Owing to certain conditions connected with my linga sharira, or "astral body"—which it would be difficult for me to explain to those who are not to some extent initiated—I passed through the various degrees of chela- ship with remarkable rapidity. When I say that in less than fifteen years of spiritual absorption and profound contemplation of esoteric mysteries I became a mahatma, or adept, some idea may be formed by chelas who are now treading that path of severe ordeal, of the rapidity of my progress: indeed, such extraordinary faculty did I manifest, that at one time the Guru, my master, was inclined to think that I was one of those exceptional cases which recur from time to time, where a child-body is selected as the human tenement of a reincarnated adept; and that though belonging by rights to the fourth round, I was actually born into the fifth round of the human race in the planetary chain. "The adept," says an occult aphorism, "becomes; he is not made." That was exactly my case. I attribute it principally to an overweening confidence in myself, and to a blind faith in others. As Mr Sinnett very properly remarks—

"Very much further than people generally imagine, will mere confidence carry the occult neophyte. How many European readers who would be quite incredulous if told of some results which occult chelas in the most incipient stages of their training have to accomplish by sheer force of confidence, hear constantly in church, nevertheless, the familiar Biblical assurances of the power which resides in faith, and let the words pass by like the wind, leaving no impression!"

It is true that I had some reason for this confidence—which arose from the fact that prior to my initiation into Buddhist mysteries, and before I left England, I had developed, under the spiritual craze which was then prevalent in society, a remarkable faculty of clairvoyance. This gave me the power not merely of diagnosing the physical and moral conditions of my friends and acquaintances, and of prescribing for them when necessary, but of seeing what was happening in other parts of the world; hence my organism was peculiarly favourable for initiation into occult mysteries, and naturally—or rather spiritually—prepared for that method in the regular course of occult training by which adepts impart instruction to their pupils.

"They awaken," as we are most accurately informed by Mr Sinnett, "the dormant sense in the pupil, and through this they imbue his mind with a knowledge that such and such a doctrine is the real truth. The whole scheme of evolution infiltrates into the regular chela's mind, by reason of the fact that he is made to see the process taking place by clairvoyant vision. There are no words used in his instruction at all. And adepts themselves, to whom the facts and processes of nature are as familiar as our five fingers to us, find it difficult to explain in a treatise which they cannot illustrate for us, by producing mental pictures in our dormant sixth sense, the complex anatomy of the planetary system."

I have always felt—and my conviction on the subject has led to some painful discussions between myself and some of my mahatma brothers—that the extreme facility with which I was enabled to perceive at a glance "the complex anatomy of the planetary system," and the rapid development of my "dormant sixth sense," was due mainly to the fact that I was nothing more nor less than what spiritualists call a highly sensitive medium. Meantime this premature development of my sixth sense forced me right up through the obstacles which usually impede such an operation in the case of a fourth-round man, into that stage of evolution which awaits the rest of humanity—or rather, so much of humanity as may reach it in the ordinary course of nature—in the latter part of the fifth round. I merely mention this to give confidence to my readers, as I am about to describe a moral cataclysm which subsequently took place in my sixth sense, which would be of no importance in the case of an ordinary chela, but which was attended with the highest significance as occurring to a mahatma who had already attained the highest grade in the mystic brotherhood. It was not to be wondered at that when I arrived at this advanced condition, Khatmandhu, though a pleasant town, was not altogether a convenient residence for an occultist of my eminence. In the first place, the streets were infested with dugpas, or red-caps, a heretical sect, some members of which have arhat pretensions of a very high order—indeed I am ready to admit that I have met with Shammar adepts, who, so far as supernatural powers were concerned, were second to none among ourselves. But this was only the result of that necromancy which Buddha in his sixth incarnation denounced in the person of Tsong- kha-pa, the great reformer. They even deny the spiritual supremacy of the Dalai Lama at Lhassa, and own allegiance to an impostor who lives at the monastery of Sakia Djong.

The presence of these men, and the presumption of their adepts, who maintained that through subjective or clairvoyant conditions, which they asserted were higher than ours, they had attained a more exalted degree of illumination which revealed a different cosmogony from that which has been handed down to us through countless generations of adepts, were a perpetual annoyance to me; but perhaps not greater than the proximity of the English Resident and the officers attached to him, the impure exhalations from whose rupas, or material bodies, infected as they were with magnetic elements drawn from Western civilisation, whenever I met them, used to send me to bed for a week. I therefore strongly felt the necessity of withdrawal to that isolated and guarded region where the most advanced adepts can pursue their contemplative existence without fear of interruption, and prepare their karma, or, in other words, the molecules of their fifth principle, for the ineffable bliss of appropriate development in devachan—a place, or rather "state," somewhat resembling Purgatory with a dash of heaven in it; or even for the still more exquisite sensation which arises from having no sensations at all, and which characterises nirvana, or a sublime condition of conscious rest in Omniscience.

That I am not drawing upon my imagination in alluding to this mysterious region, or imposing upon the credulity of my readers, I will support my assertion by the high authority of Mr Sinnett, or rather of his Guru; and here I may remark incidentally, that after a long experience of Gurus, I have never yet met one who would consciously tell a lie.

"From time immemorial," says Mr Sinnett's Guru, "there has been a certain region in Thibet, which to this day is quite unknown to and unapproachable by any but initiated persons, and inaccessible to the ordinary people of the country, as to any others, in which adepts have always congregated. But the country generally was not in Buddha's time, as it has since become, the chosen habitation of the great brotherhood. Much more than they are at present, were the mahatmas in former times distributed throughout the world.

"The progress of civilisation engendering the magnetism they find so trying, had, however, by the date with which we are now dealing—the fourteenth century—already given rise to a very general movement towards Thibet on the part of the previously dissociated occultists. Far more widely than was held to be consistent with the safety of mankind was occult knowledge and power then found to be disseminated. To the task of putting it under a rigid system of rule and law did Tsong-kha-pa address himself."

Of course, before transferring my material body to this region, I was perfectly familiar with it by reason of the faculty which, as Mr Sinnett very truly tells us, is common to all adepts, of being able to flit about the world at will in your astral body; and here I would remark parenthetically, that I shall use the term "astral body" to save confusion, though, as Mr Sinnett again properly says, it is not strictly accurate under the circumstances. In order to make this clear, I will quote his very lucid observations on the subject:—

"During the last year or two, while hints and scraps of occult science have been finding their way out into the world, the expression 'astral body' has been applied to a certain semblance of the human form, fully inhabited by its higher principles, which can migrate to any distance from the physical body—projected consciously and with exact intention by a living adept, or unintentionally by the accidental application of certain mental forces to his loosened principles by any person at the moment of death. For ordinary purposes, there is no practical inconvenience in using the expression 'astral body' for the appearance so projected—indeed any more strictly accurate expression, as will be seen directly, would be cumbersome, and we must go on using the phrase in both meanings. No confusion need arise; but strictly speaking, the linga sharira, or third principle, is the astral body, and that cannot be sent about as the vehicle of the higher principles."

