Theos-Talk Archives (April 2005 Message tt00203)

It's the Cat! 

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(Dedicated to those Members of the T.S. whom the cap may fit.)

Let ignominy brand thy hated name;
Let modest matrons at thy mention start;
And blushing virgins when they read our annals
Skip o'er the guilty page that holds thy legend,
And blots the noble work . . .

– SHAKESPEARE

An excuse is worse and more terrible than a lie;
for an excuse is a lie guarded.

– POPE

The woman gave me of the tree, and I did eat," said the first 
man, the first sneak and coward, thus throwing his own share of the 
blame upon his helpless mate. This may have been "worse than a lie" 
according to Pope, yet, in truth – it was not one. LIE was not born 
with the first man or woman either. The Lie is the product of later 
civilization, the legitimate child of SELFISHNESS – ready to 
sacrifice to itself the whole of mankind – and of HYPOCRISY, often 
born of fear. The original sin for which, agreeably to the orthodox 
Sunday School teaching, the whole world was cursed, drowned, and went 
unforgiven till the year 1 A.D. – is not the greatest sin. The 
descendants of Adam improving upon their grandsire's transgression, 
invented lie and added to it excuse and prevarication. "It's the cat" 
is a saying that may have originated with the antediluvians, whenever 
an actual sin had been committed and a scapegoat was needed. But it 
required the post-diluvians to father on the "cat" even that which 
had never been committed at all; that which was an invention of the 
fertile brain of the slanderers, who never hesitate to lie most 
outrageously whenever they feel inclined to ventilate a grudge 
against a brother or neighbour. Fruits of atonement, Children of 
redemption, we lie and sin the more readily for that. No "shame on 
us," but:

Hail to the policy that first began
To temper with the heart to hide its thoughts,

is the world's motto. Is not the World one gigantic lie? Is there 
anything under the sun that offers such rich variety and almost 
countless degrees and shades as lying does? Lying is the policy of 
our century, from Society lying, as a necessity imposed upon us by 
culture and good breeding, up to individual lying, i.e., uttering a 
good, square unmitigated lie, in the shape of false witness, or as 
the Russian proverb has it: – "shifting off a sin from a diseased on 
to a healthy head." Oh lie – legion is thy name! Fibs and lies are 
now the cryptogamic excrescences on the soil of our moral and daily 
lives as toadstools are those of forest swamps, and their respective 
orders are as large. Both are fungi; plants which delight in shadowy 
nooks, and form mildew, mold and smut on both the soil of moral life 
and that of physical nature. Oh, for that righteous tongue:

That will not sell its honesty, or tell a lie!

__________
As said, there are fibs and fibs, conscious and unconscious, 
hoaxes and impostures, deceptions and calumnies – the latter often 
followed by moral and physical ruin – mild perversions of truth or 
evasion, and deliberate duplicity. But there are also catch-penny 
lies, in the shape of newspaper chaff, and innocent 
misrepresentations, due simply to ignorance. To the latter order 
belong most of the newspaper statements regarding the Theosophical 
Society, and its official scape-goat – H. P. Blavatsky.

It has become a matter of frequent occurrence of late, to find in 
serious articles upon scientific subjects the name of "Esoteric 
Buddhism" mentioned, and oftener still that of "Mme. Blavatsky" taken 
in vain. The latter circumstance is really very, very considerate, 
and – in one sense at any rate – overwhelmingly flattering!

To find one's humble name collated with those of Sir Monier 
Monier-Williams K.C.I.E. and Professor Bastian is an honour, indeed. 
When, for instance, the great Oxford lecturer chooses to make a few 
big and bold slashes into fact and truth – no doubt to please his 
pious audience – and says that Buddhism has never had any occult or 
esoteric system of doctrine which it withheld from the multitudes, – 
what happens? Forthwith, "Esoteric Buddhism" receives, metaphorically 
speaking, a black eye; the Theosophical Society, a kick or two; and 
finally, the gates of the journalistic poultry-yard being flung wide 
open, a vehement sortie against "Blavatsky" & Co. is effected by a 
flock of irritated geese sallying therefrom to hiss and peck at the 
theosophical heels. "Our Ancestors, have saved Rome!" they 
cackle, "let us save the British Empire from these pretenders to 
Buddhist knowledge!" Again: a lucky "correspondent" gets admittance 
into the sanctum of Professor Bastian. The German 
ethnologist, "dressed like an alchemist of the middle ages" and 
smiling at "questions concerning the trances of famous Fakirs," 
proceeds to inform the interviewer that such trances never last more 
than "from five to six hours." This – the alchemist-like dress, we 
suppose, helping to bring about a happy association of ideas – leads 
presto, in the American "Sabbath-breaking paper," to a stern rebuke 
to our address. We read on the following day:

