clearly and repeatedly that he had proof of Burgoyne’s being in company with Chintamon. In a letter in the private collection, Ayton writes:

I have since discovered that Hurrychund Chintaman the notorious Black Magician was in company with Dalton at Bradford. By means of a Photograph I have traced him to Glasgow & even to Banchory, under the alias of Darushah Chichgur. Friends in London saw him there just before his return to India. This time coincides with that when I noticed a great change in the management. Chintaman had supplied the Oriental knowledge as he was a Sanskrit scholar & knew much. Theon was Chintaman! Friends have lately seen him in India where he is still at his tricks.


Before her disillusion with Chintamon, Blavatsky had touted him to the London Theosophists as a “great adept.” After the break that followed on her meeting with him in person, Chintamon allied himself to the rising Western opposition to esoteric Buddhism exemplified by Stainton Moses, C.C. Massey, William Oxley, Emma Hardinge Britten, Thomas Lake Harris, and others. From this formidable group, Burgoyne first contracted the hostility towards Blavatsky’s enterprise that would mark all his writings.

Chintamon also appears in connection with “H.B. Corinni,” the otherwise unidentifiable (and variously spelled) “Private Secretary” of Theon, who was thought by the police to be just another of Burgoyne’s aliases. Ayton, however, believed Corinni to be Chintamon’s son, who he said offered Blavatsky’s old letters for sale to the President of the London Branch of the Theosophical Society, Charles Carleton Massey. [Ayton to unnamed American neophyte, 11 June 1886, based on what he had been told by Massey.] The flaw in Ayton’s thesis is of course the existence of a real and independent Max Theon, of whom we, unlike Ayton, have documentary evidence. Nonetheless, after more than a hundred years, the whole tangle of misidentifications involving Chintamon, “Christamon,” and “Metamon” with the Order cannot be entirely resolved.

-- The Hermetic Brotherhood of Luxor: Initiatic and Historical Documents of an Order of Practical Occultism, by Joscelyn Godwin


Kim slunk away, his teeth in the bread, and, as he expected, he found a small wad of folded tissue-paper wrapped in oilskin, with three silver rupees—enormous largesse. He smiled and thrust money and paper into his leather amulet-case. The lama, sumptuously fed by Mahbub's Baltis, was already asleep in a corner of one of the stalls. Kim lay down beside him and laughed. He knew he had rendered a service to Mahbub Ali, and not for one little minute did he believe the tale of the stallion's pedigree.

But Kim did not suspect that Mahbub Ali, known as one of the best horse-dealers in the Punjab, a wealthy and enterprising trader, whose caravans penetrated far and far into the Back of Beyond, was registered in one of the locked books of the Indian Survey Department as C25 IB. Twice or thrice yearly C25 would send in a little story, baldly told but most interesting, and generally—it was checked by the statements of R17 [Hurree Chunder Mukherjee] and M4—quite true. It concerned all manner of out-of-the-way mountain principalities, explorers of nationalities other than English, and the guntrade—was, in brief, a small portion of that vast mass of 'information received' on which the Indian Government acts. But, recently, five confederated Kings, who had no business to confederate, had been informed by a kindly Northern Power that there was a leakage of news from their territories into British India. So those Kings' Prime Ministers were seriously annoyed and took steps, after the Oriental fashion. They suspected, among many others, the bullying, red-bearded horsedealer whose caravans ploughed through their fastnesses belly-deep in snow. At least, his caravan that season had been ambushed and shot at twice on the way down, when Mahbub's men accounted for three strange ruffians who might, or might not, have been hired for the job. Therefore Mahbub had avoided halting at the insalubrious city of Peshawur, and had come through without stop to Lahore, where, knowing his country-people, he anticipated curious developments.

And there was that on Mahbub Ali which he did not wish to keep an hour longer than was necessary—a wad of closely folded tissue-paper, wrapped in oilskin—an impersonal, unaddressed statement, with five microscopic pin-holes in one corner, that most scandalously betrayed the five confederated Kings, the sympathetic Northern Power, a Hindu banker in Peshawur, a firm of gun-makers in Belgium, and an important, semi-independent Mohammedan ruler to the south. This last was R17's [Hurree Chunder Mukherjee] work, which Mahbub had picked up beyond the Dora Pass and was carrying in for R17 [Hurree Chunder Mukherjee], who, owing to circumstances over which he had no control, could not leave his post of observation. Dynamite was milky and innocuous beside that report of C25; and even an Oriental, with an Oriental's views of the value of time, could see that the sooner it was in the proper hands the better. Mahbub had no particular desire to die by violence, because two or three family blood-feuds across the Border hung unfinished on his hands, and when these scores were cleared he intended to settle down as a more or less virtuous citizen. He had never passed the serai gate since his arrival two days ago, but had been ostentatious in sending telegrams to Bombay, where he banked some of his money; to Delhi, where a sub-partner of his own clan was selling horses to the agent of a Rajputana state; and to Umballa, where an Englishman was excitedly demanding the pedigree of a white stallion. The public letter-writer, who knew English, composed excellent telegrams, such as: 'Creighton, Laurel Bank, Umballa. Horse is Arabian as already advised. Sorrowful delayed pedigree which am translating.' And later to the same address: 'Much sorrowful delay. Will forward pedigree.' To his sub-partner at Delhi he wired: 'Lutuf Ullah. Have wired two thousand rupees your credit Luchman Narain's bank—' This was entirely in the way of trade, but every one of those telegrams was discussed and rediscussed, by parties who conceived themselves to be interested, before they went over to the railway station in charge of a foolish Balti, who allowed all sorts of people to read them on the road.

When, in Mahbub's own picturesque language, he had muddied the wells of inquiry with the stick of precaution, Kim had dropped on him, sent from Heaven; and, being as prompt as he was unscrupulous, Mahbub Ali used to taking all sorts of gusty chances, pressed him into service on the spot.

A wandering lama with a low-caste boy-servant might attract a moment's interest as they wandered about India, the land of pilgrims; but no one would suspect them or, what was more to the point, rob.

He called for a new light-ball to his hookah, and considered the case. If the worst came to the worst, and the boy came to harm, the paper would incriminate nobody. And he would go up to Umballa leisurely and—at a certain risk of exciting fresh suspicion—repeat his tale by word of mouth to the people concerned.

But R17's [Hurree Chunder Mukherjee] report was the kernel of the whole affair, and it would be distinctly inconvenient if that failed to come to hand. However, God was great, and Mahbub Ali felt he had done all he could for the time being. Kim was the one soul in the world who had never told him a lie. That would have been a fatal blot on Kim's character if Mahbub had not known that to others, for his own ends or Mahbub's business, Kim could lie like an Oriental...

Carried away by enthusiasm, he volunteered to show Lurgan Sahib one evening how the disciples of a certain caste of fakir, old Lahore acquaintances, begged doles by the roadside; and what sort of language he would use to an Englishman, to a Punjabi farmer going to a fair, and to a woman without a veil. Lurgan Sahib laughed immensely, and begged Kim to stay as he was, immobile for half an hour—cross-legged, ash-smeared, and wild-eyed, in the back room. At the end of that time entered a hulking, obese Babu [Hurree Chunder Mookerjee] whose stockinged legs shook with fat, and Kim opened on him with a shower of wayside chaff. Lurgan Sahib—this annoyed Kim—watched the Babu and not the play.

'I think,' said the Babu heavily, lighting a cigarette, 'I am of opeenion that it is most extraordinary and effeecient performance. Except that you had told me I should have opined that—that—that you were pulling my legs. How soon can he become approximately effeecient chain-man? Because then I shall indent for him.'

'That is what he must learn at Lucknow.'

'Then order him to be jolly-dam'-quick. Good-night, Lurgan.' The Babu swung out with the gait of a bogged cow.

When they were telling over the day's list of visitors, Lurgan Sahib asked Kim who he thought the man might be.

'God knows!' said Kim cheerily. The tone might almost have deceived Mahbub Ali, but it failed entirely with the healer of sick pearls.

'That is true. God, He knows; but I wish to know what you think.'

Kim glanced sideways at his companion, whose eye had a way of compelling truth.

'I—I think he will want me when I come from the school, but'—confidentially, as Lurgan Sahib nodded approval—'I do not understand how he can wear many dresses and talk many tongues.'

'Thou wilt understand many things later. He is a writer of tales for a certain Colonel. His honour is great only in Simla, and it is noticeable that he has no name, but only a number and a letter [R17] —that is a custom among us.'

'And is there a price upon his head too—as upon Mah—all the others?'

'Not yet; but if a boy rose up who is now sitting here and went—look, the door is open!—as far as a certain house with a red-painted veranda, behind that which was the old theatre in the Lower Bazar, and whispered through the shutters: "Hurree Chunder Mookerjee bore the bad news of last month", that boy might take away a belt full of rupees.'

'How many?' said Kim promptly.

'Five hundred—a thousand—as many as he might ask for.'

'Good. And for how long might such a boy live after the news was told?' He smiled merrily at Lurgan's Sahib's very beard.

'Ah! That is to be well thought of. Perhaps if he were very clever, he might live out the day—but not the night. By no means the night.'

'Then what is the Babu's pay if so much is put upon his head?'

'Eighty—perhaps a hundred—perhaps a hundred and fifty rupees; but the pay is the least part of the work. From time to time, God causes men to be born—and thou art one of them—who have a lust to go abroad at the risk of their lives and discover news—today it may be of far-off things, tomorrow of some hidden mountain, and the next day of some near-by men who have done a foolishness against the State. These souls are very few; and of these few, not more than ten are of the best. Among these ten I count the Babu, and that is curious. How great, therefore, and desirable must be a business that brazens the heart of a Bengali!'

'True. But the days go slowly for me. I am yet a boy, and it is only within two months I learned to write Angrezi. Even now I cannot read it well. And there are yet years and years and long years before I can be even a chain-man.'

'Have patience, Friend of all the World'—Kim started at the title. 'Would I had a few of the years that so irk thee. I have proved thee in several small ways. This will not be forgotten when I make my report to the Colonel Sahib.' Then, changing suddenly into English with a deep laugh:

'By Jove! O'Hara, I think there is a great deal in you; but you must not become proud and you must not talk. You must go back to Lucknow and be a good little boy and mind your book, as the English say, and perhaps, next holidays if you care, you can come back to me!' Kim's face fell. 'Oh, I mean if you like. I know where you want to go.'

Four days later a seat was booked for Kim and his small trunk at the rear of a Kalka tonga. His companion was the whale-like Babu, who, with a fringed shawl wrapped round his head, and his fat openwork-stockinged left leg tucked under him, shivered and grunted in the morning chill.

'How comes it that this man is one of us?' thought Kim considering the jelly back as they jolted down the road; and the reflection threw him into most pleasant day-dreams. Lurgan Sahib had given him five rupees—a splendid sum—as well as the assurance of his protection if he worked. Unlike Mahbub, Lurgan Sahib had spoken most explicitly of the reward that would follow obedience, and Kim was content. If only, like the Babu, he could enjoy the dignity of a letter and a number [R17]—and a price upon his head! Some day he would be all that and more. Some day he might be almost as great as Mahbub Ali! The housetops of his search should be half India; he would follow Kings and Ministers, as in the old days he had followed vakils and lawyers' touts across Lahore city for Mahbub Ali's sake. Meantime, there was the present, and not at all unpleasant, fact of St Xavier's immediately before him. There would be new boys to condescend to, and there would be tales of holiday adventures to hear. Young Martin, son of the tea-planter at Manipur, had boasted that he would go to war, with a rifle, against the head-hunters.

That might be, but it was certain young Martin had not been blown half across the forecourt of a Patiala palace by an explosion of fireworks; nor had he... Kim fell to telling himself the story of his own adventures through the last three months. He could paralyse St Xavier's—even the biggest boys who shaved—with the recital, were that permitted. But it was, of course, out of the question. There would be a price upon his head in good time, as Lurgan Sahib had assured him; and if he talked foolishly now, not only would that price never be set, but Colonel Creighton would cast him off—and he would be left to the wrath of Lurgan Sahib and Mahbub Ali—for the short space of life that would remain to him.

'So I should lose Delhi for the sake of a fish,' was his proverbial philosophy. It behoved him to forget his holidays (there would always remain the fun of inventing imaginary adventures) and, as Lurgan Sahib had said, to work. Of all the boys hurrying back to St Xavier's, from Sukkur in the sands to Galle beneath the palms, none was so filled with virtue as Kimball O'Hara, jiggeting down to Umballa behind Hurree Chunder Mookerjee, whose name on the books of one section of the Ethnological Survey was R.17 [R17].

And if additional spur were needed, the Babu supplied it. After a huge meal at Kalka, he spoke uninterruptedly. Was Kim going to school? Then he, an M A of Calcutta University, would explain the advantages of education. There were marks to be gained by due attention to Latin and Wordsworth's Excursion (all this was Greek to Kim). French, too was vital, and the best was to be picked up in Chandernagore a few miles from Calcutta. Also a man might go far, as he himself had done, by strict attention to plays called Lear and Julius Caesar, both much in demand by examiners. Lear was not so full of historical allusions as Julius Caesar; the book cost four annas, but could be bought second-hand in Bow Bazar for two. Still more important than Wordsworth, or the eminent authors, Burke and Hare, was the art and science of mensuration. A boy who had passed his examination in these branches—for which, by the way, there were no cram-books—could, by merely marching over a country with a compass and a level and a straight eye, carry away a picture of that country which might be sold for large sums in coined silver. But as it was occasionally inexpedient to carry about measuring-chains a boy would do well to know the precise length of his own foot-pace, so that when he was deprived of what Hurree Chunder called adventitious aids, he might still tread his distances. To keep count of thousands of paces, Hurree Chunder's experience had shown him nothing more valuable than a rosary of eighty-one or a hundred and eight beads, for 'it was divisible and sub-divisible into many multiples and sub-multiples'.

Through the volleying drifts of English, Kim caught the general trend of the talk, and it interested him very much. Here was a new craft that a man could tuck away in his head and by the look of the large wide world unfolding itself before him, it seemed that the more a man knew the better for him.

Said the Babu when he had talked for an hour and a half 'I hope some day to enjoy your offeecial acquaintance. Ad interim, if I may be pardoned that expression, I shall give you this betel-box, which is highly valuable article and cost me two rupees only four years ago.' It was a cheap, heart-shaped brass thing with three compartments for carrying the eternal betel-nut, lime and pan-leaf; but it was filled with little tabloid-bottles.

'That is reward of merit for your performance in character of that holy man. You see, you are so young you think you will last for ever and not take care of your body. It is great nuisance to go sick in the middle of business. I am fond of drugs myself, and they are handy to cure poor people too. These are good Departmental drugs—quinine and so on. I give it you for souvenir. Now good-bye. I have urgent private business here by the roadside.'

He slipped out noiselessly as a cat, on the Umballa road, hailed a passing cart and jingled away, while Kim, tongue-tied, twiddled the brass betel-box in his hands...

'Babus are very curious,' said Lurgan meditatively. 'Do you know what Hurree Babu really wants? He wants to be made a member of the Royal Society by taking ethnological notes. I tell you, I tell him about the lama everything which Mahbub and the boy have told me. Hurree Babu goes down to Benares—at his own expense, I think.'

'I don't,' said Creighton briefly. He had paid Hurree's travelling expenses, out of a most lively curiosity to learn what the lama might be.

'And he applies to the lama for information on lamaism, and devil-dances, and spells and charms, several times in these few years. Holy Virgin! I could have told him all that years ago. I think Hurree Babu is getting too old for the Road. He likes better to collect manners and customs information. Yes, he wants to be an FRS.

'Hurree thinks well of the boy, doesn't he?'

'Oh, very indeed—we have had some pleasant evenings at my little place—but I think it would be waste to throw him away with Hurree on the Ethnological side.'

'Not for a first experience. How does that strike you, Mahbub? Let the boy run with the lama for six months. After that we can see. He will get experience.'

'He has it already, Sahib—as a fish controls the water he swims in. But for every reason it will be well to loose him from the school.'

'Very good, then,' said Creighton, half to himself. 'He can go with the lama, and if Hurree Babu cares to keep an eye on them so much the better. He won't lead the boy into any danger as Mahbub would. Curious—his wish to be an F R S. Very human, too. He is best on the Ethnological side—Hurree.'

No money and no preferment would have drawn Creighton from his work on the Indian Survey, but deep in his heart also lay the ambition to write 'F R S' after his name. Honours of a sort he knew could be obtained by ingenuity and the help of friends, but, to the best of his belief, nothing save work—papers representing a life of it—took a man into the Society which he had bombarded for years with monographs on strange Asiatic cults and unknown customs. Nine men out of ten would flee from a Royal Society soiree in extremity of boredom; but Creighton was the tenth, and at times his soul yearned for the crowded rooms in easy London where silver-haired, bald-headed gentlemen who know nothing of the Army move among spectroscopic experiments, the lesser plants of the frozen tundras, electric flight-measuring machines, and apparatus for slicing into fractional millimetres the left eye of the female mosquito. By all right and reason, it was the Royal Geographical that should have appealed to him, but men are as chancy as children in their choice of playthings. So Creighton smiled, and thought the better of Hurree Babu, moved by like desire...

From the outer balcony, a ponderous figure raised a round bullet head and coughed nervously.

'Do not interrupt this ventriloquial necromanciss, my friend,' it said in English. 'I opine that it is very disturbing to you, but no enlightened observer is jolly-well upset.'

'..........I will lay a plot for their ruin! O Prophet, bear with the unbelievers. Let them alone awhile!' Huneefa's face, turned to the northward, worked horribly, and it was as though voices from the ceiling answered her.

Hurree Babu returned to his note-book, balanced on the window-sill, but his hand shook. Huneefa, in some sort of drugged ecstasy, wrenched herself to and fro as she sat cross-legged by Kim's still head, and called upon devil after devil, in the ancient order of the ritual, binding them to avoid the boy's every action.

'With Him are the keys of the Secret Things! None knoweth them besides Himself He knoweth that which is in the dry land and in the sea!' Again broke out the unearthly whistling responses.

'I—I apprehend it is not at all malignant in its operation?' said the Babu, watching the throat-muscles quiver and jerk as Huneefa spoke with tongues. 'It—it is not likely that she has killed the boy? If so, I decline to be witness at the trial .....What was the last hypothetical devil mentioned?'

'Babuji,' said Mahbub in the vernacular. 'I have no regard for the devils of Hind, but the Sons of Eblis are far otherwise, and whether they be jumalee [well-affected] or jullalee [terrible] they love not Kafirs.'

'Then you think I had better go?' said Hurree Babu, half rising. 'They are, of course, dematerialized phenomena. Spencer says.'

Huneefa's crisis passed, as these things must, in a paroxysm of howling, with a touch of froth at the lips. She lay spent and motionless beside Kim, and the crazy voices ceased.

'Wah! That work is done. May the boy be better for it; and Huneefa is surely a mistress of dawut. Help haul her aside, Babu. Do not be afraid.'

'How am I to fear the absolutely non-existent?' said Hurree Babu, talking English to reassure himself. It is an awful thing still to dread the magic that you contemptuously investigate—to collect folk-lore for the Royal Society with a lively belief in all Powers of Darkness.

Mahbub chuckled. He had been out with Hurree on the Road ere now. 'Let us finish the colouring,' said he. 'The boy is well protected if—if the Lords of the Air have ears to hear. I am a Sufi [free-thinker], but when one can get blind-sides of a woman, a stallion, or a devil, why go round to invite a kick? Set him upon the way, Babu, and see that old Red Hat does not lead him beyond our reach. I must get back to my horses.'

'All raight,' said Hurree Babu. 'He is at present curious spectacle.'

About third cockcrow, Kim woke after a sleep of thousands of years. Huneefa, in her corner, snored heavily, but Mahbub was gone.

'I hope you were not frightened,' said an oily voice at his elbow. 'I superintended entire operation, which was most interesting from ethnological point of view. It was high-class dawut.'

'Huh!' said Kim, recognizing Hurree Babu, who smiled ingratiatingly.

'And also I had honour to bring down from Lurgan your present costume. I am not in the habit offeecially of carrying such gauds to subordinates, but'—he giggled—'your case is noted as exceptional on the books. I hope Mr Lurgan will note my action.'

Kim yawned and stretched himself. It was good to turn and twist within loose clothes once again.

'What is this?' He looked curiously at the heavy duffle-stuff loaded with the scents of the far North.

'Oho! That is inconspicuous dress of chela attached to service of lamaistic lama. Complete in every particular,' said Hurree Babu, rolling into the balcony to clean his teeth at a goglet. 'I am of opeenion it is not your old gentleman's precise releegion, but rather sub-variant of same. I have contributed rejected notes To Whom It May Concern: Asiatic Quarterly Review on these subjects. Now it is curious that the old gentleman himself is totally devoid of releegiosity. He is not a dam' particular.'

'Do you know him?'

Hurree Babu held up his hand to show he was engaged in the prescribed rites that accompany tooth-cleaning and such things among decently bred Bengalis. Then he recited in English an Arya-Somaj [Arya Samaj] prayer of a theistical nature, and stuffed his mouth with pan and betel.

'Oah yes. I have met him several times at Benares, and also at Buddh Gaya, to interrogate him on releegious points and devil-worship. He is pure agnostic—same as me.'

Huneefa stirred in her sleep, and Hurree Babu jumped nervously to the copper incense-burner, all black and discoloured in morning-light, rubbed a finger in the accumulated lamp-black, and drew it diagonally across his face.

'Who has died in thy house?' asked Kim in the vernacular.

'None. But she may have the Evil Eye—that sorceress,' the Babu replied.

'What dost thou do now, then?'

'I will set thee on thy way to Benares, if thou goest thither, and tell thee what must be known by Us.'

'I go. At what hour runs the te-rain?' He rose to his feet, looked round the desolate chamber and at the yellow-wax face of Huneefa as the low sun stole across the floor. 'Is there money to be paid that witch?'

'No. She has charmed thee against all devils and all dangers in the name of her devils. It was Mahbub's desire.' In English: 'He is highly obsolete, I think, to indulge in such supersteetion. Why, it is all ventriloquy. Belly-speak—eh?'

Kim snapped his fingers mechanically to avert whatever evil—Mahbub, he knew, meditated none—might have crept in through Huneefa's ministrations; and Hurree giggled once more. But as he crossed the room he was careful not to step in Huneefa's blotched, squat shadow on the boards. Witches—when their time is on them—can lay hold of the heels of a man's soul if he does that.

'Now you must well listen,' said the Babu when they were in the fresh air. 'Part of these ceremonies which we witnessed they include supply of effeecient amulet to those of our Department. If you feel in your neck you will find one small silver amulet, verree cheap. That is ours. Do you understand?'

'Oah yes, hawa-dilli [a heart-lifter],' said Kim, feeling at his neck.

'Huneefa she makes them for two rupees twelve annas with—oh, all sorts of exorcisms. They are quite common, except they are partially black enamel, and there is a paper inside each one full of names of local saints and such things. Thatt is Huneefa's look-out, you see? Huneefa makes them onlee for us, but in case she does not, when we get them we put in, before issue, one small piece of turquoise. Mr Lurgan he gives them. There is no other source of supply; but it was me invented all this. It is strictly unoffeecial of course, but convenient for subordinates. Colonel Creighton he does not know. He is European. The turquoise is wrapped in the paper ... Yes, that is road to railway station ... Now suppose you go with the lama, or with me, I hope, some day, or with Mahbub. Suppose we get into a dam'-tight place. I am a fearful man—most fearful—but I tell you I have been in dam'-tight places more than hairs on my head. You say: "I am Son of the Charm." Verree good.'

'I do not understand quite. We must not be heard talking English here.'

