3. Change of weight in furniture and persons at will.
4. Letters from unknown correspondents, and immediate answers written to queries made, and found in the most out-of-the-way mysterious places.
5. Appearance of objects unclaimed by anyone present.
6. Sounds of musical notes in the air wherever Madame Blavatsky desired they should resound.
In the year 1858, the High Priestess was at the house of General Yakontoff at Pskoff, Russia. One night when the drawing-room was full of visitors, she began to describe the mediumistic feat of making light objects heavy and heavy objects light.
“Can you perform such a miracle?” ironically asked her brother, Leonide de Hahn, who always doubted his sister’s occult powers.
“I can,” was the firm reply.
De Hahn went to a small chess table, lifted it as though it were a feather, and said: “Suppose you try your powers on this.”
“With pleasure!” replied Mme. Blavatsky. “Place the table on the floor, and step aside for a minute.” He complied with her request.
She fixed her large blue eyes intently upon the chess table and said without removing her gaze, “Lift it now.”
The young man exerted all his strength, but the table would not budge an inch. Another guest tried with the same result, but the wood only cracked, yielding to no effort.
FIG. 34—MAHATMA LETTER ENVELOPE.
“Now, lift it,” said Madame Blavatsky calmly, whereupon De Hahn picked it up with the greatest ease. Loud applause greeted this extraordinary feat, and the skeptical brother, so say the occultists, was utterly nonplussed.
Madame Blavatsky, as recorded by Sinnett, stated afterwards that the above phenomenon could be produced in two different ways: “First, through the exercise of her own will directing the magnetic currents so that the pressure on the table became such that no physical force could move it; second, through the action of those beings with whom she was in constant communication, and who, although unseen, were able to hold the table against all opposition.”
The writer has seen similar feats performed by hypnotizers with good subjects without the intervention of any ghostly intelligences.
In 1870 the Priestess of Isis journeyed through Egypt in company with a certain Countess K—, and endeavored to form a Spiritualistic society at Cairo, for the investigation of psychic phenomena, but things growing unpleasant for her she left the land of pyramids and papyri in hot haste. It is related of her that during this Egyptian sojourn she spent one night in the King’s sepulchre in the bowels of the Great Pyramid of Cheops, sleeping in the very sarcophagus where once reposed the mummy of a Pharoah. Weird sights were seen by the entranced occultist and strange sounds were heard on that eventful occasion within the shadowy mortuary chamber of the pyramid. At times she would let fall mysterious hints of what she saw that night, but they were as incomprehensible as the riddles of the fabled Sphinx.
Countess Paschkoff chronicles a curious story about the Priestess of Isis, which reminds one somewhat of the last chapter in Bulwer’s occult novel, “A Strange Story.” The Countess relates that she was once travelling between Baalbec and the river Orontes, and in the desert came across the caravan belonging to Madame Blavatsky. They joined company and towards nightfall pitched camp near the village of El Marsum amid some ancient ruins. Among the relics of a Pagan civilization stood a great monument covered with outlandish hieroglyphics. The Countess was curious to decipher the inscriptions, and begged Madame Blavatsky to unravel their meaning, but the Priestess of Isis, notwithstanding her great archaeological knowledge, was unable to do so. However, she said: “Wait until night, and we shall see!” When the ruins were wrapped in sombre shadow, Mme. Blavatsky drew a great circle upon the ground about the monument, and invited the Countess to stand within the mystic confines. A fire was built and upon it were thrown various aromatic herbs and incense. Cabalistic spells were recited by the sorceress, as the smoke from the incense ascended, and then she thrice commanded the spirit to whom the monument was erected to appear. Soon the cloud of smoke from the burning incense assumed the shape of an old man with a long white beard. A voice from a distance pierced the misty image, and spoke: “I am Hiero, one of the priests of a great temple erected to the gods, that stood upon this spot. This monument was the altar. Behold!” No sooner were the words pronounced than a phantasmagoric vision of a gigantic temple appeared, supported by ponderous columns, and a great city was seen covering the distant plain, but all soon faded into thin air.
This story was related to a select coterie of occultists assembled in social conclave at the headquarters in New York. The question is, had the charming Russian Countess dreamed this, or was she trying to exploit herself as a traveler who had come “out of the mysterious East” and had seen strange things?
We next hear of the famous occultist in the United States, where she associated chiefly with spirit-mediums, enchanters, professional clairvoyants, and the like.