The famous Fakirs . . . however they may have imposed on other 
travellers, certainly did not do so on this quiet little German 
philosopher, Madame Blavatsky to the contrary notwithstanding.

Very well. And yet Professor Bastian, all the "correspondents" to 
the contrary notwithstanding, lays himself widely open to a most 
damaging criticism from the standpoint of fact and truth. 
Furthermore, we doubt whether Professor Bastian, a learned 
ethnologist, would ever refer to Hindu Yogis as Fakirs – the latter 
appellation being strictly limited and belonging only to Mussulman 
devotees. We doubt, still more, whether Professor Bastian, an 
accurate German, would deny the frequent occurrence of the phenomenon 
that Yogis and these same "Fakirs," remain in deep, death-like trance 
for days, and sometimes for weeks; or even that the former have been 
occasionally buried for forty consecutive days, and recalled to life 
again at the end of that period, as witnessed by Sir Claude Wade and 
others.

But all this is too ancient and too well authenticated history, 
to need substantiation. When "correspondents" will have learned the 
meaning, as well as the spelling of the term dhyana – which the 
said "correspondent" writes diana – we may talk with them of Yogis 
and Fakirs, pointing out to them the great difference between the 
two. Meanwhile, we may kindly leave them to their own hazy ideas: 
they are the "Innocents Abroad" in the realm of the far Orient, the 
blind led by the blind, and theosophical charity extends even to 
critics and hereditary foes.

__________
But there are certain other things which we cannot leave 
uncontradicted. While week after week, and day after day, 
the "Innocents" lost in the theosophical labyrinths, publish their 
own harmless fibs – "slight expansions of truth" somebody called 
them – they also often supplement them by the wicked and malicious 
falsehoods of casual correspondents – ex-members of the T.S. and 
their friends generally. These falsehoods generated in, and evolved 
the depths of the inner consciousness of our relentless enemies, 
cannot be so easily disregarded. Although, since they hang like 
Mahommed's coffin in the emptiness of rootless space, and so are a 
denial in themselves, yet they are so maliciously interspersed with 
hideous lies built on popular and already strongly-rooted prejudices 
that, if left uncontradicted, they would work the most terrible 
mischief. Lies are ever more readily accepted than truth, and are 
given up with more difficulty. They darken the horizons of 
theosophical centres, and prevent unprejudiced people from learning 
the exact truth about theosophy and its herald, the Theosophical 
Society. How terribly malicious and revengeful some of these enemies 
are, is evidenced by the fact that certain of them do not hesitate to 
perform a moral hari-kari upon themselves; to slay their own 
reputations for truthfulness for the pleasure of hitting hard – or 
trying, at all events, to hit – those whom they hate. Why this 
hatred? Simply because a calumny, a wicked, groundless slander is 
often forgiven, and even forgotten; a truth told – never! Prevented 
from disproving that truth, for good reasons, their hatred is 
kindled – for we hate only what we fear. Thus they will invent a lie, 
cunningly grafting it on some utterly false, but nevertheless popular 
accusation, and raise anew the cry, "It's the cat, the ca-a-t, the ca-
a-t!"

Success in such a policy depends, you see, on temperament and – 
impudence. We have a friend, who will never go to the trouble of 
persuading anyone to believe him on his "aye" or his "nay." But, 
whenever he remarks that his words are doubted, he will say, in the 
quietest and most innocent way possible, "You know well I am too 
impudent to lie!" There is a great psychological truth hidden under 
this seeming paradox. Impudence often originates from two entirely 
opposite feelings: fearlessness and cowardice. A brave man will never 
lie; a coward lies to cover the fact of his being one, and a liar 
into the bargain. Such a character will never confess himself at 
fault no more than a vain man will; hence, whatever mischance happens 
to either, they will always try to lay it at the door of somebody 
else. It requires a great nobility of character, or a firm sense of 
one's duty, to confess one's mistakes and faults. Therefore, a 
scapegoat is generally chosen, upon whose head the sins of the guilty 
are placed by the transgressors. This scapegoat becomes 
gradually "the cat."