As, however, "no confusion need arise" from my describing how I went about in my linga sharira, I will continue to use it as the term for my vehicle of transportation. Nor need there be any difficulty about my being in two places at once. I have the authority of Mr Sinnett's Guru for this statement, and it is fully confirmed by my own experience. For what says the Guru?—"The individual consciousness, it is argued, cannot be in two places at once. But first of all, to a certain extent it can." It is unnecessary for me to add a word to this positive and most correct statement; but what the Guru has not told us is, that there is a certain discomfort attending the process. Whenever I went with my astral body, or linga sharira, into the mysterious region of Thibet already alluded to, leaving my rupa, or natural body, in Khatmandhu, I was always conscious of a feeling of rawness; while the necessity of looking after my rupa—of keeping, so to speak, my astral eye upon it, lest some accident should befall it, which might prevent my getting back to it, and so prematurely terminate my physical or objective existence—was a constant source of anxiety to me. Some idea of the danger which attends this process may be gathered from the risks incidental to a much more difficult operation which I once attempted, and succeeded, after incredible effort, in accomplishing; this was the passage of my fifth principle, or ego-spirit, into the ineffable condition of nirvana.

"Let it not be supposed," says Mr Sinnett,—for it is not his Guru who is now speaking,—"that for any adept such a passage can be lightly undertaken. Only stray hints about the nature of this great mystery have reached me; but, putting these together, I believe I am right in saying that the achievement in question is one which only some of the high initiates are qualified to attempt, which exacts a total suspension of animation in the body for periods of time compared to which the longest cataleptic trances known to ordinary science are insignificant; the protection of the physical frame from natural decay during this period by means which the resources of occult science are strained to accomplish; and withal it is a process involving a double risk to the continued earthly life of the person who undertakes it. One of these risks is the doubt whether, when once nirvana is attained, the ego will be willing to return. That the return will be a terrible effort and sacrifice is certain, and will only be prompted by the most devoted attachment, on the part of the spiritual traveller, to the idea of duty in its purest abstraction. The second great risk is that of allowing the sense of duty to predominate over the temptation to stay—a temptation, be it remembered, that is not weakened by the motive that any conceivable penalty can attach to it. Even then it is always doubtful whether the traveller will be able to return."

All this is exactly as Mr Sinnett has described it. I shall never forget the struggle that I had with my ego when, ignoring "the idea of duty in its purest abstraction," it refused to abandon the bliss of nirvana for the troubles of this mundane life; or the anxiety both of my manas, or human soul, and my buddhi, or spiritual soul, lest, after by our combined efforts we had overcome our ego, we should not be able to do our duty by our rupa, or natural body, and get back into it.

Of course, my migrations to the mahatma region of Thibet were accompanied by no such difficulty as this—as, to go with your linga sharira, or astral body, to another country, is a very different and much more simple process than it is to go with your manas, or human soul, into nirvana. Still it was a decided relief to find myself comfortably installed with my material body, or rupa, in the house of a Thibetan brother on that sacred soil which has for so many centuries remained unpolluted by a profane foot.

Here I passed a tranquil and contemplative existence for some years, broken only by such incidents as my passage into nirvana, and disturbed only by a certain subjective sensation of aching or void, by which I was occasionally attacked, and which I was finally compelled to attribute, much to my mortification, to the absence of women. In the whole of this sacred region, the name of which I am compelled to withhold, there was not a single female. Everybody in it was given up to contemplation and ascetic absorption; and it is well known that profound contemplation, for any length of time, and the presence of the fair sex, are incompatible. I was much troubled by this vacuous sensation, which I felt to be in the highest degree derogatory to my fifth principle, and the secret of which I discovered, during a trance-condition which lasted for several months, to arise from a subtle magnetism, to which, owing to my peculiar organic condition, I was especially sensitive, and which penetrated the mahatma region from a tract of country almost immediately contiguous to it in the Karakorum Mountains, which was as jealously guarded from foreign intrusion as our own, and which was occupied by the "Thibetan Sisters," a body of female occultists of whom the Brothers never spoke except in terms of loathing and contempt. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that no mention is made either of them, or the lovely highland district they occupy, in Mr Sinnett's book. The attraction of this feminine sphere became at last so overpowering, that I determined to visit it in my astral body; and now occurred the first of many most remarkable experiences which were to follow. It is well known to the initiated, though difficult to explain to those who are not, that in a sense space ceases to exist for the astral body. When you get out of your rupa, you are out of space as ordinary persons understand it, though it continues to have a certain subjective existence.

I was in this condition, and travelling rapidly in the desired direction, when I became conscious of the presence of the most exquisitely lovely female astral body which the imagination of man could conceive; and here I may incidentally remark, that no conception can be formed of the beauty to which woman can attain by those who have only seen her in her rupa—or, in other words, in the flesh. Woman's real charm consists in her linga sharira—that ethereal duplicate of the physical body which guides jiva, or the second principle, in its work on the physical particles, and causes it to build up the shape which these assume in the material. Sometimes it makes rather a failure of it, so far as the rupa is concerned, but it always retains its own fascinating contour and deliciously diaphanous composition undisturbed. When my gaze fell upon this most enchanting object, or rather subject—for I was in a subjective condition at the time—I felt all the senses appertaining to my third principle thrill with emotion; but it seemed impossible—which will readily be understood by the initiated—to convey to her any clear idea of the admiration she excited, from the fact that we were neither of us in natural space. Still the sympathy between our linga shariras was so intense, that I perceived that I had only to go back for my rupa, and travel in it to the region of the sisterhood, to recognise her in her rupa at once.

Every chela even knows how impossible it is to make love satisfactorily in nothing but your linga sharira. It is quite different after you are dead, and have gone in your fourth principle, or kama rupa, which is often translated "body of desire," into devachan; for, as Mr Sinnett most correctly remarks, "The purely sensual feelings and tastes of the late personality will drop off from it in devachan; but it does not follow that nothing is preservable in that state, except feelings and thoughts having a direct reference to religion or spiritual philosophy. On the contrary, all the superior phases, even of sensuous emotion, find their appropriate sphere of development in devachan." Until you are obliged to go to devachan—which, in ordinary parlance, is the place good men go to when they die—my advice is, stick to your rupa; and indeed it is the instinct of everybody who is not a mahatma to do this. I admit—though in making this confession I am aware that I shall incur the contempt of all mahatmas—that on this occasion I found my rupa a distinct convenience, and was not sorry that it was still in existence. In it I crossed the neutral zone still inhabited by ordinary Thibetans, and after a few days' travel, found myself on the frontiers of "the Sisters'" territory. The question which now presented itself was how to get in. To my surprise, I found the entrances guarded not by women, as I expected, but by men. These were for the most part young and handsome.

"So you imagined," said one, who advanced to meet me with an engaging air, "that you could slip into our territory in your astral body; but you found that all the entrances in vacuo"—I use this word for convenience—"are as well guarded as those in space. See, here is the Sister past whom you attempted to force your way: we look after the physical frontier, and leave the astral or spiritual to the ladies,"—saying which he politely drew back, and the apparition whose astral form I knew so well, now approached in her substantial rupa—in fact, she was a good deal stouter than I expected to find her; but I was agreeably surprised by her complexion, which was much fairer than is usual among Thibetans—indeed her whole type of countenance was Caucasian, which was not to be wondered at, considering, as I afterwards discovered, that she was by birth a Georgian. She greeted me, in the language common to all Thibetan occultists, as an old acquaintance, and one whose arrival was evidently expected—indeed she pointed laughingly to a bevy of damsels whom I now saw trooping towards us, some carrying garlands, some playing upon musical instruments, some dancing in lively measures, and singing their songs of welcome as they drew near. Then Ushas—for that was the name (signifying "The Dawn") of the illuminata whose acquaintance I had first made in vacuo—taking me by the hand, led me to them, and said—

"Rejoice, O my sisters, at the long-anticipated arrival of the Western arhat, who, in spite of the eminence which he has attained in the mysteries of Esoteric Buddhism, and his intimate connection during so many years with the Thibetan fraternity, has yet retained enough of his original organic conditions to render him, even in the isolation of (here she mentioned the region I had come from) susceptible to the higher influence of the occult sisterhood. Receive him in your midst as the chela of a new avatar which will be unfolded to him under your tender guidance. Take him in your arms, O my sisters, and comfort him with the doctrines of Ila, the Divine, the Beautiful."

