(1) Broke the deep lethargy within my head A heavy thunder, so that I upstarted, Like to a person who by force is wakened; And round about I moved my rested eyes, Uprisen erect, and steadfastly I gazed, To recognise the place wherein I was. True is it, that upon the verge I found me Of the abysmal valley dolorous, That gathers thunder of infinite ululations. Obscure, profound it was, and nebulous, So that by fixing on its depths my sight Nothing whatever I discerned therein. "Let us descend now into the blind world," Began the Poet, pallid utterly; "I will be first, and thou shalt second be." And I, who of his colour was aware, Said: "How shall I come, if thou art afraid, Who'rt wont to be a comfort to my fears?" And he to me: "The anguish of the people Who are below here in my face depicts That pity which for terror thou hast taken. Let us go on, for the long way impels us." Thus he went in, and thus he made me enter The foremost circle that surrounds the abyss.

(4) We have, however, still to examine what is called the affective phase of the Soul. This has, no doubt, been touched upon above where we dealt with the passions in general as grouped about the initiative phase of the Soul and the desiring faculty in its effort to shape things to its choice: but more is required; we must begin by forming a clear idea of what is meant by this affective faculty of the Soul.

In general terms it means the centre about which we recognize the affections to be grouped; and by affections we mean those states upon which follow pleasure and pain.

Now among these affections we must distinguish. Some are pivoted upon judgements; thus, a Man judging his death to be at hand may feel fear; foreseeing some fortunate turn of events, he is happy: the opinion lies in one sphere; the affection is stirred in another. Sometimes the affections take the lead and automatically bring in the notion which thus becomes present to the appropriate faculty: but as we have explained, an act of opinion does not introduce any change into the Soul or Mind: what happens is that from the notion of some impending evil is produced the quite separate thing, fear, and this fear, in turn, becomes known in that part of the Mind which is said under such circumstances to harbour fear.

But what is the action of this fear upon the Mind?

The general answer is that it sets up trouble and confusion before an evil anticipated. It should, however, be quite clear that the Soul or Mind is the seat of all imaginative representation- both the higher representation known as opinion or judgement and the lower representation which is not so much a judgement as a vague notion unattended by discrimination, something resembling the action by which, as is believed, the "Nature" of common speech produces, unconsciously, the objects of the partial sphere. It is equally certain that in all that follows upon the mental act or state, the disturbance, confined to the body, belongs to the sense-order; trembling, pallor, inability to speak, have obviously nothing to do with the spiritual portion of the being. The Soul, in fact, would have to be described as corporeal if it were the seat of such symptoms: besides, in that case the trouble would not even reach the body since the only transmitting principle, oppressed by sensation, jarred out of itself, would be inhibited.

None the less, there is an affective phase of the Soul or Mind and this is not corporeal; it can be, only, some kind of Ideal-form.

Now Matter is the one field of the desiring faculty, as of the principles of nutrition growth and engendering, which are root and spring to desire and to every other affection known to this Ideal-form. No Ideal-form can be the victim of disturbance or be in any way affected: it remains in tranquillity; only the Matter associated with it can be affected by any state or experience induced by the movement which its mere presence suffices to set up. Thus the vegetal Principle induces vegetal life but it does not, itself, pass through the processes of vegetation; it gives growth but it does not grow; in no movement which it originates is it moved with the motion it induces; it is in perfect repose, or, at least, its movement, really its act, is utterly different from what it causes elsewhere.

The nature of an Ideal-form is to be, of itself, an activity; it operates by its mere presence: it is as if Melody itself plucked the strings. The affective phase of the Soul or Mind will be the operative cause of all affection; it originates the movement either under the stimulus of some sense-presentment or independently- and it is a question to be examined whether the judgement leading to the movement operates from above or not- but the affective phase itself remains unmoved like Melody dictating music. The causes originating the movement may be likened to the musician; what is moved is like the strings of his instrument, and once more, the Melodic Principle itself is not affected, but only the strings, though, however much the musician desired it, he could not pluck the strings except under dictation from the principle of Melody.

