Isis Very Much Unveiled/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII
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.”
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.
Under date May 29, 1891, the Vice-President wrote to Mr.
COLONEL H. S. OLCOTT.
(From a photograph by Messrs. Elliott & Fry, Baker-street, W.)
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. ***** 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.
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.” ***** 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.
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.
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| 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.