Taking me in their arms, I now found, was a mere formula or figure of speech, and consisted only in throwing garlands over me. Still I was much comforted, not merely by the grace and cordiality of their welcome, but by the mention of Ila, whose name will doubtless be familiar to my readers as occurring in a Sanscrit poem of the age immediately following the Vedic period, called the Satapathabrahmana, when Manu was saved from the flood, and offered the sacrifice "to be the model of future generations." By this sacrifice he obtained a daughter named Ila, who became supernaturally the mother of humanity, and who, I had always felt, has been treated with too little consideration by the mahatmas—indeed her name is not so much as even mentioned in Mr Sinnett's book. Of course it was rather a shock to my spiritual pride, that I, a mahatma of eminence myself, should be told that I was to be adopted as a mere chela by these ladies; but I remembered those beautiful lines of Buddha's—I quote from memory—and I hesitated no longer:—

"To be long-suffering and meek, To associate with the tranquil, Religious talk at due seasons; This is the greatest blessing."

"To be long-suffering"—this was a virtue I should probably have a splendid opportunity of displaying under the circumstances,—"and meek"; what greater proof of meekness could I give than by becoming the chela of women? "To associate with the tranquil." I should certainly obey this precept, and select the most tranquil as my associates, and with them look forward to enjoying "religious talk at due seasons." Thus fortified by the precepts of the greatest of all teachers, my mind was at once made up, and, lifting up my voice, I chanted, in the language of the occult, some beautiful stanzas announcing my acceptance of their invitation, which evidently thrilled my hearers with delight. In order to save unnecessary fatigue, we now transferred ourselves through space, and, in the twinkling of an eye, I found myself in the enchanting abode which they called their home, or dama. Here a group of young male chelas were in waiting to attend to our wants; and the remarkable fact now struck me, that not only were all the women lovely and the men handsome, but that no trace of age was visible on any of them. Ushas smiled as she saw what was passing in my mind, and said, without using any spoken words, for language had already become unnecessary between us, "This is one of the mysteries which will be explained to you when you have reposed after the fatigues of your journey; in the meantime Asvin,"—and she pointed out a chela whose name signified "Twilight,"—"will show you to your room." I would gladly linger, did my space allow, over the delights of this enchanting region, and the marvellously complete and well-organised system which prevailed in its curiously composed society. Suffice it to say, that in the fairy-like pavilion which was my home, dwelt twenty-four lovely Sisters and their twenty-three chelas—I was to make the twenty-fourth—in the most complete and absolute harmony, and that their lives presented the most charming combination of active industry, harmless gaiety, and innocent pleasures. By a proper distribution of work and proportionment of labour, in which all took part, the cultivation of the land, the tending of the exquisite gardens, with their plashing fountains, fragrant flowers, and inviting arbours, the herding of the cattle, and the heavier part of various handicrafts, fell upon the men; while the women looked after the domestic arrangements—cooked, made or mended and washed the chelas' clothes and their own (both men and women were dressed according to the purest principles of aesthetic taste), looked after the dairy, and helped the men in the lighter parts of their industries.

Various inventions, known only to the occult sisterhood by means of their studies in the esoteric science of mechanics, contributed to shorten these labours to an extent which would be scarcely credited by the uninitiated; but some idea of their nature may be formed from the fact that methods of storing and applying electricity, unknown as yet in the West, have here been in operation for many centuries, while telephones, flying-machines, and many other contrivances still in their infancy with us, are carried to a high pitch of perfection. In a word, what struck me at once as the fundamental difference between this sisterhood and the fraternity of adepts with which I had been associated, was that the former turned all their occult experiences to practical account in their daily life in this world, instead of reserving them solely for the subjective conditions which are supposed by mahatmas to attach exclusively to another state of existence.

Owing to these appliances the heavy work of the day was got through usually in time for a late breakfast, the plates and dishes being washed up and the knives cleaned by a mechanical process scarcely occupying two minutes; and the afternoon was usually devoted to the instruction of chelas in esoteric branches of learning, and their practical application to mundane affairs, until the cool of the evening, when parties would be made up either for playing out-of-door games, in the less violent of which the women took part, or in riding the beautiful horses of the country, or in flying swiftly over its richly cultivated and variegated surface, paying visits to other damas or homes, each of which was occupied on the same scale and in the same manner as our own. After a late dinner, we usually had concerts, balls, and private theatricals.

On the day following my arrival, Ushas explained to me the relationship in which we were to stand towards each other. She said that marriage was an institution as yet unknown to them, because their organisms had not yet attained the conditions to which they were struggling. They had progressed so far, however, that they had discovered the secret of eternal youth. Indeed, Ushas herself was 590 years old. I was not surprised at this, as something of the same kind has occurred more than once to rishis or very advanced mahatmas. As a rule, however, they are too anxious to go to nirvana, to stay on earth a moment longer than necessary, and prefer rather to come back at intervals: this, we all know, has occurred at least six times in the case of Buddha, as Mr Sinnett so well explains. At the same time Ushas announced without words, but with a slight blush, and a smile of ineffable tenderness, that from the day of my birth she knew that I was destined to be her future husband, and that at the appointed time we should be brought together. We now had our period of probation to go through together, and she told me that all the other chelas here were going through the necessary training preparatory to wedlock like myself, and that there would be a general marrying all round, when the long-expected culminating epoch should arrive.

Meantime, in order to enter upon the first stage of my new chela-ship, it became necessary for me to forget all the experiences which I had acquired during the last twenty years of my life, as she explained that it would be impossible for my mind to receive the new truths which I had now to learn so long as I clung to what she called "the fantasies" of my mahatma-ship. I cannot describe the pang which this announcement produced. Still I felt that nothing must impede my search after truth; and I could not conceal from myself that, if in winning it I also won Ushas, I was not to be pitied. Nor to this day have I ever had reason to regret the determination at which I then arrived.

It would be impossible for me in the compass of this article to describe all my experiences in the new life to which I dedicated myself, nor indeed would it be proper to do so; suffice it to say, that I progressed beyond my Ushas' most sanguine expectations. And here I would remark, that I found my chief stimulus to exertion to be one which had been completely wanting in my former experience. It consisted simply in this, that altruism had been substituted for egotism. Formerly, I made the most herculean spiritual effort to tide myself over the great period of danger—the middle of the fifth round. "That," as Mr Sinnett correctly says, "is the stupendous achievement of the adept as regards his own personal interests;" and of course our own interests were all that I or any of the other mahatmas ever thought of. "He has reached," pursues our author, "the farther shore of the sea in which so many of mankind will perish. He waits there, in a contentment which people cannot even realise without some glimmering of spirituality—the sixth sense—themselves, for the arrival of his future companions." This is perfectly true. I always found that the full enjoyment of this sixth sense among mahatmas was heightened just in proportion to the numbers of other people who perish, so long as you were safe yourself.

Here among the Sisters, on the other hand, the principle which was inculcated was, "Never mind if you perish yourself, so long as you can save others;" and indeed the whole effort was to elaborate such a system by means of the concentration of spiritual forces upon earth, as should be powerful enough to redeem it from its present dislocated and unhappy condition. To this end had the efforts of the Sisters been directed for so many centuries, and I had reason to believe that the time was not far distant when we should emerge from our retirement to be the saviours and benefactors of the whole human race. It followed from this, of course, that I retained all the supernatural faculties which I had acquired as a mahatma, and which I now determined to use, not for my own benefit as formerly, but for that of my fellow-creatures, and was soon able—thanks to additional faculties, acquired under Ushas' tutorship—to flit about the world in my astral body without inconvenience.