Now the Theosophical Society has its own special, so to speak, 
its "family cat," on which are heaped all the past, present and 
future iniquities of its Fellows. Whether an F.T.S. quarrels with his 
mother-in-law, lets his hair grow, forgets to pay his debts, or falls 
off from grace and theosophical association, owing to personal or 
family reasons, wounded vanity, or what not: presto comes the cry – 
whether in Europe, Asia, America or elsewhere – It's the cat! Look at 
this F.T.S.; he is writhing in the pangs of balked ambition. His 
desire to reign supreme over his fellow members is frustrated; and 
finding himself disappointed – it is on the "cat" that he is now 
venting his wrath. "The grapes are sour," he declares, because "the 
cat" would not cut them for him, nor would she mew in tune to his 
fiddle. Hence, the Vine has "worn itself too thin." Behold that 
other "star" of Theosophy, smarting under another kind of grievance – 
unnamed, because unnamable. Hatred – "till one be lost for ever" – 
rages in this brotherly heart. Pouncing like a bird of prey upon its 
chosen victim – which it would carry far, far up into the clouds to 
kill it with the more certainty when it lets it drop – the would-be 
avenger of his own imaginary wrongs remains utterly blind to the 
fact, that by raising his chosen victim so high he only elevates it 
the more above all men. You cannot kill that which you hate, O blind 
hater, whatever the height you dash it down from; the "cat" has nine 
lives, good friend, and will ever fall on to its feet.

There are a few articles of belief among the best theosophists, 
the bare mention of which produces upon certain persons and classes 
of society the effect of a red rag on an infuriated bull. One of 
these is our belief – very harmless and innocent per se – in the 
existence of very wise and holy personages, whom some call their 
MASTERS, while others refer to them as "Mahatmas."

Now, these may or may not actually exist – (we say they do); they 
may or may not be as wise, or possess altogether the wonderful powers 
ascribed to, and claimed for them. All this is a question of personal 
knowledge – or, in some cases, faith. Yet, there are the 350,000,000 
of India alone who believe since time immemorial in their great Yogis 
and Mahatmas, and who feel as certain of their existence in every 
age, from countless centuries back down to the present day, as they 
feel sure of their own lives. Are they to be treated for this as 
superstitious, self-deceived fools? Are they more entitled to this 
epithet than the Christians of every church who believe respectively 
in past and present Apostles, in Saints, Sages, Patriarchs and 
Prophets?

Let that be as it will; the reader must realize that the present 
writer entertains no desire to force such a belief on any one 
unwilling to accept it, let him be a layman or a theosophist. The 
attempt was foolishly made a few years back in all truth and 
sincerity, and – it has failed. More than this, the revered names 
were, from the first, so desecrated by friend and foe, that the once 
almost irresistible desire to bring the actual truth home to some who 
needed living ideals the most, has gradually weakened since then. It 
is now replaced by a passionate regret for having ever exhumed them 
from the twilight of legendary lore, into that of broad daylight.

The wise warning:

Give not that which is holy to the dogs,
Neither cast ye your pearls before swine –

is now impressed in letters of fire on the heart of those guilty of 
having made of the "Masters" public property. Thus the wisdom of the 
Hindo-Buddhist allegorical teaching which says, "There can be no 
Mahatmas, no Arhats, during the Kali yuga," is vindicated. That which 
is not believed in, does not exist. Arhats and Mahatmas having been 
declared by the majority of Western people as non-existent, as a 
fabrication – do not exist for the unbelievers.

"The Great Pan is dead!" wailed the mysterious voice over the 
Ionian Sea, and forthwith plunged Tiberius and the pagan world into 
despair. The nascent Nazarenes rejoiced and attributed that death to 
the new "God." Fools, both, who little suspected that Pan – the "All 
Nature" – could not die. That that which had died was only their 
fiction, the horned monster with the legs of a goat, the "god" of 
shepherds and of priests who lived upon the popular superstition, and 
made profit of the PAN of their own making. TRUTH can never die.