'That is all raight. I am only Babu showing off my English to you. All we Babus talk English to show off;' said Hurree, flinging his shoulder-cloth jauntily. 'As I was about to say, "Son of the Charm" means that you may be member of the Sat Bhai—the Seven Brothers, which is Hindi and Tantric. It is popularly supposed to be extinct Society, but I have written notes to show it is still extant. You see, it is all my invention. Verree good. Sat Bhai has many members, and perhaps before they jolly-well-cut-your-throat they may give you just a chance of life. That is useful, anyhow. And moreover, these foolish natives—if they are not too excited—they always stop to think before they kill a man who says he belongs to any speecific organization. You see? You say then when you are in tight place, "I am Son of the Charm", and you get—perhaps—ah—your second wind. That is only in extreme instances, or to open negotiations with a stranger. Can you quite see? Verree good. But suppose now, I, or any one of the Department, come to you dressed quite different. You would not know me at all unless I choose, I bet you. Some day I will prove it. I come as Ladakhi trader—oh, anything—and I say to you: "You want to buy precious stones?" You say: "Do I look like a man who buys precious stones?" Then I say: "Even verree poor man can buy a turquoise or tarkeean."'

'That is kichree—vegetable curry,' said Kim.

'Of course it is. You say: "Let me see the tarkeean." Then I say: "It was cooked by a woman, and perhaps it is bad for your caste." Then you say: "There is no caste when men go to—look for tarkeean." You stop a little between those words, "to—look". That is thee whole secret. The little stop before the words.'

Kim repeated the test-sentence.

'That is all right. Then I will show you my turquoise if there is time, and then you know who I am, and then we exchange views and documents and those-all things. And so it is with any other man of us. We talk sometimes about turquoises and sometimes about tarkeean, but always with that little stop in the words. It is verree easy. First, "Son of the Charm", if you are in a tight place. Perhaps that may help you—perhaps not. Then what I have told you about the tarkeean, if you want to transact offeecial business with a strange man. Of course, at present, you have no offeecial business. You are—ah ha!—supernumerary on probation. Quite unique specimen. If you were Asiatic of birth you might be employed right off; but this half-year of leave is to make you de-Englishized, you see? The lama he expects you, because I have demi-offeecially informed him you have passed all your examinations, and will soon obtain Government appointment. Oh ho! You are on acting-allowance, you see: so if you are called upon to help Sons of the Charm mind you jolly-well try. Now I shall say good-bye, my dear fellow, and I hope you—ah—will come out top-side all raight.'

Hurree Babu stepped back a pace or two into the crowd at the entrance of Lucknow station and—was gone. Kim drew a deep breath and hugged himself all over. The nickel-plated revolver he could feel in the bosom of his sad-coloured robe, the amulet was on his neck; begging-gourd, rosary, and ghost-dagger (Mr Lurgan had forgotten nothing) were all to hand, with medicine, paint-box, and compass, and in a worn old purse-belt embroidered with porcupine-quill patterns lay a month's pay. Kings could be no richer. He bought sweetmeats in a leaf-cup from a Hindu trader, and ate them with glad rapture till a policeman ordered him off the steps....

I am half minded to take the hakim's medicine. He sells it cheap, and certainly it makes him fat as Shiv's own bull. He does not deny remedies, but I doubted for the child because of the in-auspicious colour of the bottles.'

The lama, under cover of the monologue, had faded out into the darkness towards the room prepared.

'Thou hast angered him, belike,' said Kim.

'Not he. He is wearied, and I forgot, being a grandmother. (None but a grandmother should ever oversee a child. Mothers are only fit for bearing.) Tomorrow, when he sees how my daughter's son is grown, he will write the charm. Then, too, he can judge of the new hakim's drugs.'

'Who is the hakim, Maharanee?'

'A wanderer, as thou art, but a most sober Bengali from Dacca—a master of medicine. He relieved me of an oppression after meat by means of a small pill that wrought like a devil unchained. He travels about now, vending preparations of great value. He has even papers, printed in Angrezi, telling what things he has done for weak-backed men and slack women. He has been here four days; but hearing ye were coming (hakims and priests are snake and tiger the world over) he has, as I take it, gone to cover.'

While she drew breath after this volley, the ancient servant, sitting unrebuked on the edge of the torchlight, muttered: 'This house is a cattle-pound, as it were, for all charlatans and—priests. Let the boy stop eating mangoes ... but who can argue with a grandmother?' He raised his voice respectfully: 'Sahiba, the hakim sleeps after his meat. He is in the quarters behind the dovecote.'

Kim bristled like an expectant terrier. To outface and down-talk a Calcutta-taught Bengali, a voluble Dacca drug-vendor, would be a good game. It was not seemly that the lama, and incidentally himself, should be thrown aside for such an one. He knew those curious bastard English advertisements at the backs of native newspapers. St Xavier's boys sometimes brought them in by stealth to snigger over among their mates; for the language of the grateful patient recounting his symptoms is most simple and revealing. The Oorya, not unanxious to play off one parasite against the other, slunk away towards the dovecote.

'Yes,' said Kim, with measured scorn. 'Their stock-in-trade is a little coloured water and a very great shamelessness. Their prey are broken-down kings and overfed Bengalis. Their profit is in children—who are not born.' The old lady chuckled. 'Do not be envious. Charms are better, eh? I never gainsaid it. See that thy Holy One writes me a good amulet by the morning.'

'None but the ignorant deny'—a thick, heavy voice boomed through the darkness, as a figure came to rest squatting—'None but the ignorant deny the value of charms. None but the ignorant deny the value of medicines.'

'A rat found a piece of turmeric. Said he: "I will open a grocer's shop,"' Kim retorted.

Battle was fairly joined now, and they heard the old lady stiffen to attention.

'The priest's son knows the names of his nurse and three Gods. Says he: "Hear me, or I will curse you by the three million Great Ones."' Decidedly this invisible had an arrow or two in his quiver. He went on: 'I am but a teacher of the alphabet. I have learned all the wisdom of the Sahibs.'

'The Sahibs never grow old. They dance and they play like children when they are grandfathers. A strong-backed breed,' piped the voice inside the palanquin.

'I have, too, our drugs which loosen humours of the head in hot and angry men. Sina well compounded when the moon stands in the proper House; yellow earths I have—arplan from China that makes a man renew his youth and astonish his household; saffron from Kashmir, and the best salep of Kabul. Many people have died before—'

'That I surely believe,' said Kim.

'They knew the value of my drugs. I do not give my sick the mere ink in which a charm is written, but hot and rending drugs which descend and wrestle with the evil.'

'Very mightily they do so,' sighed the old lady.

The voice launched into an immense tale of misfortune and bankruptcy, studded with plentiful petitions to the Government. 'But for my fate, which overrules all, I had been now in Government employ. I bear a degree from the great school at Calcutta—whither, maybe, the son of this House shall go.'

'He shall indeed. If our neighbour's brat can in a few years be made an F A' (First Arts—she used the English word, of which she had heard so often), 'how much more shall children clever as some that I know bear away prizes at rich Calcutta.'

'Never,' said the voice, 'have I seen such a child! Born in an auspicious hour, and—but for that colic which, alas! turning into black cholers, may carry him off like a pigeon—destined to many years, he is enviable.'

'Hai mai!' said the old lady. 'To praise children is inauspicious, or I could listen to this talk. But the back of the house is unguarded, and even in this soft air men think themselves to be men, and women we know ... The child's father is away too, and I must be chowkedar [watchman] in my old age. Up! Up! Take up the palanquin. Let the hakim and the young priest settle between them whether charms or medicine most avail. Ho! worthless people, fetch tobacco for the guests, and—round the homestead go I!'

The palanquin reeled off, followed by straggling torches and a horde of dogs. Twenty villages knew the Sahiba—her failings, her tongue, and her large charity. Twenty villages cheated her after immemorial custom, but no man would have stolen or robbed within her jurisdiction for any gift under heaven. None the less, she made great parade of her formal inspections, the riot of which could be heard half-way to Mussoorie.

Kim relaxed, as one augur must when he meets another. The hakim, still squatting, slid over his hookah with a friendly foot, and Kim pulled at the good weed. The hangers-on expected grave professional debate, and perhaps a little free doctoring.

'To discuss medicine before the ignorant is of one piece with teaching the peacock to sing,' said the hakim.

'True courtesy,' Kim echoed, 'is very often inattention.'

These, be it understood, were company-manners, designed to impress.

'Hi! I have an ulcer on my leg,' cried a scullion. 'Look at it!'

'Get hence! Remove!' said the hakim. 'Is it the habit of the place to pester honoured guests? Ye crowd in like buffaloes.'

'If the Sahiba knew—' Kim began.

'Ai! Ai! Come away. They are meat for our mistress. When her young Shaitan's colics are cured perhaps we poor people may be suffered to—'

'The mistress fed thy wife when thou wast in jail for breaking the money-lender's head. Who speaks against her?' The old servitor curled his white moustaches savagely in the young moonlight. 'I am responsible for the honour of this house. Go!' and he drove the underlings before him.

Said the hakim, hardly more than shaping the words with his lips: 'How do you do, Mister O'Hara? I am jolly glad to see you again.'

Kim's hand clenched about the pipe-stem. Anywhere on the open road, perhaps, he would not have been astonished; but here, in this quiet backwater of life, he was not prepared for Hurree Babu. It annoyed him, too, that he had been hoodwinked.

'Ah ha! I told you at Lucknow—resurgam—I shall rise again and you shall not know me.

How much did you bet—eh?'

He chewed leisurely upon a few cardamom seeds, but he breathed uneasily.

'But why come here, Babuji?'

'Ah! Thatt is the question, as Shakespeare hath it. I come to congratulate you on your extraordinary effeecient performance at Delhi. Oah! I tell you we are all proud of you. It was verree neat and handy. Our mutual friend, he is old friend of mine. He has been in some dam'-tight places. Now he will be in some more. He told me; I tell Mr Lurgan; and he is pleased you graduate so nicely. All the Department is pleased.'

For the first time in his life, Kim thrilled to the clean pride (it can be a deadly pitfall, none the less) of Departmental praise—ensnaring praise from an equal of work appreciated by fellow-workers. Earth has nothing on the same plane to compare with it. But, cried the Oriental in him, Babus do not travel far to retail compliments.

'Tell thy tale, Babu,' he said authoritatively.

'Oah, it is nothing. Onlee I was at Simla when the wire came in about what our mutual friend said he had hidden, and old Creighton—' He looked to see how Kim would take this piece of audacity.

'The Colonel Sahib,' the boy from St Xavier's corrected. 'Of course. He found me at a loose string, and I had to go down to Chitor to find that beastly letter. I do not like the South—too much railway travel; but I drew good travelling allowance. Ha! Ha! I meet our mutual at Delhi on the way back. He lies quiett just now, and says Saddhu-disguise suits him to the ground. Well, there I hear what you have done so well, so quickly, upon the instantaneous spur of the moment. I tell our mutual you take the bally bun, by Jove! It was splendid. I come to tell you so.'

'Umm!'

The frogs were busy in the ditches, and the moon slid to her setting. Some happy servant had gone out to commune with the night and to beat upon a drum. Kim's next sentence was in the vernacular.

'How didst thou follow us?'

'Oah. Thatt was nothing. I know from our mutual friend you go to Saharunpore. So I come on. Red Lamas are not inconspicuous persons. I buy myself my drug-box, and I am very good doctor really. I go to Akrola of the Ford, and hear all about you, and I talk here and talk there. All the common people know what you do. I knew when the hospitable old lady sent the dooli. They have great recollections of the old lama's visits here. I know old ladies cannot keep their hands from medicines. So I am a doctor, and—you hear my talk? I think it is verree good. My word, Mister O'Hara, they know about you and the lama for fifty miles—the common people. So I come. Do you mind?'

'Babuji,' said Kim, looking up at the broad, grinning face, 'I am a Sahib.'

'My dear Mister O'Hara—'

'And I hope to play the Great Game.'

'You are subordinate to me departmentally at present.'

'Then why talk like an ape in a tree? Men do not come after one from Simla and change their dress, for the sake of a few sweet words. I am not a child. Talk Hindi and let us get to the yolk of the egg. Thou art here—speaking not one word of truth in ten. Why art thou here? Give a straight answer.'

'That is so verree disconcerting of the Europeans, Mister O'Hara. You should know a heap better at your time of life.'

'But I want to know,' said Kim, laughing. 'If it is the Game, I may help. How can I do anything if you bukh [babble] all round the shop?'

Hurree Babu reached for the pipe, and sucked it till it gurgled again.

'Now I will speak vernacular. You sit tight, Mister O'Hara ... It concerns the pedigree of a white stallion.'

'Still? That was finished long ago.'

'When everyone is dead the Great Game is finished. Not before. Listen to me till the end. There were Five Kings who prepared a sudden war three years ago, when thou wast given the stallion's pedigree by Mahbub Ali. Upon them, because of that news, and ere they were ready, fell our Army.'

'Ay—eight thousand men with guns. I remember that night.'

'But the war was not pushed. That is the Government custom. The troops were recalled because the Government believed the Five Kings were cowed; and it is not cheap to feed men among the high Passes. Hilas and Bunar—Rajahs with guns—undertook for a price to guard the Passes against all coming from the North. They protested both fear and friendship.' He broke off with a giggle into English: 'Of course, I tell you this unoffeecially to elucidate political situation, Mister O'Hara. Offeecially, I am debarred from criticizing any action of superiors. Now I go on.—This pleased the Government, anxious to avoid expense, and a bond was made for so many rupees a month that Hilas and Bunar should guard the Passes as soon as the State's troops were withdrawn. At that time—it was after we two met—I, who had been selling tea in Leh, became a clerk of accounts in the Army. When the troops were withdrawn, I was left behind to pay the coolies who made new roads in the Hills. This road-making was part of the bond between Bunar, Hilas, and the Government.'

'So? And then?'

'I tell you, it was jolly-beastly cold up there too, after summer,' said Hurree Babu confidentially. 'I was afraid these Bunar men would cut my throat every night for thee pay-chest. My native sepoy-guard, they laughed at me! By Jove! I was such a fearful man. Nevar mind thatt. I go on colloquially ... I send word many times that these two Kings were sold to the North; and Mahbub Ali, who was yet farther North, amply confirmed it. Nothing was done. Only my feet were frozen, and a toe dropped off. I sent word that the roads for which I was paying money to the diggers were being made for the feet of strangers and enemies.'

'For?'

'For the Russians. The thing was an open jest among the coolies. Then I was called down to tell what I knew by speech of tongue. Mahbub came South too. See the end! Over the Passes this year after snow-melting'—he shivered afresh—'come two strangers under cover of shooting wild goats. They bear guns, but they bear also chains and levels and compasses.'

'Oho! The thing gets clearer.'

'They are well received by Hilas and Bunar. They make great promises; they speak as the mouthpiece of a Kaisar with gifts. Up the valleys, down the valleys go they, saying, "Here is a place to build a breastwork; here can ye pitch a fort. Here can ye hold the road against an army"—the very roads for which I paid out the rupees monthly. The Government knows, but does nothing. The three other Kings, who were not paid for guarding the Passes, tell them by runner of the bad faith of Bunar and Hilas. When all the evil is done, look you—when these two strangers with the levels and the compasses make the Five Kings to believe that a great army will sweep the Passes tomorrow or the next day—Hill-people are all fools—comes the order to me, Hurree Babu, "Go North and see what those strangers do." I say to Creighton Sahib, "This is not a lawsuit, that we go about to collect evidence."' Hurree returned to his English with a jerk: "'By Jove," I said, "why the dooce do you not issue demi-offeecial orders to some brave man to poison them, for an example? It is, if you permit the observation, most reprehensible laxity on your part." And Colonel Creighton, he laughed at me! It is all your beastly English pride. You think no one dare conspire! That is all tommy-rott.'

Kim smoked slowly, revolving the business, so far as he understood it, in his quick mind.

'Then thou goest forth to follow the strangers?'

'No. To meet them. They are coming in to Simla to send down their horns and heads to be dressed at Calcutta. They are exclusively sporting gentlemen, and they are allowed special faceelities by the Government. Of course, we always do that. It is our British pride.'

'Then what is to fear from them?'

'By Jove, they are not black people. I can do all sorts of things with black people, of course. They are Russians, and highly unscrupulous people. I—I do not want to consort with them without a witness.'

'Will they kill thee?'

'Oah, thatt is nothing. I am good enough Herbert Spencerian, I trust, to meet little thing like death, which is all in my fate, you know. But—but they may beat me.'


'Why?'

Hurree Babu snapped his fingers with irritation. 'Of course I shall affeeliate myself to their camp in supernumerary capacity as perhaps interpreter, or person mentally impotent and hungree, or some such thing. And then I must pick up what I can, I suppose. That is as easy for me as playing Mister Doctor to the old lady. Onlee—onlee—you see, Mister O'Hara, I am unfortunately Asiatic, which is serious detriment in some respects. And all-so I am Bengali—a fearful man.'

'God made the Hare and the Bengali. What shame?' said Kim, quoting the proverb.

'It was process of Evolution, I think, from Primal Necessity, but the fact remains in all the cui bono. I am, oh, awfully fearful!—I remember once they wanted to cut off my head on the road to Lhassa. (No, I have never reached to Lhassa.) I sat down and cried, Mister O'Hara, anticipating Chinese tortures. I do not suppose these two gentlemen will torture me, but I like to provide for possible contingency with European assistance in emergency.' He coughed and spat out the cardamoms. 'It is purely unoffeecial indent, to which you can say "No, Babu". If you have no pressing engagement with your old man—perhaps you might divert him; perhaps I can seduce his fancies—I should like you to keep in Departmental touch with me till I find those sporting coves. I have great opeenion of you since I met my friend at Delhi. And also I will embody your name in my offeecial report when matter is finally adjudicated. It will be a great feather in your cap. That is why I come really.'

'Humph! The end of the tale, I think, is true; but what of the fore-part?'

'About the Five Kings? Oah! there is ever so much truth in it. A lots more than you would suppose,' said Hurree earnestly. 'You come—eh? I go from here straight into the Doon. It is verree verdant and painted meads. I shall go to Mussoorie to good old Munsoorie Pahar, as the gentlemen and ladies say. Then by Rampur into Chini. That is the only way they can come. I do not like waiting in the cold, but we must wait for them. I want to walk with them to Simla. You see, one Russian is a Frenchman, and I know my French pretty well. I have friends in Chandernagore.'

'He would certainly rejoice to see the Hills again,' said Kim meditatively. 'All his speech these ten days past has been of little else. If we go together—'

'Oah! We can be quite strangers on the road, if your lama prefers. I shall just be four or five miles ahead. There is no hurry for Hurree—that is an Europe pun, ha! ha! —and you come after. There is plenty of time; they will plot and survey and map, of course. I shall go tomorrow, and you the next day, if you choose. Eh? You go think on it till morning. By Jove, it is near morning now.' He yawned ponderously, and with never a civil word lumbered off to his sleeping-place. But Kim slept little, and his thoughts ran in Hindustani:

'Well is the Game called great! I was four days a scullion at Quetta, waiting on the wife of the man whose book I stole. And that was part of the Great Game! From the South—God knows how far—came up the Mahratta, playing the Great Game in fear of his life. Now I shall go far and far into the North playing the Great Game. Truly, it runs like a shuttle throughout all Hind. And my share and my joy'—he smiled to the darkness—'I owe to the lama here. Also to Mahbub Ali—also to Creighton Sahib, but chiefly to the Holy One. He is right—a great and a wonderful world—and I am Kim—Kim—Kim—alone—one person—in the middle of it all. But I will see these strangers with their levels and chains...'

'What was the upshot of last night's babble?' said the lama, after his orisons.

'There came a strolling seller of drugs—a hanger-on of the Sahiba's. Him I abolished by arguments and prayers, proving that our charms are worthier than his coloured waters.'

'Alas, my charms! Is the virtuous woman still bent upon a new one?'

'Very strictly.'

'Then it must be written, or she will deafen me with her clamour.' He fumbled at his pencase.

'In the Plains,' said Kim, 'are always too many people. In the Hills, as I understand, there are fewer.'

'Oh! the Hills, and the snows upon the Hills.' The lama tore off a tiny square of paper fit to go in an amulet. 'But what dost thou know of the Hills?'

'They are very close.' Kim thrust open the door and looked at the long, peaceful line of the Himalayas flushed in morning-gold. 'Except in the dress of a Sahib, I have never set foot among them.'

The lama snuffed the wind wistfully.

'If we go North,'—Kim put the question to the waking sunrise—'would not much mid-day heat be avoided by walking among the lower hills at least? ... Is the charm made, Holy One?'

'I have written the names of seven silly devils—not one of whom is worth a grain of dust in the eye. Thus do foolish women drag us from the Way!'



Hurree Babu came out from behind the dovecote washing his teeth with ostentatious ritual. Full-fleshed, heavy-haunched, bull-necked, and deep-voiced, he did not look like 'a fearful man'. Kim signed almost imperceptibly that matters were in good train, and when the morning toilet was over, Hurree Babu, in flowery speech, came to do honour to the lama. They ate, of course, apart, and afterwards the old lady, more or less veiled behind a window, returned to the vital business of green-mango colics in the young. The lama's knowledge of medicine was, of course, sympathetic only. He believed that the dung of a black horse, mixed with sulphur, and carried in a snake-skin, was a sound remedy for cholera; but the symbolism interested him far more than the science. Hurree Babu deferred to these views with enchanting politeness, so that the lama called him a courteous physician. Hurree Babu replied that he was no more than an inexpert dabbler in the mysteries; but at least—he thanked the Gods therefore—he knew when he sat in the presence of a master. He himself had been taught by the Sahibs, who do not consider expense, in the lordly halls of Calcutta; but, as he was ever first to acknowledge, there lay a wisdom behind earthly wisdom—the high and lonely lore of meditation. Kim looked on with envy. The Hurree Babu of his knowledge—oily, effusive, and nervous—was gone; gone, too, was the brazen drug-vendor of overnight. There remained—polished, polite, attentive—a sober, learned son of experience and adversity, gathering wisdom from the lama's lips. The old lady confided to Kim that these rare levels were beyond her. She liked charms with plenty of ink that one could wash off in water, swallow, and be done with. Else what was the use of the Gods? She liked men and women, and she spoke of them—of kinglets she had known in the past; of her own youth and beauty; of the depredations of leopards and the eccentricities of love Asiatic; of the incidence of taxation, rack-renting, funeral ceremonies, her son-in-law (this by allusion, easy to be followed), the care of the young, and the age's lack of decency. And Kim, as interested in the life of this world as she soon to leave it, squatted with his feet under the hem of his robe, drinking all in, while the lama demolished one after another every theory of body-curing put forward by Hurree Babu.

At noon the Babu strapped up his brass-bound drug-box, took his patent-leather shoes of ceremony in one hand, a gay blue-and-white umbrella in the other, and set off northwards to the Doon, where, he said, he was in demand among the lesser kings of those parts.

'We will go in the cool of the evening, chela,' said the lama. 'That doctor, learned in physic and courtesy, affirms that the people among these lower hills are devout, generous, and much in need of a teacher. In a very short time—so says the hakim—we come to cool air and the smell of pines.'...

'You see, Mister O'Hara, I do not know what the deuce-an' all I shall do when I find our sporting friends; but if you will kindly keep within sight of my umbrella, which is fine fixed point for cadastral survey, I shall feel much better.'

Kim looked out across the jungle of peaks. 'This is not my country, hakim. Easier, I think, to find one louse in a bear-skin.'
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#3)

Postby admin » Wed Mar 03, 2021 5:52 am

Part 2 of 2

'Oah, thatt is my strong points. There is no hurry for Hurree. They were at Leh not so long ago. They said they had come down from the Karakorum with their heads and horns and all. I am onlee afraid they will have sent back all their letters and compromising things from Leh into Russian territoree. Of course they will walk away as far to the East as possible—just to show that they were never among the Western States. You do not know the Hills?' He scratched with a twig on the earth. 'Look! They should have come in by Srinagar or Abbottabad. Thatt is their short road—down the river by Bunji and Astor. But they have made mischief in the West. So'—he drew a furrow from left to right—'they march and they march away East to Leh (ah! it is cold there), and down the Indus to Hanle (I know that road), and then down, you see, to Bushahr and Chini valley. That is ascertained by process of elimination, and also by asking questions from people that I cure so well. Our friends have been a long time playing about and producing impressions. So they are well known from far off. You will see me catch them somewhere in Chini valley. Please keep your eye on the umbrella.'