“At this period of her career she had not,”[4] says Dr. Eliott Coues, a learned investigator of psychic phenomena, “been metamorphosed into a Theosophist. She was simply exploiting as a Spiritualistic medium. Her most familiar spook was a ghostly fiction named ‘John King.’ This fellow is supposed to have been a pirate, condemned for his atrocities to serve earth-bound for a term of years, and to present himself at materializing séances on call. Any medium who personates this ghost puts on a heavy black horse-hair beard and a white bed sheet and talks in sepulchral chest tones. John is as standard and sure-enough a ghost as ever appeared before the public. Most of the leading mediums, both in Europe and America, keep him in stock. I have often seen the old fellow in New York, Philadelphia, and Washington through more mediums that I can remember the names of. Our late Minister to Portugul, Mr. J. O’Sullivan, has a photograph of him at full length, floating in space, holding up a peculiar globe of light shaped like a glass decanter. This trustworthy likeness was taken in Europe, and I think in Russia, but am not sure on that point. I once had the pleasure of introducing the pirate king to my friend Prof. Alfred Russel Wallace, in the person of Pierre L. O. A. Keeler, a noted medium of Washington.
“But the connection between the pirate and my story is this: Madame Blavatsky was exploiting King at the time of which I speak, and several of her letters to friends, which I have read, are curiously scribbled in red and blue pencil with sentences and signatures of ‘John King,’ just as, later on, ‘Koot Hoomi’ used to miraculously precipitate himself upon her stationery in all sorts of colored crayons. And, by the way, I may call the reader’s attention to the fact that while the ingenious creature was operating in Cairo, her Mahatmas were of the Egyptian order of architecture, and located in the ruins of Thebes or Karnak. They were not put in turbans and shifted to Thibet till late in 1879.”
In 1875, while residing in New York, Madame Blavatsky conceived the idea of establishing a Theosophical Society. Stupendous thought! Cagliostro in the eighteenth century founded his Egyptian Free-Masonry for the re-generation of mankind, and Blavatsky in the nineteenth century laid the corner stone of modern Theosophy for a similar purpose. Cagliostro had his High Priestess in the person of a beautiful wife, Lorenza Feliciani, and Blavatsky her Hierophant in the somewhat prosaic guise of a New York reporter, Col. Olcott, since then a famous personage in occult circles.
During the Civil War, Olcott served in the Quartermaster’s Department of the Army and afterwards held a position in the Internal Revenue Service of the United States. In 18— he was a newspaper man in New York, and was sent by the Graphic to investigate the alleged Spiritualistic phenomena transpiring in the Eddy family in Chittenden, Vermont. There he met Madame Blavatsky. It was his fate.
FIG. 35. COL. H. S. OLCOTT.
Col. Olcott’s description of his first sight of Mme. Blavatsky is interesting:
“The dinner at Eddy’s was at noon, and it was from the entrance door of the bare and comfortless dining-room that Kappes and I first saw H. P. B. She had arrived shortly before noon with a French Canadian lady, and they were at table as we entered. My eye was first attracted by a scarlet Garibaldian shirt the former wore, as being in vivid contrast with the dull colors around. Her hair was then a thick blonde mop, worn shorter than the shoulders, and it stood out from her head, silken, soft, and crinkled to the roots, like the fleece of a Cotswold ewe. This and the red shirt were what struck my attention before I took in the picture of her features. It was a massive Kalmuck face, contrasting in its suggestion of power, culture, and imperiousness, as strangely with the commonplace visages about the room, as her red garment did with the gray and white tones of the wall and woodwork, and the dull costumes of the rest of the guests. All sorts of cranky people were continually coming and going at Eddy’s, to see the mediumistic phenomena, and it only struck me on seeing this eccentric lady that this was but one more of the sort. Pausing on the door-sill, I whispered to Kappes, ‘Good gracious! look at that specimen, will you!’ I went straight across and took a seat opposite her to indulge my favorite habit of character-study.”
Commenting on this meeting, J. Ransom Bridges, in the Arena, for April, 1895, remarks: “After dinner Colonel Olcott scraped an acquaintance by opportunely offering her a light for a cigarette which she proceeded to roll for herself. This ‘light’ must have been charged with Theosophical karma, for the burning match or end of a lighted cigar—the Colonel does not specify—lit a train of causes and their effects which now are making history and are world-wide in their importance. So confirmed a pessimist on Theosophical questions as Henry Sidgwick of the London Society for Psychical Research, says, ‘Even if it [the Theosophical Society] were to expire next year, its twenty years’ existence would be a phenomenon of some interest for a historian of European society in the nineteenth century.’”
FIG. 36. OATH OF SECRECY TAKEN BY CHARTER MEMBERS OF THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY.
[Kindness of the New York Herald.]
The séances at the Eddy house must have been character studies indeed. The place where the ghosts were materialized was a large apartment over the dining room of the ancient homestead. A dark closet, at one end of the room, with a rough blanket stretched across it, served as a cabinet. Red Indians and pirates were the favorite materializations, but when Madame Blavatsky appeared on the scene, ghosts of Turks, Kurdish cavaliers, and Kalmucks visited this earthly scene, much to the surprise of every one. Olcott cites this fact as evidence of the genuineness of the materializations, remarking, “how could the ignorant Eddy boys, rough, rude, uncultured farmers, get the costumes and accessories for characters of this kind in a remote Vermont village.”
