MYSTIFICATION UNDER MRS. BESANT.
“I look to possible developments of her Theosophic views with the
very gravest misgiving.”—CHARLES BRADLAUGH, _National Reformer_,
June, 1889.
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”—HAMLET.
I have said that the Psychical Research Report put a stop to most of the
Theosophic miracles. But there were obvious reasons why the Mahatmas
should continue to “precipitate” letters, even when the scoffs of a
hard, cold world drove them to restrain their wonder-working
propensities in other respects. The business was so beautifully safe and
simple. It defied “tests.” The task of proving that a scribble in red
chalk on a scrap of paper found in a disciple’s pocket is not the
authentic handwriting of an inaccessible teacher, whose devotees have
doubtless the best reason for knowing that he can never be produced as a
witness—this is a task from which the boldest sceptic might well recoil.
But what of the actual process of “precipitation”? Alas, it appears to
be surrounded by disappointingly obscure conditions. It is not given to
see the scrap of psychically-manufactured notepaper glimmer into being
and become cream-laid out of nothing before one’s eyes, nor to watch the
mystic characters form themselves in lines along it like the writing on
Belshazzar’s wall. It is always the finished result that is discovered
ready-made, and this precisely resembles what is produced if you or I
write it in the ordinary way. The “precipitation,” in fact, is a deed of
darkness, and can only be done concealed from view, just as mediums are
wont to declare at a séance that the spirits are prevented from
manifesting themselves by the mere presence of a sceptical inquirer with
a box of wax vestas. Perhaps it is another side of the same retiring
instinct which impels the Mahatmas to live only in parts of the earth
not penetrated to by vulgar explorers. Theosophists sometimes speak as
if they had seen the actual precipitation; but cross-examine any
credible witness, and he will reluctantly admit that he has not. This is
a point to note and bear in mind.
The Mahatma missive only becomes a matter of difficulty when it has to
be made to drop from the ceiling into the recipient’s hands, or spirited
into a cupboard found one moment before to be as empty as Mother
Hubbard’s. Those were stirring days for Theosophic neophytes when that
kind of thing was a common incident. But, ichabod! that glory is
departed! Its departure precisely synchronised with that of the
nimble-fingered Coulombs. Their graceless avowal that both special plant
and skilful confederates were required for this kind of miracle may have
been a gross calumny on their employer; but the fact remains that with
the removal of the panel-backed Shrine at Adyar and the dismissal of its
custodians, the Masters abruptly ceased to resort to these more
surprising methods of aërial post.
Occasionally they would make the assurance of the faithful doubly sure
by artlessly “precipitating” the message inside a sealed envelope (a
species of “test” of which more anon); but for the most part they were
content to endorse letters passing through the ordinary post or
discovered by the recipient in his blotting-pad under circumstances
equally consistent with a commonplace human agency.
Such was the state of things till Madame Blavatsky’s death.
But then came the rub. What the Psychical Research Committee held to be
proven was that Madame had written practically the whole body of these
documents with her own hand. What, then, if after her decease in May,
1891, the same missives continued to be received?
Before the controversy which sprang up again over her ashes had well
died down, the public was asked to believe that this was indeed the
case, on the word of a woman whom it believed incapable of making a
statement of the kind without having first proved it to the uttermost
and found it true.
Speaking in the Hall of Science on August 30, 1891, three months after
Madame Blavatsky’s death, Mrs. Besant said:—
“You have known me in this hall for sixteen and a half years. You have
never known me tell a lie. (‘No, never,’ and loud cheers.) I tell you
that since Madame Blavatsky left I have had letters in the same
handwriting as the letters which she received. (Sensation.) Unless you
think dead persons can write, surely that is a remarkable fact. You are
surprised; I do not ask you to believe me; but I tell you it is so. All
the evidence I had of the existence of Madame Blavatsky’s teachers of
the so-called abnormal powers came through her. It is not so now. Unless
even sense can at the same time deceive me, unless a person can at the
same time be sane and insane, I have exactly the same certainty for the
truth of the statements I have made as I know that you are here. I
refuse to be false to the knowledge of my intellect and the perceptions
of my reasoning faculties.”