It nodded like a wind-blown harebell down the valleys and round the mountain sides, and in due time the lama and Kim, who steered by compass, would overhaul it, vending ointments and powders at eventide. 'We came by such and such a way!' The lama would throw a careless finger backward at the ridges, and the umbrella would expend itself in compliments...

As usual, the lama had led Kim by cow-track and by-road, far from the main route along which Hurree Babu, that 'fearful man', had bucketed three days before through a storm to which nine Englishmen out of ten would have given full right of way. Hurree was no game-shot—the snick of a trigger made him change colour—but, as he himself would have said, he was 'fairly effeecient stalker', and he had raked the huge valley with a pair of cheap binoculars to some purpose. Moreover, the white of worn canvas tents against green carries far. Hurree Babu had seen all he wanted to see when he sat on the threshing-floor of Ziglaur, twenty miles away as the eagle flies, and forty by road—that is to say, two small dots which one day were just below the snow-line, and the next had moved downward perhaps six inches on the hillside. Once cleaned out and set to the work, his fat bare legs could cover a surprising amount of ground, and this was the reason why, while Kim and the lama lay in a leaky hut at Ziglaur till the storm should be over-past, an oily, wet, but always smiling Bengali, talking the best of English with the vilest of phrases, was ingratiating himself with two sodden and rather rheumatic foreigners. He had arrived, revolving many wild schemes, on the heels of a thunderstorm which had split a pine over against their camp, and so convinced a dozen or two forcibly impressed baggage-coolies the day was inauspicious for farther travel that with one accord they had thrown down their loads and jibbed. They were subjects of a Hill Rajah who farmed out their services, as is the custom, for his private gain; and, to add to their personal distresses, the strange Sahibs had already threatened them with rifles. The most of them knew rifles and Sahibs of old: they were trackers and shikarris of the Northern valleys, keen after bear and wild goat; but they had never been thus treated in their lives. So the forest took them to her bosom, and, for all oaths and clamour, refused to restore. There was no need to feign madness or—the Babu had thought of another means of securing a welcome. He wrung out his wet clothes, slipped on his patent-leather shoes, opened the blue-and-white umbrella, and with mincing gait and a heart beating against his tonsils appeared as 'agent for His Royal Highness, the Rajah of Rampur, gentlemen. What can I do for you, please?'

The gentlemen were delighted. One was visibly French, the other Russian, but they spoke English not much inferior to the Babu's. They begged his kind offices. Their native servants had gone sick at Leh. They had hurried on because they were anxious to bring the spoils of the chase to Simla ere the skins grew moth-eaten. They bore a general letter of introduction (the Babu salaamed to it orientally) to all Government officials. No, they had not met any other shooting-parties en route. They did for themselves. They had plenty of supplies. They only wished to push on as soon as might be. At this he waylaid a cowering hillman among the trees, and after three minutes' talk and a little silver (one cannot be economical upon State service, though Hurree's heart bled at the waste) the eleven coolies and the three hangers-on reappeared. At least the Babu would be a witness to their oppression.

'My royal master, he will be much annoyed, but these people are onlee common people and grossly ignorant. If your honours will kindly overlook unfortunate affair, I shall be much pleased. In a little while rain will stop and we can then proceed. You have been shooting, eh? That is fine performance!'

He skipped nimbly from one kilta to the next, making pretence to adjust each conical basket. The Englishman is not, as a rule, familiar with the Asiatic, but he would not strike across the wrist a kindly Babu who had accidentally upset a kilta with a red oilskin top. On the other hand, he would not press drink upon a Babu were he never so friendly, nor would he invite him to meat. The strangers did all these things, and asked many questions—about women mostly—to which Hurree returned gay and unstudied answers. They gave him a glass of whitish fluid like to gin, and then more; and in a little time his gravity departed from him. He became thickly treasonous, and spoke in terms of sweeping indecency of a Government which had forced upon him a white man's education and neglected to supply him with a white man's salary. He babbled tales of oppression and wrong till the tears ran down his cheeks for the miseries of his land. Then he staggered off, singing love-songs of Lower Bengal, and collapsed upon a wet tree-trunk. Never was so unfortunate a product of English rule in India more unhappily thrust upon aliens.

'They are all just of that pattern,' said one sportsman to the other in French. 'When we get into India proper thou wilt see. I should like to visit his Rajah. One might speak the good word there. It is possible that he has heard of us and wishes to signify his good-will.'

'We have not time. We must get into Simla as soon as may be,' his companion replied. 'For my own part, I wish our reports had been sent back from Hilas, or even Leh.'

'The English post is better and safer. Remember we are given all facilities—and Name of God!—they give them to us too! Is it unbelievable stupidity?'

'It is pride—pride that deserves and will receive punishment.'

'Yes! To fight a fellow-Continental in our game is something. There is a risk attached, but these people—bah! It is too easy.'

'Pride—all pride, my friend.'

'Now what the deuce is good of Chandernagore being so close to Calcutta and all,' said Hurree, snoring open-mouthed on the sodden moss, 'if I cannot understand their French? They talk so particularly fast! It would have been much better to cut their beastly throats.'

When he presented himself again he was racked with a headache—penitent, and volubly afraid that in his drunkenness he might have been indiscreet. He loved the British Government—it was the source of all prosperity and honour, and his master at Rampur held the very same opinion. Upon this the men began to deride him and to quote past words, till step by step, with deprecating smirks, oily grins, and leers of infinite cunning, the poor Babu was beaten out of his defences and forced to speak—truth. When Lurgan was told the tale later, he mourned aloud that he could not have been in the place of the stubborn, inattentive coolies, who with grass mats over their heads and the raindrops puddling in their footprints, waited on the weather. All the Sahibs of their acquaintance—rough-clad men joyously returning year after year to their chosen gullies—had servants and cooks and orderlies, very often hillmen. These Sahibs travelled without any retinue. Therefore they were poor Sahibs, and ignorant; for no Sahib in his senses would follow a Bengali's advice. But the Bengali, appearing from somewhere, had given them money, and could make shift with their dialect. Used to comprehensive ill-treatment from their own colour, they suspected a trap somewhere, and stood by to run if occasion offered.

Then through the new-washed air, steaming with delicious earth-smells, the Babu led the way down the slopes—walking ahead of the coolies in pride; walking behind the foreigners in humility. His thoughts were many and various. The least of them would have interested his companions beyond words. But he was an agreeable guide, ever keen to point out the beauties of his royal master's domain. He peopled the hills with anything they had a mind to slay—thar, ibex, or markhor, and bear by Elisha's allowance. He discoursed of botany and ethnology with unimpeachable inaccuracy, and his store of local legends—he had been a trusted agent of the State for fifteen years, remember—was inexhaustible.

'Decidedly this fellow is an original,' said the taller of the two foreigners. 'He is like the nightmare of a Viennese courier.'

'He represents in little India in transition—the monstrous hybridism of East and West,' the Russian replied. 'It is we who can deal with Orientals.'

'He has lost his own country and has not acquired any other. But he has a most complete hatred of his conquerors. Listen. He confided to me last night,' said the other.

Under the striped umbrella Hurree Babu was straining ear and brain to follow the quick-poured French, and keeping both eyes on a kilta full of maps and documents—an extra-large one with a double red oil-skin cover. He did not wish to steal anything. He only desired to know what to steal, and, incidentally, how to get away when he had stolen it. He thanked all the Gods of Hindustan, and Herbert Spencer, that there remained some valuables to steal.

On the second day the road rose steeply to a grass spur above the forest; and it was here, about sunset, that they came across an aged lama—but they called him a bonze—sitting cross-legged above a mysterious chart held down by stones, which he was explaining to a young man, evidently a neophyte, of singular, though unwashen, beauty. The striped umbrella had been sighted half a march away, and Kim had suggested a halt till it came up to them.

'Ha!' said Hurree Babu, resourceful as Puss-in-Boots. 'That is eminent local holy man. Probably subject of my royal master.'

'What is he doing? It is very curious.'

'He is expounding holy picture—all hand-worked.'

The two men stood bareheaded in the wash of the afternoon sunlight low across the gold-coloured grass. The sullen coolies, glad of the check, halted and slid down their loads.

'Look!' said the Frenchman. 'It is like a picture for the birth of a religion—the first teacher and the first disciple. Is he a Buddhist?'

'Of some debased kind,' the other answered. 'There are no true Buddhists among the Hills. But look at the folds of the drapery. Look at his eyes—how insolent! Why does this make one feel that we are so young a people?' The speaker struck passionately at a tall weed. 'We have nowhere left our mark yet. Nowhere! That, do you understand, is what disquiets me.' He scowled at the placid face, and the monumental calm of the pose.

'Have patience. We shall make your mark together—we and you young people. Meantime, draw his picture.'

The Babu advanced loftily; his back out of all keeping with his deferential speech, or his wink towards Kim.

'Holy One, these be Sahibs. My medicines cured one of a flux, and I go into Simla to oversee his recovery. They wish to see thy picture—'

'To heal the sick is always good. This is the Wheel of Life,' said the lama, 'the same I showed thee in the hut at Ziglaur when the rain fell.'

'And to hear thee expound it.'

The lama's eyes lighted at the prospect of new listeners. 'To expound the Most Excellent Way is good. Have they any knowledge of Hindi, such as had the Keeper of Images?'

'A little, maybe.'

Hereat, simply as a child engrossed with a new game, the lama threw back his head and began the full-throated invocation of the Doctor of Divinity ere he opens the full doctrine. The strangers leaned on their alpenstocks and listened. Kim, squatting humbly, watched the red sunlight on their faces, and the blend and parting of their long shadows. They wore un-English leggings and curious girt-in belts that reminded him hazily of the pictures in a book in St Xavier's library "The Adventures of a Young Naturalist in Mexico" was its name. Yes, they looked very like the wonderful M. Sumichrast of that tale, and very unlike the 'highly unscrupulous folk' of Hurree Babu's imagining. The coolies, earth-coloured and mute, crouched reverently some twenty or thirty yards away, and the Babu, the slack of his thin gear snapping like a marking-flag in the chill breeze, stood by with an air of happy proprietorship.

'These are the men,' Hurree whispered, as the ritual went on and the two whites followed the grass-blade sweeping from Hell to Heaven and back again. 'All their books are in the large kilta with the reddish top—books and reports and maps—and I have seen a King's letter that either Hilas or Bunar has written. They guard it most carefully. They have sent nothing back from Hilas or Leh. That is sure.'

'Who is with them?'

'Only the beegar-coolies. They have no servants. They are so close they cook their own food.'

'But what am I to do?'

'Wait and see. Only if any chance comes to me thou wilt know where to seek for the papers.'

'This were better in Mahbub Ali's hands than a Bengali's,' said Kim scornfully.

'There are more ways of getting to a sweetheart than butting down a wall.'

'See here the Hell appointed for avarice and greed. Flanked upon the one side by Desire and on the other by Weariness.' The lama warmed to his work, and one of the strangers sketched him in the quick-fading light.

'That is enough,' the man said at last brusquely. 'I cannot understand him, but I want that picture. He is a better artist than I. Ask him if he will sell it.'

'He says "No, sar,"' the Babu replied. The lama, of course, would no more have parted with his chart to a casual wayfarer than an archbishop would pawn the holy vessels of his cathedral. All Tibet is full of cheap reproductions of the Wheel; but the lama was an artist, as well as a wealthy Abbot in his own place.

'Perhaps in three days, or four, or ten, if I perceive that the Sahib is a Seeker and of good understanding, I may myself draw him another. But this was used for the initiation of a novice. Tell him so, hakim.'

'He wishes it now—for money.'

The lama shook his head slowly and began to fold up the Wheel. The Russian, on his side, saw no more than an unclean old man haggling over a dirty piece of paper. He drew out a handful of rupees, and snatched half-jestingly at the chart, which tore in the lama's grip. A low murmur of horror went up from the coolies—some of whom were Spiti men and, by their lights, good Buddhists. The lama rose at the insult; his hand went to the heavy iron pencase that is the priest's weapon, and the Babu danced in agony.

'Now you see—you see why I wanted witnesses. They are highly unscrupulous people. Oh, sar! sar! You must not hit holyman!'

'Chela! He has defiled the Written Word!'

It was too late. Before Kim could ward him off, the Russian struck the old man full on the face. Next instant he was rolling over and over downhill with Kim at his throat. The blow had waked every unknown Irish devil in the boy's blood, and the sudden fall of his enemy did the rest. The lama dropped to his knees, half-stunned; the coolies under their loads fled up the hill as fast as plainsmen run aross the level. They had seen sacrilege unspeakable, and it behoved them to get away before the Gods and devils of the hills took vengeance. The Frenchman ran towards the lama, fumbling at his revolver with some notion of making him a hostage for his companion. A shower of cutting stones—hillmen are very straight shots—drove him away, and a coolie from Ao-chung snatched the lama into the stampede. All came about as swiftly as the sudden mountain-darkness.

'They have taken the baggage and all the guns,' yelled the Frenchman, firing blindly into the twilight.

'All right, sar! All right! Don't shoot. I go to rescue,' and Hurree, pounding down the slope, cast himself bodily upon the delighted and astonished Kim, who was banging his breathless foe's head against a boulder.

'Go back to the coolies,' whispered the Babu in his ear. 'They have the baggage. The papers are in the kilta with the red top, but look through all. Take their papers, and specially the murasla [King's letter]. Go! The other man comes!'

Kim tore uphill. A revolver-bullet rang on a rock by his side, and he cowered partridge-wise.

'If you shoot,' shouted Hurree, 'they will descend and annihilate us. I have rescued the gentleman, sar. This is particularly dangerous.'

'By Jove!' Kim was thinking hard in English. 'This is dam'-tight place, but I think it is self-defence.' He felt in his bosom for Mahbub's gift, and uncertainly—save for a few practice shots in the Bikanir desert, he had never used the little gun—pulled the trigger.

'What did I say, sar!' The Babu seemed to be in tears. 'Come down here and assist to resuscitate. We are all up a tree, I tell you.'

The shots ceased. There was a sound of stumbling feet, and Kim hurried upward through the gloom, swearing like a cat—or a country-bred.

'Did they wound thee, chela?' called the lama above him.

'No. And thou?' He dived into a clump of stunted firs.

'Unhurt. Come away. We go with these folk to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow.'

'But not before we have done justice,' a voice cried. 'I have got the Sahibs' guns—all four. Let us go down.'

'He struck the Holy One—we saw it! Our cattle will be barren—our wives will cease to bear! The snows will slide upon us as we go home... Atop of all other oppression too!'

The little fir-clump filled with clamouring coolies—panic-stricken, and in their terror capable of anything. The man from Ao-chung clicked the breech-bolt of his gun impatiently, and made as to go downhill.

'Wait a little, Holy One; they cannot go far. Wait till I return,' said he.

'It is this person who has suffered wrong,' said the lama, his hand over his brow.

'For that very reason,' was the reply.

'If this person overlooks it, your hands are clean. Moreover, ye acquire merit by obedience.'

'Wait, and we will all go to Shamlegh together,' the man insisted.

For a moment, for just so long as it needs to stuff a cartridge into a breech-loader, the lama hesitated. Then he rose to his feet, and laid a finger on the man's shoulder.

'Hast thou heard? I say there shall be no killing—I who was Abbot of Such-zen. Is it any lust of thine to be re-born as a rat, or a snake under the eaves—a worm in the belly of the most mean beast? Is it thy wish to—'

The man from Ao-chung fell to his knees, for the voice boomed like a Tibetan devil-gong.

'Ai! ai!' cried the Spiti men. 'Do not curse us—do not curse him. It was but his zeal, Holy One! ... Put down the rifle, fool!'

'Anger on anger! Evil on evil! There will be no killing. Let the priest-beaters go in bondage to their own acts. Just and sure is the Wheel, swerving not a hair! They will be born many times—in torment.' His head drooped, and he leaned heavily on Kim's shoulder.

'I have come near to great evil, chela,' he whispered in that dead hush under the pines. 'I was tempted to loose the bullet; and truly, in Tibet there would have been a heavy and a slow death for them ... He struck me across the face ... upon the flesh ...' He slid to the ground, breathing heavily, and Kim could hear the over-driven heart bump and check.

'Have they hurt him to the death?' said the Ao-chung man, while the others stood mute.

Kim knelt over the body in deadly fear. 'Nay,' he cried passionately, 'this is only a weakness.' Then he remembered that he was a white man, with a white man's camp-fittings at his service. 'Open the kiltas! The Sahibs may have a medicine.'

'Oho! Then I know it,' said the Ao-chung man with a laugh. 'Not for five years was I Yankling Sahib's shikarri without knowing that medicine. I too have tasted it. Behold!'

He drew from his breast a bottle of cheap whisky—such as is sold to explorers at Leh—and cleverly forced a little between the lama's teeth.

'So I did when Yankling Sahib twisted his foot beyond Astor. Aha! I have already looked into their baskets—but we will make fair division at Shamlegh. Give him a little more. It is good medicine. Feel! His heart goes better now. Lay his head down and rub a little on the chest. If he had waited quietly while I accounted for the Sahibs this would never have come. But perhaps the Sahibs may chase us here. Then it would not be wrong to shoot them with their own guns, heh?'

'One is paid, I think, already,' said Kim between his teeth. 'I kicked him in the groin as we went downhill. Would I had killed him!'

'It is well to be brave when one does not live in Rampur,' said one whose hut lay within a few miles of the Rajah's rickety palace. 'If we get a bad name among the Sahibs, none will employ us as shikarris any more.'

'Oh, but these are not Angrezi Sahibs—not merry-minded men like Fostum Sahib or Yankling Sahib. They are foreigners—they cannot speak Angrezi as do Sahibs.'

Here the lama coughed and sat up, groping for the rosary.

'There shall be no killing,' he murmured. 'Just is the Wheel! Evil on evil—'

'Nay, Holy One. We are all here.' The Ao-chung man timidly patted his feet. 'Except by thy order, no one shall be slain. Rest awhile. We will make a little camp here, and later, as the moon rises, we go to Shamlegh-under-the-Snow.'

'After a blow,' said a Spiti man sententiously, 'it is best to sleep.'

'There is, as it were, a dizziness at the back of my neck, and a pinching in it. Let me lay my head on thy lap, chela. I am an old man, but not free from passion ... We must think of the Cause of Things.'

'Give him a blanket. We dare not light a fire lest the Sahibs see.'

'Better get away to Shamlegh. None will follow us to Shamlegh.'

This was the nervous Rampur man.

'I have been Fostum Sahib's shikarri, and I am Yankling Sahib's shikarri. I should have been with Yankling Sahib now but for this cursed beegar [the corvee]. Let two men watch below with the guns lest the Sahibs do more foolishness. I shall not leave this Holy One.'

They sat down a little apart from the lama, and, after listening awhile, passed round a water-pipe whose receiver was an old Day and Martin blacking-bottle. The glow of the red charcoal as it went from hand to hand lit up the narrow, blinking eyes, the high Chinese cheek-bones, and the bull-throats that melted away into the dark duffle folds round the shoulders. They looked like kobolds from some magic mine—gnomes of the hills in conclave. And while they talked, the voices of the snow-waters round them diminished one by one as the night-frost choked and clogged the runnels.

'How he stood up against us!' said a Spiti man admiring. 'I remember an old ibex, out Ladakh-way, that Dupont Sahib missed on a shoulder-shot, seven seasons back, standing up just like him. Dupont Sahib was a good shikarri.'

'Not as good as Yankling Sahib.' The Ao-chung man took a pull at the whisky-bottle and passed it over. 'Now hear me—unless any other man thinks he knows more.'

The challenge was not taken up.

'We go to Shamlegh when the moon rises. There we will fairly divide the baggage between us. I am content with this new little rifle and all its cartridges.'

'Are the bears only bad on thy holding? said a mate, sucking at the pipe.

'No; but musk-pods are worth six rupees apiece now, and thy women can have the canvas of the tents and some of the cooking-gear. We will do all that at Shamlegh before dawn. Then we all go our ways, remembering that we have never seen or taken service with these Sahibs, who may, indeed, say that we have stolen their baggage.'

'That is well for thee, but what will our Rajah say?'

'Who is to tell him? Those Sahibs, who cannot speak our talk, or the Babu, who for his own ends gave us money? Will he lead an army against us? What evidence will remain? That we do not need we shall throw on Shamlegh-midden, where no man has yet set foot.'

'Who is at Shamlegh this summer?' The place was only a grazing centre of three or four huts.'

'The Woman of Shamlegh. She has no love for Sahibs, as we know. The others can be pleased with little presents; and here is enough for us all.' He patted the fat sides of the nearest basket.

'But—but—'

'I have said they are not true Sahibs. All their skins and heads were bought in the bazar at Leh. I know the marks. I showed them to ye last march.'

'True. They were all bought skins and heads. Some had even the moth in them.'

That was a shrewd argument, and the Ao-chung man knew his fellows.

'If the worst comes to the worst, I shall tell Yankling Sahib, who is a man of a merry mind, and he will laugh. We are not doing any wrong to any Sahibs whom we know. They are priest-beaters. They frightened us. We fled! Who knows where we dropped the baggage? Do ye think Yankling Sahib will permit down-country police to wander all over the hills, disturbing his game? It is a far cry from Simla to Chini, and farther from Shamlegh to Shamlegh-midden.'

'So be it, but I carry the big kilta. The basket with the red top that the Sahibs pack themselves every morning.'

'Thus it is proved,' said the Shamlegh man adroitly, 'that they are Sahibs of no account. Who ever heard of Fostum Sahib, or Yankling Sahib, or even the little Peel Sahib that sits up of nights to shoot serow—I say, who, ever heard of these Sahibs coming into the hills without a down-country cook, and a bearer, and—and all manner of well-paid, high-handed and oppressive folk in their tail? How can they make trouble? What of the kilta?'

'Nothing, but that it is full of the Written Word—books and papers in which they wrote, and strange instruments, as of worship.'

'Shamlegh-midden will take them all.'

'True! But how if we insult the Sahibs' Gods thereby! I do not like to handle the Written Word in that fashion. And their brass idols are beyond my comprehension. It is no plunder for simple hill-folk.'

'The old man still sleeps. Hst! We will ask his chela.' The Ao-chung man refreshed himself, and swelled with pride of leadership.

'We have here,' he whispered, 'a kilta whose nature we do not know.'

'But I do,' said Kim cautiously. The lama drew breath in natural, easy sleep, and Kim had been thinking of Hurree's last words. As a player of the Great Game, he was disposed just then to reverence the Babu. 'It is a kilta with a red top full of very wonderful things, not to be handled by fools.'

'I said it; I said it,' cried the bearer of that burden. 'Thinkest thou it will betray us?'

'Not if it be given to me. I can draw out its magic. Otherwise it will do great harm.'

'A priest always takes his share.' Whisky was demoralizing the Ao-chung man.

'It is no matter to me.' Kim answered, with the craft of his mother-country. 'Share it among you, and see what comes!'

'Not I. I was only jesting. Give the order. There is more than enough for us all. We go our way from Shamlegh in the dawn.'

They arranged and re-arranged their artless little plans for another hour, while Kim shivered with cold and pride. The humour of the situation tickled the Irish and the Oriental in his soul. Here were the emissaries of the dread Power of the North, very possibly as great in their own land as Mahbub or Colonel Creighton, suddenly smitten helpless. One of them, he privately knew, would be lame for a time. They had made promises to Kings. Tonight they lay out somewhere below him, chartless, foodless, tentless, gunless—except for Hurree Babu, guideless. And this collapse of their Great Game (Kim wondered to whom they would report it), this panicky bolt into the night, had come about through no craft of Hurree's or contrivance of Kim's, but simply, beautifully, and inevitably as the capture of Mahbub's fakir-friends by the zealous young policeman at Umballa.

'They are there—with nothing; and, by Jove, it is cold! I am here with all their things. Oh, they will be angry! I am sorry for Hurree Babu.'