Let us turn aside at this juncture to ask, “What is Theosophy.” The word Theosophy (Theosophia—divine knowledge) appears to have been used about the Third century, A. D., by the Neo-Platonists, or Gnostics of Alexandria, but the great principles of the doctrine, however, were taught hundreds of years prior to the mystical school established at Alexandria. “It is not,” says an interesting writer on the subject, “an outgrowth of Buddhism although many Buddhists see in its doctrines the reflection of Buddha. It proposes to give its followers the esoteric, or inner-spiritual meaning of the great religious teachers of the world. It asserts repeated re-incarnations, or rebirths of the soul on earth, until it is fully purged of evil, and becomes fit to be absorbed into the Deity whence it came, gaining thereby Nirvana, or unconsciousness.” Some Theosophists claim that Nirvana is not a state of unconsciousness, but just the converse, a state of the most intensified consciousness, during which the soul remembers all of its previous incarnations.
Madame Blavatsky claimed that “there exists in Thibet a brotherhood whose members have acquired a power over Nature which enables them to perform wonders beyond the reach of ordinary men. She declared herself to be a chela, or disciple of these brothers (spoken of also as ‘Adepts’ and as ‘Mahatmas’), and asserted that they took a special interest in the Theosophical Society and all initiates in occult lore, being able to cause apparitions of themselves in places where their bodies were not; and that they not only appeared but communicated intelligently with those whom they thus visited and themselves perceived what was going on where their phantoms appeared.” This phantasmal appearance she called the projection of the astral form. Many of the phenomena witnessed in the presence of the Sibyl were supposed to be the work of the mystic brotherhood who took so peculiar an interest in the Theosophical Society and its members. The Madame did not claim to be the founder of a new religious faith, but simply the reviver of a creed that has slumbered in the Orient for centuries, and declared herself to be the Messenger of these Mahatmas to the scoffing Western world.
Speaking of the Mahatmas, she says in “Isis Unveiled”: * * * “Travelers have met these adepts on the shores of the sacred Ganges, brushed against them on the silent ruins of Thebes, and in the mysterious deserted chambers of Luxor. Within the halls upon whose blue and golden vaults the weird signs attract attention, but whose secret meaning is never penetrated by the idle gazers, they have been seen, but seldom recognized. Historical memoirs have recorded their presence in the brilliantly illuminated salons of European aristocracy. They have been encountered again on the arid and desolate plains of the Great Sahara, or in the caves of Elephanta. They may be found everywhere, but make themselves known only to those who have devoted their lives to unselfish study, and are not likely to turn back.”
The Theosophical Society was organized in New York, Nov. 17, 1875.
Mr. Arthur Lillie, in his interesting work, “Madame Blavatsky and Her Theosophy,” speaking about the founding of the Society, says:
“Its moving spirit was a Mr. Felt, who had visited Egypt and studied its antiquities. He was a student also of the Kabbala; and he had a somewhat eccentric theory that the dog-headed and hawk-headed figures painted on the Egyptian monuments were not mere symbols, but accurate portraits of the ‘Elementals.’ He professed to be able to evoke and control them. He announced that he had discovered the secret ‘formularies’ of the old Egyptian magicians. Plainly, the Theosophical Society at starting was an Egyptian school of occultism. Indeed Colonel Olcott, who furnishes these details (‘Diary Leaves’ in the Theosophist, November to December, 1892), lets out that the first title suggested was the ‘Egyptological Society.’”
There were strange reports set afloat at the time of the organization of the Society of the mysterious appearance of a Hindoo adept in his astral body at the “lamasery” on Forty-seventh street. It was said to be that of a certain Mahatma Koot Hoomi. Olcott declared that the adept left behind him as a souvenir of his presence, a turban, which was exhibited on all occasions by the enterprising Hierophant. William Q. Judge, a noted writer on Spiritualism, who had met the Madame at Irving Place in the winter of 1874, joined the Society about this time, and became an earnest advocate of the secret doctrine. One wintry evening in March, 1889, Mr. Judge attended a meeting of the New York Anthropological Society, and told the audience all about the spectral gentleman, Koot Hoomi. He said:
“The parent society (Theosophical) was founded in America by Madame Blavatsky, who gathered about her a few interested people and began the great work. They held a meeting to frame a constitution (1875), etc., but before anything had been accomplished a strangely foreign Hindoo, dressed in the peculiar garb of his country, came before them, and, leaving a package, vanished, and no one knew whither he came or went. On opening the package they found the necessary forms of organization, rules, etc., which were adopted. The inference to be drawn was, that the strange visitor was a Mahatma, interested in the foundation of the Society.”