I happened to be in London on business the other day in this ethereal condition, when Mr Sinnett's book appeared, and I at once projected it on the astral current to Thibet. I immediately received a communication from Ushas to the effect that it compelled some words of reply from the sisterhood, and a few days since I received them. I regret that it has been necessary to occupy so much of the reader's time with personal details. They were called for in order that he should understand the source of my information, and my peculiar qualifications for imparting it. It will be readily understood, after my long connection with the Thibetan brotherhood, how painful it must be to me to be the instrument chosen not merely of throwing a doubt upon "the absolute truth concerning nature, man, the origin of the universe, and the destinies toward which its inhabitants are tending," to use Mr Sinnett's own words, but actually to demolish the whole structure of Esoteric Buddhism! Nor would I do this now were it not that the publication of the book called by that name has reluctantly compelled the sisterhood to break their long silence. If the Thibetan Brothers had only held their tongues and kept their secret as they have done hitherto, they would not now be so rudely disturbed by the Thibetan Sisters.

* * * * *

"The Sisters of Thibet," writes Ushas, of course with an astral pen in astral ink, "owe their origin to a circumstance which occurred in the time of Sankaracharya, erroneously supposed by the initiated to be an incarnation of Buddha. This teacher, who lived more than a century before the Christian era, dwelt chiefly upon the necessity of pursuing gnyanam in order to obtain moksha—that is to say, the importance of secret knowledge to spiritual progress, and the consummation thereof. And he even went so far as to maintain that a man ought to keep all such knowledge secret from his wife. Now the wife of Sankaracharya, whose name was Nandana, 'she who rejoices,' was a woman of very profound occult attainments; and when she found that her husband was acquiring knowledges which he did not impart to her, she did not upbraid him, but laboured all the more strenuously in her own sphere of esoteric science, and she even discovered that all esoteric science had a twofold element in it—masculine and feminine—and that all discoveries of occult mysteries engaged in by man alone, were, so to speak, lop-sided, and therefore valueless. So she conveyed herself secretly, by processes familiar to her, away from her husband, and took refuge in this region of Thibet in which we now dwell, and which, with all his knowledges, Sankaracharya was never able to discover, for they were all subjective, and dealt not with the material things of this world. And she associated herself here in the pursuit of knowledge with a learned man called Svasar, 'he who is friendly,' who considered secret knowledge merely the means to an end, and even spiritual progress valuable only in so far as it could be used to help others; and they studied deep mysteries as brother and sister together—and he had been a mahatma or rishi of the highest grade—and, owing to the aid he derived from his female associate, he discovered that the subjective conditions of nirvana and devachan were the result of one-sided male imaginings which had their origin in male selfishness; and this conviction grew in him in the degree in which the Parthivi Mutar, or 'Earth Mother,' became incarnated in Nandana. Thus was revealed to him the astounding fact that the whole system of the occult adepts had originated in the natural brains of men who had given themselves up to egotistical transcendental speculation—in fact, I cannot better describe the process than in the words of Mr Sinnett himself, where he alludes to 'the highly cultivated devotees to be met with occasionally in India, who build up a conception of nature, the universe and God, entirely on a metaphysical basis, and who have evolved their systems by sheer force of transcendental thinking—who will take some established system of philosophy as its groundwork, and amplify on this to an extent which only an oriental metaphysician could dream of.'

"This, Mr Sinnett chooses to assume, was not the fact with the Thibet Brothers; but, in reality, this was just what they did. The fact that they have outstripped other similar transcendentalists is due to the circumstance that the original founders of the system were men of more powerful will and higher attainments than any who have succeeded them. And on their death they formed a compact spiritual society in the other world, impregnating the wills and imaginations of their disciples still on earth with their fantastic theories, which they still retain there, of a planetary chain, and the spiral advance of the seven rounds, and the septenary law, and all the rest of it. In order for human beings to come into these occult knowledges, it is necessary, as Mr Sinnett admits, for the adepts to go into trance-conditions—in other words, to lose all control of their normal, or as they would probably call them, their objective faculties. While in this condition, they are the sport of any invisible intelligences that choose to play upon them; but fearing lest they may be accused of this, they erroneously assert that no such intelligences of a high order have cognisance of what happens in this world. The fact that mahatmas have powers which appear supernatural proves nothing, as Mr Sinnett also admits that innumerable fakirs and yojis possess these as well, whose authority on occultism he deems of no account, when he says that 'careless inquirers are very apt to confound such persons with the great adepts of whom they vaguely hear.' There can be no better evidence of the falsity of the whole conception than you are yourself. For to prove to you that you were the sport of a delusion, although your own experience as a mahatma in regard to the secret processes of nature, and the sensations attendant upon subjective conditions, exactly corresponded to those of all other mahatmas, you have, under my tutelage, at various times allowed yourself to fall into trance-conditions, when, owing to occult influences which we have brought to bear, a totally different idea concerning 'nature, man, the origin of the universe, and the destinies toward which its inhabitants are tending,' was presented to your sixth sense, which appeared 'absolute truth' at the time, and which would have continued to seem so, had I not had the power of intromitting you through trance-conditions into a totally different set of apparent truths on the same subject, which were no more to be relied upon than the other. The fact is, that no seer, be he Hindoo, Buddhist, Christian, or of any other religion, is to be depended upon the moment he throws himself into abnormal organic conditions. We see best, as you have now learnt, into the deepest mysteries with all our senses about us. And the discovery of this great fact was due to woman; and it is for this reason that mahatmas shrink from female chelas—they are afraid of them. According to their philosophy, women play a poor part in the system of the universe, and their chances of reaching the blissful condition of nirvana are practically not to be compared with those of the men.

"There is no such thing as subjectivity apart from objectivity. Mr Sinnett very properly tells you 'that occult science regards force and matter as identical, and that it contemplates no principle in nature as wholly immaterial. The clue to the mystery involved,' he goes on to say, 'lies in the fact, directly cognisable by occult experts, that matter exists in other states than those which are cognisable by the five senses;' but it does not become only cognisable subjectively on that account. You know very well, as an old mahatma, that you can cognise matter now with your sixth sense as well as with your five while in a perfectly normal condition, that you could not cognise except in trance- conditions before, and which even then you could only cognise incorrectly. The much-vaunted sixth sense of mahatmas needs sharpening as much as their logic, for you can no more separate subjectivity from objectivity than you can separate mind from matter. Christians, if they desire it, have a right to a heaven of subjective bliss, because they consider that they become immaterial when they go there; but Buddhists, who admit that they are in a sense material while in devachan or nirvana, and deny that their consciousness in that condition is in the same sense objective as well as subjective, talk sheer nonsense." Ushas used a stronger expression here, but out of consideration for my old mahatma friends, I suppress it.