(31) In the Originality of Darkness, there is Harshness and Austereness, this Harshness causes that it be light; for Harshness is Desirousness, an Attracting; and that is the first Ground of the Willing [or Longing] after the Light, and yet it is not possible to comprehend it; and the Attracting in the Will is the [Sting or] Prickle, which the Desiring attracts, and the first Stirring [or Moving.] Now the Prickle cannot endure the Attracting in the Will, but resists, flies up, and yet cannot get away from thence; for it is generated in the Attracting. But because it cannot remove from thence, nor can endure the Attracting, therefore there is a great Anguish, a Desiring [or Longing] after the Light, like a Furiousness, and like a breaking whirling Wheel; and the Anguish in the Bitterness rises up in the Wrath after the Light, but cannot get it, being desirous in the Anxiety to lift up itself above the Light, yet does not overcome, but is infected, [impregnated or mingled] with the Light, and attains a twinkling Flash; and as soon as the Harshness, or the Hardness (viz. the Darkness) gets the same into it, it is terrified, and instantly goes away into its Ether: And yet the Darkness continues in the Center. And in this Horror [Terror or Shriek] the Hardness or Harshness becomes mild, soft, [supple,] and thin; and the Flash is made in the Bitterness, which flies up thus in the Prickle: Thus the Prickle discovers itself in the Mother, which so terrifies the Mother with the Flash, that she yields herself to be overcome; and when the Prickle strengthens itself in the Mother, and finds her so mild, then that is much more terrified, and loses its [fierce, strong] wrathful Propriety, and in the Twinkling of an Eye becomes white, clear, and bright, and flies up very joyfully, trembling with great Delight, [Lust] and Desire; and the Mother of Harshness from the Light comes to be sweet, mild, thin, and material, even Water. For she loses not the Essence of the harsh Conditions, and therefore the Essence attracts continually to it out of the Mildness, so that out of the Nothing, Something comes to be, viz. Water.

(1) That hue which cowardice brought out on me, Beholding my Conductor backward turn, Sooner repressed within him his new colour. He stopped attentive, like a man who listens, Because the eye could not conduct him far Through the black air, and through the heavy fog. "Still it behoveth us to win the fight," Began he; "Else. . .Such offered us herself. . . O how I long that some one here arrive!" Well I perceived, as soon as the beginning He covered up with what came afterward, That they were words quite different from the first; But none the less his saying gave me fear, Because I carried out the broken phrase, Perhaps to a worse meaning than he had. "Into this bottom of the doleful conch Doth any e'er descend from the first grade, Which for its pain has only hope cut off?" This question put I; and he answered me: "Seldom it comes to pass that one of us Maketh the journey upon which I go. True is it, once before I here below Was conjured by that pitiless Erictho, Who summoned back the shades unto their bodies.

(17) This journey of man through the world may be divided into four stages -- the sensuous, the experimental, the instinctive the rational. In the first, he is like a moth which, though it has sight, has no memory, and will singe itself again and again at the same candle. In the second stage he is like a dog which, having once been beaten, will run away at the sight of a stick. In the third he is like a horse or a sheep, both of which instinctively fly at the sight of a lion or a wolf, their natural enemies, while they will not fly from a camel or a buffalo, though these last are much greater in size. In the fourth stage man altogether transcends the limits of the animals and becomes capable, to some extent, of foreseeing and providing for the future. His movements at first may be compared to ordinary walking on land, then to traversing the sea in a ship, then, on the fourth plane, where he is conversant with realities, to walking on the sea, while beyond this plane there is a fifth, known to the prophets and saints, whose progress may be compared to flying through the air.

(1) Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost. Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say What was this forest savage, rough, and stern, Which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to treat, which there I found, Speak will I of the other things I saw there. I cannot well repeat how there I entered, So full was I of slumber at the moment In which I had abandoned the true way. But after I had reached a mountain's foot, At that point where the valley terminated, Which had with consternation pierced my heart, Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders, Vested already with that planet's rays Which leadeth others right by every road. Then was the fear a little quieted That in my heart's lake had endured throughout The night, which I had passed so piteously. And even as he, who, with distressful breath, Forth issued from the sea upon the shore, Turns to the water perilous and gazes;

(60) Therefore also is the terror or crack now so swelling and trembling; for it moveth the whole birth, and rubbeth itself therein, till it kindleth the fire in the hard fierceness, from whence the light taketh its original. Then the trembling crack becometh enlightened with the meekness of the light, and goeth in the birth or geniture up and down, and crossways, both upwards and downwards, like a wheel made with seven wheels one in another.