FIG. 37. WILLIAM Q. JUDGE.
[Reproduced by courtesy of the New York Herald.]
And so Blavatskyism flourished, and the Society gathered in disciples from all quarters. Men without definite creeds are ever willing to embrace anything that savors of the mysterious, however absurd the tenets of the new doctrine may be. The objects of the Theosophical Society, as set forth in a number of Lucifer, the organ of the cult, published in July, 1890, are stated to be:
“1. To form a nucleus of a Universal Brotherhood of Humanity without distinction of race, creed, sex, or color.
“2. To promote the study of Aryan and other Eastern literatures, religions and sciences.
“3. To investigate laws of Nature and the psychical powers of man.”
There is nothing of cant or humbug about the above articles. A society founded for the prosecution of such researches seems laudable enough. Oriental scholars and scientists have been working in this field for many years. But the investigations, as conducted under the Blavatsky régime, have savored so of charlatanism that many earnest, truth-seeking Theosophists have withdrawn from the Society.
After seeing the Society well established, Madame Blavatsky went to India. Her career in that country was a checkered one. From this period dates the exposé of the Mahatma miracles. The story reads like a romance by Marie Corelli. Let us begin at the beginning. The headquarters of the Society was first established at Bombay, thence removed to Madras and afterwards to Adyar. A certain M. and Mme. Coulomb, trusted friends of Madame Blavatsky, were made librarian and assistant corresponding secretary respectively of the Society, and took up their residence in the building known as the headquarters—a rambling East Indian bungalow, such as figure in Rudyard Kipling’s stories of Oriental life. Marvellous phenomena, of an occult nature, alleged to have taken place there, were attested by many Theosophists. Mysterious, ghostly appearances of Mahatmas were seen, and messages were constantly received by supernatural means. One of the apartments of the bungalow was denominated the Occult Room, and in this room was a sort of cupboard against the wall, known as the Shrine. In this shrine the ghostly missives were received and from it were sent. Skeptics were convinced, and occult lodges spread rapidly over India among the dreamy, marvel-loving natives. But affairs were not destined to sail smoothly. There came a rift within the lute—Madame Blavatsky quarreled with her trusted lieutenants, the Coulombs! In May, 1884, M. and Mme. Coulomb were expelled from the Society by the General Council, during the absence of the High Priestess and Col. Olcott in Europe. The Coulombs, who had grown weary of a life of imposture, or were actuated by the more ignoble motive of revenge, made a complete exposé of the secret working of the Inner Brotherhood. They published portions of Madame Blavatsky’s correspondence in the Madras Christian College Magazine, for September and October, 1884; letters written to the Coulombs, directing them to prepare certain impostures and letters written by the High Priestess, under the signature of Koot Hoomi, the mythical adept.[5] This correspondence unquestionably implicated the Sibyl in a conspiracy to fraudulently produce occult phenomena. She declared them to be, in whole, or in part, forgeries. At this juncture the London Society for Psychical Research sent Mr. Richard Hodgson, B. A., scholar of St. John’s College, Cambridge, England, to India to investigate the entire matter in the interest of science.
He left England November, 1884, and remained in the East till April, 1885. During this period Blavatskyism was sifted to the bottom. Mr. Hodgson’s report covers several hundred pages, and proves conclusively that the occult phenomena of Madame Blavatsky and her co-adjutors are unworthy of credence. In his volume he gives diagrams of the trap-doors and machinery of the shrine and the occult room, and facsimiles of Madame Blavatsky’s handwriting, which proved to be identical with that of Koot Hoomi, or Cute Hoomi, as the critics dubbed him. He shows that the Coulombs had told the plain unvarnished truth so far as their disclosures went; and he stigmatizes the Priestess of Isis in the following language:
“1. She has been engaged in a long continued combination with other persons to produce by ordinary means a series of apparent marvels for the support of the Theosophic movement.
“2. That in particular the shrine at Adyar through which letters purporting to come from Mahatmas were received, was elaborately arranged with a view to the secret insertion of letters and other objects through a sliding panel at the back, and regularly used for the purpose by Madame Blavatsky or her agents.
“3. That there is consequently a very strong general presumption that all the marvellous narratives put forward in evidence of the existence of Mahatmas are to be explained as due either (a) to deliberate deception carried out by or at the instigation of Madame Blavatsky, or (b) to spontaneous illusion or hallucination or unconscious misrepresentation or invention on the part of the witnesses.”