It is no wonder that the reporter had to interpolate the word
“Sensation.” The audience was one rather of Freethinkers than of
Theosophists; the hall itself was identified with previous rhetorical
successes of Mrs. Besant as the prophetess of Materialism. The thing was
dramatically done, and was well calculated to impress on the outside
public the fact that the personal reputation of Mrs. Besant for
intelligence and honesty was now pledged to the genuineness of
Theosophical wonder-working. In an interview in the _Pall Mall Gazette_
of September 1, 1891, Mrs. Besant carried her statement still further,
and pledged herself definitely to “precipitation”:—
“‘These letters are from a Mahatma whose pupil you are?’
“Mrs. Besant nodded assent.
“‘Did they just come through the post?’ our representative asked.
“But here he had hit the mystery.
“‘No, I did not receive the letters through the post,’ the lady replied.
‘They did come in what some would call a miraculous fashion, though to
us Theosophists it is perfectly natural. The letters I receive from the
Mahatmas are “precipitated.”’
“‘How “precipitated”?’ ...
“Mrs. Besant was quite ready to explain.
“‘Well,’ she said, ‘you can hear voices by means of the telephone, and
receive a telegram which is actually written by the needle, not merely
indicated by its ticks. The Mahatmas go a step further. With their great
knowledge of natural laws they are able to communicate with us without
using any apparatus at all.’
“‘But can you give me any details of the precipitation?’
“‘No; the Mahatmas only communicate with pupils who will not unwisely
divulge anything. You can easily imagine the reason why this knowledge
should be kept so secret. Were it possessed by a criminal it might be
put to dreadful purposes.’ ...
“Mrs. Besant repeated that she had made her startling statement in the
lecture deliberately, adding that there were many persons who knew her
and would accept her statements as true, but who might not believe in
Madame Blavatsky, because, Mrs. Besant was careful to add, they had not
enjoyed the advantage of knowing that lady.”
* * * * *
Mrs. Besant did not overrate the extent of her public credit. She _was_
implicitly believed by many who would not have troubled their heads at
all over an assertion of Madame Blavatsky’s. A “boom” was the immediate
result—the second big boom in the society’s history. Mrs. Besant had the
satisfaction of seeing her statement honoured with a salvo of leading
articles. “Can it be,” the _Daily Chronicle_ exclaimed, “that there are
things in heaven and earth which philosophy and science have not yet
dreamed of?”—(_Daily Chronicle_, August 31.) And it opened its columns
to a flood of correspondence on Theosophy and things occult. Day after
day a crop of letters attested the public appetite for the marvellous.
The Theosophical Society has a sort of Press department, the business of
which is to get up sham fights in newspapers in order to advertise the
society; and whenever the excitement seemed to flag some member or other
contributed a screed which revived it. The time was well chosen. It was
the “silly season,” and under cover of Mrs. Besant more cautious papers
than the _Chronicle_ were glad to let the Mahatma divide attention with
the sea-serpent and the giant gooseberry. The Theosophical Society
reaped a fine harvest; though some complaints were heard that the new
inquirers after truth addressed themselves more to the marvels which had
attracted them than to the philosophisings to which Mrs. Besant had
designed the marvels as a bait. However, if their interest was tepid on
this side of Theosophy, their curiosity on the other side achieved small
gratification. In Mrs. Besant’s words, “The Mahatmas only communicate
with pupils who will not unduly divulge anything.”
But, as we have seen, what Mrs. Besant did divulge was enough to convey
to the public certain definite impressions: to wit, that she had
received letters in a certain handwriting, which did not come through
the post, but “in what some would call a miraculous fashion,” and that
these letters were, in fact, “precipitated” by the Mahatmas out of thin
air. Also that she had satisfied herself of the above propositions by
evidential processes as certain as the assurance of her own “sense” and
“reasoning faculty” that her audience were before her as she spoke.
And now let us see what were the facts on the strength of which Mrs.
Besant made these astonishing statements. So far, I have been occupied
necessarily with putting on record matters of history open to any
careful student of the subject. From this point I shall be dealing with
a side of Isis which up to this moment has been kept closely veiled
indeed.