In the first number of The Path was inserted a prophecy made from certain books in India called Nadigrandhams, respecting the Society.
This called forth from the N.Y. Sun, that model of journalism, a long tirade about the superficial knowledge which it claims pervades the Society on the subject of oriental philosophy. Unfortunately for the learned editorial writer in that paper, he never before heard of Nadigrandhams, which are almost as common in India as the Sun is here, nor does he appear to know what a Nadi may be, nor a Grandham, either.
But without trying to drag the daily press of this country into the path of oriental knowledge, we will proceed to record another prophecy or two.
The first will seem rather bold, but is placed far enough in the future to give it some value as a test. It is this:—The Sanskrit language will one day be again the language used by man upon this earth, first in science and in metaphysics, and later on in common life. Even in the lifetime of the Sun’s witty writer, he will see the terms now preserved in that noblest of languages creeping into the literature and the press of the day, cropping up in reviews, appearing in various books and treatises, until even such men as he will begin perhaps to feel that they all along had been ignorantly talking of “thought” when they meant “cerebration,” and of “philosophy” when they meant “philology,” and that they had been airing a superficial knowledge gained from cyclopædias of the mere lower powers of intellect, when in fact they were totally ignorant of what is really elementary knowledge. So this new language cannot be English, not even the English acquired by the reporter of daily papers who ascends fortuitously to the editorial rooms—but will be one which is scientific in all that makes a language, and has been enriched by ages of study of metaphysics and the true science.
The secondary prophecy is nearer our day, and may be interesting.—It is based upon cyclic changes. This is a period of such a change, and we refer to the columns of the N. Y. Sun of the time when the famous brilliant sunsets were chronicled and discussed not long ago for the same prognostication. No matter about dates; they are not to be given; but facts may be. This glorious country, free as it is, will not long be calm: Unrest is the word for this cycle. The people will rise. For what, who can tell? The statesman who can see for what the uprising will be might take measures to counteract. But all your measures can not turn back the iron will of fate. And even the City of New York will not be able to point its finger at Cincinnati and St. Louis. Let those whose ears can hear the whispers, and the noise of the gathering clouds, of the future, take notice; let them read, if they know how, the physiognomy of the United States, whereon the mighty hand of nature has traced the furrows to indicate the character of the moral storms that will pursue their course no matter what the legislation may be. But enough. Theosophists can go on unmoved, for they know that as Krishna said to Arjuna, these bodies are not the real man, and that “no one has ever been non-existent nor shall any of us ever cease to exist.”