The mysterious appearances of the ghostly Mahatmas at the headquarters was shown, by Mr. Hodgson, to be the work of confederates, the cleverest among them being Madame Coulomb. Sliding panels, secret doors, and many disguises were the modus operandi of the occult phenomena. In regard to the letters and alleged precipitated writing, Mr. Hodgson says:
“It has been alleged, indeed, that when Madame Blavatsky was at Madras, instantaneous replies to mental queries had been found in the shrine (at Adyar), that envelopes containing questions were returned absolutely intact to the senders, and that when they were opened replies were found within in the handwriting of a Mahatma. After numerous inquiries, I found that in all cases I could hear of, the mental query was such as might easily have been anticipated by Madame Blavatsky; indeed, the query was whether the questioner would meet with success in his endeavor to become a pupil of the Mahatma, and the answer was frequently of the indefinite and oracular sort. In some cases the envelope inserted in the Shrine was one which had been previously sent to headquarters for that purpose, so that the envelope might have been opened and the answer written therein before it was placed in the Shrine at all. Where sufficient care was taken in the preparation of the inquiry, either no specific answer was given or the answer was delayed.”
A certain phenomenon, frequently mentioned by Theosophists as having occurred in Madame Blavatsky’s sitting-room, was the dropping of a letter from the ceiling, supposed to be a communication from some Mahatma. In all such cases conjuring was proved to have been used—the deus ex machina being either a silk thread or else a cunningly secreted trap door hidden between the wooden beams of the bungalow ceiling, operated of course by a concealed confederate.
Madame Blavatsky’s favorite method of impressing people with her occult powers was the almost immediate reception of letters from distant countries, in response to questions asked. These feats were the result of carefully contrived plans, preconcerted weeks in advance. She would telegraph in cipher to one of her numerous correspondents, East Indian, for example, to write a letter in reply to a certain query, and post it at a particular date. Then she would calculate the arrival of the letter, often to a nicety. Her ability as a conversationalist enabled her to adroitly lead people into asking questions that would tally with the Mahatma messages. But sometimes she failed, and a ludicrous fiasco was the result. Mr. Hodgson’s report contains accounts of many such mystic letters that would arrive by post from India in the nick of time, or too late for use.
Among other remarkable things reported of the Madame was her power of producing photographs of people far away by a sort of spiritual photography, involving no other mechanical process than the slipping of a sheet of paper between the leaves of her blotting pad.
When stories of this spirit-photography were rife in London, a scientist published the following explanation of a method of making such Mahatma portraits:
“Has the English public never heard of ‘Magic photography?’ Just a few years ago small sheets of white paper were offered for sale which on being covered with damp blotting paper developed an image as if by magic. The white sheets of paper seemed blanks. Really, however, they were photographs, not containing gold, which had been bleached by immersing them in a solution of mercuric chloride. The latter gives up part of its chlorine, and this chlorine bleaches the brown silver particles of which the photograph consists, by changing them to chloride of silver. The mercuric chloride becomes mercurous chloride. This body is white, and therefore invisible on white paper. Now, several substances will color this white mercurous chloride black. Ammonia and hypo-sulphite of soda will do this. In the magic photographs before mentioned the blotting paper contained hypo-sulphite of soda. Consequently when the alleged blank sheets of white note paper were placed between the sheets of blotting paper and slightly moistened, the hypo-sulphite of soda in the blotting paper acted chemically on the mercurous chloride in the white note paper, and the picture appeared. As this was known in 1840 to Herschel, Blavatsky’s miracle is nothing but a commonplace conjuring experiment.”
The individual to whom the world is most indebted for a critical analysis of Madame Blavatsky’s character and her claims as a producer of occult phenomena is Vsevolod S. Solovyoff, a Russian journalist and litterateur of considerable note. He has ruthlessly torn the veil from the Priestess of Isis in a remarkable book of revelations, entitled, “A Modern Priestess of Isis.” In May, 1884, he was in Paris, engaged in studying occult literature, and was preparing to write a treatise on “the rare, but in my opinion, real manifestations of the imperfectly investigated spiritual powers of man.” One day he read in the Matin that Madame Blavatsky had arrived in Paris, and he determined to meet her. Thanks to a friend in St. Petersburg, he obtained a letter of introduction to the famous Theosophist, and called on her a few days later, at her residence in the Rue Notre Dame des Champs. His pen picture of the interview is graphic:
“I found myself in a long, mean street on the left bank of the Seine, de l’autre cote de l’eau, as the Parisians say. The coachman stopped at the number I had told him. The house was unsightly enough to look at, and at the door there was not a single carriage.
“‘My dear sir, you have let her slip; she has left Paris,’ I said to myself with vexation.
“In answer to my inquiry the concierge showed me the way. I climbed a very, very dark staircase, rang, and a slovenly figure in an Oriental turban admitted me into a tiny dark lobby.
“To my question, whether Madame Blavatsky would receive me, the slovenly figure replied with an ‘Entrez, monsieur,’ and vanished with my card, while I was left to wait in a small low room, poorly and insufficiently furnished.