Kim might have saved his pity, for though at that moment the Bengali suffered acutely in the flesh, his soul was puffed and lofty. A mile down the hill, on the edge of the pine-forest, two half-frozen men—one powerfully sick at intervals—were varying mutual recriminations with the most poignant abuse of the Babu, who seemed distraught with terror. They demanded a plan of action. He explained that they were very lucky to be alive; that their coolies, if not then stalking them, had passed beyond recall; that the Rajah, his master, was ninety miles away, and, so far from lending them money and a retinue for the Simla journey, would surely cast them into prison if he heard that they had hit a priest. He enlarged on this sin and its consequences till they bade him change the subject. Their one hope, said he, was unostentatious flight from village to village till they reached civilization; and, for the hundredth time dissolved in tears, he demanded of the high stars why the Sahibs 'had beaten holy man'.

Ten steps would have taken Hurree into the creaking gloom utterly beyond their reach—to the shelter and food of the nearest village, where glib-tongued doctors were scarce. But he preferred to endure cold, belly-pinch, bad words, and occasional blows in the company of his honoured employers. Crouched against a tree-trunk, he sniffed dolefully.

'And have you thought,' said the uninjured man hotly, 'what sort of spectacle we shall present wandering through these hills among these aborigines?'

Hurree Babu had thought of little else for some hours, but the remark was not to his address.

'We cannot wander! I can hardly walk,' groaned Kim's victim.

'Perhaps the holy man will be merciful in loving-kindness, sar, otherwise—'

'I promise myself a peculiar pleasure in emptying my revolver into that young bonze when next we meet,' was the unchristian answer.

'Revolvers! Vengeance! Bonzes!' Hurree crouched lower. The war was breaking out afresh. 'Have you no consideration for our loss? The baggage! The baggage!' He could hear the speaker literally dancing on the grass. 'Everything we bore! Everything we have secured! Our gains! Eight months' work! Do you know what that means? "Decidedly it is we who can deal with Orientals!" Oh, you have done well.'

They fell to it in several tongues, and Hurree smiled. Kim was with the kiltas, and in the kiltas lay eight months of good diplomacy. There was no means of communicating with the boy, but he could be trusted. For the rest, Hurree could so stage-manage the journey through the hills that Hilas, Bunar, and four hundred miles of hill-roads should tell the tale for a generation. Men who cannot control their own coolies are little respected in the Hills, and the hillman has a very keen sense of humour.

'If I had done it myself,' thought Hurree, 'it would not have been better; and, by Jove, now I think of it, of course I arranged it myself. How quick I have been! Just when I ran downhill I thought it! Thee outrage was accidental, but onlee me could have worked it—ah—for all it was dam'-well worth. Consider the moral effect upon these ignorant peoples! No treaties—no papers—no written documents at all—and me to interpret for them. How I shall laugh with the Colonel! I wish I had their papers also: but you cannot occupy two places in space simultaneously. Thatt is axiomatic.'…

Kim tilted the kilta on the floor—a cascade of Survey-instruments, books, diaries, letters, maps, and queerly scented native correspondence. At the very bottom was an embroidered bag covering a sealed, gilded, and illuminated document such as one King sends to another. Kim caught his breath with delight, and reviewed the situation from a Sahib's point of view.

'The books I do not want. Besides, they are logarithms—Survey, I suppose.' He laid them aside. 'The letters I do not understand, but Colonel Creighton will. They must all be kept. The maps—they draw better maps than me—of course. All the native letters—oho!—and particularly the murasla.' He sniffed the embroidered bag. 'That must be from Hilas or Bunar, and Hurree Babu spoke truth. By Jove! It is a fine haul. I wish Hurree could know ... The rest must go out of the window.' He fingered a superb prismatic compass and the shiny top of a theodolite. But after all, a Sahib cannot very well steal, and the things might be inconvenient evidence later. He sorted out every scrap of manuscript, every map, and the native letters. They made one softish slab. The three locked ferril-backed books, with five worn pocket-books, he put aside.

'The letters and the murasla I must carry inside my coat and under my belt, and the hand-written books I must put into the food-bag. It will be very heavy. No. I do not think there is anything more. If there is, the coolies have thrown it down the khud, so thatt is all right. Now you go too.' He repacked the kilta with all he meant to lose, and hove it up on to the windowsill. A thousand feet below lay a long, lazy, round-shouldered bank of mist, as yet untouched by the morning sun. A thousand feet below that was a hundred-year-old pine-forest. He could see the green tops looking like a bed of moss when a wind-eddy thinned the cloud.

'No! I don't think any one will go after you!'

The wheeling basket vomited its contents as it dropped. The theodolite hit a jutting cliff-ledge and exploded like a shell; the books, inkstands, paint-boxes, compasses, and rulers showed for a few seconds like a swarm of bees. Then they vanished; and, though Kim, hanging half out of the window, strained his young ears, never a sound came up from the gulf.

'Five hundred—a thousand rupees could not buy them,' he thought sorrowfully. 'It was verree wasteful, but I have all their other stuff—everything they did—I hope. Now how the deuce am I to tell Hurree Babu, and whatt the deuce am I to do? And my old man is sick. I must tie up the letters in oilskin. That is something to do first—else they will get all sweated ... And I am all alone!' He bound them into a neat packet, swedging down the stiff, sticky oilskin at the corners, for his roving life had made him as methodical as an old hunter in matters of the road. Then with double care he packed away the books at the bottom of the food-bag.

The woman rapped at the door.

'But thou hast made no charm,' she said, looking about.

'There is no need.' Kim had completely overlooked the necessity for a little patter-talk. The woman laughed at his confusion irreverently.

'None—for thee. Thou canst cast a spell by the mere winking of an eye. But think of us poor people when thou art gone. They were all too drunk last night to hear a woman. Thou art not drunk?'

'I am a priest.' Kim had recovered himself, and, the woman being aught but unlovely, thought best to stand on his office.

'I warned them that the Sahibs will be angry and will make an inquisition and a report to the Rajah. There is also the Babu with them. Clerks have long tongues.'

'Is that all thy trouble?' The plan rose fully formed in Kim's mind, and he smiled ravishingly.

'Not all,' quoth the woman, putting out a hard brown hand all covered with turquoises set in silver.

'I can finish that in a breath,' he went on quickly. 'The Babu is the very hakim (thou hast heard of him?) who was wandering among the hills by Ziglaur. I know him.'

'He will tell for the sake of a reward. Sahibs cannot distinguish one hillman from another, but Babus have eyes for men—and women.'

'Carry a word to him from me.'

'There is nothing I would not do for thee.'

He accepted the compliment calmly, as men must in lands where women make the love, tore a leaf from a note-book, and with a patent indelible pencil wrote in gross Shikast—the script that bad little boys use when they write dirt on walls: 'I have everything that they have written: their pictures of the country, and many letters. Especially the murasla. Tell me what to do. I am at Shamlegh-under-the-Snow. The old man is sick.'

'Take this to him. It will altogether shut his mouth. He cannot have gone far.'

'Indeed no. They are still in the forest across the spur. Our children went to watch them when the light came, and have cried the news as they moved.'

Kim looked his astonishment; but from the edge of the sheep-pasture floated a shrill, kite-like trill. A child tending cattle had picked it up from a brother or sister on the far side of the slope that commanded Chini valley.

'My husbands are also out there gathering wood.' She drew a handful of walnuts from her bosom, split one neatly, and began to eat. Kim affected blank ignorance.

'Dost thou not know the meaning of the walnut—priest?' she said coyly, and handed him the half-shells.

'Well thought of.' He slipped the piece of paper between them quickly. 'Hast thou a little wax to close them on this letter?'

The woman sighed aloud, and Kim relented.

'There is no payment till service has been rendered. Carry this to the Babu, and say it was sent by the Son of the Charm.'

'Ai! Truly! Truly! By a magician—who is like a Sahib.'

'Nay, a Son of the Charm: and ask if there be any answer.'

'But if he offer a rudeness? I—I am afraid.'

Kim laughed. 'He is, I have no doubt, very tired and very hungry. The Hills make cold bedfellows. Hai, my'—it was on the tip of his tongue to say Mother, but he turned it to Sister—'thou art a wise and witty woman. By this time all the villages know what has befallen the Sahibs—eh?'

'True. News was at Ziglaur by midnight, and by tomorrow should be at Kotgarh. The villages are both afraid and angry.'

'No need. Tell the villages to feed the Sahibs and pass them on, in peace. We must get them quietly away from our valleys. To steal is one thing—to kill another. The Babu will understand, and there will be no after-complaints. Be swift. I must tend my master when he wakes.'

'So be it. After service—thou hast said?—comes the reward. I am the Woman of Shamlegh, and I hold from the Rajah. I am no common bearer of babes. Shamlegh is thine: hoof and horn and hide, milk and butter. Take or leave.'

She turned resolutely uphill, her silver necklaces clicking on her broad breast, to meet the morning sun fifteen hundred feet above them. This time Kim thought in the vernacular as he waxed down the oilskin edges of the packets.

'How can a man follow the Way or the Great Game when he is so—always pestered by women? There was that girl at Akrola of the Ford; and there was the scullion's wife behind the dovecot—not counting the others—and now comes this one! When I was a child it was well enough, but now I am a man and they will not regard me as a man. Walnuts, indeed! Ho! ho! It is almonds in the Plains!'…

Up the valleys of Bushahr—the far-beholding eagles of the Himalayas swerve at his new blue-and-white gored umbrella—hurries a Bengali, once fat and well-looking, now lean and weather-worn. He has received the thanks of two foreigners of distinction, piloted not unskilfully to Mashobra tunnel, which leads to the great and gay capital of India. It was not his fault that, blanketed by wet mists, he conveyed them past the telegraph-station and European colony of Kotgarh. It was not his fault, but that of the Gods, of whom he discoursed so engagingly, that he led them into the borders of Nahan, where the Rahah of that State mistook them for deserting British soldiery. Hurree Babu explained the greatness and glory, in their own country, of his companions, till the drowsy kinglet smiled. He explained it to everyone who asked—many times—aloud—variously. He begged food, arranged accommodation, proved a skilful leech for an injury of the groin—such a blow as one may receive rolling down a rock-covered hillside in the dark—and in all things indispensable. The reason of his friendliness did him credit. With millions of fellow-serfs, he had learned to look upon Russia as the great deliverer from the North. He was a fearful man. He had been afraid that he could not save his illustrious employers from the anger of an excited peasantry. He himself would just as lief hit a holy man as not, but ... He was deeply grateful and sincerely rejoiced that he had done his 'little possible' towards bringing their venture to—barring the lost baggage—a successful issue, he had forgotten the blows; denied that any blows had been dealt that unseemly first night under the pines. He asked neither pension nor retaining fee, but, if they deemed him worthy, would they write him a testimonial? It might be useful to him later, if others, their friends, came over the Passes. He begged them to remember him in their future greatnesses, for he 'opined subtly' that he, even he, Mohendro Lal Dutt, MA of Calcutta, had 'done the State some service'.

They gave him a certificate praising his courtesy, helpfulness, and unerring skill as a guide. He put it in his waist-belt and sobbed with emotion; they had endured so many dangers together. He led them at high noon along crowded Simla Mall to the Alliance Bank of Simla, where they wished to establish their identity. Thence he vanished like a dawn-cloud on Jakko.

Behold him, too fine-drawn to sweat, too pressed to vaunt the drugs in his little brass-bound box, ascending Shamlegh slope, a just man made perfect. Watch him, all Babudom laid aside, smoking at noon on a cot, while a woman with turquoise-studded headgear points south-easterly across the bare grass. Litters, she says, do not travel as fast as single men, but his birds should now be in the Plains. The holy man would not stay though Lispeth pressed him. The Babu groans heavily, girds up his huge loins, and is off again. He does not care to travel after dusk; but his days' marches—there is none to enter them in a book—would astonish folk who mock at his race. Kindly villagers, remembering the Dacca drug-vendor of two months ago, give him shelter against evil spirits of the wood. He dreams of Bengali Gods, University text-books of education, and the Royal Society, London, England. Next dawn the bobbing blue-and-white umbrella goes forward.

On the edge of the Doon, Mussoorie well behind them and the Plains spread out in golden dust before, rests a worn litter in which—all the Hills know it—lies a sick lama who seeks a River for his healing. Villages have almost come to blows over the honour of bearing it, for not only has the lama given them blessings, but his disciple good money—full one-third Sahibs' prices. Twelve miles a day has the dooli travelled, as the greasy, rubbed pole-ends show, and by roads that few Sahibs use. Over the Nilang Pass in storm when the driven snow-dust filled every fold of the impassive lama's drapery; between the black horns of Raieng where they heard the whistle of the wild goats through the clouds; pitching and strained on the shale below; hard-held between shoulder and clenched jaw when they rounded the hideous curves of the Cut Road under Bhagirati; swinging and creaking to the steady jog-trot of the descent into the Valley of the Waters; pressed along the steamy levels of that locked valley; up, up and out again, to meet the roaring gusts off Kedarnath; set down of mid-days in the dun gloom of kindly oak-forests; passed from village to village in dawn-chill, when even devotees may be forgiven for swearing at impatient holy men; or by torchlight, when the least fearful think of ghosts—the dooli has reached her last stage. The little hill-folk sweat in the modified heat of the lower Siwaliks, and gather round the priests for their blessing and their wage….

'It is I that am the woman of ill-omen,' cried the old lady penitently. 'We that go down to the chattris [the big umbrellas above the burning-ghats where the priests take their last dues] clutch hard at the bearers of the chattis [water-jars—young folk full of the pride of life, she meant; but the pun is clumsy]. When one cannot dance in the festival one must e'en look out of the window, and grandmothering takes all a woman's time. Thy master gives me all the charms I now desire for my daughter's eldest, by reason—is it?—that he is wholly free from sin. The hakim is brought very low these days. He goes about poisoning my servants for lack of their betters.'

'What hakim, mother?'

'That very Dacca man who gave me the pill which rent me in three pieces. He cast up like a strayed camel a week ago, vowing that he and thou had been blood-brothers together up Kulu-way, and feigning great anxiety for thy health. He was very thin and hungry, so I gave orders to have him stuffed too—him and his anxiety!'

'I would see him if he is here.'

'He eats five times a day, and lances boils for my hinds to save himself from an apoplexy. He is so full of anxiety for thy health that he sticks to the cook-house door and stays himself with scraps. He will keep. We shall never get rid of him.'

'Send him here, mother'—the twinkle returned to Kim's eye for a flash—'and I will try.'

'I'll send him, but to chase him off is an ill turn. At least he had the sense to fish the Holy One out of the brook; thus, as the Holy One did not say, acquiring merit.'

'He is a very wise hakim. Send him, mother.'

'Priest praising priest? A miracle! If he is any friend of thine (ye squabbled at your last meeting) I'll hale him here with horse-ropes and—and give him a caste-dinner afterwards, my son ... Get up and see the world! This lying abed is the mother of seventy devils ... my son! my son!'

She trotted forth to raise a typhoon off the cook-house, and almost on her shadow rolled in the Babu, robed as to the shoulders like a Roman emperor, jowled like Titus, bare-headed, with new patent-leather shoes, in highest condition of fat, exuding joy and salutations.

'By Jove, Mister O'Hara, but I are jolly-glad to see you. I will kindly shut the door. It is a pity you are sick. Are you very sick?'

'The papers—the papers from the kilta. The maps and the murasla!' He held out the key impatiently; for the present need on his soul was to get rid of the loot.

'You are quite right. That is correct Departmental view to take. You have got everything?'

'All that was handwritten in the kilta I took. The rest I threw down the hill.' He could hear the key's grate in the lock, the sticky pull of the slow-rending oilskin, and a quick shuffling of papers. He had been annoyed out of all reason by the knowledge that they lay below him through the sick idle days—a burden incommunicable. For that reason the blood tingled through his body, when Hurree, skipping elephantinely, shook hands again.

'This is fine! This is finest! Mister O'Hara! you have—ha! ha! swiped the whole bag of tricks—locks, stocks, and barrels. They told me it was eight months' work gone up the spouts! By Jove, how they beat me! ... Look, here is the letter from Hilas!' He intoned a line or two of Court Persian, which is the language of authorized and unauthorized diplomacy. 'Mister Rajah Sahib has just about put his foot in the holes. He will have to explain offeecially how the deuce-an'-all he is writing love-letters to the Czar. And they are very clever maps ... and there is three or four Prime Ministers of these parts implicated by the correspondence. By Gad, sar! The British Government will change the succession in Hilas and Bunar, and nominate new heirs to the throne. "Trea-son most base" ... but you do not understand? Eh?'

'Are they in thy hands?' said Kim. It was all he cared for.

'Just you jolly-well bet yourself they are.' He stowed the entire trove about his body, as only Orientals can. 'They are going up to the office, too. The old lady thinks I am permanent fixture here, but I shall go away with these straight off—immediately. Mr Lurgan will be proud man. You are offeecially subordinate to me, but I shall embody your name in my verbal report. It is a pity we are not allowed written reports. We Bengalis excel in thee exact science.' He tossed back the key and showed the box empty.

'Good. That is good. I was very tired. My Holy One was sick, too. And did he fall into—'

'Oah yess. I am his good friend, I tell you. He was behaving very strange when I came down after you, and I thought perhaps he might have the papers. I followed him on his meditations, and to discuss ethnological points also. You see, I am verree small person here nowadays, in comparison with all his charms. By Jove, O'Hara, do you know, he is afflicted with infirmity of fits. Yess, I tell you. Cataleptic, too, if not also epileptic. I found him in such a state under a tree in articulo mortem, and he jumped up and walked into a brook and he was nearly drowned but for me. I pulled him out.'

'Because I was not there!' said Kim. 'He might have died.'

'Yes, he might have died, but he is dry now, and asserts he has undergone transfiguration.' The Babu tapped his forehead knowingly. 'I took notes of his statements for Royal Society—in posse. You must make haste and be quite well and come back to Simla, and I will tell you all my tale at Lurgan's. It was splendid. The bottoms of their trousers were quite torn, and old Nahan Rajah, he thought they were European soldiers deserting.'

'Oh, the Russians? How long were they with thee?'

'One was a Frenchman. Oh, days and days and days! Now all the hill-people believe all Russians are all beggars. By Jove! they had not one dam'-thing that I did not get them. And I told the common people—oah, such tales and anecdotes!—I will tell you at old Lurgan's when you come up. We will have—ah—a night out! It is feather in both our caps! Yess, and they gave me a certificate. That is creaming joke. You should have seen them at the Alliance Bank identifying themselves! And thank Almighty God you got their papers so well! You do not laugh verree much, but you shall laugh when you are well. Now I will go straight to the railway and get out. You shall have all sorts of credits for your game. When do you come along? We are very proud of you though you gave us great frights. And especially Mahbub.'

'Ay, Mahbub. And where is he?'

'Selling horses in this vi-cinity, of course.'

'Here! Why? Speak slowly. There is a thickness in my head still.'

The Babu looked shyly down his nose. 'Well, you see, I am fearful man, and I do not like responsibility. You were sick, you see, and I did not know where deuce-an'-all the papers were, and if so, how many. So when I had come down here I slipped in private wire to Mahbub—he was at Meerut for races—and I tell him how case stands. He comes up with his men and he consorts with the lama, and then he calls me a fool, and is very rude—'

'But wherefore—wherefore?'

'That is what I ask. I only suggest that if anyone steals the papers I should like some good strong, brave men to rob them back again. You see, they are vitally important, and Mahbub Ali he did not know where you were.'

'Mahbub Ali to rob the Sahiba's house? Thou art mad, Babu,' said Kim with indignation.

'I wanted the papers. Suppose she had stole them? It was only practical suggestion, I think. You are not pleased, eh?'

A native proverb—unquotable—showed the blackness of Kim's disapproval.

'Well,'—Hurree shrugged his shoulders—'there is no accounting for thee taste. Mahbub was angry too. He has sold horses all about here, and he says old lady is pukka [thorough] old lady and would not condescend to such ungentlemanly things. I do not care. I have got the papers, and I was very glad of moral support from Mahbub. I tell you, I am fearful man, but, somehow or other, the more fearful I am the more dam'-tight places I get into. So I was glad you came with me to Chini, and I am glad Mahbub was close by. The old lady she is sometimes very rude to me and my beautiful pills.'

'Allah be merciful!' said Kim on his elbow, rejoicing. 'What a beast of wonder is a Babu! And that man walked alone—if he did walk—with robbed and angry foreigners!'

'Oah, thatt was nothing, after they had done beating me; but if I lost the papers it was pretty-jolly serious. Mahbub he nearly beat me too, and he went and consorted with the lama no end. I shall stick to ethnological investigations henceforwards. Now good-bye, Mister O'Hara. I can catch 4.25 p.m. to Umballa if I am quick. It will be good times when we all tell thee tale up at Mr Lurgan's. I shall report you offeecially better. Good-bye, my dear fallow, and when next you are under thee emotions please do not use the Mohammedan terms with the Tibetan dress.'

He shook hands twice—a Babu to his boot-heels—and opened the door. With the fall of the sunlight upon his still triumphant face he returned to the humble Dacca quack.

'He robbed them,' thought Kim, forgetting his own share in the game. 'He tricked them. He lied to them like a Bengali. They give him a chit [a testimonial]. He makes them a mock at the risk of his life—I never would have gone down to them after the pistol-shots—and then he says he is a fearful man ... And he is a fearful man. I must get into the world again.'

At first his legs bent like bad pipe-stems, and the flood and rush of the sunlit air dazzled him. He squatted by the white wall, the mind rummaging among the incidents of the long dooli journey, the lama's weaknesses, and, now that the stimulus of talk was removed, his own self-pity, of which, like the sick, he had great store. The unnerved brain edged away from all the outside, as a raw horse, once rowelled, sidles from the spur. It was enough, amply enough, that the spoil of the kilta was away—off his hands—out of his possession. He tried to think of the lama—to wonder why he had tumbled into a brook—but the bigness of the world, seen between the forecourt gates, swept linked thought aside. Then he looked upon the trees and the broad fields, with the thatched huts hidden among crops—looked with strange eyes unable to take up the size and proportion and use of things—stared for a still half-hour. All that while he felt, though he could not put it into words, that his soul was out of gear with its surroundings—a cog-wheel unconnected with any machinery, just like the idle cog-wheel of a cheap Beheea sugar-crusher laid by in a corner. The breezes fanned over him, the parrots shrieked at him, the noises of the populated house behind—squabbles, orders, and reproofs—hit on dead ears.

'I am Kim. I am Kim. And what is Kim?' His soul repeated it again and again.

He did not want to cry—had never felt less like crying in his life—but of a sudden easy, stupid tears trickled down his nose, and with an almost audible click he felt the wheels of his being lock up anew on the world without. Things that rode meaningless on the eyeball an instant before slid into proper proportion. Roads were meant to be walked upon, houses to be lived in, cattle to be driven, fields to be tilled, and men and women to be talked to. They were all real and true—solidly planted upon the feet—perfectly comprehensible—clay of his clay, neither more nor less. He shook himself like a dog with a flea in his ear, and rambled out of the gate. Said the Sahiba, to whom watchful eyes reported this move: 'Let him go. I have done my share. Mother Earth must do the rest. When the Holy One comes back from meditation, tell him.'

There stood an empty bullock-cart on a little knoll half a mile away, with a young banyan tree behind—a look-out, as it were, above some new-ploughed levels; and his eyelids, bathed in soft air, grew heavy as he neared it. The ground was good clean dust—no new herbage that, living, is half-way to death already, but the hopeful dust that holds the seeds of all life. He felt it between his toes, patted it with his palms, and joint by joint, sighing luxuriously, laid him down full length along in the shadow of the wooden-pinned cart. And Mother Earth was as faithful as the Sahiba. She breathed through him to restore the poise he had lost lying so long on a cot cut off from her good currents. His head lay powerless upon her breast, and his opened hands surrendered to her strength. The many-rooted tree above him, and even the dead manhandled wood beside, knew what he sought, as he himself did not know. Hour upon hour he lay deeper than sleep.