(59) But seeing it riseth up so swiftly, that the birth elevateth itself so suddenly, before it be fully affected with the water of life, thereupon that terror or crack keepeth its bitterness which it has out of or from the austere birth; for the beginning or inceptive birth or geniture is very austere, cold, fiery and astringent.

(11) Ignorant of the cause of life, ignorant of the purpose of life, ignorant of what lies beyond the mystery of death, yet possessing within himself the answer to it all, man is willing to sacrifice the beautiful, the true, and the good within and without upon the blood-stained altar of worldly ambition. The world of philosophy--that beautiful garden of thought wherein the sages dwell in the bond of fraternity--fades from view. In its place rises an empire of stone, steel, smoke, and hate-a world in which millions of creatures potentially human scurry to and fro in the desperate effort to exist and at the same time maintain the vast institution which they have erected and which, like some mighty, juggernaut, is rumbling inevitably towards an unknown end. In this physical empire, which man erects in the vain belief that he can outshine the kingdom of the celestials, everything is changed to stone, Fascinated by the glitter of gain, man gazes at the Medusa-like face of greed and stands petrified.

(1) That which follows in the next place, descends from a divine alienation of mind to an ecstasy of the reasoning power which leads it to a worse condition, and absurdly says, “ that the cause of divination is the mania which happens in diseases .” For, as we may conjecture, it assimilates enthusiasm to the redundancy of the black bile, to the aberrations of intoxication, and to the fury which happens from mad dogs. It is necessary, therefore, from the beginning, to divide ecstasy into two species, one of which leads to a worse condition of being, and fills us with stupidity and folly; but the other imparts goods which are more honourable than human temperance. One species also deviates to a disorderly, confused, and material motion; but the other gives itself to the cause which rules over the orderly distribution of things in the world. And the one, indeed, as being deprived of knowledge, wanders from wisdom; but the other conjoins with natures that transcend all our wisdom. The one, likewise, is unstable, but the other is immutable. The one is preternatural, but the other is above nature. The one draws down the soul, but the other elevates it. And the one entirely separates us from a divine allotment, but the other connects us with it.

(43) The Will now standing thus in the dark Anxiety, it rgets another Will to fly out of the Anxiety again, and to generate the Light; and this other Will is the Mind, out of which proceed the Senses [or Thoughts] not to continue in the Anxiety: And the Will [appears,] discovers itself in the Essences of the Sourness, as in the fierce Hardness of Death; and the Glimpse [or Glance] breaks through the Essences of the sour Hardness, as a swift [or sudden] Flash, and sharpens itself in the sour Hardness, that it becomes [pale, white, or] glimmering like a Flash of Fire, and in its sudden Flight breaks the sour Darkness; and there stands the Hardness, and the harsh Sourness of Death like a broken turning Wheel, which with the Flash of the Breaking flies swiftly as a Thought; as also then the re-conceived Will (which is the Mind) appears so very suddenly. And seeing it cannot fly forward out of the Essences, it must go into the turning Wheel, (for it cannot get from that Place,) and so it breaks the Darkness. And when the Darkness is thus broken, [then] the sharp Glance discovers itself in the pleasant Joy without [or beyond] the Darkness in the Sharpness of the Will, viz. in the Mind, and finds itself habitable therein, from whence the Flash (or Glance) is terrified, and flies up with strong Might through the broken Essences out of the Heart, and would go out at the Mouth, and raises itself far from the Heart, and yet is held by the sour [or harsh] Fiat, and it then makes itself a several Region (viz. the Tongue) wherein then stands the Shriek [or the Crack] of the broken Essences. And seeing then it reflects [or recoils] back again into the Heart, as into its first Dwelling-house, and finds itself so very habitable and pleasant, because the Gates of the Darkness are broken, then it kindles itself so highly in the loving Will, by Reason of the Meekness, and goes no more like a stern [or fierce] Flash through all Essences, but [it] goes trembling with great Joy; and the Might of the Joy is now many hundred Times stronger, than first the Flash [or Glance] was, which yielded [or discovered] itself through the sour harsh Essences of the Death, and goes with strong Might out of the Heart into the Head, in the Will [or Purpose] to possess the heavenly Region.