“I had not long to wait. The door opened, and she was before me; a rather tall woman, though she produced the impression of being short, on account of her unusual stoutness. Her great head seemed all the greater from her thick and very bright hair, touched with a scarcely perceptible gray, and very slightly frizzed, by nature and not by art, as I subsequently convinced myself.
“At the first moment her plain, old earthy-colored face struck me as repulsive; but she fixed on me the gaze of her great, rolling, pale blue eyes, and in these wonderful eyes, with their hidden power, all the rest was forgotten.
“I remarked, however, that she was very strangely dressed, in a sort of black sacque, and that all the fingers of her small, soft, and as it were boneless hands, with their slender points and long nails, were covered with great jewelled rings.”
Madame Blavatsky received Solovyoff kindly, and they became excellent friends. She urged him to join the Theosophical Society, and he expressed himself as favorably impressed with the purposes of the organization. During the interview she produced her astral bell “phenomenon.” She excused herself to attend to some domestic duty, and on her return to the sitting-room, the phenomenon took place. Says Solovyoff: “She made a sort of flourish with her hand, raised it upwards and suddenly, I heard distinctly, quite distinctly, somewhere above our heads, near the ceiling, a very melodious sound like a little silver bell or an Aeolian harp.
“‘What is the meaning of this?’ I asked.
“‘This means only that my master is here, although you and I cannot see him. He tells me that I may trust you, and am to do for you whatever I can. Vous etes sous sa protection, henceforth and forever.’
“She looked me straight in the eyes, and caressed me with her glance and her kindly smile.”
This Mahatmic phenomenon ought to have absolutely convinced Solovyoff, but it did not. He asked himself the question:
“‘Why was the sound of the silver bell not heard at once, but only after she had left the room and come back again?’”
A few days after this event, the Russian journalist was regularly enrolled as a member of the Theosophical Society, and began to study Madame Blavatsky instead of Oriental literature and occultism. He was introduced to Colonel Olcott, who showed him the turban that had been left at the New York headquarters by the astral Koot Hoomi. Solovyoff witnessed other “phenomena” in the presence of Madame Blavatsky, which did not impress him very favorably. Finally, the High Priestess produced her chef d’ oeuvre, the psychometric reading of a letter. Solovyoff was rather impressed with this feat and sent an account of it to the Rebus, but subsequently came to the conclusion that trickery had entered into it. When the Coulomb exposures came, he did not see much of Madame Blavatsky. She was overwhelmed with letters and spent a considerable time anxiously travelling to and fro on Theosophical affairs. In August, 1885, she was at Wurzburg sick at heart and in body, attended by a diminutive Hindoo servant, Bavaji by name. She begged Solovyoff to visit her, promising to give him lessons in occultism. With a determination to investigate the “phenomena,” he went to the Bavarian watering place, and one morning called on Madame Blavatsky. He found her seated in a great arm chair:
“At the opposite end of the table stood the dwarfish Bavaji, with a confused look in his dulled eyes. He was evidently incapable of meeting my gaze, and the fact certainly did not escape me. In front of Bavaji on the table were scattered several sheets of clean paper. Nothing of the sort had occurred before, so my attention was the more aroused. In his hand was a great thick pencil. I began to have ideas.
“‘Just look at the unfortunate man,’ said Helena Petrovna suddenly, turning to me. ‘He does not look himself at all; he drives me to distraction’.... Then she passed from Bavaji to the London Society for Psychical Research, and again tried to persuade me about the ‘master.’ Bavaji stood like a statue; he could take no part in our conversation, as he did not know a word of Russian.
“‘But such incredulity as to the evidence of your own eyes, such obstinate infidelity as yours, is simply unpardonable. In fact, it is wicked!’ exclaimed Helena Petrovna.
“I was walking about the room at the time, and did not take my eyes off Bavaji. I saw that he was keeping his eyes wide open, with a sort of contortion of his whole body, while his hand, armed with a great pencil, was carefully tracing some letters on a sheet of paper.
“‘Look; what is the matter with him?’ exclaimed Madame Blavatsky.
“‘Nothing particular,’ I answered; ‘he is writing in Russian.’
“I saw her whole face grow purple. She began to stir in her chair, with an obvious desire to get up and take the paper from him. But with her swollen and almost inflexible limbs, she could not do so with any speed. I made haste to seize the paper and saw on it a beautifully drawn Russian phrase.
“Bavaji was to have written, in the Russian language with which he was not acquainted: ‘Blessed are they that believe, as said the Great Adept.’ He had learned his task well, and remembered correctly the form of all the letters, but he had omitted two in the word ‘believe,’ [The effect was precisely the same as if in English he had omitted the first two and last two letters of the word.]
“‘Blessed are they that lie,’ I read aloud, unable to control the laughter which shook me. ‘That is the best thing I ever saw. Oh, Bavaji! you should have got your lesson up better for examination!’