"'Devachan', says our Guru—speaking through his disciple in order to escape from this dilemma—'will seem as real as the chairs and tables round us; and remember that above all things, to the profound philosophy of occultism, are the chairs and tables, and the whole objective scenery of the world, unreal and merely transitory delusions of sense.' If, as he admits, they are material, why should they be more unreal than the chairs and tables in devachan, which are also material, since occult science contemplates no principle in nature as wholly immaterial? The fact is, that there is no more unreal and transitory delusion of sense than those 'states' known to the adepts as devachan or nirvana; they are mere dreamlands, invented by metaphysicians, and lived in by them after death—which are used by them to encourage a set of dreamers here to evade the practical duties which they owe to their fellow-men in this world. 'Hence it is possible,' says our author, 'for yet living persons to have visions of devachan, though such visions are rare and only one- sided, the entities in devachan, sighted by the earthly clairvoyant, being quite unconscious themselves of undergoing such observation.' This is an erroneous and incorrect assumption on the Guru's part. 'The spirit of the clairvoyant,' he goes on, 'ascends into the condition of devachan in such rare visions, and thus becomes subject to the vivid delusions of that existence.' Vivid delusions indeed, the fatal consequences of which are, that they separate their votaries from the practical duties of life, and create a class of idle visionaries who, wrapping themselves in their own vain conceits, would stand by and allow their fellow-creatures to starve to death, because, as Mr Sinnett frankly tells us, 'if spiritual existence, vivid subjective consciousness, really does go on for periods greater than the periods of intellectual physical existence, in the ratio, as we have seen in discussing the devachanic condition, of 80 to 1 at least, then surely man's subjective existence is more important than his physical existence and intellect in error, when all its efforts are bent on the amelioration of the physical existence.'

"This is the ingenious theory which the Brothers of Thibet have devised to release them from acknowledging that they have any other Brothers in this world to whom they are under sacred obligations besides themselves, and which, owing to the selfish principle that underlies it, has a tendency to sap the foundations of all morality. So that we have this nineteenth-century apostle of Esoteric Buddhism venturing to assert to his Western readers that 'it is not so rough a question as that—whether man be wicked or virtuous—which must really, at the final critical turning-point, decide whether he shall continue to live and develop into higher phases of existence, or cease to live altogether.' We, the Sisters of Thibet, repudiate and denounce in the strongest terms any such doctrine as the logical outcome either of the moral precepts of Buddha or of the highest esoteric science. Let the Brothers of Thibet beware of any longer cherishing the delusion that the Sisters of Thibet, because their existence is purely objective, 'are therefore unreal and merely transitory delusions of sense.' We also have a secret to reveal—the result of twenty centuries of occult learning—and we formally announce to you, the so-called adepts of occult science, that if you persist in disseminating any more of your deleterious metaphysical compounds in this world under the name of Esoteric Buddhism, we will not only no longer refrain, as we have hitherto done, from tormenting you in your subjective conditions while still in your rupas, but, by virtue of the occult powers we possess, will poison the elements of devachan until subjective existence becomes intolerable there for your fifth and sixth principles,—your manas and your buddhis,—and nirvana itself will be converted into hell."



ADOLPHUS: A COMEDY OF AFFINITIES.

Dramatis personae.

The HON. ADOLPHUS GRESHAM.

The EARL OF GULES.

ADOLPHUS PLUMPER.

Mr FLAMM.

LADY ELAINE BENDORE.

The COUNTESS OF GULES.

Mrs PLUMPER.

CHARLES.



SCENE I.—A railway carriage. The Earl and Countess of Gules—Lady Elaine Bendore—The Hon. Adolphus Gresham.

Elaine. I must really beg of you to stop, Mr Gresham. You cannot think how you pain and surprise me. I am sure I never had the least idea! Besides, supposing papa or mamma should hear you.

Adolphus. Lord Gules is asleep, and her ladyship is absorbed in her novel; besides, you may be sure that I have taken care to ascertain their sentiments before I venture to say what I have to you. Oh, Elaine, if I could but hope!

Train stops. Guard [looking in]. All the smoking-carriages are engaged, gentlemen; but you'll find room in here.

[Enter Adolphus Plumper and Mr Flamm. Flamm seats himself opposite Elaine, and Plumper opposite Adolphus.

Flamm [aside to Plumper]. By Jove, Plumper! you never told me you had a twin brother. Polish up your spectacles, old man—you've made 'em damp by that race we had to catch the train—and look at your vis-a-vis.

[Plumper takes off his spectacles with great deliberation, wipes them, puts them on again, and stares at Adolphus.

Plumper [aside] stammering. Dud-dud-dud-do you see a likeness? Dud- dud-dud-don't see it myself. He's bab-bab-bab-bald, and he's not sh-sh- sh-ort-sighted.

Fl. Probably he doesn't stammer either. I'll try presently. Positively, if he wore spectacles and a wig of your hair, I shouldn't know you apart.

Lady Gules [aside to Elaine]. Did you ever see anything more extraordinary, my dear? What a horrid caricature of our dear Adolphus Gresham!

El. [aside]. I can't say I agree with you, mamma. I think he has a more intelligent expression—more soul, I should say.

Lady G. You are quite ridiculous, Elaine. Half the girls in London have bean setting their caps at Mr Gresham for the last few seasons, till they have given him up as invulnerable; and now that you have a chance of becoming one of the richest peeresses in England, you do nothing but snub him. He is as clever and charming as he will be rich when his father dies, and is certain to become a Cabinet Minister some day. He's considered the most rising young man of his party.

El. That he may easily be, considering he is a Conservative. Oh, mamma! how can you suppose that I would ever marry a Conservative?

Lady G. I have no patience with you, Elaine; a nice mess your Radicals have made of it with Egypt and Ireland. But we won't go into that now; only remember this, if he proposes, and you don't accept him, your father and I will be seriously displeased.

El. [sighing]. I'm sure the gentleman opposite is a friend of the people. See! he's reading the 'Pall Mall.' [Aside to Adolphus.] Mamma has just been telling me that she sees such a strange likeness between you and your opposite neighbour.

Ad. Ah! Plumper—if the name on his hat-box is to be believed; A. Plumper, too. I wonder whether A. stands for Adolphus? I don't feel flattered.

El. Now that is nothing but Tory prejudice. I am sure he looks very distinguished, though his name is Plumper. I have no doubt he's a self- made man.

Pl. Pup-pup-pup-pardon me, madam; shall I put the window up? I see you feel the dud-dud-dud-draught.

El. Thank you. No; I prefer it open. But may I ask you to lend me your 'Echo'? it's a paper I like so much, and so seldom see.

Fl. Cheap, but not nasty; enjoys a vast circulation among the middle classes. The Conservatives are as far behind us in journalistic capacity as they are in parliamentary eloquence.

Pl. You must make allowances for my friend. He's on the pup-pup-pup- press himself, and expects shortly to get into Pup-pup-pup-Parliament.

El. Oh, I do so hope he will! You don't think there is a reaction setting in, do you? Papa says that Mr Gladstone is losing his hold on the country.

Lord Gules [awaking with a snort]. Not, however, before the country has lost its hold upon him. He cares no more for his country, sir, than I do for the Chinese in California. He's a traitor, sir, to his principles; he's—

El. Oh, papa, do stop!—here we are at the Victoria—and we have no right to judge any one so harshly. I assure you such strong expressions only make me feel more and more convinced how wrong you must be. [To Plumper, handing back his paper.] Thank you so much. I'm so sorry I have not had time to read it.

Lady G. Good-bye, Mr Gresham; remember that you have promised to dine with us to-morrow night. We shall be quite alone; but I am sure you don't care about a party.

Ad. I need not say with what pleasure I shall look forward to it. Au revoir, Lady Elaine. [Aside.] You do not know how you have been tempting me to abandon all my cherished political convictions for your sake. It is to be hoped that the Radicals will not follow up their success with the caucus by organising the young ladies of their party and letting them loose on society as propagandists of their Utopian ideas and political fallacies.

[Exeunt omnes.



SCENE II.—Lady Gules's Boudoir. Elaine and Adolphus.

