The Sword of Song

APPENDIX I 76 XII. “At the hour of the great Initiation,” continued the Buddha, in the midst of the Five Hundred Thousand Arahats, “the wicked Jehjaour had joined himself with Mara to prevent the discovery of the truth. And in Mara’s fall he fell. At that m oment all the currents of his continued and concen- trated Hate recoiled upon him and he fell into the Abyss of Being. And in the Halls of Birth he was cast out into the Lowest H ell— he becam e a clergy man of the Church of England, further than he had ever been before from Truth and Light and P eace and Love; deeper and deeper enmeshed in the net of Circumstance, bogged in the mire of Tanha1 and Avigga2 and all things base and vile. False Vichi-Kichi 3 had caught him at last ! XIII. “Aye! The hour was at hand. Perdu R Abu was reincarnated as a child of Western parents, ignorant of all his wonderful past. But a strange fate has brought him to this village.” The Buddha paused, probalby for effect. A young man there, sole among them not yet an Arahat, turned pale. He alone was of Western birth in all that multitude. “Brother Abhavananda, 4 little friend,” said the Buddha, “what can we predicate of all existin things? ” “ Lord!” replied the neophyte, “they are unstable, every thing is sorrow, in them is no inward Principle, as some pretend, that can avoid, that can hold itself aloof from, the forces of decay.” “And how do y ou know that, little Brother?” smiled the Thrice-Honoured One. “Lord, I perceive this Truth wheneverI 1 Thirst: i.e. desire in its evil sense. 2 Ignorance. 3 Doubt. 4 “Bliss-of-non-existence.” One of Crowley’s eastern names. consider the Universe. More, its consciousness seems ingrained in my very nature, perhaps through my having known this for many incarnations. I have never thought otherwise.” ”Rise, Sir Abhavananda, I dub thee Arahat!” cried the Buddha, striking the neophyte ently on the back with the flat of his ear.1 And he perceived. When the applause and praise and glory had a little faded, the Buddha, in that golden delight of sunset, explained these marvellous events. “Thou, Abhavananda,” he said, “art the Perdu’ R Abu of my lengthy tale. The wicked Jehjaour has got something linger- ing with boiling oil in it, while waiting for his clerical clothes : while, as for me, I myself was the Bacillus in the forest of Lanka : I was the old Lady : I was (he shuddered) the British Governm ent : I was the mosquito that buzzed in the girl’s flute : I was Bhavani : I was Huxlananda S wami ; and at the last, at this blessed hour, I am— that I am.” “But, Lord,” said the Five Hundred Thousand and One Arahats in a breath, “thou art then guilty of six violent deaths ! Nay, thou hast hounded one soul from death to death through all these incarnations ! What of this First Precept2 of yours ?” “Children,” ans wered the Glorious One, “do not be so foolish as to think that death is necessarily an evil. I have not com e to found a Hundred Years Club, and to i nclude mosquitoes in the m embership. In this case to have kept Perdu’ R Abu alive was to h ave played into the hands of his enemies. My First Precept is m erely a general rule. 3 In 1 The Buddha had such long ear s that he could cover the whole of his f ace with them . Ears are referred to Spirit in Hindu sy mbolism, so that the legend means he could conceal the lower elements and dwell in this alone. 2 Here is the little rift within the lute which alienated Crowley f rom a ctive w ork o n Buddhist lines; the orthodox failing to see his attitude. 3 A more likely idea that the brilliantly logical nonsense of “Pansil,” supra.