NO MAHATMAS, NO MEMBERS!
“If there are no Mahatmas the Theosophical Society is an absurdity,
and there is no use in keeping it up.”—MRS. BESANT, in _Lucifer_,
December 15, 1890.
Before going any further I wish to emphasise one point. This society, as
such, must stand or fall with its “Mahatmas.” It should be realised how
consistent, in one sense, this miracle-mongering side of the
Theosophical movement has been throughout the society’s history; what an
important part it has played and continues to play in attracting popular
interest; and how closely, along one of the versatile thaumaturgist’s
many lines, Madame Blavatsky has been followed by her present-day
imitator. I say this in justice to the latter, who, I think, may fairly
complain of the unkind criticisms passed on his Mahatma-missives by
colleagues who still cherish those produced under the auspices of Madame
Blavatsky.
It is true that the society does not officially vouch for Mahatmas. It
is careful not to demand belief in them as a condition of membership;
and the shrewder members are put into a panic by anything which tends to
compromise its boasted “neutrality” on this tender subject. But we shall
soon see what this “neutrality” is worth.
Madame Blavatsky taught that “the Masters” are certain sages, several
hundred years old or so, who by steeping themselves in the immemorial
lore of the East have attained powers transcending time, space, and the
other puny limits of Western science. By profound solitary meditation on
Things in General, these old gentlemen have arrived at a sort of Fourth
Dimension, in which a Soul and a Saucer come to very much the same
thing. Their residence was shrouded in a judicious mystery, which Madame
declared herself under a solemn oath to preserve. She at first located
them in the recesses of the Himalayas; but one of her most zealous
disciples lately stated in the _Daily Chronicle_ that “the two principal
Mahatmas now reside in an oasis of the Desert of Gobi.” At any rate,
these “adepts” prefer a sequestered spot, and remain occult in the
strictest sense of the word.
But on some points Madame was unequivocal about them. She declared that
she had sat at the feet of one of them as his _chela_ (pupil); that the
Theosophical Society was founded under his distinct inspiration; and
that he and his brothers continued to intervene in its affairs. The
original draft of the Society’s constitution, in fact, like a more
authentic Veda straight from heaven, had been “precipitated” in New York
by an exertion of the Masters’ psychic force from Tibet. Hesitating
converts and dubious subscribers were determined by the same form of
interposition; and somebody or other has taken steps, at all times of
the society’s history, to ensure that the more faithful of the
“_chelas_” should be comforted and encouraged as need arose, by missives
from their invisible “_guru_.” (A good, imposing word, “guru.” Do you
remember the terrible old man by the road in “David Copperfield,” who
scared David almost out of his wits by running out on him, and shouting
“Guroo, guroo, guroo”?) Mrs. Besant herself has admitted that Theosophy
is to be regarded in the light of a “revelation” from these exalted
beings, as well as in that of a science or philosophy which can be
arrived at by more ordinary means.
In a word, Theosophy without Mahatmas would be “Hamlet” without the
Prince of Denmark. “Isis Unveiled” and “The Secret Doctrine” are works
which few would be found to wade through if their verbose pages were not
lightened by associations of that White Magic which lends a creepy
interest even to such avowed works of fiction as “Zanoni” and “Mr.
Isaacs.” With belief in the Mahatmas must go any believing of “H.P.B.,”
who swore to them; and with “H.P.B.” and her authorities must go those
two volumes of solemn farrago, which remain the society’s only
contribution to philosophical knowledge. For all that is new in them, if
there _is_ anything new except the blunders, is explicitly given on the
authority of “the Masters.”
The published “Objects” of the society run thus:—
(1) To form the nucleus of a Universal Brotherhood of Humanity
without distinction of race, creed, sex, caste, or colour.
(2) To promote the study of Aryan and other Eastern literatures,
religions, and sciences.
(3) A third object—pursued by a portion only of the members of the
Society—is to investigate unexplained laws of nature and the
psychical powers of man.
It will thus be seen that the “phenomenal” side of the society’s
activities has all along had a place, though guardedly, even in its
published Objects. In point of fact, as I have elsewhere insisted, this
third Object is the only one in pursuit of which the society has any
substantial achievement to point to. As to the first Object, my
narrative will presently suggest the same sort of remark on the
brotherliness of the Universal Brothers as has sometimes been made by
scoffers on the sociability of Socialists. As to the second Object, it
is observed that there are people who study Oriental literatures, and
there are people who belong to the Theosophical Society; but they are
not the same people. Professor Max Müller has edited the only series of
English translations of the Sacred Books of the East with which I am
acquainted, and Professor Max Müller lately published some University
lectures under the title of Theosophy. But his preface explained that he
did so in order to rescue that respectable and ancient philosophical
term from the associations of sciolism and miracle-mongering with which
the Theosophical Society have linked it in the public mind. In point of
fact, there is no reason to believe that any member of the society in
Europe could pass an examination in any Oriental language whatever. The
third Object, on the other hand, has led to some real achievements. The
society has not, perhaps, done much in the “investigation” line itself;
but members of it have certainly supplied the most astonishing
“unexplained laws of nature” and “psychical powers” for investigation by
other people. It is this which has given it its success, its growth, its
world-wide notoriety. It is this which first attracted and convinced its
best-known converts, and it is this which has created the successive
“booms” (as they would be called in a more purely commercial connexion)
which have produced the biggest crops of entrance subscriptions from the
wonder-loving public. I lay stress on this because the Theosophists have
shown a good deal of inconstancy in their treatment of the third Object.
They have always worked a given marvel for all it was worth until it got
somehow blown upon; then they turn round and remark that mere material
phenomena are, after all, of no great importance: the thing is the study
of those great spiritual ideas which, &c., &c. In fact, they want to
have it both ways. Mr. Sinnett, however, whose “Occult World” remains
the classic description of Madame Blavatsky as a wonder-worker,
confesses candidly in a memorial sketch of her which appeared in the
_Review of Reviews_ how much stress she herself laid on such things, as
long as she could get anyone to believe in them:—
One could no more write a memoir on trigonometry and say nothing
about triangles, than survey the strange career just concluded and
ignore the marvels coruscating through it. And at this early period
of her enterprise [he means, before the Psychical Research exposure]
she seems to have depended more on the startling effect of
surprising powers she was enabled to exhibit than on the
philosophical teaching ... which became the burden of her later
utterances.
Just so. It is easy to hold your miracles cheap—after they have been
found out. Madame Blavatsky fell back on Object Two—when Object Three
was discredited. But the taste for such things, even when it is _de
rigueur_ to describe them as “occult applications of strictly natural
laws,” is apt to grow upon any religious sect which once dabbles in
them. Mrs. Besant, too, in due course fell a victim to the temptation to
make capital out of the marvellous; and my readers will now be prepared
to put their proper value on the deprecating expressions in this
connexion which now, on the inevitable turn of the wheel, once more
begin to be heard, and which will be redoubled, no doubt, when this
narrative is fully before the public.