EVERY MAN HIS OWN MAHATMA.
“The T.S. is the agency chosen by the Masters ... but They do not
directly guide, save where guidance is strenuously sought and
eagerly obeyed.”—“_Introduction to Theosophy_,” by ANNIE BESANT.
It was not surprising that the Vice-President, finding the Mahatma so
complaisant, should hasten to exploit him to the utmost. The resumption
of the broken communication could not fail to restore the confidence of
doubting disciples both in the society itself and in the favoured
_chela_, who could not only, Glendower-like, “call spirits from the
vasty deep,” but also, to the satisfaction of Theosophic Hotspurs, “make
them come.” Forthwith letters began to be showered about among such
persons as it was considered desirable to keep up to the mark, in which
the sentiments of William Q. Judge were endorsed by the Mahatma. Of
those two it might truly be said that “their unanimity was wonderful.”
[Sidenote: =THE “MASTERS WATCH US” MISSIVE.=]
One of the first recipients was Mr. Bertram Keightley, a gentleman whose
services to Theosophy have been of a material kind, and whose zeal has
been rewarded more than once by gratifying marks of approbation from
Tibet. In fact, his experience, like that of Countess Wachtmeister and
some other liberal friends of the society, suggests the formula: “Put a
donation in the slot and you will receive a revelation.” For the Mahatma
obligingly honours the bills of the society.
[Illustration:
COLONEL H. S. OLCOTT.
(From a photograph by Messrs. Elliott & Fry, Baker-street, W.)
]
Under date May 29, 1891, the Vice-President wrote to Mr. Keightley from
Avenue-road a Pauline epistle, in which he says:—
Fear not, Bert! Masters watch us, and since May 8 have sent word
here in writing.
Close beside the signature of “William Q. Judge” appeared in solemn
confirmation the M signature and seal impression—“precipitated,”
doubtless, during transit among Her Majesty’s mails. As the recipient
was at Adyar, Madras, and therefore, some thousands of miles nearer the
home of the Mahatmas than Mr. Judge, it will be seen to what roundabout
methods the Master was compelled in order to maintain his determination
to have his messages ushered into the world in some connexion or other
with the one favoured disciple.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: =THE “JUDGE IS THE FRIEND” MISSIVE.=]
Another recipient was important for other reasons than Mr. Keightley.
Babula, a low-caste Hindu, formerly Madame Blavatsky’s personal servant,
was at this time in a position of trust at the Theosophic quarters at
Adyar. Since then he has got into trouble with his employers, like
others of Madame’s former confidants. But in July, 1891, Babula was
still in authority at Adyar, and the vice-president thought it worth
while to convince him that he, Judge, was his friend. A letter, dated
some weeks later than Mr. Keightley’s, from Avenue-road, terminated with
the signature,
_Your friend_,
WILLIAM Q. JUDGE.
[Illustration]
Under the words “Your friend,” the ever-officious Mahatma has drawn a
line, at the end of which he has solemnly inscribed “YES,” and his
signature and seal. The seal is, as usual, impressed in black carbon;
the writing is in red pencil; and Judge’s signature is in ordinary ink.
Pity that the famous Mr. Codlin had not a Mahatma to back him thus
conveniently in his asseverations that “Codlin’s the friend, not Short.”
* * * * *
[Sidenote: =THE “MASTER AGREES” MISSIVE.=]
Parallel to this corroborative use of the Mahatma’s seal, though
belonging to a different period of the story, was the case of another
letter of Mr. Judge’s to a brother official, in which, after expressing
certain views, Mr. Judge used these words:—
I believe the Master agrees with me, in which case I will ask him to
put his seal here.
Plump on the written word came the seal. Inimitable Mahatma!
* * * * *
Mrs. Besant’s previous “communications,” as we have seen, did not come
through the post. But during that July Mr. Judge seems to have left Mrs.
Besant’s side for the express purpose of enabling his Mahatma to give
her an exhibition of his powers in this special line of “precipitation”
during postal transit.
July 21, 1891, was the date of one such performance; which included
signature and seal complete. I pass over this and some equally
commonplace missives, which Mrs. Besant received at various dates, all
equally under Mr. Judge’s auspices, in order to deal more fully with one
particular one in which she was favoured with a “test condition.”
For lo! on cutting the envelope open in the usual way, along the top
edge, Mrs. Besant observed a line or so of pencilling inside written
partly on the upper flap, partly on the under flaps, of the adhesive
part of the envelope.
[Sidenote: =THE “ENVELOPE TRICK” MISSIVE.=]
Here was proof indeed of powers occult! For this must obviously have
been written or “precipitated” _after the envelope was stuck up_: and
there it was _inside_! For a Mahatma, of course, it was as easy to
produce it so as in any other way. He might do it in mere artless
absence of mind.
Ingenuous Mrs. Besant! Unfortunately for the test, the feat is equally
easy for any commonplace mortal—though in his case it would hardly be
done quite artlessly. The trick was first shown me by a student of
“occultism”—a Theosophist, in fact. But it is a very old affair, and can
be found in any book of parlour magic. It might be called “Every Man his
own Mahatma.”
An envelope has four flaps. Three of these are stuck together in
manufacture, but with a much less adhesive sort of gum than that which
is put on the remaining flap to be stuck up by the user.
[Illustration] [Illustration]
ENVELOPE, INSIDE VIEW. OUTSIDE VIEW, SHOWING INSERTION.
It is generally quite easy to insert a penknife behind the bottom flap,
as in the accompanying cut, and so make entrance and exit for a slip of
paper. On this slip you write the words backwards, as they would appear
in a looking-glass, using a black pencil of the “copying” kind. You then
pass the slip in, push and shake it into the right position, press till
you feel sure the inside flaps have taken the impression, and then out
with your slip by the door it came in at. Moisten and fix the flap
again, and the “precipitation” is complete. A child can do it.
A Mahatma, of course, produces the result by mere psychic effort. But it
is a curious coincidence that M on this occasion abandoned his usual red
pencil for the black one which you or I would use if we were playing
just the trick described.
No doubt he felt that a more satisfactory test would have been wasted on
Mrs. Besant.
Others, however, were a little more exacting. The story enters here on a
less smooth course.