OUSPENSKY'S GROUP MEETING to which we had been invited at the house
in Warwick Gardens was timed for 8 p.m. We arrived, my wife and I, about 7.45. In the hall a woman sat at a table with a list of names, she took ours and we went into a room filled vdth rows of chairs which soon began to fill up. The atmosphere was rather tense; there was a feeling of expectancy and I had to remember myself with all my might to keep my emanations to myself and not let them run to waste; Gurdjieff said that emanations which mechanically flow out from people stink, but that if one keeps them to oneself they will accumulate, not pass from one, and will crystallize. The energy that passes from people— the emotions of a crowd at a football match or a revivaUst or a poHti- cal meeting, goes to the moon. But a man can collect energy from a crowd, as a dynamo collects electricity from the atmosphere. I found that I was able to, so to say, collect some of the energy from the group and keep my own from rtinning to waste.
Soon every seat was occupied and people began to glance round every time the door opened. It was with a feeling of reUef when, half an hour later, one of Ouspensky's older pupils, a man, came in and sat at the right of Ouspensky's chair and asked for questions, which were taken down by a woman secretary. Sometimes this man would answer the questions himself, others he let pass, which were later answered by Ouspensky. In about fifteen minutes Ouspensky came in, followed by four prosperous-looking professional-looking well-dressed men, older pupils, who sat round him facing us. Ouspensky took up the Hst of names of those present and scanned it, then sat back and, with rather a severe expression glanced round the room and said, 'Well, any questions?'
Ouspensky's Group
Then followed other questions from the audience; their whole atten- tion being on Ouspensky. As the evening went on I became more and more impressed with the breadth and clarity of his massive and power- ful mind—so far as knowledge was concerned.
Soon after the questions began I glanced at my wife and we both smiled broadly; the questions were almost identical with those asked in Orage's early groups in New York; though, while those were spoken with a broad American accent 'as if mouth were full of cold potato' according to Gurdjieff, and answered by an Englishman, here they were asked in what Americans call 'a cHpped EngHsh accent', 'as if mouth were full of hot potato', and answered by a Russian. And the answers, if not exactly the same, were strikingly similar.
Pondering this I saw why questions, at least in young groups every- where, must follow a pattern; each will ask questions according to his type. If you understand types you will know what questions they will ask even before they open their mouths. Gurdjieff imderstood types, hence his extraordinary, almost magical, power of seeing into the human psyche. The science of types has been known to real initiates from the earliest times. Attar's Conference of the Birds written in the twelfth century, is partly based on this. Since all men everywhere have the same basic emotions all men have the same sort of feelings— including vanity and self-love; but, as the reason of ordinary man is abnormal and belongs to the reason of knowledge, all men think differently. Only those who possess the reason of understanding can think in common.
Ouspensky's replies to questions, the general atmosphere, stimtilated Eoe. My lazy inefficient mind needed this kind of work at this time. I can say now that the important thing I got from Ouspensky's meetings and talks with him was the further training of my mind to formulate my thoughts and feelings.
The meeting ended about ten-thirty. The audience, mostly young and young middle-aged men and women, were asked not to loiter outside. There was Httle talking and evetyone went his way.
Though we still had a small group of our own of people I had got together in 1932 and which Jane Heap was now directing, I felt the need of Ouspensky's groups and the contact widi the Ouspenskys. But from the first I noticed a difference between Gurdjieff's and Orage's pupils on the one hand and Ouspensky's on the other. In the Ouspensky group it was as if one were associated with a Russian secret society— the hush-hush and the precautions; pupils were constandy on the watch
Ouspensks Group
as to whom they spoke and what they said; as if the police might be expected at any time. I missed the emotional freedom and mutual ex- change of Gurdjieff's and Orage's pupils.
The secretiveness had very Httle to do with what they called the 'work'. It was Russian. Anyone who has Hved in Russia, or read the memoirs of those who visited Russia, wiU understand. Even in the eighteenth century, travellers from France and England who wished to talk privately would go to the centre of a large square in Petersburg or Moscow to walk up and down, so as not to be overheard and be reported to the police. One could understand this with regard to the Ouspenskys. They were Russian; and one of Ouspensky's sisters, a brilliant young woman, had been exiled to Siberia by the Tzsar's government for 'revolutionary activities' and had died there. Another cause was the real difficulties that Gurdjieffhad created for Ouspensky in 1922, specially created, according to F. S. Pinder, for Ouspensky's possible inner development. Gurdjieff wished Ouspensky to apply ihe teaching practically but Ouspensky either would not or could not submit to the severe discipline that would have been necessary. He admitted to Pinder that he was physically and emotionally lazy. So he continued with his philosophical school; and became a sort of Plato to Gurdjieff's Socrates, teaching the theory, the philosophy.
Shortly after they moved to Lyne Place, Ouspensky showed me round the grounds, pointing out the work the pupils were doing. Later, in his study, he asked me to come down and work with them. I said I would have to think about it. I did think about it, and was greatly tempted. It would be pleasant to work with these people, whom I liked; yet I saw that I could be in a false position. My contact with them would be only personality contact, since I would not be able to speak to them from essence about the ideas, essence for me being Gurdjieff and his writings. So, although he several times brought up the question it came to nothing.
