Theos-Talk Archives (December 2006 Message tt00376)

Dear Friends, 

Why forget those who came before?  

I want to  share now a written dialogue with Geoffrey Farthing, one 
of the most significant theosophical authors and  leaders in the 
20th century.  

He was born in a  day like today,  December 10th, in the year  
1909;  and as he died in 30 May 2004 -- at 95 --  he had friends all 
over the world.   His  books were translated at least into Spanish  
language;  yet his inspiring influence was much more widely spread 
than his writings. 

I had the opportunity to correspond with Farthing during  the last 
seven or eight years of his life.  We also talked a few times on the 
phone.   

When  in November 2000  I submitted the following 10 questions to 
him, many  could see the importance of Geoffrey Farthing's work in 
keeping at least part of the Adyar TS  open to real Theosophy.  

His answers were sent both by email and air mail in a paper document 
signed by him.   

In the  dialogue below --  now published for the first time --  he 
makes a revision of this lifetime and discusses the theosophical 
movement, its illusions and its future.  

This is the first part of  Farthing's testimony.  It  includes  the 
first four questions and answers,  which deal with more personal 
experiences and  the earlier part of his life. 

The second part will be posted in a second message,  today.   

Regards,   Carlos Cardoso Aveline.  

oooooooo

QUESTION  ONE

When and  where  were you born? 

FARTHING -- I was born in a place called Heaton Mersey near 
Manchester in Lancashire, England, on 10th December 1909. The place 
was a small community clustered round a dye-works. In those days 
Lancashire supplied the best part of the world with cotton goods. My 
father used to say that the mills there could satisfy the U.K. home 
demand working a few hours on Saturday morning. All the rest was 
exported. It was a period of expansion and prosperity just prior to 
the outbreak of the 1st World War. I remember that event. We were on 
holiday in a place called St Anne's-on-Sea and I had been sent at 
breakfast-time to the local newsagent to get the daily papers. I 
then had a few copper coins to pay for them. I handed the man the 
money and I can remember him saying, "When you go home tell your 
father that war has been declared." That did not mean much to me 
then but I know it caused a good deal of excitement at home. Little 
did we know what we were in for. Apart from the plethora of stories 
about the 1st World War that there are, our family was one of the 
tragic ones. My mother lost all of her 7 brothers: 5 of them were 
killed outright, 2 of them were gassed and died later. 

I went to a local Nursery School. One day sitting in the classroom 
we heard a droning noise and the teacher said, "That's an 
aeroplane", and we all went outside to see this thing in the sky. I 
do not remember the date of that but it was somewhere between 1914 
and 1916. Only the well-to-do had motor cars then. We were fortunate 
enough to have the use of one which belonged to my father's company 
(The General Electric Company of England). My next school was some 
miles away; this involved a journey in a very rattly solid-tyred 
autobus. Horses had mostly been superceded for public transport but 
they were used still for commercial purposes, especially by 
tradesmen for delivery purposes. The heavier horse-drawn vehicles 
were replaced for a relatively short time by steam-powered ones. 
These were superceded by petrol-driven lorries, vans, etc., soon 
after the war.

We got our first telephone a few years after the war had started. 
You had to wind a handle to call the exchange, where the operator 
knew all the subscribers by name, or an any rate all the local ones. 
I do not remember that there was such a thing as a telephone 
directory. There was no radio (or wireless as it was then called). 

Eventually at the age of about 10 I went to a boarding school at 
Eastbourne where I was reasonably happy and enjoyed playing the team 
games that were then the fashion such as cricket and rugby football. 
After that, at the age of 13 or 14 I went to an English Public 
School (very private and fee-paying) in Buckinghamshire. The school 
was situated in the large house, virtually a palace, that had 
belonged at one time to the Dukes of Buckingham, set in 500 acres of 
beautiful parkland and gardens. I was indeed happy there. I passed 
the requisite exams at an early age and thereafter entered what was 
called the Upper School where one then enjoyed the use of a private 
study together with one other student colleague. That was good fun 
but of course I was far too young to be granted the privilege and 
thereafter did nearly no work until I was 17. However, I certainly 
enjoyed every minute of my time in that beautiful place. 

One point of interest about my school life was that I was very 
attracted to the Church services. These played a significant part in 
my life. Another significant event was our preparation 
for `Confirmation'. This is when one is confirmed into the Anglican 
Church. The ceremony is conducted by a Bishop; in this case it was 
the Bishop of Oxford. The preparation took about a year, i.e. 3 
terms at school, and they were conducted by my form Master who was 
an ordained Parson - an elderly man whom everybody liked and who was 
obviously very sincere in his religious beliefs. Some of this 
brushed off onto us. We were given a terrific build-up about what 
Confirmation meant: we were going to be admitted into the 
companionship of Christ; we would be endowed with strength to combat 
our sins and weaknesses; we would be in a fellowship of like-minded 
people also dedicated to Christian service - in other words a close-
knit and holy fellowship. 