(25) "These experiences, when they have come to one, have left him in a new state of mind, and he has never been the same man afterward. Although the keenness of the recollection has worn off, there remains a certain memory which long afterward proves a source of comfort and strength to him, especially when he feels faint of faith and is shaken like a reed by the winds of conflicting opinions and speculations. The memory of such an experience is a source of renewed strength—a haven of refuge to which the weary soul flies for shelter from the outside world which understands it not. From the writings of the ancient philosophers of all races, from the songs of the great poets of all peoples, from the preachings of the prophets of all religions and times we can gather traces of this illumination which has come to them—this unfoldment of spiritual consciousness. One tells the story in one way, the other in other terms, but all tell practically the same essential story. All who have recognized this illumination, even in a faint degree, recognize the like experience in the tale, song, or preaching of another, though centuries may roll between them. It is the song of the Soul, which when once heard is never forgotten. Though it be sounded by the crude instruments of the semi-barbarous races, or the finished instruments of the talented musician of today, its strains are plainly recognized. From Old Egypt comes the song—from India of all ages—from Ancient Greece and Rome—from the early Christian saint—from the Quaker Friend—from the Catholic monasteries —from the Mohammedan Mosque—from the Chinese Philosopher—from the legends of the American Indian hero-prophet—it is always the same strain, and it is swelling louder and louder, as many more are taking it up and adding their voices or the sounds of their instruments to the grand chorus." The student must remember that in the experiences noted above, the individual simply has flashes, or period of dawning consciousness on this Sixth Plane of Consciousness, and is not to be regarded as having entered fully and completely into its manifestations, much less as having evolved into a state in which he functions normally and habitually on this high plane. There are beings—once men—who have evolved into the higher state in which they function normally and habitually on this plane of conscious being; but these individuals are no more than mere men, and have earned the right to be called "Demi-Gods." But, even as they once were men, so all men become as they now are by the unfoldment of this higher region of Self. These flashes of consciousness from this high plane are prophetic signs and messages indicating the awakening of the higher faculties, and giving assurance of further growth and unfoldment.

(2) And now begin the dolesome notes to grow Audible unto me; now am I come There where much lamentation strikes upon me. I came into a place mute of all light, Which bellows as the sea does in a tempest, If by opposing winds 't is combated. The infernal hurricane that never rests Hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine; Whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them. When they arrive before the precipice, There are the shrieks, the plaints, and the laments, There they blaspheme the puissance divine. I understood that unto such a torment The carnal malefactors were condemned, Who reason subjugate to appetite. And as the wings of starlings bear them on In the cold season in large band and full, So doth that blast the spirits maledict; It hither, thither, downward, upward, drives them; No hope doth comfort them for evermore, Not of repose, but even of lesser pain. And as the cranes go chanting forth their lays, Making in air a long line of themselves, So saw I coming, uttering lamentations,

(5) While I delighted me in contemplating The images of such humility, And dear to look on for their Maker's sake, "Behold, upon this side, but rare they make Their steps," the Poet murmured, "many people; These will direct us to the lofty stairs." Mine eyes, that in beholding were intent To see new things, of which they curious are, In turning round towards him were not slow. But still I wish not, Reader, thou shouldst swerve From thy good purposes, because thou hearest How God ordaineth that the debt be paid; Attend not to the fashion of the torment, Think of what follows; think that at the worst It cannot reach beyond the mighty sentence. "Master," began I, "that which I behold Moving towards us seems to me not persons, And what I know not, so in sight I waver." And he to me: "The grievous quality Of this their torment bows them so to earth, That my own eyes at first contended with it; But look there fixedly, and disentangle By sight what cometh underneath those stones; Already canst thou see how each is stricken."