“The tiny Hindoo hid his face in his hands and rushed out of the room; I heard his hysterical sobs in the distance. Madame Blavatsky sat with distorted features.”
As will be seen from the above, the Hindoo servant was one of the Madame’s Mahatmas, and was caught in the act of preparing a communication from a sage in the Himalayas, to Solovyoff.
“After this abortive phenomena,” remarks the Russian journalist, “things marched faster, and I saw that I should soon be in a position to send very interesting additions to the report of the Psychical Society.”... “Every day when I came to see the Madame she used to try to do me a favor in the shape of some trifling ‘phenomenon,’ but she never succeeded. Thus one day her famous ‘silver bell’ was heard, when suddenly something fell beside her on the ground. I hurried to pick it up—and found in my hands a pretty little piece of silver, delicately worked and strangely shaped. Helena Petrovna changed countenance, and snatched the object from me. I coughed significantly, smiled and turned the conversation to indifferent matters.”
On another occasion he was conversing with her about the “Theosophist,” and “she mentioned the name of Subba Rao, a Hindoo, who had attained the highest degree of knowledge.” She directed Mr. Solovyoff to open a drawer in her writing desk, and take from it a photograph of the adept.
“I opened the drawer,” says Solovyoff, “found the photograph and handed it to her—together with a packet of Chinese envelopes (See Fig. 34), such as I well knew; they were the same in which the ‘elect’ used to receive the letters of the Mahatmas Morya and Koot Hoomi by ‘astral post.’
“‘Look at that, Helena Petrovna! I should advise you to hide this packet of the master’s envelopes farther off. You are so terribly absent-minded and careless.’
“It was easy to imagine what this was to her. I looked at her and was positively frightened; her face grew perfectly black. She tried in vain to speak; she could only writhe helplessly in her great arm-chair.”
Solovyoff with great adroitness gradually drew from her a confession. “What is one to do,” said Madame Blavatsky, plaintively, “when in order to rule men it is necessary to deceive them; almost invariably the more simple, the more silly, and the more gross the phenomenon, the more likely it is to succeed.” The Priestess of Isis broke down completely and acknowledged that her phenomena were not genuine; the Koot Hoomi letters were written by herself and others in collusion with her; finally she exhibited to the journalist the apparatus for producing the “astral bell,” and begged him to go into a co-partnership with her to astonish the world. He refused! The next day she declared that a black magician had spoken through her mouth, and not herself; she was not responsible for what she had said. After this he had other interviews with her; threats and promises; and lastly a most extraordinary letter, which was headed, “My Confession,” and reads, in part, as follows:
“Believe me, I have fallen because I have made up my mind to fall, or else to bring about a reaction by telling all God’s truth about myself, but without mercy on my enemies. On this I am firmly resolved, and from this day I shall begin to prepare myself in order to be ready. I will fly no more. Together with this letter, or a few hours later, I shall myself be in Paris, and then on to London. A Frenchman is ready, and a well-known journalist too, delighted to set about the work and to write at my dictation something short, but strong, and what is most important—a true history of my life. I shall not even attempt to defend, to justify myself. In this book I shall simply say: “In 1848, I, hating my husband, N. V. Blavatsky (it may have been wrong, but still such was the nature God gave me), left him, abandoned him—a virgin. (I shall produce documents and letters proving this, although he himself is not such a swine as to deny it.) I loved one man deeply, but still more I loved occult science, believing in magic, wizards, etc. I wandered with him here and there, in Asia, in America, and in Europe. I met with So-and-so. (You may call him a wizard, what does it matter to him?) In 1858 I was in London; there came out some story about a child, not mine (there will follow medical evidence, from the faculty of Paris, and it is for this that I am going to Paris). One thing and another was said of me; that I was depraved, possessed with a devil, etc.
“I shall tell everything as I think fit, everything I did, for the twenty years and more, that I laughed at the qu’en dira-t-on, and covered up all traces of what I was really occupied in, i. e., the sciences occultes, for the sake of my family and relations who would at that time have cursed me. I will tell how from my eighteenth year I tried to get people to talk about me, and say about me that this man and that was my lover, and hundreds of them. I will tell, too, a great deal of which no one ever dreamed, and I will prove it. Then I will inform the world how suddenly my eyes were opened to all the horror of my moral suicide; how I was sent to America to try my psychological capabilities; how I collected a society there, and began to expiate my faults, and attempted to make men better and to sacrifice myself for their regeneration. I will name all the Theosophists who were brought into the right way, drunkards and rakes, who became almost saints, especially in India, and those who enlisted as Theosophists, and continued their former life, as though they were doing the work (and there are many of them) and yet were the first to join the pack of hounds that were hunting me down, and to bite me....