Ad. Dear Lady Elaine, Lady Gules has given me special permission and opportunity to explain myself more fully than was possible yesterday. Please tell me why you were so surprised at what I said, and why you think me so very objectionable?

El. I don't think you at all objectionable, Mr Gresham, as a member of society; on the contrary, I think you charming; though I do feel that, magnetically, we are wide as the poles asunder! Oh, believe me, we have no grounds of common sympathy, either in matters of philosophical, political, or religious thought—and above all, in art! You seem to lack that enthusiasm for humanity which could alone constitute an affinity between us. I was surprised, because I had hoped to find in you an intelligent companion; and mortified at the discovery that you could not rise to higher ground than that of an ordinary admirer,—men in these days seem to think that women have no other raison d'etre except to be made love to.

Ad. I do not think that is a new idea, Lady Elaine; but is it absolutely necessary, in order that you should return the deep affection I feel for you, that we should agree politically, philosophically, theologically, and aesthetically? In old days women did not trouble themselves on these matters, but trusted to their hearts rather than to their heads to guide their affections.

El. And so I do now. I feel instinctively that we are not kindred spirits; that the mysterious chord of sympathy which vibrates in the heart of a girl with the first tone of the voice of the man she is destined to love, does not exist between us. Oh, indeed, indeed, Mr Gresham, although I adore Frederic Harrison as a thinker, as much as I dislike Mr Mallock—though I read every word he writes as a duty—I am not destitute of romance. I am a profound believer in the doctrine of affinity. Who that accepts, as I do, the marvellous teaching of Comte, and remembers that the highest ideas which it contains were inspired by a woman, could fail to be? But I shall know the man towards whom I am destined to occupy the relation that Comte's Countess did to him, at a glance. No words will need to pass between us to assure us that we are one in sentiment. It will be as impossible for him to be indifferent to elevating the taste of the masses in matters of domestic detail, or be otherwise wanting in a whole-hearted devotion to the service of humanity, or to scoff at the theory of evolution, as it would be for him to accept the errors and superstitions of an obsolete theology, or the antiquated dogmas of the Conservatives about landed property.

Ad. And if I fulfilled all these conditions, so far as a thorough philosophical and political sympathy was concerned, would that avail me nothing to produce this hidden affinity?

El. Absolutely nothing. In the first place, you could not pretend to believe and feel what you did not believe and feel; and in the second, if you could, I should instantly sense the absence of that internal attraction towards each other which would be irresistible in both. You were right, Mr Gresham, when you said the heart and not the head should be the guide; and I trust it absolutely—so give up a hope which must be vain. Believe me, I feel deeply pained at having to speak so decidedly, but it is better that you should be under no delusion. Still, do not let me lose you as a friend whom I shall always esteem. You will soon get over it, and will have no difficulty in finding a wife who will suit you far better than I should ever have done.

Ad. There, believe me, you are mistaken; but it is a point impossible to discuss. Good-bye, Lady Elaine. Thanks for your frankness and patience with me. Perhaps I shall get over it, as you say. I shall take refuge in my yacht, and try the curative effect of a cruise round the world. It will be a year at least before we meet again. [Exit Adolphus.

El. Poor Adolphus! how absolutely impossible is love, where the hidden sympathy of soul is wanting!—and yet how nice he is [sighs], and how manfully he accepted his fate! What philosophy can really explain the mystery of that magnetic affinity called love, which so unaccountably exercises its attracting influences over the whole animal creation, and most probably over plants? If it is a latent potentiality of matter, how did it get there? Now for a scene with mamma.

[Exit Elaine.



SCENE III.—The Countess of Gules's Boudoir. Lady Gules and Lady Elaine reading. Enter Charles with card and letter.

El. [reading card]. Mr Adolphus Plumper! Is the gentleman coming up- stairs, Charles?

Charles. No, my lady; he only left the card and this letter, and said he would call again. [Exit Charles.

El. [opening letter]. From Mr Gresham, mamma, dated Naples. [Reads.] "DEAR ELAINE,—I felt so much touched by the kindness of your last words to me when we parted, that I venture to hope that it may interest you to know, as a friend, how it has fared with me since I left England. The curative process does not seem to have fairly set in yet, but I am going to try the effect of a little mild excitement by joining the demonstrating fleets at Alexandria. For a month past I have been idling here; and curiously enough, the first person I stumbled upon in the Chiaja Gardens was Mr Adolphus Plumper—our railway companion on the only journey I ever had the happiness to take with you, and who seated himself by my side on a bench to which I had resorted for a quiet cigar. As there are few foreigners here at this season, we have been thrown almost daily together, and I have been quite delighted to find how very much superior he is to what I thought he looked when you honoured me by pointing out our resemblance. I ought to speak highly of him, for he saved my life. I took him a cruise in my yacht, and the gig in which we were landing one day was upset in some breakers. I had been stunned, and should have been drowned had he not come to the rescue; and I really feel that for this and some other reasons which I will explain when we meet, I owe him a debt of gratitude that I can never hope to repay. Although he is too retiring by nature to say so, I could see, when I made some laughing allusions to the occasion of our first meeting, that he would be glad to continue to make the acquaintance of Lord and Lady Gules—in other words, to continue the political discussion he then commenced with you. Singular to state, he is an admirer of Congreve and all that school, so I am sure you will have plenty of topics in common. Mr Plumper has made an enormous fortune as a contractor, and now chiefly occupies himself with works of charity and benevolence. One of his special hobbies is the introduction of the aesthetic principle into Kindergartens. I have given him a hint not to introduce his vulgar friend Flamm—pardon me the expression, though he is a Radical. I have given Plumper a few lines to Lady Gules. Please do all you can to overcome the prejudice against him which both she and Lord Gules are sure to entertain; and believe me, yours faithfully,

"ADOLPHUS GRESHAM."

Lady G. A Radical, a plutocrat, and an infidel! That is a mixture that ought to suit you, Elaine.

El. Quite as well as a Tory, a spendthrift, and a bigot, which is the one I usually meet in society, mamma. But please do not let us quarrel. I always try to be polite to your mixtures. For Mr Gresham's sake, be civil to mine.

Lady G. For Mr Gresham's sake, indeed! What have you done for Mr Gresham's sake that puts me under an obligation to him? However, I suppose we must ask the man to dinner. Is there any address on his card?

El. 20 Heavitree Gardens.

Lady G. One of those millionaire palaces, I suppose, in the back regions of South Kensington. The carriage is waiting, so I shall leave you to write the invitation. You had better ask him for Tuesday, when we have got some people coming to dinner.

[Exit Lady Gules.

El. [taking up the letter, reads]. "Now chiefly occupies himself with works of charity and benevolence. One of his special hobbies is the introduction of aesthetic principles into Kindergartens." How refreshing to meet a man at last who takes a living interest in the welfare of his fellow-creatures! I am sure I shall like him. [ Writes, and rings the bell.]

Enter Charles.

Lady E. Please put this in the post, Charles. [Exit Charles.] Now I must go and get ready to go out riding with papa, and reconcile him to the dreadful idea of having "a Radical, a plutocrat, and an infidel" at his dinner-table. [Exit Elaine.

(A month elapses.)



SCENE IV.—Lady Gules's Boudoir. Lord and Lady Gules.

Lord G. I tell you what it is, my dear—we've only known that fellow Plumper a month, and he has already completely captivated Elaine with his Kindergarten, and his sunflowers, and his hatred of the landed interest and Irish coercion, and love of the cloture and humanity, and Buddha and Brahma, and Zoroaster and Mahomet, and all the rest of them. I must really take steps to find out whether Gresham was well informed about his reputed wealth. I shall ride down and take a look at 20 Heavitree Gardens to-morrow. I haven't met a single man at the Club who has ever heard of him.