As far as I could see no real tasks were given in physical work as at the Prieure and no exercises apart from one or two very simple ones. There were no 'shocks' as Gurdjieff used to give; and it could not have been otherwise. It was a well-run philosophical school, unique in our time perhaps, with nearly a thousand pupils; and no breath of scandal ever touched it. Sometimes I wished that Gurdjieff could come and throw an essence bomb and wake these nice people into life; yet how much poorer their existence would have been vwthout the life at Lyne Place
Ouspensky's Group
Meanwhile conversations with the Ouspenskys continued—they lasted, in fact, until the war. Ouspensky would invite me to his study and open a bottle of wine, and after three glasses, as Gurdjieff had recommended, I was able to open up and talk freely. Gradually the jjlring for him warmed into a r e i affection, for here I saw quite another side of him; not die somewhat forbidding philosopher, but a warm and sympathetic man.
I made no notes, as our talks were reaUy an exchange of subjective opinions. He spoke about his life in Russia and the result of some strange experiments he had made. "We compared notes about our travels and, of course, talked a great deal about Gurdjieff.
Ouspensky said, 'I tried many times to come to an understanding with Gurdjieff, but it was not possible, and when he came to London and tried to break up my group I had to sever my connection with him.'
It was not possible to come to an 'understanding' with Gurdjieff. You either accepted him as a teacher or you did not. And when you had absorbed as much as you could carry you went away and digested it.
'As for liquidating your group,' I said, 'he did just that to Orage in New York in Orage's last year there.' And I related the incident. 'Gurdjieff's methods were drastic,' I said, 'but as we are so sunk in apathy, so mechanical, he had to give us violent shocks.'
As always, Ouspensky listened to me patiently and even widi in- terest, but I felt that nothing I could say would change his attitude in the least.
A year later, during a conversation, Ouspensky said, 'It is necessary that we get in touch with an esoteric school'
'Do you know of an esoteric school?' I asked.
'No, but there must be schools, either in Europe or the Near East.' 'But why is it necessary? "We have a school.'
'Where?'
"The Prieure was an esoteric school. Gurdjieff himself is, so to speak, an esoteric school.'
'No, I cannot accept that. It is necessary, as I say, to get in touch with an esoteric school.'
He went on to say something about there being a missing hnk, which I then could not follow.
'For me,' I said, 'the esoteric school is in Paris. I feel no need to look for another, nor have I s a j wish to do so while Gurdjieff is
Ouspensky's Group
Onspensky said nothing. We sat quietly smoking, then he said,'Why won't you come and work at Lyne?'
For one thing,' I said, 1 find it almost impossible to make any real contaa with your pupils. They are friendly, but there is always a barrier. You kiow, they seem to be more English than the Enghsh in not wishing to give themselves away; there is a feeling of restraint about them. In other words, I like their personalities but I can't get at their essence. All that I have got in the system is based on Gurdjieff's personal teaching and Beelzebub's Tales, and these I have agreed not to speak about.'
He smiled and said, 'But you will get to know them in time.' I thought for a bit and said, 'Why don't you let me read Beelzebub's
Tales to a small group of your older pupib, either here or in London?
This is something I could do. No discussion, just reading.' 'No, it is not possible.'
'Why?'
'For one thing Beelzebub's Tales needs a great deal of mental prepara- tion.'
'Not mental preparation,' I said, 'but an ability to read between the lines, and patience and perseverance. Many simple people can take it, though intellectuals are frequently baffled, they can't fit it into any category or school of psychology or philosophy.'
'No,' he said, 'I can't agree to your reading it to them nor to their reading it.'
'But you read it. You have a copy!' 'No, I've glanced at it, but not read it.' 'You haven't read it? Why?'
'It sticks in my throat.'
From sheer astonishment I could say nothing, and he began to talk of something else.
Some time later he gave me a typescript to read, saying that he was writing down all that he could remember of what GurdjiefFhad said to him. When he asked my opinion of it I said that it was wonderful stuff; it was in a different vein from Tertium Organum, and A New
Model of the Universe, much higher in the scale of ideas; it was a ver-
batim report of Gurdjieff's talks.
'But you will surely publish this?' I asked. 'Apart from Beelzebub's
Tales and the Second Series, it's the most interesting collection of
Gurdjieff's sayings and doings that could possibly be got together.' 'I may publish it—but not if Gurdjieff publishes Beelzebub's Tales.
Ouspensky's Group
To my question 'Why?' he did not answer. It was eventually pub- lished, after GvurdjiefF's death—Fragments of an Unknown Teaching, which the American pubUshers stupidly dubbed In Search of the Miracu-
lous.
