Isis Very Much Unveiled/Chapter 2
CHAPTER II.
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.