We greatly rejoice in thinking that the "Mahatmas" of those who 
sought to build their own ephemeral reputation upon them and tried to 
stick them as a peacock's feather in their hats – are also dead. 
The "adepts" of wild hallucinations, and too wide-awake, ambitious 
purposes; the Hindu sages 1,000 years old; the "mysterious 
strangers," and the tutti quanti transformed into convenient pegs 
whereon to hang – one, "orders" inspired by his own nauseous vices; 
another, his own selfish purposes; a third, a mocking image from the 
astral light – are now as dead as the "god Pan," or the proverbial 
door-nail. They have vanished into thin air as all unclean "hoaxes" 
must. Those who invented the "Mahatmas" 1,000 years old, seeing the 
hoax will not pay, may well say they "have recovered from the 
fascination and taken their proper stand." And these are welcome and 
sure "to come out and turn upon all their dupes the vials of their 
sarcasm," though it will never be the last act of their "life's 
drama." For the true, the genuine "Masters," whose real names have, 
fortunately, never been given out, cannot be created and killed at 
the beck and call of the sweet will of any "opportunist," whether 
inside or outside of the T.S. It is only the Pans of the modern 
nymphs and the Luperci, the greedy priests of the Arcadian god, who 
are, let us hope – dead and buried.

_________
This cry, "it is the cat!" will end by making the Theosophical 
Society's "scape-goat" quite proud. It has already ceased to worry 
the victim, and now it is even becoming welcome and is certainly a 
very hopeful sign for the cause. Censure is hard when deserved; 
whenever unmerited it only shows that there is in the persecuted 
party something more than in the persecutors. It is the number of 
enemies and the degree of their fierceness, that generally decide on 
the merits and value of those they would brush off the face of the 
earth if they could. And, therefore, we close with this quotation 
from old Addison:

Censure, says an ingenious author, is the tax a man pays to the 
public for being eminent. It is a folly for an eminent man to think 
of escaping it, and a weakness to be affected by it. All the 
illustrious persons of antiquity, and, indeed, of every age in the 
world, have passed through this fiery persecution. There is no 
defense against reproach but obscurity; it is a kind of concomitant 
to greatness, as satires and invectives were an essential part of a 
Roman triumph.

Dear, kind enemies of the "Tartarian termagant" how hard you do 
work to add to her eminence and greatness, to be sure!


Lucifer,June, 1889 
H. P. Blavatsky  


















--- In theos-talk@yahoogroups.com, "krishtar" <krishtar_a@b...> wrote:
> I gess this represent a great majority of self called theosophists.
> Getting knoledge is easy, but to use it in a constructive way, is 
another story.
> IMHO that΄s one of the reasons why world is so filled with 
hypocrisy.
> 
> Krishtar
> ----- Original Message ----- 
> From: MKR 
> To: theos-talk@yahoogroups.com 
> Sent: Saturday, March 05, 2005 3:58 AM
> Subject: Re: Re[2]: Theos-World is every one a member?
> 
> 
> 
> What good if someone thinks he/she is a theosophist but has no 
knowledge of 
> theosophy and has not implemented them in their daily life?
> 
> mkr
> 
> 
> 
> At 01:48 AM 03/05/05 -0500, you wrote:
> 
> 
> >
> >In a message dated 3/4/2005 2:18:27 PM Central Standard Time,  
forums@s...
> >writes:
> >
> >
> >Actually I don't care about being any ...ist, I do care 
only about
> >knowledge. ;-)
> >
> >
> >Best regards,
> >Vladimir
> >
> >
> >
> >yes, but what good is knowledge if you are not a theosophist, 
lol.
> >
> 
> 
> 
> -- 
> No virus found in this outgoing message.
> Checked by AVG Anti-Virus.
> Version: 7.0.308 / Virus Database: 266.6.1 - Release Date: 
03/04/05
> 
> 
> 
> 
>    
> Yahoo! Groups Links
> 
> 
> 
>    
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]