Lady G. It's no use: if he should turn out a pauper, or even a swindler, I am afraid Elaine will marry him. I saw it in her eye last night; and so, I should think, did he. He certainly can't complain of not receiving encouragement. I only wonder that he has not yet proposed. I believe the man to be capable of any act of audacity, in spite of his languid manner, and his long hair, and short-sightedness, and his stammer.

Enter Elaine.

Lord G. Are you coming to ride with me, or going out to drive with your mother, Elaine?

El. Neither, dear papa. I am too busy finishing a paper I am writing on the "Chiton; or, Clothing for the masses on the principles of the ideal of the ancient Greeks," for the next meeting of the Women's Dress Reform Association.

Lord G. Well, take care you make them put enough on. Remember the climate, if you ignore other considerations.

Lady G. And pray do not so far overstep the bounds of maidenly modesty as to consult your Mr Plumper on the subject.

[Exit Lord and Lady Gules.

El. [sighing]. My Mr Plumper! Ah, Adolphus, there is not a fibre in our bodies or souls—and why should not souls have fibres?—that does not vibrate in harmony! We are like AEolian harps that make the same music to the same airs of the affections, while electrically our brains respond sympathetically to the same wave-current of idea. Emotionally, intellectually, we are one. Why should I allow an absurd custom of conventional civilisation, degrading to the sex, to prevent my telling him so? What more inherent right can be vested by nature in a woman than that of telling a man that she loves him, and that, therefore, he belongs to her? Hark! his step. My Adolphus!

Enter Adolphus.

Ad. I have ventured to kuk-kuk-kuk-call, Lady Elaine, with the pap-pap- pattern I promised of female attire suited to all classes; for why should we recognise any did-did-distinction between the folds which drape the form of the aristocrat and the pop-pop-pauper? It is all in kuk-kuk-curves and circles; there is not a straight line about it worn thus. See how graciously it flows! [Puts his head through a hole in the middle.] But allow me; your form will do far more justice to it than mine. [Takes it off and puts it on Lady Elaine.] Ah, how divinely precious! [Gazes with rapture. Lady Elaine sits down in it.]

El. Dear Adolphus, why should this strained conventional formality exist any longer between us? Can we not read each other's thoughts? Can we not feel each other's hearts beating in sweet accord? Are we not formed and fashioned for each other? Let this exquisite garment, which we have both worn, be the symbol of that internal robe which costumes our united souls, woven from the texture of our affections.

Ad. [falling on his knees, kisses its hem]. Sweet symbol of sanctified intuitions! Tit-tit-tit-transparent—though it may seem tot- tot-tolerably thick; for does it not reveal to me the workings of the soul of my beb-beb-beloved? Ah, Elaine, how trifling do earthly treasures seem, compared with those of the affections! You will be mine, for ever mine, dud-dud-darling, will you not—even though I may not have the riches I am supposed to possess?

El. Oh, Adolphus! how can you ask me such a question? What is the wealth of the pocket as compared with the wealth of the soul!

Ad. True! oh, quite intensely true!—for how sweetly sings the poet Oscar on this theme!—

"As like miners we explore Hidden treasures in the soul, And we pip-pip-pick the amorous ore Firmly bedded in its hole; New emotions come to light, Flashing in affections' rays, Scintillating to the sight, With a tit-tit-tit-transcendental bib-bib-bib-blaze, Warming us until we burn With a glow of sacred fire, And as coals to diamonds turn, Sparkling in us with did-did-did-desire."

El. Oh, quite, quite too lovely! Come, Adolphus—why should we linger here, now that our troths are plighted? Why should we not at once brave the world together? I need the sweet scents of the air, the rustle of leaves, the singing of birds, the chattering of monkeys, and the hum of nature. Let us go, my love, and walk in the Zoo.

Ad. [rising]. Dud-dud-dud-do you intend to keep that on?

El. What on?

Ad. This mystic garment of kuk-kuk-curves and circles.

El. No; I will keep it for a pattern and a sweet reminiscence. Now I will go and put on my Louis Quatorze hat, and be back in a moment, if you will go and call a hansom.

[Exit Elaine.

[Adolphus bursts into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

[Exit laughing.



SCENE V.—The Zoological Gardens.

El. How sweet are these sights and sounds when hallowed by the consciousness of a beloved presence! How one glows with affection towards every object in nature! Adolphus, dear, don't you feel, with me, that our hearts warm towards the hippopotamus?

Ad. Mine is positively beating with the violence of my affection for him. If he was not so wet and bib-bib-big, I could throw my arms round him. Dear hippop-pop-pop-pop-otamoms!

El. Oh, look! there is that gentleman who got into the train with you on the blessed day that we first met. Mr Flamm, I think Mr Gresham said his name was.

Enter Flamm.

Flamm. Ah, Plumper, how are you, old man? I was looking for you everywhere. Why, what have you done with Mrs Plumper and the children?

Ad. My mother and her little grandchildren, you mean. I was not aware that they were to come here to-day.

Fl. Your mother! and grandchildren! Why, what the dev—- Oh, ah, ahem! [Aside.] I see—mum's the word. Oh fie! sly dog! Naughty, naughty!—but so nice! [Whispers.] You are quite safe with me. [Aloud.] Yes, dear old lady—she's getting too old to walk much now. [Aside.] I only hope we shan't meet the young one. A jolly row there'll be!

El. I hope soon to have the pleasure of being introduced to Mr Plumper's mother. I am sure I shall like her.

Fl. Oh, I am sure you will; she is the dearest, most delightful old lady! [Aside.] At least I hope she is by this time, for she was a horrid old cat up to the day of her death, ten years ago. By Jove! here come Mrs Plumper and the young uns. Now for it!

Enter Mrs Plumper.

Mrs Plumper. Why, Adolphus, where have you been? Excuse me, madam; I did not see that you were upon my husband's arm. Perhaps he'll have the goodness to present his wife to you.

El. His wife! her husband! [Screams—faints.]

Mrs P. Yes, madam. You may well scream, "His wife! her husband!" and then pretend to faint. Who else's wife do you suppose I am?

Ad. I am sorry I have no time for explanation now, as I must attend to this young lady; but if you will have the kindness to hold my hat, Mr Flamm. [Hands his hat to Flamm.] And you, madam, to take care of these. [Takes off his wig and spectacles and hands them to Mrs Plumper.] Your own senses will explain a good deal. As you may have already discovered, I am not Mr Plumper at all; in fact, I perceive him approaching. Help me to hold her head a little higher, please Mr Flamm; and Mrs Plumper, kindly undo the back of her dress, or her stays, or her chiton, or whatever is underneath, and let go everything generally, so as to give her a chance of breathing.

Enter Plumper.

Fl. Here, Plumper, you're a medical man, just come in the nick of time. This gentleman here has been personating you for some reason or other, and the discovery caused the young lady to faint. Mysterious, isn't it?

Ad. Not at all, when you come to know the circumstances. Here is my card; and you will find me ready to make any apology or offer you any satisfaction you may require. Meantime, Dr Plumper, let me implore you to assist me in bringing her to.

Pl. There now, my gug-gug-good lady, take a smell of this. There now, we are beginning to feel beb-beb-better already. [Aside.] Most extraordinary coincidence, Flamm: this is the same lady and gentleman we travelled up to town with a kuk-kuk-couple of months ago; and you remarked upon our wonderful resemblance to each other. Horrid bob-bob- bore, a fellow's being so like you; he can pip-pip-play all sorts of tricks upon you. Just a chance he did not get me into a did-did-devil of a scrape with Jemima.