On the day of Confirmation I was very excited. During the service I 
could hardly contain myself until it came my turn to be blessed by 
the Bishop. I can remember him moving along boy by boy from the 
right until it came my turn, and then the laying-on of hands. I 
waited expectantly for all the wonderful things we had been told 
would happen. I waited in vain - nothing happened! I got up and 
filed out with the other boys very dejected. Why had I been 
rejected? Why had I not been admitted to this fellowship that we had 
heard so much about? Why was I not endowed with strength? I asked 
one of the other boys what had happened to him and he very mater-of-
fact replied, "Nothing, what did you expect?" I could hardly believe 
it. Was all that preparation we had been through a charade for 
nothing? That was probably the beginning of my quest which led me 
into Theosophy. 

After leaving school I became an apprentice in a large electrical 
engineering works near Manchester. At the same time I attended night 
school to get some theoretical qualifications. The significance of 
this experience from a theosophical point of view is that I made the 
acquaintance of an Indian who was also apprenticed at the same works 
and we used to have lunch together. The conversation got round to 
religion fairly early on. He was a Brahmin and very well versed in 
the Indian scriptures. I got another view altogether of religion 
from him but was amazed when eventually he said that all the 
wonderful things that he had told me about their scriptures he no 
longer believed. He had become completely westernized; his views 
were entirely dictated by scientific knowledge and thought. However, 
he had opened my eyes to another point of view altogether and set me 
thinking.

TWO 

When where, did you have the first clearly spiritual or theosophical 
perceptions of life? How and what  was your life before knowing the 
T.S.?

FARTHING -- Now I can start answering your second question: where 
did I first enter upon the theosophical quest? One night towards the 
end of my apprenticeship, what my Indian friend had told me so upset 
my Christian beliefs that I decided to go and see what the local 
parson had to say. He was a very senior member of the Church, a 
venerable Canon, who had recently conducted the marriage service for 
my sister. We held the Canon in very high regard. One evening I 
telephoned him and asked if I could come to see him. There was 
obviously some urgency in my voice and he said, "Well, I can fit you 
in for 10 minutes but I have another appointment. Come as quickly as 
you can." I ran all the way there and arrived breathless at the 
vicarage. He opened the door himself, showed me into his study, sat 
me down and asked me what was the matter. I told him the story of 
the Indian and his scriptures and beliefs (not the scientific ones) 
and asked how Christianity as he saw it compared with the specific 
things that the Indian had told me. These raised questions 
concerning the nature of God, the idea of Jesus having died for us 
(vicarious atonement), what happened after death, and so on. It soon 
became quite obvious that the dear Canon had no real answers to 
these questions. As I sat listening to him talk I came to a dreadful 
decision, and that was unless God manifested himself in some 
palpable way to me in the Canon's study there and then, I would 
renounce him. I would not believe any more that he existed. I waited 
for some awful thing to happen - the floor to open and the earth to 
swallow me up, or a thunderbolt to strike me dead - I waited and 
waited and nothing happened. Then suddenly I was filled with an 
uncontainable elation and had a great urge to get out of that study 
as quickly as I could. I am afraid that I was a bit rude to the old 
man but I made the excuse that he had said he had only a little time 
and that I did not want to impose on him any longer. He got up and 
showed me to the door although I do not think he had really finished 
what he was saying. He must have been very surprised at my haste to 
get out.  I can still hear him saying as I parted from him, "You 
must have faith, my son".

Outside the feeling of elation and happiness was amplified to a 
greater and greater extent. It seemed to me that although I was 
actually walking home, my feet were not touching the ground. It was 
an incredible experience. From then on, right through till the 2nd 
World War, I was consciously on a quest to discover TRUTH. This led 
me through all sorts of highways and byways, and meetings with all 
sorts of people. My stock question was, "Have you a religion? ... 
Tell me about it."

THREE

When did you get in touch with the Theosophical Society? Your first 
theosophical books? 

FARTHING -- At the end of the 1920's when work was very scarce I 
very fortunately got a job in London. There was then a severe 
depression. A whole series of `coincidences' eventually took me to 
the Theosophical Society in London with its wonderful library. From 
that I borrowed many books for a few years and began a longish 
process of self-education in Theosophy. It got more and more 
thrilling the more I knew about it.