Towards evening, when the dust of returning kine made all the horizons smoke, came the lama and Mahbub Ali, both afoot, walking cautiously, for the house had told them where he had gone.

'Allah! What a fool's trick to play in open country!' muttered the horse-dealer. 'He could be shot a hundred times—but this is not the Border.'

'And,' said the lama, repeating a many-times-told tale, 'never was such a chela. Temperate, kindly, wise, of ungrudging disposition, a merry heart upon the road, never forgetting, learned, truthful, courteous. Great is his reward!'
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#3)

Postby admin » Wed Mar 03, 2021 6:35 am

Vivekananda Exposed Christian Missionaries; Ramakrishna Mission Today Supports Christ
by Dr. Vivek Arya [Dr. Vivek Arya is a child specialist by profession. He writes on Vedic philosophy and History and draws inspiration from Swami Dayanand.]
Accessed: 3/2/21

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Swami Vivekananda is famous for his Chicago speech and his association with Rama-Krishna (RK) Mission. There is also another part of his life. He widely criticized Christian Missionaries for their conversion tactics and constant attack on Belief and principles of Hinduism. Bengal became a nursery for Christian missions. K.C. Banerji, M.L. Basak, Lal Behari De and Madhusudan Dutta were among few born to rich Bengali Brahmins but converted to Christianity. They even became forerunners in propagation of Christianity in Bengal. Brahma Samaj of Keshub Chandra Sen was different from Brahma Samaj of Raja Ram Mohan Roy. Raja posed biggest opposition to Christianity while Keshub turned to biggest admirer of his times. In this article we will like to know about the views of Swami Vivekananda on Christianity.

The Bible failed to impress Vivekananda. He said that the sayings, precepts, or doctrines which the New Testament preaches were already in existence among the Jews before the Christian era, having come from different quarters, and were being preached by Rabbis like Hillel and others.

The miracles of Christ also failed to impress Vivekananda. In fact, they repelled him strongly. What were the great powers of Christ, he asked, in miracles and healing, in one of his characters? They were low, vulgar things because he was among vulgar beings.

He even criticized Christians and said that they go wrong only when they insist that Christ is the only saviour. Yet it was Christ that Vivekananda found missing from Christianity. He wondered which Church, if any, represented Christ. All churches were equally intolerant, each threatening to kill those who did not believe as it did. The person of Christ rather than his teaching had become more important for Christianity. He had been turned into the only begotten son of God. Christian baptism remained external and did not touch the inner man. It aimed at instilling some mental beliefs and not at transforming human behaviour. Most men remained the same after baptism as they were before it. What was worse, the mere sprinkling of water over them and muttering of formulas by a priest made them believe that they were better than other people.

Swami Vivekananda was aware of what Church did to Galileo and other advocates of Science in Europe. He said that Christianity had spread with the help of the sword since the days of Constantine and tried to suppress science and philosophy. Hindus have nothing to gain from Christianity as it is only a system of superstitions. Hindus should not get frightened when the missionaries threaten them with hell; in fact, hell is better than the company of a Christian missionary.

There came a Christian to him once recalled Vivekananda, and said, "You are a terrible sinner". Vivekananda said, "Yes, I am. Go on." He was a Christian missionary. He said, "I have very good things for you. You are a sinner and you will go to hell." I said, "Very good, what else?" Vivekananda asked him, "Where are you going?" "I am going to heaven", he answered. Vivekananda said, "I will go to hell." That day the Christian missionary gave him up.

If Christ could help people become good, why has he failed in the Christian countries where he has been worshipped for so long? Here comes a Christian man, continued Vivekananda. The man said, "You are all doomed; but if you believe in this doctrine, Christ will help you out." In Vivekananda's opinion, "If this were true - but of course it is nothing but superstition - there would be no wickedness in Christian countries. Let us believe in it - belief costs nothing - but why is there no result? If I ask, Why is it that there are so many wicked people? They say, We have to work more. Trust in God but keep your power dry!"

The missionaries were highly critical of the Vedas which Hindus have always held in the highest esteem. Vivekananda upheld the Vedas as depositories of divine wisdom. Rather than processing the Vedas in terms of the Bible, as the Brahmos had started doing, the Bible should be weighed on the Vedic scale and prove its worth. So far as the Bible, he observed, and the scriptures of other nations agree with the Vedas, they are perfectly good, but when they do not agree, they are no more to be accepted. On another occasion he said, "It is in the Vedas that we have to study our religion. With the exception of the Vedas every book must change. The authority of the Vedas is for all time to come; the authority of every one of our other books is for the time being."

Brahmins were the next target of missionary attack. Vivekananda stood by these custodians of Hinduism. "The ideal man of our ancestors", he said, "was the Brahmin. In all our books stands out prominently this ideal of the Brahmin. In Europe there is his Lord the Cardinal, who is struggling hard and spending thousands of pounds to prove the nobility of his ancestors and he will not be satisfied until he has traced his ancestry to some dreadful tyrant who lived on a hill and watched the people passing by, and whenever he had the opportunity, sprang out and robbed them."

"In India, on the other hand, the greatest princes seek to trace their descent to some ancient sage who dressed in a bit of loin cloth, lived in a forest, eating roots and studying the Vedas. Our ideal is the Brahmin of spiritual culture and renunciation."

As he heard the malicious propaganda against Hinduism which missionaries were mounting in America and saw their methods of raising money, he hit them hard. He warned the missionaries about the effect which their propaganda was having on the moral and mental health of people who listened to them.

There was a corollary to Vivekananda's defence of Hinduism and critique of Christianity, particularly of the Christian missions. He called upon Hindu society to open its doors and take back its members who had been alienated from it by foreign invaders. Christian as well as Islamic missionaries were taking advantage of Hindu orthodoxy which was reluctant to receive those who had been forced or lured away from the Hindu fold but who were now ready to return to the faith of their forefathers. Vivekananda viewed this orthodoxy as nothing but a blind prejudice induced by the Hindus' deep distrust of imported creeds.

Swami Dayananda, the founder of Aryasamaj laid stress on Swadeshi and Swarajya and forcefully identified Christianity as a crude cult suited to savage societies. He authored 13th Chapter in Satyarth Prakash as a critical examination of the principles and beliefs of Christianity based on Bible. The missionaries themselves watched him for some time, for it appeared as if he was making things uneasy for them.

Swami Dayananda gave birth to a new movement - Shuddhi (purification) of those who had been enticed away from Hindu society at one time or the other. It sent a wave of consternation through the missionary circles and restored Hindu confidence. Dayananda's work was continued after his death by the scholars of the Arya Samaj. Compared to the South India and East India, the progress of Christianity has been very, very slow in the North. The credit for reversing the trend in the North goes overwhelmingly to the lead given by Maharishi Dayananda and the Arya Samaj he founded.

Swami Vivekananda was an ardent admirer of Aryasamaj Shuddhi Campaign. The Bengalee newspaper Dated 7th, August, 1901 mentions Shuddi of Babu Bhawani Kishore Bhattacharya, a Bengali man born in respectable Brahmin family. He was converted to Christianity when he was Boy. Under the auspices of Aryasamaj he was purified in Ripon College. The ceremony was attended by many noble persons with full sympathy and enthusiasm. He was attracted towards Aryasamaj by reading preachings and tracts authored by Thakur Kahan Chandraji Verma, the President of Aryasamaj. The Shuddhi Ceremony was greeted by reading a letter of none other then Swami Vivekananda who expressed his fullest sympathy with the movement and deep sorrow for his inability to preside on account of ill health. 'This news is mentioned in a book named Christ a Myth authored by Thakur Kahan Chandji Verma.

Vivekananda's views on Christianity were to be adopted by RK mission. Vivekananda, who was Shri Ramakrishna's dearest disciple had viewed Islam and Christianity not as religions but as doctrines of the sword. But just contrary to his belief they went totally against him. Today the RK Mission has become a world-wide network, and a wealthy institution patronized by the high and the mighty, not only in India but also abroad.

Presently Ramakrishna Mission celebrates Christmas on 24th December eve. Just ignoring what Swami Vivekananda had said about Christianity. They wanted to promote the secular image of their mission. It is nothing more then keeping the educated followers of Mission unaware about the Truth. They have never thought that Christian missions in Bengal are engaged in converting poor Hindu tribals to Christianity by unruly means and tactics. They never thought that Church representatives visit uneducated villages of Bengal and try to prove that Christianity is best and all practices of Hindus are pagan worship and thus superstitions. They never thought to utilize their funds and powers to save Hinduism in Bengal. No to forget the mission once went to court to prove themselves that they are not Hindus.


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References

1. Sita Ram Goel, HISTORY OF HINDU-CHRISTIAN ENCOUNTERS AD 304 TO 1996, Voice of India, New Delhi
2. Blog link mentioning Celebration of Christmas in Belur Muth. https:/ /www.anirbansaha.com/christmas-eve-at-ramakrishna-mission-belur-math;
3. Thakur Kahan Chand Varma, Lahore, Christ A Myth, 1933,P. 192-193
4. Swami Dayanand, 13th Chapter, Satyarth Prakash, Sarvdeshik Arya Pratinidhi Sabha, Delhi.
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#3)

Postby admin » Wed Mar 03, 2021 6:39 am

Shuddhi
by Wikipedia
Accessed: 3/2/21

Shuddhi is Sanskrit for purification. It is a term used for reconverting those that are deemed to have been converted away from Hinduism back to Hinduism.

Shuddhi movement

The socio-political movement, derived from ancient rite of shuddhikaran,[1] or purification was started by the Arya Samaj, and its founder Swami Dayanand Saraswati [2] and his followers like swami Shraddhanand, who also worked on the Sangathan consolidation aspect of Hinduism, in North India, especially Punjab in early 1900s, though it gradually spread across India.[2] Shuddhi had a social reform agenda behind its rationale and was aimed at abolishing the practise of untouchability by converting outcasts from other religions to Hinduism and integrating them into the mainstream community by elevating their position, and instilling self-confidence and self-determination in them.[2][3][4] The movement strove to reduce the conversions of Hindus to Islam and Christianity, which were underway at the time.[2]

In 1923, Swami Shraddhanand founded the 'Bhartiya Hindu Shuddhi Mahasabha' (Indian Hindu Purification Council) and pushed the agenda of reconversion, which eventually created a flashpoint between Hindus and Muslims as Hindus were the recipients of the violence. Mahatma Gandhi made a comment on Swami Shraddhananda in an article titled 'Hindu-Muslim-Tensions: Causes and Resistance' in the May 29, 1922 issue of Young India.

Swami Shraddhananda has also become a character of disbelief. I know that his speeches are often provocative. Just as most Muslims think that every non-Muslim will one day convert to Islam, Shraddhananda also believes that every Muslim can be initiated into the Aryan religion. Shraddhananda ji is fearless and brave. He alone has built a great Brahmacharya Ashram (Gurukul) in the holy Ganges. But they are in a hurry and it will move soon. He inherited it from the Aryan society."


Gandhi further wrote Dayanand that "he narrowed one of the most liberal and tolerant religions of the world." Swami responded to Gandhi's article that "If Aryasamaji is true to themselves, then the allegations of Mahatma Gandhi or any other person and invasions also cannot obstruct the trends of Arya Samaj." Shraddhanand followingly kept moving towards his goal.

The main point of contention was the reconversion of Malkana Rajputs in western United Province [5] As a result, the movement became controversial and antagonized the Muslims populace [3] and also led to the assassination of the leader of the movement, Swami Shraddhanand by a Muslim in 1926. After Swami Shraddhanand died this movement continued.[6]

On 23 February 1928, many Catholic Gaudes in Goa were re-converted to Hinduism notwithstanding the opposition of the Church and the Portuguese government.[7] This was carried out by a Hindu religious institution from Mumbai known as Masur Ashram, the converts were given Sanskrit Hindu names, but the Portuguese government put impediments in their way to get legal sanction for their new Hindu names.[8] 4851 Catholic Gaudes from Tiswadi, 2174 from Ponda, 250 from Bicholim and 329 from Sattari were re-converted to Hinduism after nearly 400 years. The total number of the converts to Hinduism was 7815.[9] However, in Northern India this movement faced stiff opposition from Islamic organisations and the Sunni Barelvi organisation All India Jamaat Raza-e-Mustafa[10] in Bareilly city, which attempted to counter the efforts of the Shuddhi movement to convert Muslims to Hinduism in British India.[11]


See also

• Shuddhikaran
• Ghar wapasi

References

1. Hindu-Muslim Relations in British India: A Study of Controversy, Conflict, and Communal Movements in Northern India 1923-1928, by G. R. Thursby. Published by BRILL, 1975. ISBN 90-04-04380-2. Lame'Page 136.
2. Dayanand and the Shuddhi Movement Indian Political Tradition, by D.K Mohanty. Published by Anmol Publications PVT. LTD. ISBN 81-261-2033-9. Page 116.
3. untouchable assertion The Politics of the Urban Poor in Early Twentieth-century India, by Nandini Gooptu. Published by Cambridge University Press, 2001. ISBN 0-521-44366-0. Page 157.
4. The Khilafat Movement: Religious Symbolism and Political Mobilization in India, by Gail Minault, Akhtar. Published by Columbia University Press, 1982. ISBN 0-231-05072-0. Page 193.
5. The Fundamentalism Project, by Martin E. Marty, R. Scott Appleby, American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Published by University of Chicago Press, 1991.ISBN 0226508781. Page 564.
6. Hindu Nationalism and the Language of Politics in Late Colonial India, by William Gould. Published by Cambridge University Press, 2004. ISBN 0-521-83061-3. Page 133.
7. Ghai, R. K. (1990). Shuddhi movement in India: a study of its socio-political dimensions. Commonwealth Publishers. pp. 208 pages (see page 103). ISBN 9788171690428.
8. Ralhan, Om Prakash (1998). Post-independence India: Indian National Congress, Volumes 33-50. Anmol Publications PVT. LTD. pp. 6330 pages (see pages 304–305). ISBN 9788174888655.
9. Godbole, Shriranga (December 2010). Sanskrutik Vartapatra. Pune: Sanskrutik Vartapatra. pp. 61–66 & 112.
10. "JRM". jamatrazaemustafa.org. Retrieved 2015-07-28.
11. Hasan, M.; Jamia Millia Islamia (India). Dept. of History (1985). Communal and pan-Islamic trends in colonial India. Manohar. Retrieved 2015-07-28.

Further reading

• Socio-Religious Reform Movements in British India: Socio-Religious Reform Movements in British India, Volume III-I, by Kenneth W. Jones. Published by Cambridge University Press, 1987. ISBN 0-521-24986-4.
• Shuddhi Movement in India: A Study of Its Socio-political Dimensions, by R. K. Ghai. Published by Commonwealth Publishers, 1990.
• Hindu Nationalism: Origins, Ideologies and Modern Myths, by Chetan Bhatt. Published by Berg Publishers, 2001. ISBN 1-85973-348-4.
• Religion in South Asia: Religious Conversion and Revival Movements in South Asia in Medieval and Modern Times, by Geoffrey A. Oddie. Published by Manohar, 1991. Chapter 10: Reconversion to Hinduism: The Shuddhi of the Arya Samaj. Page 215.
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Part 1 of 2

Prostitution in Ancient India
by Sukumari Bhattacharji
Formerly Professor or Sanskrit, Jadavpur University, Calcutta.
Social Scientist
Vol. 15, No. 2, pp. 32-61 (30 pages)
Feb., 1987

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Many States, even among the Moderns, have found the Necessity as well as Utility of tolerated Prostitution; they have discovered it to be one of the most effectual Methods for preserving the Peace of Families and the Health of Individuals; and Publick Stews have accordingly been licensed under every Regulation that could be devised to obviate their probable ill Effects, and to secure all their Advantages; so, in Asia, the Profession of Singing and Dancing by distinct Sets or Companies naturally formed these Women into a Kind of Community. And as the Policy of a good Government will always look with an Eye of Regard upon every Branch of Society, it was but just and proper to enact Laws for the Security and Protection of this Publick Body, as well as of the rest of the State, particularly as the Sex and Employment of those who composed it rendered them more than usually liable to Insult and ill Usage.

-- A Code of Gentoo Laws, Or, Ordinations of the Pundits, From a Persian Translation, Made From the Original, Written in the Shanscrit Language, by Nathaniel Brassey Halhed


The culture of the performing art of nautch, an alluring style of popular dance, rose to prominence during the later period of Mughal Empire and the British East India Company Rule. During the period of Company rule in India by the British East India Company in the late 18th and early 19th centuries and during the subsequent British Raj, the British military established and maintained brothels for its troops across India. Women and girls were recruited from poor rural Indian families and paid directly by the military. The red-light districts of cities such as Mumbai developed at this time. The governments of many Indian princely states had regulated prostitution in India prior to the 1860s. The British Raj enacted the Cantonment Act of 1864 to regulate Prostitution in colonial India as a matter of accepting a necessary evil. The Cantonment Acts regulated and structured prostitution in the British military bases which provided for about twelve to fifteen Indian women kept in brothels called chaklas for each regiment of thousand British soldiers. They were licensed by military officials and were allowed to consort with soldiers only. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, thousands of women and girls from continental Europe and Japan were trafficked into British India, where they worked as prostitutes servicing British soldiers and local Indian men.

-- Prostitution in India, by Wikipedia


Highlights:

The rupajiva was not accomplished in the arts like the ganika; her only stock in trade as the name signifies was her beauty and charm. She owed the state two days' income for a month. If a man forcibly enjoyed her he was fined 12 panas, but in times of crisis half her monthly income could be forfeited to the state...A vandhaki too had to pay part of her income to the state coffers in times of national crisis...

We have seen that the ganika, rupajiva, vesya and vandhaki had to pay taxes to the state but a careful study leads to the conclusion that almost all categories had an actual or potential obligation for paying taxes; the collection, however, depended on the degree and nature of the organization. Organized red light areas paid taxes regularly, at a fixed rate, while it was much more difficult to ascertain the income of the women 'kept' in seclusion by a man or of the unorganized individual women plying the trade in isolated pockets or even, like the vandhaki, at home. Similarly, organized brothels enjoyed greater security from the state in lieu of the taxes they paid while individuals who paid 'hush-money' to extortionist officers could hardly demand any protection from injustice, manhandling, coercion and cheating. The Nammayasundarikatha, a twelfth century text says that the state received 25% to 30% of the prostitute's income...

The ganika, says Kautilya, was also paid a monthly salary from the royal treasury and the pratiganika, her short-time substitute, received half the amount. The ganika, however, did not enjoy property rights. "There is every likelihood that their palatial establishments and gardens were state property with life interest." On her death, her daughter inherited her property but only for use; she could not sell, mortgage, exchange or donate them. This, of course, is true of the ordinary prostitute living in an organized brothel; many outstanding ganikas were mistresses of their own property...A ganika could be bought out by a sympathetic customer; her redemption money (niskraya) was 24,000 panas, a very high sum in view of the fact that her annual salary paid by the state was between 1000 and 3000 panas...

Foreign customers had to pay 5 panas extra tariff duty to the state apart from the courtesan's regular fees. The pumscali (a common whore) did not have any fixed fees; she could only demand fees on marks of cohabitation, if she tried to extort money from her customers her fees were liable to be forfeited to the state -- also if she threw temper tantrums or refused to oblige the customer in any way. The Kuttanimmata says that the temple prostitute (tridasalayajivika) got paid by the temple authorities and that her income was fixed by tradition. Ksemendra's Samayamatrka says that they were paid in grain as remuneration and that they were employed in rotation.

If after receiving her fees a prostitute refused to oblige her customer she paid a fine of double her fees; if she refused him before accepting the fees she paid her fees as fine...

Courtesans sometimes did perform several other functions. In the Mahabharata they participated in the victory celebrations.65 They even played a political role as spies whose duty it was to seduce important men who were potential sources of vital political information, to collect such information and supply it to the relevant officers through the superintendent (ganikadhyaksa)...

The retired temple prostitute was employed by the state for spinning cotton, wool and flax...The keepers of brothels...were adept in bringing about and resolving quarrels between rival suitors as and when needed by them or by political agents of the state...

Institutionalized prostitution, however, offered somewhat better prospects for old and retired courtesans. Kautilya lays down the rule that ganikas, pratiganikas, (short term substitutes for the ganikas), rupajivas, vesyas, dasis, devadasis, pumscalis, silpakarikas, kausikastri (woman artisan) are to be given pension by the state in old age. Since Kautilya was written for a prince it is to be assumed that these women were employed by the state and had earlier paid taxes to the state which the state regarded partially as provident fund contribution against old age, disability, retirement and penury. We are not told what the pension was in terms of money, whether it was adequate for sustenance. But a steady income, however small, must have meant some measure of security to elderly women who would otherwise be wholly destitute. But since women and their labour was exploited in most spheres of life, we may assume that this rule was not strictly observed, because such women were totally powerless to sue the state for non-payment. Yet the few who actually received some pension were lucky to have it. Retired prostitutes were employed as cooks, store-keepers, cotton-wool and flax spinners, and in various other manual jobs, so the state did not have to pay the pension until they were too old and weak to work any more. In old age some prostitutes became matrkas, i.e., matrons-in-charge of a brothel...

We have just seen that their clients also maltreated and manhandled them and these were not isolated incidents or exceptions or there would be no need to frame laws against crimes and stipulate the exact amount of fines for the several kinds of assault. She was often used and then cheated, robbed, thrashed, mutilated and murdered. If the institution was for society a necessary evil and the state had a vested interest in extracting revenue and espionage service from this 'evil', then it could not afford to ignore a situation when the source of such revenue was harmed so that she could not multiply the revenue. Hence the laws. But the attitude of society was clearly against the prostitute and not against her client...

What was the prostitute's social status? Strangely enough, prostitution is recognized as a profession with laws to regulate it because it served its specific purpose by catering to men's needs of extramarital sexual gratification and also the state's needs by bringing in considerable revenues and secret political information through espionage. As townships sprang up along trade routes and as rich men long away from home frequented these brothels these became a regular feature with the chief courtesans, beauty queens, being regarded as ornaments of the town or city, magarasobhani or nagaramandana. Because she was in high demand and because she would fetch a rich revenue if she was accomplished and attractive, the state undertook to supervise her education (with quite a heavy and rigorous syllabus) at its own expense, provided she remitted part of her income to the state...

Kautilya says that the superintendent of prostitutes conferred the title of ganika to the pretty, young and cultured hetaira;101 she drew 1000 panas from the state presumably for her establishment, and her teachers in the various arts were also paid by the state. She had a measure of social security in the sense that those who harmed her physically, financially and socially were liable to be punished heavily by the state. Needless to say that such a coveted position was not accorded to many; only a handful of the prostitutes were made ganikas whose favours were enjoyed by kings, princes and the richest of the merchants...The devadasis were a class by themselves who, because they were attached to institutions (i.e., temples) governed directly or indirectly by the state, enjoyed some degree of protection.

It is common knowledge that in most centres of ancient urban civilization temple prostitution was a common feature. Whether in ancient Greece, Rome, Egypt, Babylon in temples of Badl and Astarte, or in Chaldea, Phoenicia or India and in the Far East it flourished under the dual patronage of the state and the church. Temple priests frequently got paid from the royal treasury, the temple prostitute was an extra allowance to them...

Once inside the temple and under the thumb of the priests they became like slaves with no clear definition of their rights and duties...

What happened to the devadasi when she grew old? Presumably not all of them enjoyed royal patronage. Those who did were employed in the state textile factory as we find in the solitary mention of the devadasi in Kautilya.105 Dancing was the only art she had learned and she could not practice it in old age, so that if she was one of those who did not enjoy royal care she would be reduced to destitution. Her profession prevented her from having a family and her long stay in the temple isolated her from society; therefore, even if she worked in a textile factory for a time she would face penury in real old age when both the temple and the community cut her off as wholly redundant. Thus at the end of a long career of double exploitation -- as a temple dancer and as the priests' concubine -- she faced complete destitution, for neither the state nor the temple had any obligation to look after her.

