“‘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.
CHAPTER VI.
ENTER THE MAHATMA.
“Answer the question I’ve put you so oft.... Give us a colloquy, something to quote. Make the world prick up its ear!”—Master Hugues, of Saxegotha.
“Thus has a Master spoken, and ... the word of a guardian of the Esoteric Philosophy is authoritative.”—“Introduction to Theosophy,” by Annie Besant.