I enjoyed talking to Madame Ouspensky—she was always stimula- ting, but I never felt close to her as I <Hd to Ouspensky. She was always jhe Grand Duchess, keeping you at a distance, and I never felt the !#armth that Ouspensky, in his mellow moods, radiated. But then, I've always found it more stimulating to discuss ideas with men than with women.
Some time after meeting Ouspensky I was in Paris with GurdjiefFand at lunch told him about my contact with him and about our going to his group. He listened, and made an unflattering remark about Ouspensky. 'Mr. GurdjiefF,' I said, 'I like Ouspensky and I enjoy talking to him.'
'Oh yes, Ouspensky very nice man to talk to and drink vodka with, but he is weak man.'
A day or so later, he called me into his store-room. This store-room, which later became famous, was overflowing with every kind of delicious food from every part of Europe and the Near East—fruits, dried meat, cold sausages and salami, sweets, preserved and canned food, and herbs. The room was permeated with the smell of lovage, one of my favourite herbs; and even now, when I go into my garden and smell the lovage, by association I am back in the store-room. There was a large refrigerator, a small table, and a chair for GurdjiefFand one for a visitor. GurdjiefF produced three large boxes which he filled with twenty different delicious things to eat—sweets, sausage, preserves and so on. 'Now,' he said, 'tie them up and take them with you. One is for your family, one for Mrs. Howarth and her daughter, one for Madame Ouspensky.' They weighed about ten pounds each.
' On the way back to London I pondered what Gurdjieff had meant ,by Ouspensky's being a weak man. Every one'of us on this planet has '.his weahiesses, his vanity and self-love, his dark side and his light side,
bis possibihties and impossibilities, and every man has his suffering. Biake knew it:
I wander thro' each charter'd street. Near where the charter'd Thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet ^ Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
Ouspensky's Group
In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban. The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.
What was Ouspensky's weakness? Where was it? As I reflected I gradually came to see that it was, as with most of us, in his emotional centre. All of us (including, perhaps especially, intellectuals, like Shaw and Bertrand Russell) are undeveloped emotionally. One notices it particularly with intellectuals, since one expects them to be adult emotionally—^which they are not.
Both Orage and Ouspensky had extraordinary and unusual in- tellectual integrity, and one could rely on this. But I had come to see that emotionally, I could trust no one and nothing, least of all myself. Our feelings can change from week to week, day to day, and even hour to hour.
Ouspensky's attitude to Gurdjieff was chiefly emotional, hence partial and subjective; but his approach to Gurdjieff's system was in- tellectual and impartial—it had integrity. Orage also had intellectual integrity; yet he always accepted Gurdjieff as the Teacher.
On the mental plane, as regards Ouspensky, I sometimes felt like the mouse when the elephant looked at him and said, 'But you're so small.' And the mouse rephed, 'Well, I've been sick!' But emotionally I never felt inferior to Ouspensky. I was discussing the centres with him one day and said, 'My horse is too strong for me; it so often takes the bit between its teeth and gallops off, landing me in difficult situations. I lose control of it, and often have to pay heavily for this. My feelings— you know—the carriage, the horse and the driver. My f e ^ g centre is too strong.'
He said, 'A strong feeling centre is a gift of God.'
I said, 'One can have a strong feeling centre yet be conscious of a weakness in the solar plexus.'
One was always aware of the great strength of Gurdjieff in the region of his solar plexus—the region of essence, of 'I-am-ness', of will, of being.
In my own way, because of the efforts I had made I had become aware of a growing strength in the solar plexus, an 'I-am-ness', so that I was better able to cope with myself and other people.
When I arrived from Paris with the parcels from Gurdjieff I wrote to Madame Ouspensky and received an invitation to Lyne. She gave
Ouspensky's Group
me tea in her own beautifully furnished room. In vain she tried, to conceal her delight when I opened the parcel for her. Then slowly she unpacked it, savouring each item, sorting them into three heaps. 'This,' she said, is for Mr. Ouspensky, this for my helpers, and this for my- self.'
After tea she asked me about GurdjiefF; how was he? What was he doing? What did he say? I gave her the picture in detail as far as I could.
On my next visit to GurdjiefF I told him what had happened, and on each of my visits to Paris I took back three boxes. Each time I took one to Lyne and with Madame went through the ritual of un- packing; afterwards I related in detail what GurdjiefF had said and done.
When they moved to Lyne Place I had suggested to Ouspensky that he should let Mrs. Howarth and my wife teach his pupils some of the dances that GurdjiefF had shown in the demonstrations. He agreed to consider it. Some of the pupils came to our flat in Hampstead and were shown the obligatories, and eventually classes were formed at Lyne Place. Much later, there was a big 'do' at Lyne at which some of the movements were shown. I very much wanted to go and was somewhat chagrined to be told that it was not possible. Madame had decided to punish me, I gathered, because I would not take an active part in their work.
Ouspensky again asked me to join in the work at Lyne Place. There were various activities and he suggested that I should run a small j^fintii^ press they had, which, being a publisher, was in my line. Apart from my not feeling 'at home' there, it was physically difficult as it was a long way from our cottage on the farm near Redboume, to