One day my enthusiasm for my new-found subject got the better of me 
and I invited an old school friend to come to the Theosophical 
Society to hear a lecture given by a well-known theosophical lady 
on "The Masters". This was in Besant Hall at the back of 50 
Gloucester Place. It was the occasion of an Easter Convention which 
the Society at that time held regularly. The speaker was oddly 
dressed in a green gown with yellow lightning flashes across it and 
large triangular-shaped sleeves which she theatrically showed off at 
every opportunity. It was ludicrous and my friend and I got the 
giggles. We tried to suppress our laughter but we really could not. 
Eventually an usher came up to us and said that even if we did not 
want to listen to the lecture, others did, and would we mind going 
out. That was my first acquaintance with the Theosophical Society. 
Thereafter I thought nothing would induce me to join! 

Soon after that the war broke out and I joined the army. Then again 
an interesting thing happened. All my exuberant interest in 
Theosophy switched off immediately like turning off a light and I 
took no more interest in the subject until 5 years later when the 
war finished. I was then up in Scotland. One day I walked down a 
street in Edinburgh where, in a bookshop window, I saw a book by 
Paul Brunton called "A Search in Secret Egypt". I bought it and 
slowly as I read all my enthusiasms were rekindled. I started on my 
quest again in earnest. I got more books out of the theosophical 
library including "The Secret Doctrine", which did not make much 
sense to me at that time, and many others nearly all by Annie Besant 
or Leadbeater. Even so, they were thrilling. These people seemed to 
know what they were talking about and had a great facility for 
expressing their ideas. I studied nothing else for two or three 
years and became really familiar with the theosophical system from 
that pint of view. 

Then an odd thing happened. I had met John Coats, then General 
Secretary of the Society in England. One night he invited me to 
dinner and one of his brothers was present. This brother voiced the 
views of the family about John having joined the Theosophical 
Society and given up a directorship of their family company, J & P 
Coats. This had upset his father very much and the brothers resented 
his leaving the firm. For all this Theosophy and the Theosophical 
Society were to blame. The brother spent the best part of the dinner 
time trying to tell John what a mistake he had made, that there was 
nothing in this superstitious nonsense called Theosophy and that the 
Society was certainly not worth the sacrifices he had made for it. 
For some amazing reason I felt I must defend the Society. I 
proceeded to tell the brother that he knew nothing about Theosophy 
and that if he had done he could not possibly speak as he had. As I 
was saying these things my whole attitude towards the Society 
changed completely. I had espoused its cause; I had become 
sympathetic to it. Somehow or another I felt that I belonged to it 
and that from here on I must not only join but support it and work 
for it. This was a very strong feeling. 

Within the next day or so I got in touch with John and told him of 
this `conversion' and asked to become a member, which I eventually 
did. In about 1948 when the war was over I was demobilized from the 
army. My job, which had been kept for me, was in Yorkshire. There I 
joined the Leeds Lodge and met up with other older, senior and well-
versed theosophists before whom I felt a very inadequate beginner. 

One night at the Lodge an old man came to lecture and he is the one 
whom I talk about in the `Notes on the Author' given in the 
beginning of "Deity, Cosmos and Man" [ pp. XXI-XXII]. 

>From then on my quest on the theosophical journey is outlined until 
the climax mentioned in that account occurred. Thereafter I have met 
a number of interesting people and have had a lot of experiences. It 
would take far to long to recount them.

However, my foot was then firmly planted on the theosophical road 
and the process of self-education has gone on right up to the 
present time.

An interesting thing is that, whereas I have done much writing and 
other things for the theosophical cause, everything I have written 
and everything I have done has been spontaneous. There has not been 
any previous planning or clear object in view. I have just done what 
came to be done. This has entailed a considerable amount of work 
over a very long time.

FOUR 

Your profession and family?

FARTHING -- I have told you of my profession, Electrical Engineer, 
working nearly all my life with the nationalized industry in 
Yorkshire. I was in charge of about 100 shops, service centres as 
they were called, of contracting (wiring factories, shops and 
homes), advertising shows and distribution, appliance testing, 
repair and reconditioning, etc.

None of this had any relation to Theosophy. I am unmarried, had no 
family. My father did not know about Theosophy at all. He was a 
Freemason. My mother called it "a lot of silly nonsense". Why could 
I not be like other men?

Geoffrey A. Farthing. 

[ Answers dated and signed  in 22nd November 2000.]

[ Second Part of Farthing's Answers Will Follow in a Few Minutes ]  

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