-- Prostitution in Ancient India, by Sukumari Bhattacharji


THE EARLIEST mention of prostitution occurs in the Rgveda, the most ancient literary work of India. At first however we hear of the illicit lover, jara and jatini - male and female lover of a married spouse. What distinguished such an illicit lover from the professional prostitute or her client is the regular payment for favours received. When we merely hear of an illicit lover there may or may not have been an exchange of gift; in a case of mutual consent gifts must have been optional. In the remote days of barter economy when money or currency was yet unknown, such gifts were equivalent to payment in cash. We have oblique references to women being given gifts for their favours, but the contexts leave us guessing whether the woman was a willing partner or whether she agreed to oblige in return for the gifts she received. But clearly, even in the earliest Vedic age, love outside wedlock was a familiar phenomenon and unions promoted by mere lust are mentioned in quite an uninhibited manner.

Prostitution as a profession appears in the literature of a few centuries after the Vedas although it must have been common in society much earlier. After the earliest Vedic literature between the twelfth and the ninth centuries B.C. (i.e., Rgveda, Books II-VII). we have a vast literature which covers the period between the eighth and the fifth centuries B.C. In this literature, too, we hear of the woman of easy virtue, of the wife's illicit love affairs.1

Extra-marital love may have been voluntary and unpaid but there is the possibility of it being regarded by the male partner as a form of service for which he was obliged to pay in some form. But as long as it was confined to a particular person, it was a temporary contract and was not regarded as a profession. The later Pali term muhuttia (lasting for an instant), or its Sanskrit equivalent muhurtika signified such purely temporary unions with no lasting relationship or obligation. Such affairs may have been voluntary or professional, depending on the attitude of the partners.

Gradually, there arose a section of women who, either because they could not find suitable husbands, or because of early widowhood, unsatisfactory married life or other social pressures especially if they had been violated, abducted or forcibly enjoyed and so denied an honourable status in society, or had been given away as gifts in religious or secular events -- such women were frequently forced to take up prostitution as a profession. And when they did so, they found themselves in a unique position: they constituted the only section of women who had to be their own bread winners and guardians. All the others -- maiden daughters, sisters, wives, widows and maidservants -- were wards of men: fathers, brothers, husbands, masters or sons.2 So women who took up prostitution had to be reasonably sure of an independent livelihood; their customers had to make it a viable proposition for them.

Economic Status

It is easy to see that all avenues to prostitution did not offer the same kind of economic security. A raped woman had little chance of an honourable marriage and social rehabilitation; so, reduced to prostitution, she had to accept whatever came her way. This also held true for the old maid turned prostitute. But a young widow or a pretty wanton maid or an unhappily married attractive woman could perhaps choose her partner and name her price, at least in the beginning of her career while she still enjoyed the protection of her father's, husband's or in-laws' home. We have absolutely no way of knowing when prostitution in India arose as a recognizable profession or how much the prostitute received by way of payment. Its emergence and recognition as a profession was presumably concomitant with the institution of strict marriage rules, especially monoandry, and the wife being regarded as the private property of her husband. The terms sadharani or samanya (common), synonyms for prostitute, distinguish her as a woman not possessed by one man; this is the desideratum. When a woman docs not belong to one man but obliges many, as the terms varangana, varastri, varavadhu and varamukhya3 signify, since she is not the responsibility of any one man, she looks after herself. She does by accepting payment from each of the men she obliges; she then This becomes panyastri, one whose favours can be bought with money.

The process of the emergence of prostitution must have been slow, varying from region to region and from age to age. By the later Vedic age, i.e., around the eighth or seventh century B.C., we have references to a more regularized form of prostitution recognized as a social institution. Early Buddhist literature, especially the Jatakas, hear testimony to the existence of different categories of prostitutes, and incidentally provides some information about their fees as also of their financial position.

Professional prostitution presupposes an economic condition in which surplus was produced, a surplus which also earned prosperity from abroad through trade and commerce. It also presupposes the rise of petty principalities, the breakdown of tribal society, the rise of the joint or extended family and the social subjugation of women in general. In a settled agricultural community, the woman gradually lost social mobility and a measure of freedom that she had been enjoying before. She became man's ward, possession, object of enjoyment. Also, with the accumulation of private property, the wife was more zealously guarded and jealously watched over. Society was now polygamous: polyandry disappeared except in some small pockets.

Whether as an unmarried girl, a wife or a widow, she belonged to some man; so otter men could not approach her without trespassing on the owner's property rights. Pleasure outside the home, therefore, had to be paid for, hence prostitution had to he institutionalized so that there was an assurance of a steady supply for ready payment. It must have been a long and tortuous process for women of this profession to congregate in a 'red light area', away from the village -- and later also from towns -- where men could go and seek their company. Social ostracism on the one hand and professional solidarity of the guild type of association on the other, ensured their security and prosperity.

Although the later Vedic literature tacitly assumes and sometimes even overtly mentions prostitutes, it is in the Buddhist texts that we see them first as professionals. In Vedic literature, especially in the Aitareya and Sankhayana Aranyakas, the prostitute is mentioned in an apparently obscene altercation with the neophyte (brahmacarin). In the Vratyasukta of the Atharvaveda, she follows the Magadha. These are clearly part of a fertility ritual. It is in this role that she has persisted in ritual and literature down the ages.

There are various myths and legends regarding the origin of prostitution. The Mahabharata account of the destruction of the Yadavas and Vrsnis4 ends with the women of these tribes being abducted by barbarian brigands. In the Kuru and Pancala regions5 inhabited by the Madras and the Sindhu-Sauviras, the Brahmin sages Dalbhya Caikitayana and Svetaketu's nephew Astavakra were said to be associated with the teaching of erotics in which prostitution constitutes a section. In the Mahabhatata6 and the Matsya purana7 we are given fictitious accounts of the origin of prostitution. Ksemendra says that wicked mothers give their daughters, enjoyed and abandoned by men, to others.8 Vatsyayana in his Kamasutra gives detailed instructions on how a chaste girl should be seduced cleverly until she yields to a man's lust.9 Presumably, when such a man abandoned her she was forced to adopt prostitution as a profession. We also hear of the jayopojivins or jayajivins, husbands who lived on the wife's income which she earned by selling herself. This itself was regarded as a minor sin on the husband's part, an upapataka which could be expiated by taking the comparatively mild candrayana vow.'10 All these texts reveal to us some of the channels by which women came to prostitution. Another old channel of the supply of prostitutes was young virgins given away as gifts on special religious and secular occasions. The number of such girls given away to brahmins, guests, priests, sons-in-law is staggering. In later Vedic times we hear of daksinas, sacrificial fees to officiating priests. Such fees included horses, cattle, gold and also women of various categories -- umarried, married without children and married with children. One wonders what a priest did with hundreds of such women. Some he could marry, others he would enjoy and abandon, still others he would employ as maidservants. Many of these would later find their way to brothels or to slave markets. Yet another source of supply was the royal palace. A king could summon pretty maids to his palace, enjoy them for some days and then send them away. In the Vatsagulma region, ministers' wives had to oblige the king by paying visits (on being summoned) to the palace. In Vidarbha, pretty maids were enjoyed by the king for a month and then sent away. When such women came out of the palace, one obvious solution for their future life was prostitution. Of course, courtiers would sometimes marry some of them but the rest had few alternative courses open to them. Kautilya says that prostitutes were recruited from four sources: either they were born as prostitutes' daughters, or they were purchased,11 or captured in war,12 or they were women who had been punished for adultery.13

Finally, a totally abhorrent manner of procuring women for temple prostitution was buying women and giving them to the temples. Such donors were said to grow rich in this life and live in heaven for a long time. We hear that he who gave a host of prostitutes to the Sun god went to the region of the sun after death.14

Temple dancers do not appear before the last few centuries B.C. and arc mentioned frequently in the early centuries A.D. in some regions. The Jatakas do not know them, Greek visitors after Alexander do not mention them. Even Kautilya does not associate professional dancers with temple prostitution. Evidently, the institution arose in the troubled period of foreign invasion before and after the early centuries A.D. Kalidasa, in the fifth century A.D., assumes their existence and function as an established tradition.15 From the sixth century A.D. onwards, literature and epigraphy hear many evidences of its existence. As townships and cities arose along the trade routes in northern India around the sixth century B.C., internal and maritime trade flourished in these, and towns and cities became centres where courtesans plied their trade and attracted money from travellers, merchants, soldiers and men of various trades. These courtesans were trained in many arts and if they were young and pretty they could amass a fortune, but evidently only the exceptionally beautiful, young and accomplished among them were so fortunate. Since entertainment was their primary function, they had to provide song, dance, music and various other kinds of pleasure; they had to keep a troupe of artistes in the different fields in readiness for the cultivated customer. To the upper class of courtesans sometimes came men of refined aesthetic sensibilities and intellectual ability; hence they were obliged to provide entertainment like the hostesses of the French salons of the last century or the Japanese geisha girls. They themselves were trained in the various arts including literature, for their training was quite lengthy and elaborate. We hear of texts composed for such training; these are called Vaisikatantra. But every courtesan could not herself provide all kinds of aesthetic pleasure, so they had to make an initial and also recurring investment for training and maintaining a troupe of artistes. Occasionally, the royal treasury came to her aid.

Chief courtesans of prosperous cites and towns maintained their own train of singers and dancing girls. Royal courts also patronized such singers and dancers who could be enjoyed by the king and his favourites and who could also be employed as spies.

From the earliest times we have many different names for courtesans. The Rgveda knows the hasra, a frivolous woman and the agru,16 and the sadharani.17 The Atharvavetda knows the pumscali, she who walks among men,18 the mahanagni, she of great nakedness (i.e., who bares herself to many) is mentioned in the atharvaveda,19 Atiskadvari and apaskadvari, women with fancy dress and bare bosoms are mentioned in the Taittiriya Brahmana.20 Rajayitri, she who entertains and is given to sensuality, also figures in some texts.21 Samanya and sadharani are generic terms for the common woman.22 In the Mahavrata rite the pumscali, a prostitute pairs ritually with a brahmacarin.23 The Kamosutra in the second or first century B.C. mentions the kumbhadasi and paricarika maidservants who could also be enjoyed at will. Kulata and svairini, wanton women, nati, the actress, silpakarika, she who is engaged in arts and crafts, prakasavinasta, the openly defiled one, rupajiva and ganika, are courtesans with different social ranks.

The Jatakas mentionvannadasi, vesi, nariyo, gamaniyo, and nagarasobhani itthi; 24 muhuttia25 and janapadakalyani are mentioned in several Buddhist texts in the sense of the most beautiful women who can be enjoyed by an entire janapoda. The ganika must initially have connoted a woman at the disposal of all the members of a gana, a tribe, and later of the political unit, or constituent of a confederacy. Some later names includes salabhanjika, who is no other than a prostitute in Jatadhara's dictionary.

Variations in Status and Functions

This profusion of synonyms cannot be explained by regional or temporal variations only, it also signifies the social and financial status of the various categories of courtesans.26 The numerous synonyms also testify to the widespread presence of the institution through the ages.

The rupajiva was not accomplished in the arts like the ganika; her only stock in trade as the name signifies was her beauty and charm. She owed the state two days' income for a month. If a man forcibly enjoyed her he was fined 12 panas, but in times of crisis half her monthly income could be forfeited to the state.27
She could also belong to the royal harem28 and could also be exclusively kept by one man; in which case another enjoying her was fined 48 panas.29 Disguised as a wife she could help a man escape and could also be employed by the state as a spy.30 Vatsyayana also mentions the rupajiva.31 Another name of the mistress of one individual man is avaruddha. The rupadasi was unaccomplished and was employed in the personal attendance of a wealthy man. Like the vannadasi mentioned in the Jatakas she could entertain customers on her own or serve under some other person.32 The ganikadasi was a female slave of the ganika who could also become independent and set up her own establishment. The Samajataka mentions Sama, a courtesan of Kasi who had a retinue of 500 ganikadasis.33 Other common and late names are varangana, varabadhu, varamukhya, all of which stand for a prostitute while vrsli, which originally meant a Sudra woman later came to mean a harlot; pumsula and lanjika are later synonyms of harlots. Kulata was a married woman who left home to become a public woman and vandhaki was a housewife turned whore; her husband was known as vandhakiposa, maintaining or being maintained by a vandhaki. A vandhaki too had to pay part of her income to the state coffers in times of national crisis. The randa was a low common woman, a mistress to vita, usually an old hag who pretended to he engaged in penance but was actually out to catch customers.

The ganika and sometimes the rupajiva too, received free training in the various arts and

those who teach prostitutes, female slaves and actresses arts such as singing, playing on musical instruments, reading, dancing, acting, writing, painting, playing on instruments such as vina (lyre), pipe and drum, reading the thoughts of others, manufacture of scents and garlands, shampooing and the art of attracting and captivating the mind of others shall be endowed with maintenance from the state. They, the teachers shall train the sons of prostitutes to be chief actors (rangopajivan) on the stage. The wives of actors and others of similar profession who have been taught various languages and the use of signals (samjna) shall, along with their relatives be made use of in detecting the wicked and murdering and deluding foreign spies.34


In a sixth century Jain work we have an exhaustive list of the prostitute's attainments -- writing, arithmetic, the arts, singing, playing on musical instruments, drums, chess, dice, eightboard chess, instant verse-making, Prakrite and Apabhramsa poetry, proficiency in the science of perfume making, jewellery, dressing up, knowledge of the signs of good or bad men and women, horses, elephants, cooks, rams, umbrellas, rods, swords, jewels, gems which antidote poison, architecture, camps and canopies, phalanx arrangement, fighting, fencing, shooting arrows, ability to interpret omens, etc. Altogether seventy-two arts and sciences were to be mastered by her.35

It is clear (hat the prostitute especially the ganika, the most accomplished among them, offered men something which by the early centuries A.D. had become absolutely rare among the women of the gentry, viz, accomplishment. We read in the Manusamhita: "The sacrament of marriage is to a female what initiation with the sacred thread is to a male. Serving the husband is for the wife what residence in the preceptor's house is to the man and household duty is to the woman, what offering sacrifices is to the man."36 This series of neat equations deprive the woman of education, dooming her to household chores only, especially service of her husband and in-laws, but also thereby indirectly doom her to the loss of her husband's attention. With an unaccomplished wife at home, the man who cared for cultured female company went to the brothel for it. Manu belongs to the early centuries A.D.;37 a steady deterioration in the status of the woman and the Sudra followed his codification of the social norm and the brothel flourished because it catered to the cultured man-about-the-town's (nagaraka) tastes in women.

The ganika because of her youth, beauty, training and accomplishment belonged to a superior social status. With an extensive, elaborate, and apparently expensive education she could frequently name her price, which, as Buddhist texts testify was often prohibitive. She was patronized by the king who visited her sometimes, as also by wealthy merchants. Because of her high fees none but the most wealthy could approach her. She alone enjoyed a position where as long as her youth and beauty lasted she could not be exploited.

Taxes to the State

We have seen that the ganika, rupajiva, vesya and vandhaki had to pay taxes to the state but a careful study leads to the conclusion that almost all categories had an actual or potential obligation for paying taxes; the collection, however, depended on the degree and nature of the organization. Organized red light areas paid taxes regularly, at a fixed rate, while it was much more difficult to ascertain the income of the women 'kept' in seclusion by a man or of the unorganized individual women plying the trade in isolated pockets or even, like the vandhaki, at home. Similarly, organized brothels enjoyed greater security from the state in lieu of the taxes they paid while individuals who paid 'hush-money' to extortionist officers could hardly demand any protection from injustice, manhandling, coercion and cheating. The Nammayasundarikatha, a twelfth century text says that the state received 25% to 30% of the prostitute's income.

We hear of the extremely high fees of some famous ganikas in the Buddhist texts. Bhatti38 and parivvayam39 denote two different types of fees. Vasadavatta of Mathura charged very high rates per night.40 Salavati of Rajagraha charged a hundred karsapanas per night while Ambapali's fees led to a dispute between the cities Rajagrha and Vaisali. A Jain text41 says that a courtesan who had a faultless body and whose attainments were complete may charge 1000 karsapanas per night. Evidently, only the richest merchants could pay such fees. The play Mrcchakatika mentions a thousand gold coins and ornaments being sent in advance to lure a ganika to a paramour's house. The ganika, says Kautilya, was also paid a monthly salary from the royal treasury and the pratiganika, her short-time substitute, received half the amount. The ganika, however, did not enjoy property rights. "There is every likelihood that their palatial establishments and gardens were state property with life interest."42 On her death, her daughter inherited her property but only for use; she could not sell, mortgage, exchange or donate them. This, of course, is true of the ordinary prostitute living in an organized brothel; many outstanding ganikas were mistresses of their own property. Hence in Buddhist literature we have many instances where she gave away her property. A ganika could be bought out by a sympathetic customer; her redemption money (niskraya) was 24,000 panas, a very high sum in view of the fact that her annual salary paid by the state was between 1000 and 3000 panas. A rupajiva's fees were 48 panas, she usually lived with actors, wine-sellers, meat-sellers, people who sold cooked rice and Vaisyas generally. It is obvious that she kept company with people who controlled ready cash.

A man who forcibly attacked a ganika's daughter paid a fine of 54 panas plus a fine (sulka) of sixteen times her mother's fees, presumably to the mother herself.42 The second fine may also be a hush-money paid to the bridegroom at the daughter's wedding. Foreign customers had to pay 5 panas extra tariff duty to the state apart from the courtesan's regular fees. The pumscali (a common whore) did not have any fixed fees; she could only demand fees on marks of cohabitation, if she tried to extort money from her customers her fees were liable to be forfeited to the state -- also if she threw temper tantrums or refused to oblige the customer in any way. The Kuttanimmata says that the temple prostitute (tridasalayajivika) got paid by the temple authorities and that her income was fixed by tradition. Ksemendra's Samayamatrka says that they were paid in grain as remuneration and that they were employed in rotation.

If after receiving her fees a prostitute refused to oblige her customer she paid a fine of double her fees; if she refused him before accepting the fees she paid her fees as fine.44 Apparently it is a fair business deal where the defaulter pays a fine but if we pause and think that a sensible person would not ruin the prospects of gain or income unless she had some serious reason for disobliging her customer, it becomes clear that she did not have the option of refusing to sell herself. In other words, society refused to look upon her as a human being; she was just a commodity, nothing more. If a price had been accepted the commodity was the customer for use.

Regarding her customers Vatsyayana is very clear. The ideal one is young, rich, without having to earn his wealth (i.e., born to wealth), proud, a minister to the king, one who can afford to disregard his elders' commands, preferably an only son of a rich father. Born in an aristocratic family, be should be learned, a poet, proficient in tales, an orator, accomplished in the various arts, not malicious, lively, given to drinks, friendly, a ladies' man but not under their power, independent, not cruel, not jealous, not apprehensive.45 The courtesan is advised not to stick to one visitor when she has offers from many. She should go to the person who can offer the gifts she covets.46 Since money can buy everything she should oblige him who can afford the highest sum -- this, says the text, is what the teachers' instruct. When she wants to bring her paramour back from a rival she should be extra nice to him and be satisfied with less payment temporarily. This is to ensure her future ... she should leave the impoverished lover and never invest in one from whom there is no hope of return.47 She should be able to read the signs of his disaffection; a long list of such signs are given.48 Above all, a courtesan should never encourage or entertain a suitor of reduced means. When she has squeezed her customer dry she should remorselessly leave him and search for a rich one. Normally, a ganika chose her own customer except when the king forced one on her. Then, if she refused she was whipped with 1000 lashes or was fined 5000 panas. She did not have any right over her own body where the royal wish was concerned.49 The punishment for forcing an unwilling ganika was 1000 panas or more. Once she admits a client into her own house to share it with her she could not throw him out. If she did, the fine was eight times her fees. She could only refuse if he was diseased. When the client cheated her of her fees he had to pay eight times the fees.

The prostitute could own ornaments, money, her fees, servants, maidservants who could be concubines. But other texts indicate that this ownership was not real or ultimate; but merely a right of use. The concubine, however, was obliged to pay the mistress for her own upkeep, plus one pana per month.


Prostitution in ancient India existed both overtly and covertly. In other words, besides brothels or open establishments run by and for one or more prostitutes, ancient texts give a list or many professions for girls where she could potentially be enjoyed by her employer with impunity. She could act as a substitute for the wife. In the Jain text Vasudeva Hindi we read of Bharata, a leader of his clan having another woman besides the wife. All the feudatories under him sent their daughters who arrived at the same time. The queen threatened to leave, so it was decided that they would serve him in the outer court and that later they would be handed over to the gana, the tribe, to become ganikas, the text thus explains the origin of the term ganika. The Mahabharata tells us that the Pandava, army was followed by a host of prostitutes who went in the rear of the army on baggage carts.50 Yudbisthira on the eve of the war sent his greetings to the prostitutes.51 In the train of the Pandavas when they left for the forest there were "chariots, traders' goods and brothels", presumably to entertain the army.52 King Virata after his victory ordered young girls to dress well, come out53 and entertain the assembled men. Such a command could only be given to public women. When Krsna went on a peace mission to the Kauravas, Duryodbana's entertaiment of the former included a rest house with women; Dhrtarastra ordered fair harlots to go with his sons to meet Krsna. The later didactic interpolations of the Mahabharata, however, are full of imprecations and stigma against prostitutes.54 The Ramayana mentions ganikas and vesyas in the list of comforts, luxuries and status symbols. It is quite clear that prostitutes became a symbol of the prosperity concomitant with urban civilization. Like gold and jewellery, like corn and cattle, a rich man desired prosperity and plenty in the number of women he could enjoy freely.

Women as Commodity

The concept of women as chattel or commodity for man's enjoyment is borne out by the inclusion of women -- pretty and young -- in large numbers in any list of gifts given to a man in return for a favour or as a mark of respect. Thus she is a part of daksina, fees to a sacrificial priest. At Yudhisthira's horse-sacrifice women were sent by other kings as a donation to make up a necessary part of the entertainment.55 Yudhisthira himself gives away pretty maids to guest kings;56 he is even laid to have given away hundreds of thousands of pretty girls as did King Sasabindu of old at his horse sacrifice.57 Pretty maids as part of daksina are also mentioned when King Bbagiratha gave hundreds of thousands of lovely maids, well decked out with gold ornaments.58 Even at a sradha ceremony Brahmins received thousands of pretty maidens as gifts.59 These girls could sometimes find husbands but presumably, since prostitution was being looked down upon more and more and maidenhood became an essential prerequisite for marriage in the Smrti texts, most of them were forced to become prostitutes.

In heaven heroes are rewarded with a large number of beautiful girls.60 The same idea is also seen in classical Sanskrit literature. In the Kumarasambhava, 61, Raghuvamsa,62 Kiratarjuniya,63 and in Sisupalavadha,64 in Subandbu and Bana we have references to courtesans as a prestigious decoration of a royal palace and an indispensable part of city life. Bhaguri calls her puramandana, an ornament of the city. Thus her status was that of an inanimate object of enjoyment, it was sub-human and subject.

Courtesans sometimes did perform several other functions. In the Mahabharata they participated in the victory celebrations.65 They even played a political role as spies whose duty it was to seduce important men who were potential sources of vital political information, to collect such information and supply it to the relevant officers through the superintendent (ganikadhyaksa). Their role as temptress is emphasized in the Vattaka Jataka. The names of various types of courtesans gives us an inkling of their roles. Thus the devavesya was the temple dancer, something like the Greek hierodoules; the vajavesya served the king; while the brahmavesya or tirthaga visited holy places or pilgrimages. In the Brahmapurana we have the description of Ekamratirtha, where lived many prostitutes66 presumably to cater to the pilgrims and visitors. In the samaja public functions there used to be a separate gallery where sat the courtesans who gave musical performance for the samaja. Kautilya assigns them the duties of common maidservants at the palace. We hear of a prostitute serving Dhrtarastra when Gandhari was pregnant.67 Uddyotana Suri in his Kuvalayamala describes nymphs in Indra's heaven who carried water vessels, fans, fly-whisks, parasols, mirrors, kettledrums, harps, ordinary drums, clothes and ornaments, In the Ramayana and the Mahabharata such women followed the king in the palace and served him in his train. The Latitavistara mentions women who carried full pitchers, garlands, jewellery and ornaments, the throne, the fan, jars full of perfumed water, etc, Evidently in all these instances, as also in many references in the Puranas and later literature the pretty damsels giving light personal service to the king are projected to heaven where the earthly prostitutes figure as celestial nymphs serving the gods. Whether on earth or in heaven monarchs or wealthy potentates used such women to enhance their glory and pleasure.