(12) "Yet this is an absurd notion—for man, the heir of all the ages: hag ridden by the flimsy creatures of his own brain. If a pebble in our boots torments us, we expel it. We take off the boot and shake it out. And once the matter is fairly understood it is just as easy to expel an intruding and obnoxious thought from the mind. About this there ought to be no mistake, no two opinions. The thing is obvious, clear and unmistakable. It should be as easy to expel an obnoxious thought from the mind as it is to shake a stone out of your shoe; and till a man can do that it is just nonsense to talk about his ascendancy over Nature, and all the rest of it. He is a mere slave, and prey to the bat-winged phantoms that flit through the corridors of his own brain. Yet the weary and careworn faces that we meet by thousands; even among the affluent classes of civilization, testify only too clearly how seldom this mastery is obtained. How rare indeed to meet a man . How common rather to discover a creature hounded on by tyrant thoughts (or cares or desires), cowering, wincing under the lash—or perchance priding himself to run merrily in obedience to a driver that rattles the reins and persuades him that he is free—whom we cannot converse with in a careless tete-a-tete because that alien presence is always there, on the watch.

(39) And if we do not come to know [or have a Glimpse of] the Treader upon the Serpent in the Mark of the Partition, [or Limit of Separation,] in the Gate of the Deep, between the World and the Kingdom of Hell, then we see [indeed] nothing else but mere Misery and Death, which might well awaken us from Sleep.

(3) Dense clouds do not appear, nor rarefied, Nor coruscation, nor the daughter of Thaumas, That often upon earth her region shifts; No arid vapour any farther rises Than to the top of the three steps I spake of, Whereon the Vicar of Peter has his feet. Lower down perchance it trembles less or more, But, for the wind that in the earth is hidden I know not how, up here it never trembled. It trembles here, whenever any soul Feels itself pure, so that it soars, or moves To mount aloft, and such a cry attends it. Of purity the will alone gives proof, Which, being wholly free to change its convent, Takes by surprise the soul, and helps it fly. First it wills well; but the desire permits not, Which divine justice with the self-same will There was to sin, upon the torment sets. And I, who have been lying in this pain Five hundred years and more, but just now felt A free volition for a better seat. Therefore thou heardst the earthquake, and the pious Spirits along the mountain rendering praise Unto the Lord, that soon he speed them upwards."

(102) For when the heat is so anxious in the cold in the astringent quality, that the light kindleth itself through the hidden heaven of the heart in the corporeity, then the anxious death in the wrath of God is terrified, and departeth as a crack or flash from the light, and climbeth upwards very terribly, trembling, and timorously; and the light of the heart hasteneth after it, and affecteth or possesseth it, and then it remaineth at a standstill.

(2) For they are immediately formed by the accession of fumigations from exhaling vapours; but when the fumigation is mingled with, and diffused through, the whole air, then the idol is likewise immediately dissolved, and is not naturally adapted to remain for the smallest portion of time. Why, therefore, should the man who is a lover of truth, pay attention to these useless delusions? I, indeed, do not think them to be of any value. For if the makers of these images know that the fictions about which they are busily employed, are nothing more than the formations of passive matter, the evil arising from an attention to them will be simple. But in addition to this, these idol-makers are similar to the images in which they confide. And if they pay attention to these idols as if they were Gods, the absurdity will be so great, as neither to be effable by words, nor to be endured in deeds. For a certain divine splendour never illuminates a soul of this kind, because it is not adapted to be imparted to things which are entirely repugnant to it; neither have those things which are detained by dark phantasms a place for its reception. This delusive formation, therefore, of phantasms, will be conversant with shadows, which are very remote from the truth.

(2) The Minotaur beheld I do the like; And he, the wary, cried: "Run to the passage; While he wroth, 'tis well thou shouldst descend." Thus down we took our way o'er that discharge Of stones, which oftentimes did move themselves Beneath my feet, from the unwonted burden. Thoughtful I went; and he said: "Thou art thinking Perhaps upon this ruin, which is guarded By that brute anger which just now I quenched. Now will I have thee know, the other time I here descended to the nether Hell, This precipice had not yet fallen down. But truly, if I well discern, a little Before His coming who the mighty spoil Bore off from Dis, in the supernal circle, Upon all sides the deep and loathsome valley Trembled so, that I thought the Universe Was thrilled with love, by which there are who think The world ofttimes converted into chaos; And at that moment this primeval crag Both here and elsewhere made such overthrow. But fix thine eyes below; for draweth near The river of blood, within which boiling is Whoe'er by violence doth injure others."