Fl. [aside]. Well, you can always pay him off in his own coin—that is, if you shave your head, and throw away your spectacles, and give up stammering.

Pl. [aside]. But I can't—that's where he has the pup-pup-pull over me. [Aloud.] There now, one or two bib-bib-breaths, and we are all right. Now, dud-dud-don't go off again; it can be all satisfactorily explained. [Aside.] Hang me if I know how!

El. [opens her eyes while Plumper is bending over her—screams]. Oh, Adolphus!—[shuts them again]

Pl. There, there, my gug-gug-good lady, I'm not Adolphus; at least I am Adolphus, bub-bub-but not your Adolphus. Here, Mr Gresham, if you're her Ad-dod-dod-dod-ol-phus, you'd better take her.

El. [opens her eyes, sees Adolphus bending over her—screams]. Oh, where am I?—[shuts them again.]

Pl. In the arms of your Adolphus. We're bub-bub-both Adolphuses. I suppose, if you'll rouse yourself a little, you'll soon fif-fif-find out which is the right one.

Ad. Lady Elaine, pardon me, and I will explain all. I am Adolphus Gresham. I came back from Naples a month ago, and have deceived you by disguising myself as Dr Plumper. I shall never forgive myself unless you forgive me.

El. Oh, this is too horrible! [Shrinks from him, and bursts into a violent fit of weeping.]

Pl. There, that's capital! Nothing like a hearty fit of tears to kuk- kuk-comfort a woman when she finds herself in a mess. Now Flamm, if you call a kuk-kuk-cab, we'll put her in and send her home.

[Exit Flamm.

Ad. If you'll have the kindness, Dr Plumper, to give me your address, and allow me to call upon you to-morrow, I think I shall be able to give both Mrs Plumper and yourself a complete explanation of what must appear most extraordinary conduct on my part.

Re-enter Flamm.

Fl. The cab is ready.

Ad. Now, Lady Elaine, if you will allow Dr Plumper and myself to assist you, we will accompany you home. [Exeunt omnes.



SCENE VI.—Lady Gules's Boudoir. Lord and Lady Gules—Adolphus.

Lord G. Ha, ha, ha! Oh, wait a moment, my dear Gresham, or you'll kill me with laughing. It's the best joke I ever heard in my life, and most cleverly executed. So you caught the Radical, Comtist, aesthetic little minx in her own trap. Oh, excellent! I can't say how thoroughly Lady Gules and I congratulate you on the success of your ruse, and how happy you have made us. My lady there is too pleased with the probable result to quarrel about the means. But how you did take us all in! I give you my word I never suspected you for a moment. Your stammer and wig were both admirable. As for Elaine, she's torturing her brain with metaphysical doubts as to the nature of love, and says she will never love again. She tells her mother that her Adolphus was an ideal personage who has no longer existence, and that her love is buried with him; but here she comes, so we will leave you to fight your own battle.

[Exeunt Lord and Lady Gules.

Enter Elaine.

Ad. Dear Elaine.

El. Sir!

Ad. Nay, rather Adolphus than sir.

El. How can I say Adolphus? there is no Adolphus.

Ad. Indeed there is—[producing wig and spectacles]—pup-pup-pardon me while I put them on. If it was only my wig and spectacles you cared about, did-did-dearest, I will wear them and stammer through life fuf-fuf- for your sake.

El. Oh, Mr Gresham, how can you be so heartless? You know very well I loved you—at least I didn't love you,—I mean, I thought I loved Adolphus—at least I was sure of it at the time; but I'm sure I don't now. Oh, how cruel of you!

Ad. But if it was not my wig and spectacles and stammer for which you felt a magnetic affinity, I want to know exactly what it was you did love; because I am precisely the same human being without them as with them. What about me struck that mysterious chord of sympathy which vibrated in your affections when I was Plumper, which failed to strike it as Gresham? Why should not our hearts still beat in sweet accord without my wig? Why should not "this exquisite garment, which we have both worn—[takes up the dress, which is lying on a chair in the corner]—be the symbol of that internal robe which costumes our united souls, woven from the texture of our affections," without my spectacles?

El. Mr Gresham, how dare you talk such nonsense? The texture of our affections indeed! mine are dead—basely, foully murdered. Oh, was ever woman so cruelly humiliated?

Ad. Nay, Elaine, I merely wished to prove to you that your aversion for me was entirely unfounded. You have proved to me that your love for Adolphus, in the abstract, is as baseless and unsubstantial. I am not sorry under the circumstances that it should have been murdered, for it was a poor exotic. Let us not attempt to analyse the mysterious nature of that passion which is too precious a plant to tear up by the roots in order to discover the origin of its existence, but learn rather from this lesson, so painful to us both, that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of even in the philosophy of Comte, the doctrines of the aesthete, or the politics of Mr Gladstone. And now, Elaine, farewell,—this time you need not fear my coming back from Naples. [Moves towards the door and lingers.]

[Elaine puts her face between her hands and sobs convulsively.

Ad. Elaine, dear Elaine [returns softly and takes her hand], do you wish me to go?

[Elaine shakes her head.

Ad. Do you wish me to stay?

[Elaine shakes her head.

Ad. What do you wish me to do? I must do either one or the other. Shall I stay and go alternately, or shall we make a fresh start, without prejudice, as the lawyers say?

El. Oh, how heartlessly you talk! What do I care what the lawyers say? Can't you see how miserable I am, and how hollow everything seems all at once? I don't believe in any one, and I don't feel as if I knew anything, except that love is an inexplicable phenomenon of matter. I shall become an agnostic.

Re-enter Lord and Lady Gules.

Lord G. Well, have you two young people come to an understanding? Take my word for it, Elaine, an ounce of practice is worth a pound of theory in love-affairs, and be thankful if the man is willing to become your husband, who has had sufficient common-sense to teach you the lesson. Holloa! whom have we here?

Enter Charles with cards.

Lord G. [reads]. "Dr and Mrs Plumper and Mr Flamm, to inquire for Lady Elaine Bendore." Oho! our friend Plumper seems to know the difference between theory and practice at any rate, and is evidently anxious to extend the latter. [To Charles.] Show them up.

Ad. I called upon the Plumpers this morning, and explained the whole affair to the entire satisfaction of the worthy couple.

[Adolphus and Lady Elaine whisper apart.

Lord G. I have to thank you, Dr Plumper, for the timely assistance you rendered my daughter—first, in nearly sending her into a fit, and then in bringing her out of it; and am glad of this opportunity of expressing my sense of the obligation I am under to Mrs Plumper and Mr Flamm.

Dr P. Oh, don't mention it, my lord; I am sure I was only too gug-gug- glad to be of any assistance to Mr Gresham by being so like him as to frighten the young lady into a fif-fif-fit. And as for bringing her to—I always take the sal-volatile in my pup-pup-pup-pocket on Mrs Plumper's account.

Ad. And you'll accept me, Elaine, as your husband, even though I don't abandon my political aspirations, or introduce aesthetic principles into Kindergartens, or adopt the philosophy of Comte?

El. [giving him her hand]. Oh, Adolphus, you have convinced me that the loftiest of all aspirations, the purest of all principles, the supremest of all philosophies, is—

Ad. A-dod-dod-dolphus!



Footnotes:

{81} Esoteric Buddhism. By A. P. Sinnett, President of the Simla Eclectic Theosophical Society.

PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS.

THE END