The retired temple prostitute was employed by the state for spinning cotton, wool and flax. The nagaraka, man-about-the-town, in his love-intrigues could have assistance from widows, Buddhist nuns, and old courtesans who acted as go-betweens. In the palace the courtesan held positions as the royal umbrella-bearer, masseuse in charge of the king's (also of the royal family) toilet, dress and ornaments, and as the king's bathroom attendant. They also had a place in the royal entourage in hunting and military expeditions, and on occasion entertained royal guests. What is true of her function with regard to the king is also true of the rich courtier merchant and nobles described as nagaraka in the Kamasutra. In the non-monarchical gana states the chiefs gambled and indulged themselves in the company of prostitutes. The keepers of brothels procured pretty women from their establishment for these chiefs' entertainment. These aged women, the brothel-keepers, were adept in bringing about and resolving quarrels between rival suitors as and when needed by them or by political agents of the state. Courtesans belonged to kings or wealthy citizens' trains in their amusements and festivals, their garden parties, boat trips, musical soirees, and bathing and drinking sprees. The Kamasutra describes the different sports and festivals of rich barons to each of which courtesans were invited.


At-homes could be held in a courtesan's salon where assembled men of the same age, intellect, wealth who would hold discussions with courtesans. This was called gosthi; there they talked about the problems of poetry and art. They shifted the venue to the different members' houses where they indulged in food and various drinks. Courtesans were to be served first, then the men should eat and drink. These men-about-the-town rode out to an appointed place together with the courtesans in the forenoon, and having spent the day in various kinds of sports and entertainments such as cockfights, ramfights, theatrical performances, etc., they should return in the evening. In summer they should indulge in water-sports68.


The text goes on to name twenty different sports and festivals which depended on the seasons, the moon and auspicious days of the year. "Villagers should learn of these sports of the townsmen, describe and imitate them."70

No doubt the prostitutes occasionally enjoyed themselves at such times, but whether they spied, massaged, bathed, dressed or carried the umbrella we do not hear of any extra payment for these additional duties to which they were certainly entitled because their main task as prostitutes only earned them a place in the king's or rich man's establishment. In a sense in the organized brothel prostitutes were better off, because normally they were not expected to do other chores although when with their customers, they sometimes entertained them with minor services. It all depended on the social and economic status of the prostitute. The city's chief courtesan was a wealthy person of a high rank who had a host of servants and maidservants for the menial chores; she herself was too accomplished, rich and respectable to do the chores herself; whereas a poor and common strumpet had to cater to many customers, also indigent and therefore, each able to pay very little. Hence she had to do all the menial chores for herself and her customer for bare subsistence.71 The avaruddha, a woman 'kept' by a man, enjoyed freedom from manual labour only if her patron was rich; otherwise she had to work for herself and for him. Hers was like a 'contract marriage' and, as in marriage, the status of the woman depended on the man's income.

Social Status

At this distance of time it is difficult to form an adequate idea of the social status of prostitutes. We have seen that not all prostitutes belong to the same category. The accomplished young beauty could name her price, sometimes at an apparently exorbitant rate, because she was in great demand. Speaking of the ranks of royal attendants the Kurudhamma Jataka says that the lowest of the courtiers was the door-keeper, the dvarlka; he occupies the lowest place but one, for he is above the public woman, the ganika. Every city had a chief courtesan who was 'an ornament  to the city'.72 The janapadakalyani or the sadharani of the non-monarchichal state of the Licehavis were in great demand and were often looked up to because of their beauty and culture and so could ask any price for their favours. And they got it as many Buddhist texts testify. The word janapadakalyanl literally meant the most beautiful woman In a country. The Digha Nlkaya,73 the Majjhima Nikaya,74 and the Samyutta Nlkaya75 refer to her, Buddhist texts mention many affluent and powerful courtesans who fed the Buddha and his train and gave gifts to the order. We thus hear of Ambapali giving such a feast to the Lord and his hundred thousand followers. She also gave away her big mango grove to the order.76 Salavati's daughter Sirima received 1000 kahapanas per night.77 We hear of a banker's daughter who chose to become a prostitute. Her father set too high a price; few customers came; she reduced it to half and was called ardhakasi.78

As looks, age and accomplishments came down the price and social prestige also came down so that middle aged, unaccomplished or plain-looking women had to agree to mere subsistence rates or even less. Even that they did not always get, as many texts on erotics tell us. The Kuttanimata, a major text on prostitution, describes the plight of such discarded prostitutes who were reduced to begging, stealing, and various other tricks. They had no guarantee of the next meal or shelter, no provision against old age, disease and penury. The heart-rending description of an abandoned, unattractive prostitute who takes recourse to becoming a confidence trickster and is pursued by society is occasionally rendered ludicrous by the very comicality of her various moves and the invariable failure of each move. But beyond this comic portrait is the tragic situation of a woman who, after having provided pleasure to many men's lust all through her life, has to fend for herself at a time when she is worst equipped for such a lone battle. In many texts we hear of such retired harlots begging.79 The classic example is Kankali, an inn-keeper's daughter, sold at seven as a slave in the market place, who started as an ordinary prostitute and in time lost her youth and whatever charm she had earlier had. So she tried her hand at different professions but since she had no training in any she could not earn a livelihood through them. Then she tried to seduce people at pilgrimages, dressing up and disguising her age and loss of looks, but was eventually caught and summarily dropped. She changed roles frequently, was even imprisoned; in a bid to escape she murdered the warder. She then fled to a monastery where she could not stick it for very long. Later she begged openly until there was a famine and she could not get alms. So she became a nurse to a child whose gold chain she stole one night and escaped. When that money was exhausted she took to selling loaded dice. Then she returned to begging as a profession. But the strain and poor returns prompted her to steal food offered to idols. She next became a wine-seller, a fortune-teller and an actress in turn and finally she went about pretending to be insane. For a time she enjoyed royal hospitality because she gave out that she could paralyse a hostile army. But quite naturally she had to take to her heels before the actual encounter took place. Finally she returned to her native place and became a procuress for a pretty young prostitute, Kalavati.80 This tale, evidently a concatenation of many disparate episodes, epitomizes the fate of old prostitutes. Their tragedy was not only the lack of social security but also their lack of proficiency in any alternative profession through which they could earn a livelihood. Besides, having known better days they could not stick to any mean profession which did not provide comfort. Hence they flitted from one profession to another with cunning and the ability to cheat through play-acting -- arts they had mastered as prostitutes- -- s the only stock-in-trade. In the Desopadesa we hear of a sixty-year old woman making herself up as a young girl in the hope of catching a customer.81


Institutionalized prostitution, however, offered somewhat better prospects for old and retired courtesans. Kautilya lays down the rule that ganikas, pratiganikas, (short term substitutes for the ganikas), rupajivas, vesyas, dasis, devadasis, pumscalis, silpakarikas, kausikastri (woman artisan) are to be given pension by the state in old age. Since Kautilya was written for a prince it is to be assumed that these women were employed by the state and had earlier paid taxes to the state which the state regarded partially as provident fund contribution against old age, disability, retirement and penury. We are not told what the pension was in terms of money, whether it was adequate for sustenance. But a steady income, however small, must have meant some measure of security to elderly women who would otherwise be wholly destitute. But since women and their labour was exploited in most spheres of life, we may assume that this rule was not strictly observed, because such women were totally powerless to sue the state for non-payment. Yet the few who actually received some pension were lucky to have it. Retired prostitutes were employed as cooks, store-keepers, cotton-wool and flax spinners, and in various other manual jobs, so the state did not have to pay the pension until they were too old and weak to work any more. In old age some prostitutes became matrkas, i.e., matrons-in-charge of a brothel.

We hear of prostitutes' anvaya, family: their mothers, sisters, daughters and sons. The mother looked after her personal possessions, like dress and ornaments; she could not deposit her ornaments anywhere else; the daughter inherited them on her mother's retirement or death. But only for use. The sister could act as her substitute in a commission and the son was trained as a musical artist or an actor, He became a property of the state, almost a slave, and was obliged to hold musical performances for the stage for eight years. The manumission fees for him was higher than that for the prostitute. But in the play Mrcchakatika we hear of bandhulas "who are begotten by unknown clients of the prostitutes." Without any social identity these boys lived in a brothel until they could eke out a livelihood for themselves. The pathetic tone of the verse tells us how these boys were looked upon as waste products, like slag in a factory.

A prostitute was obliged to keep the brothel superintendent posted about her income and expenses and he could stop her from being extravagant. She could not sell or mortgage her property al will; for doing so she paid a fine, fifty and a quarter panas.

Occasionally a prostitute was married. Vatsyayana lays down a provision whereby a vesya could be given in marriage to one who could provide special musical assistance to the establishment; such a marriage leads to greater prosperity.82 Otherwise we hear of a notional sort of marriage which was more in the nature of initiation. The man did not have any exclusive claim on her person or services. The avaruddha belonged to her patron exclusively and the law-givers say that his exclusive right to her should be respected.83 Narada has no objection to a man having sexual relations with a non-Brahmin svairini, vesya, dasi and nikasini (one who did not live a secluded life) of a lower caste if she was not another's wife.

That even a prostitute can fall in love is admitted theoretically by Vatsyayana even though he says that they are and should always be after money.84 A prostitute, according to the Skandapurana, belongs to a separate caste: if a man of the same or a superior caste enjoys her he is not to be punished, provided she is not another's concubine. If she is, then he simply performs the prajapatya (a light) penance85 and gets away with it. In literature we have a few instances of the prostitute falling in love."
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Part 2 of 2

Vilification in Literature

Both institutionally and individually prostitutes depended upon certain categories of middlemen and procurers. Chief among these was the kuttani or samhhali. Now, in a brothel the mother of the chief prostitute was the person-in-charge who watched over her daughter's and the other girl's interests. Her duties included checking the payments, protecting the girl's health and wealth, driving away undesirable customers (i.e., those with depleted coffers), using deceit and delay tactics to spare the girls as much as possible, bargaining for greater emoluments by pretending that other, richer customers are making bigger offers, varying custom i.e., to deprive an eager one for a lime in order to extort better fees from him.87 No wonder she was vilified in literature. "She is like a blood-thirsty tigress, only where she is absent does the client appear as a fox". "The kuttani with her ear glued to the door in greedy expectation of money becomes eager even when a blade of grass drops".88 The Kamasutra mentions these procuresses together with beggar women, cultivated women, female mendicants with shaven heads, candala women and old prostitutes.89 Apparently she is an old hag with the nature of a vampire. But if one pauses to think she was the prostitute's only guarantee of safety and fair payment. Without her, if the prostitute had to deal with the customer directly she could be cheated, robbed, insulted, maimed, even killed with impunity. The basis of this surmise is offered by Kautilya in his Arthasastra where we read that the fine for defamation of a courtesan was 24 panas; for assault 48 panas and for lopping off her ears 51-3/4 panas and forced confinement. The Yajnavalkya Smrti says that the fine for molesting a prostitute is 50 panas; and if she is gang-raped each assailant had to pay 24 panas to her.90 For the safety of her person some laws had to be framed and for graver crimes the penalty varied between 1000 and 48000 panas according to the degree of the heinousness of the crime and the status of the injured courtesan. On the other hand, later religious and law books have nothing but contempt for courtesans, and hold them solely responsible for the institution. They go to the length of saying that the murder of a prostitute is no crime.91 Manu believes that all prostitutes were thieves and swindlers.92 It is true that the erotic text Kalavilasa lists sixty-four specified modes in which a courtesan could deceive her customer. It also tells us the story of King Vikramaditya, who when he fell on hard days became the prostitute Vilasavati's guest. She showered her own wealth on him and when he gave himself out to be dead, threw herself on his pyre. With her help he regained his kingdom and made her the chief queen. Then she confessed to him her love for a young man who was arrested as a thief. With the king's help he was freed and the lovers were united. Then the king remembered his minister's warning: they are not to be trusted. This innate deceitfulness of prostitutes is a recurring note in all literature. But in this instance the text ignores her contribution: the re-instatement of the king as sovereign, and betrays only a sneer, shared no doubt by the entire community, for, the possibility of a prostitute being in love so deeply that she treads a dangerous and tortuous path to gain her lover appeared totally absurd to them. The text condemns the woman for everything, and more so the prostitute, wholly ignoring her client's role, and her own contribution to his career.

We have just seen that their clients also maltreated and manhandled them and these were not isolated incidents or exceptions or there would be no need to frame laws against crimes and stipulate the exact amount of fines for the several kinds of assault. She was often used and then cheated, robbed, thrashed, mutilated and murdered. If the institution was for society a necessary evil and the state had a vested interest in extracting revenue and espionage service from this 'evil', then it could not afford to ignore a situation when the source of such revenue was harmed so that she could not multiply the revenue. Hence the laws. But the attitude of society was clearly against the prostitute and not against her client.

The procuress, the matron of the brothel or the mother of the chief courtesan sought to safeguard her physical, social and financial well-being.

The vita was the middleman and/or companion of the courtesan. Because the vita was a man he could procure custom for her. Technically, a vita was a worthy spendthrift who, reduced to penury, takes shelter (sometimes with his wife) in a brothel or in similar pleasure resorts.93 The vitas are counsellors of both the courtesans and their clients and could bring about misunderstandings between them and also reconcile them with each other. The pithamarda, on the other hand, was a teacher of the prostitute as also an associate of the nagaraka, the man-about-the-town, who helped his friend achieve his ends.94 Both, but especially, the vita, looked after the courtesan's interests where she needed a man to help her. In the Mrcchakatia he escorts her in a dark night, instructs her when she goes to seek pleasure, has no illusion about the profession but has respect for her as a person. In the four famous Bhanas of the late classical period the vitas are helpers, peace-makers, go-betweens, procurers and counsellors of the partners. Evidently, the courtesan was also helpless against certain situations so that she shared her income with a male go-between for protecting her own interests. This and the services of the kuttani already signify that the courtesan was liable to be exploited, cheated, insulted and physically injured. The vita, apparently a parasite, gave valuable service to her where her sex and social position rendered her vulnerable.

What was the prostitute's social status? Strangely enough, prostitution is recognized as a profession with laws to regulate it because it served its specific purpose by catering to men's needs of extramarital sexual gratification and also the state's needs by bringing in considerable revenues and secret political information through espionage. As townships sprang up along trade routes and as rich men long away from home frequented these brothels these became a regular feature with the chief courtesans, beauty queens, being regarded as ornaments of the town or city, magarasobhani or nagaramandana. Because she was in high demand and because she would fetch a rich revenue if she was accomplished and attractive, the state undertook to supervise her education (with quite a heavy and rigorous syllabus) at its own expense, provided she remitted part of her income to the state. Not only was she obliged to pay revenue to the state she often undertook some works for public welfare. Thus we read in the Brhatkalpabha, a Jain text, of a picture gallery set up by a courtesan. The Buddhist texts record Amrapali as also giving similar services. Other courtesans fed the hungry during a famine, gave away money, land, and property for the Buddhist cause. Many treated the Buddha and monks to sumptuous feasts. Frequently, when the courtesans amassed wealth they set up works of public utility: they sank wells, constructed bridges, temple gardens, caityas (sacred mounds), donated money to the needy, gave gifts, and generally served the community through such works for public utility. Yet we read in the Mahabharata that the prostitutes' quarters should be situated in the south because that is the direction of Yama, the god of death. In the Manasollasa, a medieval text, we read that houses of ill-fame should be situated on the outskirts of the town. But in Greece the courtesans had a different status; one of the most beautiful sections of any Grecian city was where the richest of the courtesans built their houses. The lyric poem Pavanaduta of Dhoyi describing the temple prostitutes says that it seemed that Laksmi, the goddess of beauty has herself descended there. Kalhana in his Rajatarangin mentions an extremely qualified devadasi by the name of Kamala. In some Puranas we read of the anangavrata, a rite which signified temple prostitution.95 The Kamasutra lays down that she should always be decked out with jewellery and without being fully visible should streetwalk discreetly "because she is a commodity".96 The same text defines her conduct: "without really getting attached to her client she should act as if she were; she should submit to her cruel and mendacious mother and if the mother is not there she should submit to the matron of the house. She has the right of use of her ornaments, food and drinks, garlands, perfumes, etc."97 "She should pretend the loss of her own and her client's ornaments, should engage in a mock quarrel with her mother on the subject of excessive expenses and having to incur debts, should make the client pay her bills, should pretend to be obliged to sell her ornaments in order to both ends meet, should report about her rivals' greater income, etc. etc.".98 If this long list of deceptions is any index of how society expected her to conduct herself in her profession, one fails to understand the bitter censure society meted out to her when she complied. The Rajatarangini, a poetical chronicle of Kashmir, records that King Lalitapida gave out that anyone proficient in courtesan love and clever at jokes would become his friend. Later literature has no inhibition in mentioning or describing courtesans attached to the palace, to the manor houses of the nobility, especially of merchants, and to temples as well as those who lived in brothels. Such descriptions in Kalidasa, Bharavi, Dandin, Bhatti, Subandhu, Banabhatta, Sriharsa (Naisadhacarita) are totally uninhibited and done with great gusto and skill. Yet other didactic texts are full of imprecations against prostitutes. The Visnu Samhita lays down that he who associates with a courtesan should perform the prajapatya penance.99 The vituperation against prostitutes begins in the didactic sections of the Mahabharata, the Dharmasutras (many of which belong to the age of the Brahmanical interpolation of the Mahabharata), and continue through the Puranas and Smrti texts. Such texts choose to ignore the fact that courtesans are not born but made; they can only exist as long as society has a demand for them. Therefore, since a section of society calls courtesans into being to cater to their need, the condemnation should be shared by that section as well. But apart from mild half-hearted penalties -- more in the nature of not-too-obvious strictures and threats of notional ostracism -- the male clients go morally scot-free.

This double standard is not an isolated phenomenon, it is the product of a rooted ambivalence in the society's consciousness. Since the designation of ganika was the highest and had to be earned through beauty, charm and accomplishments,100 it signified the highest social class among prostitutes. Kautilya says that the superintendent of prostitutes conferred the title of ganika to the pretty, young and cultured hetaira;101 she drew 1000 panas from the state presumably for her establishment, and her teachers in the various arts were also paid by the state. She had a measure of social security in the sense that those who harmed her physically, financially and socially were liable to be punished heavily by the state. Needless to say that such a coveted position was not accorded to many; only a handful of the prostitutes were made ganikas whose favours were enjoyed by kings, princes and the richest of the merchants. It can be guessed that pretty young women with real cultivated taste and accomplishments flocked to well-governed towns and cities where they could not be molested by rakes and ruffians with impunity and where trade and commerce thrived. Even in such townships as well as in prosperous villages women with less beauty and culture and presumably older in age plied their trade as rupajivas and vesyas depending on their age, accomplishments and charm. The very name of the rupajiva clearly distinguishes her from the ganika, for, while the latter was an educated person the rupajiva had only her beauty as her stock-in-trade. The vesya may have lacked even that and relied on her clothes and jewellery (vesa) for attracting customers. The avaruddha as we have seen was the mistress of an individual in the role of a concubine; the relationship was temporary but while it lasted society respected its rights. The pumscali, varavilasini, svairini, kulata, etc. were free agents who were out to turn whatever charm they had to the best financial capital. Sometimes they employed middlemen to attract customers and sometimes they hawked themselves. From all accounts they had less to offer and, therefore, earned much less. The devadasis were a class by themselves who, because they were attached to institutions (i.e., temples) governed directly or indirectly by the state, enjoyed some degree of protection.

It is common knowledge that in most centres of ancient urban civilization temple prostitution was a common feature. Whether in ancient Greece, Rome, Egypt, Babylon in temples of Badl and Astarte, or in Chaldea, Phoenicia or India and in the Far East it flourished under the dual patronage of the state and the church. Temple priests frequently got paid from the royal treasury, the temple prostitute was an extra allowance to them. Of course, the financial and social status of the temple varied from place to place. City temples enjoying royal patronage were entirely different from poor village temples subsisting on local contributions. Hence the status and prosperity of the temple prostitutes too differed according to the kind of patronage the temple received.

Just what the social background of these unfortunate girls was is far from clear. Apart from the parents making a devotional gift of their daughters to the temple,102 there must have been the daughters of devadasis, or distress sales of girls to the temple, recruitment of local beauties under moral pressure, or girls abducted from helpless parents, girls won as war booty or recruited through superstitious practices. However they came in, it is quite clear that it was an all-India and age-long phenomenon. Even though the Madras Legislative Assembly banned it by a law in 1929 it persisted there and in the rest of India and still persists in many pockets after it was banned all over India by a legislation in 1947. The overt duty of the devadasis was to dance at the time of the evening worship in the temple, but they were also treated as concubines by the temple priests. Kalidas refers to them as vesyas and describes them as enjoying the first drops of monsoon rain as a welcome relief to their tired limbs.

Once inside the temple and under the thumb of the priests they became like slaves with no clear definition of their rights and duties. The Kuttanimata does mention payment from temple authorities but this evidently did not mean anything more than subsistence and clothes and ornaments for them as temple dancers. In the Samayamatrka102 we hear of grains being given to devadasis who danced in rotation. In the third century B.C. Jagimara inscription we hear of Devadatta's love for the devadasi Sutanuka. Many other cave inscriptions104 mention of the music and dance provided by courtesans and devadasis. Since major treatises are nearly all silent on the duties and rights of the devadasis, it appears that they were completely at the mercy of the temple priest, a specially privileged section in Indian society who enjoyed immunity from the penal code and were thus free to exploit these girls as they pleased. Evidently, here, too, the more talented beauties coming from the upper rung of society enjoyed somewhat fairer treatment than those born to temple prostitutes or recruited from destitute parents or as rich men's gifts or war booty. But because the masters of these prostitutes, the priests, enjoyed privilege both through their sacerdotal office and through royal patronage the devadasis' position was more abject than presumably of those organized in the brothels regarding whose rights and privileges some rules had been clearly enunciated. The very helplessness of the devadasis must have led to the widespread distribution of the institution and its prolonged continuation in the name of religion. The violent resistance and opposition of the hieratic section, esp. in South India when its abolition was proposed, testifies to the nature and measure of the priests' vested interest in the institution.

What happened to the devadasi when she grew old? Presumably not all of them enjoyed royal patronage. Those who did were employed in the state textile factory as we find in the solitary mention of the devadasi in Kautilya.105 Dancing was the only art she had learned and she could not practice it in old age, so that if she was one of those who did not enjoy royal care she would be reduced to destitution. Her profession prevented her from having a family and her long stay in the temple isolated her from society; therefore, even if she worked in a textile factory for a time she would face penury in real old age when both the temple and the community cut her off as wholly redundant. Thus at the end of a long career of double exploitation -- as a temple dancer and as the priests' concubine -- she faced complete destitution, for neither the state nor the temple had any obligation to look after her.


It is both rewarding and revealing to turn the pages of dictionaries on the subject of prostitution. Apart from older, i.e., Vedic and later Vedic terms like agru, hastra, atiskadvari, and vrsali, each of which emphasized one aspect of the public women, we have a host of later synonyms which varied with time and place. The standard Sanskrit lexicon Amarakosa says that vesya, varastri, ganika and rupajiva are synonyms. Jatadhara adds ksudra and salahhanjika; the Sabdaratnabali has a few more entries: jharjhara, sula, varavilasini, varavani, bhandahasini, while the Sabdamala adds lanjika, vandhura, kunta, karamrekha and varvati. The standard dictionary of Hemacandra has sadharanastri, panyangana, bhunjika and varavadhu to which the Rajanirghanta (lexicon) adds bhogya and smaravithika. Even a cursory glance at these names tell us that while some signify the profession itself others (like ksudra, sula, kunta, bhandahasini, bhunjika, bhogya or smaravithika) express society's sneer and contempt.

In the Brahmavaivaria Purana we read that a woman loyal to her husband is ekopatni (wife to one), if she goes to another she is a kulata.106 If she goes to three she is vrsali, a pumscali with a fourth, a vesya with a fifth and sixth, a yungi with a seventh and eighth. Above that she becomes a mahavesya whom no one of any caste may touch.107 Although it appears that all except the mahavesya may be touched that is not true. The Dharmasastras generally lay down that visiting a prostitute is a crime but since they also prescribe mild expiatory rites, it appears that society did not look upon it as either a heinous crime, or an irremediable sin.

As we have seen there is an evident ambivalence regarding the profession. The Samayapradipa, a late ritual text mentions the sight of a prostitute as an auspicious sign; a man gains his desire if he sees her on setting out on a journey. Other such items are obviously auspicious -- like a cow with its calf, a bull, horse or a chariot, fire with its flame turning to the right, a goddess, a full pitcher, garlands, banners, white rice, etc. The only apparently inauspicious item in the catalogue is the prostitute; yet a sight of her is regarded as a good omen. Similarly, soil from near a prostitute's house is an essential item for fashioning the image of Durga, the goddess of cardinal importance in Bengal. The mystery is solved when we remember the role of the prostitute in the earlier rituals where she had to copulate with a man or engage in a mock altercation with a neophyte, the brahmacarin, in all exchange of obscenities. In all of these instance. the same incentive is noticeable, viz, fertility. Her very profession involved repeated sexual relations with many men and so potentially symbolized fertility and the power of reproduction. For a community whose prosperity and wealth depended on ensuring fertility of the field and of cattle she symbolised the fertility principle. Hence her place in rituals. This association of fertility of field and cattle with the sexual act, especially, magnified in the prostitute's profession, is not unique to India. In all primitive societies this ritual association can be noticed. And since this has come down from a much older age, society did not dare to ignore it. Such beliefs die hard and in a primarily agricultural country like India the need to ensure fertility was too urgent to disregard. Besides, the unacknowledged awareness that the prostitute offered services indispensable to the society led to this ambivalence.

But apart from this aspect society unambiguously looked down upon the profession. All its efforts at segregation of the rest of the community from contagion through the prostitute's proximity, the rule of allocating an area in the south, Yama's direction, outside the common habitat, for the brothel, the prohibition against eating food offered by her, the rule against touching or associating with her signify this contempt. But this is obviously a later development, for the Kamasutra describes kings, courtiers, and the mercantile nobility of the cities and towns (and also of villages) as indulging in the company of courtesans. The attitude there is totally uninhibited. The Arthasastra, too, presupposes the existence of prostitution as an institution and has no value judgment regarding them. Underlying both of these texts is the assumption that this institution has been brought in to existence not by the perversity of certain women or by an aberration in any section but by a social need. A society which virtually forbade female education and relegated the woman to virtual subordination under the husband and in-laws reduced her to a chattel who could serve and for a time cater to the man's sexual need, but after children started coming and she became sorely taxed in her strenuous household obligations, nursing and bringing up the children, she was no "fun" any more. Altekar says: "courtesans had a peculiar position in ancient India. As persons who had sacrificed what was regarded as specially honourable in a woman, they were held in low estimation. But society treated them with a certain amount of consideration as the custodians of fine arts which had ceased to be cultivated elsewhere in society. Men who had a liking or love for music and dancing could not delight in the company of their own wives who ceased to possess these accomplishments from c 400 B.C. Though despised in one sense, courtesans began to be respected for their achievements in fine arts"108 Apart from this man must have desired companionship in his intellectual and aesthetic pursuits from men friends as well from women. This entirely normal and healthy desire could in no way be satisfied by the wife who, encumbered with household duties and children, soon lost youth and charm and whose husbands were therefore driven to prostitutes. But evidently not all men did so, and those who did, did it in a surreptitious manner. All that charmed a man in a prostitute was forbidden for the wife, who should be uneducated, demure and plainly dressed except on ritual occasions. She was primarily a house wife, busy with her chores, children and in-laws which left her little leisure for the cultivation of either her looks, dress or mental faculties. Society expected her to be good, hard working, devoted and obedient. This was bound to make her less attractive to her husband who craved for charm and companionship in a woman. This very need of combining sexual pleasure with intellectual-aesthetic companionship or simply with the charm of a good-looking, youthful person tastefully decked out in clothes, and jewellery attracted men to prostitutes. And repelled them, precisely because she could not be exclusively possessed, for she was enjoyed by many. In a society where women became a personal possession, a woman who could not be possessed individually provoked this ambivalence.

Women as Chattel

Woman has been a chattel in India ever since the later Vedic times when she was included in the list of daksina along with items like cattle, horses, chariots, etc. Such gifts were given to priests. Evidently they were enjoyed and then sold as slaves or prostitutes. Later in the epics we have references to women as gifts.109 Heroes are said to be rewarded with hosts of beautiful women in heaven; undoubtedly this is a reflection of earthly prizes given to heroes and eminent men. In classical literature too, we meet prostitutes as a decoration to courts, in military and hunting expeditions.110 Women also came with victories as booty and after serving the victorious generals and eminent military personages they would find their way to brothels. Thus Arjuna brought over the women of the enemy as booty;111 King Virata also expressed his pleasure of Arjuna's prowess by giving him pretty maidens.112 In the battlefield Karna declared that who ever pointed out Arjuna to him would receive a hundred well-dressed maidens from him.113 A king who does not give such girls is branded with the epithet rajakali (a koli, i.e., evil spirit of a king).114 At Draupadi's wedding a hundred slave girls in the early bloom of their youth were given away.115 Krsna entertained guests with pretty maidens.116 Also at Subbadra's wedding no less than a thousand girls were offered to guests for enjoyment in the drinking and bathing sports.117 Yudhisthira received ten thousand slave girls.118 King Sasabindu at his horse sacrifice gave away to priest hundreds of thousands of pretty girls;119 so did Bhagiratha.120 We also hear of thousands of beautiful girls as gifts in sraddhas.121 Instances can be multiplied.122 We are told that pretty young girls are natural gifts to Brahmans123 and that whoever gives this gift lavishly on this earth receives plentiful fruits in heaven, i.e., is rewarded with many nymphs there for his enjoyment.124 In the Mahabharata and in the Puranas we have numerous instances where the host entertains his guest by sending his own wife to him at night and/or other pretty women. In the Sanastujatiya section of the Mahabharata five marks of true friendship are enumerated; one of these is to share one's wife with a friend. Pretty girls alto formed part of the dowry. Two things are clear from these references. First, there must have been an easily available source of pretty young girls, a steady supply for instant enjoyment, or for giving away. One wondered where such girls could be found. Prostitutes' daughters is a ready answer. The Mahabharata has an episode: King Yayati's daughter Madhavi was given to Galava; the father lent her in lieu of money so that she could be hired out to four kings in turn for a year each. The king gave Galava handsome rewards with which he paid his school-leaving fees to his preceptor. Clearly here Madhavi is a money-earner to her father and the latter satisfies Galava by prostituting her to four different kings. Apart from this kind of distress sale in times of crisis, women as war-booty was another big source of supply. Wives caught in certain cases of adultery were also driven out; such unwanted women congregated in the brothel, as also women who could be bought and kept in palaces as occasional gifts. In the royal courts and rich households where many abducted women were kept for service and as status symbol, these proliferated and became yet another source of supply.

The second point that strikes us is that these women were regarded as inanimate objects of enjoyment. They figure in lists of material gifts, sacrificial fees, donations, entertainment, prizes, rewards, and dowry. And after the temporary enjoyment the recipient or donee could not but turn them loose; at least in most cases they did so. Thus there were hosts of women who eventually ended up in the brothel where they catered commercially to men. All along this dismal history we notice that women had very little initiative or choice about their destiny. They were pawned, lost or gained in battles, given as gifts at sacrifices and weddings, were relegated to the position of slaves and chattel in palaces and rich households, sexually enjoyed whenever their owners so desired and discarded when the desire abated.

They got paid only in brothels; in other instances they were only fed, clothed and decked out with jewellery so that their masters would find them attractive. Even in brothels their labour could, and frequently was, exploited, as many rules in the scriptures testify. Vatsyayana has a long section on how the harlots could play-act, feign, seduce, cheat and deceive their customers with or without the help of middlemen and procuresses. So does Damodaragupta teach novices how to make the best use of youth and charm and extort money from customers by hook or by crook. Other texts also teach similar lessons. None of these texts is authored by women. When after being trained in the art of deception, the prostitutes practised these arts, they are given foul names by the entire community. The very nature of the profession entailed a degree of deceit and the entire social set-up and its attitude encouraged it. Instead of accepting responsibility for it and admitting that prostitutes act as men force them to act and that they exist because they render a service that society needs, the entire blame is loaded on the prostitutes themselves. The situation was very different in Greece and Rome as Aristophanes, Menander or Terence's plays testify. Here in India the exploitation is redoubled because male customers frequently sought to cheat prostitutes of their rightful wages as the law books bring out clearly. And on top of this they tried to rob them of their rightful place in society. But when literature does not seek to be respectable but truthful as Kautilya and Vatsyayana's works or the Bhana (which decidedly belongs to a lower, less respectable genre). prostitutes come into their own. The customer looks upon them if not with positive respect yet not with contempt and society, betrays his awareness of the necessity and significance of their role and profession. But the major, respectable literary tradition is that which reflects the upper class reaction to the institution, a class which is not a bit averse to use their services but is yet too respectable to regard them as human beings. Once this attitude is fostered and becomes prevalent, depriving prostitutes of their fees, manhandling or insulting them is condoned. But this was only true of the common harlot with little charm and no accomplishment. The well-trained and well-preserved beauty, the ganika, who belonged to the upper class enjoyed the patronage of royalty or nobility and was comparatively secure and comfortable.

Since the prostitute's labour was regarded as a necessary evil -- the evil being much more magnified than the necessity -- male society seemed to bear her a grudge born of its fundamental ambivalence and this seems to have given it the right to exploit the victim, the common prostitute.

Another proof of the double standard is that although associating with prostitutes or accepting their food was punishable there is no rule against accepting benefits from them. Thus Ardhakasi gave away her vast wealth to various charitable institutions, and laid a vast sum at the Buddha's feet. In the Jain text Brhatkalpasutrabha125 we hear of many good and generous courtesans. One ran a picture gallery (as did Amrapali in Buddhist literature), others gave vast sums to the poor and the order. "When the courtesans grew rich they often set up works of public utility such as wells, temples, tanks, gardens, groves, bridges, chaityas and provided perfumes and rice."126 Records in the Tiruvarriyur temple show that the devadasis there made rich endowments. Evidently such works of public utility were enjoyed by all, i.e., by the community for whom it was a sin to touch a prostitute or to eat her food. Thus society had no hesitation in using the fruits of her labour while looking down upon her. Presumably, by enjoying such charitable institutions set up by her society was kindly deigning to offer her an opportunity to expiate for the sins of her profession, a profession which could not flourish without the patronage of a section of the male population. This section was punished only notionally.127

Society thus created situations in which many women were deprived of the right to remain respectable and be regarded so, so that such women were pushed to this profession. And they could live as prostitutes because a steady supply of male customers was ensured. These men found their wives dull as companions and so flocked to the prostitutes. In return society ostracized the prostitutes, but not their customers. Whether in the palace, or in the temples or in brothels they served men with an uncertainty regarding payment and the fear of molestation, mutilation, torture and death. They had scant provision for old age and infirmity. Their bodies, accomplishments, and gifts and charity were enjoyed by the community which otherwise treated them as untouchables and showered curses and imprecation on the profession itself, as if prostitutes alone could mike prostitution viable as a profession. Penalty for maltreatment or deceit is mentioned but one wonders how few wronged prostitutes could actually sue the state for their flouted rights and dues. Such was the precarious existence of prostitutes who could, with a few exceptions of really upper class or outstanding individuals, be exploited by men at will and with impunity.

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Notes:

1. Cf. the sacrificer's wife being publicly questioned by the officiating priest regarding her secret lovers at the Varunapraghasa sacrifice: "with whom (plural) hast thou had secret affairs?" But though she confessed we hear of no penalty for her transgression.

2. Cf. the terms svatantra, independent, or svadhinayauvana, she who can freely enjoy her youth, as synonyms for the prostitute. Scriptures lay down that women are wards of their fathers in childhood, of their husbands in youth and of sons at old age.

3. A woman with whom men take turns (vara) i.e., one who can be possessed or enjoyed by different men in turns.

4. Described in the Mausalaparvan.

5. Eastern Punjab and western U.P.

6. VIII: 27, 30, 57-59.

7. ch. 70.

8. Samayamatrka III: 18.

9. III: 5: 14-26.

10. Visnupurana, ch. 37; Yajnavalk ya Smrti 240.

11. Megasthenes also bears this out in his account.

12. Women of the vanquished side.

13. Arthasastra II: 27, X: 1-3.

14. Padina-Purana, Srstikhanda 52: 97.

15. Cf. the Meghaduta, verse 35.

16. IV: 19, 9; 16, 19, 30.

17. I: 167, 4; II: 13, 12, 15, 17.

18. XV: e; Also the Pancavimsa Brahmana VIII: 1: 10; Kausitaki Br. XXVII: 1; Latyayana Srautasutra IV: 3: 11; Vajasaneyi Samhita XXX: 22.

19. XIV: 1: 36; XX: 136: 5. Also Aitareya Brahmana I: 27: 2.

29. III: 4: 11: 1

21. Vaja. Sam XXX: 12, Tait. Br. III: 4: 7: 1.

22. Vaja. Sam. XXX: 12; Tait Br. III: 4: 7.

23. Jalm. Br II: 404 ff, Kat. Gr. S. XII: 3: 6.

24. I: 43.

25. Vinaya Pitaka III: 138.

26. Cf. the English synonyms: courtesan, prostitute, harlot, strumpet, hetaira, whore trollop, slut etc. bearing different connotations and also signifying the social strata to which they belong.

27. Artha V: 2.

28. Ibid I: 20.

29. Ibid III: 20.

30. Ibid VIII: 17.

31. Kamasutra VI: 6: 54.

32. Arthasastra II: 27; Jatakas mention the vannadasi in II: 380; III: 59-63, 69-72; 475: 8.

33. Jataka III: 59-63.

34. R. Shamasastry (ed.): Kautilya's Arthasastra, Mysore, 1st edn., 1915, 6th edn. 1960, section on the ganikadhyaksa, superintendent of prostitutes.

35. Brhatkalpabha, (ed.) by Punyavijayaji, Bhavnayar, 1933-38. Kautilya includes reading and writing, Vatsyayana mentions reading and composing poems, and deciphering code words in her syllabus.

36. Manusamhita II: 67.

37. Probably to the first century A.D.

38. From Sanskrit word bhrti, fees.

39. Sanskrit parivyayam, expenses.

40. Cf. Diyavadana ed. by P.L. Vaidya, p. 218.

41. Jnatadharmakatha I.

42. Moti Chandra: The World of Courtesans, Vikash, 1973, p. 48.

43. Arthasastra IV: 12.

44. Yajnavalkyasamhita II: 295.

45. Kamasutra VI: I: 10, 12.

46. Ibid VI: 5: 1-6.

47. Ibid VI: 6: 31.

48. Ibid VI: 3: 28-31.

49. Arthasastra IV: 13.

50. V: 195: 18-19.

51. V: 15: 51-58.

52. III: 238 ff.

53. IV: 64: 24-29.

54. XII: 88: 14, 15; XIII: 125: 9 et al.

55. Mahabharata XIV: 85: 18.

56. Ibid XIV: 80: 32.

57. Ibid VII: 65: 6.

58. Ibid VII: 60: 1, 2, XII: 29: 65.

59. Ibid XV: 14: 4; 39: 20; XVII: 1: 4, XVIII; 6: 12, 13.

60 Mahabharata III: 186-7, VIII: 49: 76-78, XII: 64: 17; 30; XII: 96: 18, 19, 83, 85-6, 88; 106; 6ff. Also in the Ramayana II: 71; 22, 25, 26; VV: 20: 13.

61. XVI: 36, 48.

62. XII: 50.

63. IX: 51.

64. XVIII: 60, 61.

65. IV: 34: 17, 18.

66. XI: 30-35.

67. Mahabharata I; 115: 39.

68. I: 4: 34-41.

69. I: 4: 42.

70. I: 4: 49.

71. The synonyms varangana, varavilasini, varastri, varamukhya, etc., for the prostitute: the word vara, means 'turn.' This was true of the socially lower class of prostitutes.

72. Cf. the important drama Mrcchakatika where the heroine is a beautiful courtesan, accomplished in the various arts; she is described as 'an ornament to the city.'

73. Rahula Sankrityayana's Hindi tr., Benares 1936, pp. 73-88.

74. By the same translator, Benares 1964, pp. 321-325.

75. 47: 20: 23.

76. Sacred Books of the East, vol. XVII, pp. 106-7, 171-72.

77. Dhammapada commentary, Pali Text Socy., London, 1906-14, pp. 308-9.

78. Vinayapitaka; Sacred Books of the East, Vol. XX, pp. 360-61.

79. Cf. Samayamatrka VIII: 102, 103, 112, Kuttanimata 532. Sarngadharapaddhati, 4052.

80. Samayamatrka II: 28-80.

81. III: 33.

82. Kamasutra VII: 23, 24.

83. Yajnavalkya Smrti II: 290, Narada, 78, 79.

84. Kamasutra I: 62-65.

85. II: 290.

86. Esp. in Asvaghosa and Sudraka's dramas.

87. All this and much more are taught in the Kuttanimata of Damodaragupta and also in the Desopadesa IV: 12, 19, 30, 36.

88. Samayamatrka I: 40, 45. Kamasutra VII: 1: 13-17; See also Dasarupaka II: 34.

89. I: 4: 48.

90. II: 293.

91. Gautama, Dharmasutra XXII: 2.

92. IX: 259-60.

93. Kamasutra I: 4: 45.

94. Dasarupaka II: 8.

95. Cf. Visnupurana, ch. 70.

96. VI: 1: 4.

97. A woman in any case, like a child or a slave, was not allowed to own property. Mahabharata I: 82: 22, II: 71: 1; V: 33: 64.

98. VI: 2: 3-23.

99. 103: 4; also in Atri Samhita 267, Sanivarta S, 161; Parasara S. 10: 15, et al.

100. Kamasutra I: 3: 20.

101. Arthasastra II: 27.

102. As a mark of gratitude for divine favours received or as a gift given in faith for favours expected from the temple deity.

103. Ch. VIII.

104. Like those at Nasik, Kuda, Mahada, Junagad, Sitabenga Ratnagiri.

105. Arthasastra II: 23.

106. The term may have a secondary reference to tarnishing the family's (kula) prestige. However, the etymology is not clear.

107. Prakrtikhanda, chs. XXVII & XXVII.

108. The Position of Women in Hindu Civilization, Motilal Banarasidas, 1st edn. 1938, pp. 181-82.

109. Cf. Ramayana II: 11, 22, 25, 26; IV: 20: 13; 24: 34, Mahabharata III: 186: 7, VIII; 49: 76-78, XII: 98; 46, XIII; 96: 18, 19, 82.

110. Cf. Kumarasambhava XVI: 36, 48; Raghuvamsa VII; 50.

111. Mahabharata II: 8: 27.

112. Ibid., IV: 34: 5.

113. Ibid, VIII: 38: 4ff.

114. Ibid, XII: 12: 366.

115. Ibid, I: 198: 16.

116. Ibid, IV: 72: 16.

117. Ibid, I: 221: 49, 50.

118. Ibid, II: 51: 8, 9; 52: 11, 29.

119. Ibid, VII: 65-6.

120. Ibid, VII: 60: 1, 2, XII: 29: 65.

121. Ibid, XV: 11: 4; 39: 20; XVII: 1: 4; XVIII: 6; 12, 13.

122. Cf. Sagara's gifts to Brahmins; Vainya's to the sage Atri, etc.

123. Op. cit., III: 315: 2, 6; 233: 4; IV: 18-21; XII: 68: 33, 171: 5; 173: 16 ff.

124. Op. cit., XIII: 145: 2.

125. Ed. Punyavijayaji, Bhavnagar, 1933-38.

126. Moti Chandra: The World of Courtesans, Vikash, 1973, p. 72.

127. The prajapatya expiatory rite was seldom honoured by actual performance as is borne out by a vast amount of literature.

Some Primary Sources

1. Bhoja: Srngaramanjarikatha, (ed.) Kalpana Munshi, Bombay, 1969.

2. Damodaragupta: Kuttanimata, (ed.) M. Kaul, Bibliotheke Indica, Calcutta, 1944.

3. Kautilya: Arthasastra, (ed.) R.P. Kangle, University of Bombay, Bombay, 1963 & 1965.

4. Ksemendra: Desopadesa & Narmamala, (ed.) M. Kaul, Poona, 1923.

Kalavilasa in Ksemendra: Laghu-kavya-samgraha, (ed.) Dr. Aryendra Sarman & others, Osmania University, 1961, pp. 219-271.

Samayamatrka in Ksemendra: Laghu-kavya-samgraha.

5. Manusamhita: Manavadharmasastra or the Institutes of Manu, (ed.) Graves Chamney Haughton, New Delhi, 1982 (Vols. I-IV).

6. Vatsyayana: Kamasutra, (ed.) Pancanana Tarkaratpa, Calcutta, 1334 B.S.

7. Somesvara: Manasollasa, (ed.) G.K. Shringondeker, Baroda, 1939.

8. Uddyotansasuri: Kuvalayamala, (ed.) A.N. Upadhye, Bombay, 1959.

9. Mahendra Suri: Nammayasundarikatha, (ed.) Pratibha Trivedi, Bombay, 1960.

Bibliography

A.S. Altekar: The Position of Woman in Hindu Civilization. Motilal Banarasidas, 1st. edn. 1938.

S.C. Banerji: Prantavasini. Sanskrit Pustak Bhandar, 1985.

R. Burton & F.F. Arbuthnot (ed.): The Kamasutra of Vatsyayana, London, 1965.

Moti Chandra: The World of Courtesans. Delhi, 1973.

H.C. Chakladar: Social life in Ancient India. Calcutta, 1929.

S. Chatterji: Devadasi. Calcutta, 1945.

P.C. Chunder: Kautilya on Love and Morals, Calcutta, 1970.

R. Fick: Social Organization in North-East India in Buddha's Time (tr. by S.K. Mitra). Calcutta, 1920.

H.V. Gunther: Yuganaddha. Benares, 1952.

J.B. Horner: Women Under Primitive Buddhism. Delhi, 1945.

E.O. James: Marriage and Society. London, 1959.

R.C. Majumdar: Corporate Life in Ancient India, (Vols, I & II). Bombay.

J.W. McGrindle: Ancient India as Described in Classical Literature, Westminster, 1901.

R.L. Mehta: Pre-Buddhist India. Bombay, 1939.

J.I. Meyer: Sexual life in Ancient India. London, 1930.

A. Mitra Shastri: India as seen in the Kuttanimata of Damodargupta. Delhi, 1975.

C. Sachau (ed.) Alberuni's India. London, 1910.

(ed.) Dandin's Dasakumaracarita, Leipzig. Vol. II, 1902.

S.C. Sarkar: Some Aspects of Earliest History of India. London, 1928.

R. Sewell: A Forgotten Empire. London, 1924.

R. Shamasastry (ed.): Kautilya's Arthasastra.

J.B. Singh: Social life in Ancient India. New Delhi, 1981.

L. Sternbach: "Legal position of prostitutes according to Kautilya's Arthasastra", Journal of American Oriental Society (JAOS), Vol. 71, 1955, pp. 25-60.

R.N. Sharma: Ancient India According to Manu. Nag Publishers, 1980.

A.M. Shastri: India as Seen in Kuttanimata of Damodaragupta. Delhi, 1960.
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