“No! The devils will save me in this last great hour. You did not calculate on the cool determination of despair, which was and has passed over.... And to this I have been brought by you. You have been the last straw which has broken the camel’s back under its intolerably heavy burden. Now you are at liberty to conceal nothing. Repeat to all Paris what you have ever heard or know about me. I have already written a letter to Sinnett forbidding him to publish my memoirs at his own discretion. I myself will publish them with all the truth.... It will be a Saturnalia of the moral depravity of mankind, this confession of mine, a worthy epilogue of my stormy life.... Let the psychist gentlemen, and whosoever will, set on foot a new inquiry. Mohini and all the rest, even India, are dead for me. I thirst for one thing only, that the world may know all the reality, all the truth, and learn the lesson. And then death, kindest of all.
H. Blavatsky.
“You may print this letter if you will, even in Russia. It is all the same now.”
This remarkable effusion may be the result of a fever-disordered brain, it may be, as she says, the “God’s truth;” at any rate it bears the ear-marks of the Blavatsky style about it. The disciples of the High Priestess of Isis have bitterly denounced Solovyoff and the revelations contained in his book. They brand him as a coward for not having published his diatribe during the lifetime of the Madame, when she was able to defend herself. However that may be, Solovyoff’s exposures tally very well with the mass of corroborative evidence adduced by Hodgson, Coues, Coleman, and a host of writers, who began their attacks during the earthly pilgrimage of the great Sibyl.
On receipt of this letter, Feb 16, 1886, Solovyoff resigned from the Theosophical Society. He denounced the High Priestess to the Paris Theosophists, and the Blavatsky lodges in that city were disrupted in consequence of the exposures. This seems to be a convincing proof of the genuineness of his revelations. After the Solovyoff incident, Madame Blavatsky went into retirement for a while. Eventually she appeared in London as full of enthusiasm as ever and added to her list of converts the Countess of Caithness and Mrs. Annie Besant, the famous socialist and authoress.
Finally came the last act of this strange life-drama. That messenger of death, whom the mystical Persian singer, Omar Khayyam, calls “The Angel of the Darker Drink,” held to her lips the inevitable chalice of Mortality; then the “golden cord was loosened and the silver bowl was broken,” and she passed into the land of shadows. It was in London, May 8, 1891, that Helena Petrovna Blavatsky ended one of the strangest careers on record. She died calmly and peacefully in her bed, surrounded by her friends, and after her demise her body was cremated by her disciples, with occult rites and ceremonies. All that remained of her—a few handfuls of powdery white ashes—was gathered together, and divided into three equal parts. One portion was buried in London, one sent to New York City, and the third to Adyar, near Madras, India. The New World, the Old World, and the still Older World of the East were honored with the ashes of H. P. B. Three civilizations, three heaps of ashes, three initials—mystic number from time immemorial, celebrated symbol of Divinity known to, and revered by, Cabalists, Gnostics, Rosicrucians, and Theosophists.
Mr. J. Ransom Bridges, who had considerable correspondence with the High Priestess from 1888 until her death, says (Arena, April, 1895): “Whatever may be the ultimate verdict upon the life and work of this woman, her place in history will be unique. There was a Titanic display of strength in everything she did. The storms that raged in her were cyclones. Those exposed to them often felt with Solovyoff that if there were holy and sage Mahatmas, they could not remain holy and sage, and have anything to do with Helena Petrovna Blavatsky. The ‘confession’ she wrote rings with the mingled curses and mad laughter of a crazy mariner scuttling his own ship. Yet she could be as tender and sympathetic as any mother. Her mastery of some natures seemed complete; and these people she worked like galley-slaves in the Theosophical tread mill of her propaganda movement.
“To these disciples she was the greatest thaumaturgist known to the world since the days of the Christ. The attacks upon her, the Coulomb and Solovyoff exposures, the continual newspaper calumnies they look upon as a gigantic conspiracy brewed by all the rules of the black art to counteract, and, if possible, to destroy the effect of her work and mission.”
“Requiescat in Pace,” O Priestess of Isis, until your next incarnation on Earth! The twentieth century will doubtless have need of your services! For the delectation of the curious let me add: the English resting place of Madame Blavatsky is designed after the model of an Oriental “dagoba,” or tomb; the American shrine is a marble niche in the wall of the Theosophical headquarters, No. 144 Madison avenue, the ashes reposing in a vase standing in the niche behind a hermetically-sealed glass window. The Oriental shrine in Adyar is a tomb modelled after the world-famous Taj Mahal, and is built of pink sandstone, surmounted by a small Benares copper spire.
Madame Blavatsky is known to the reading world as the writer of two voluminous works of a philosophical or mystical character, explanatory of the Esoteric Doctrine, viz., “Isis Unveiled,” published in 1877, and the “Secret Doctrine,” published in 1888. In the composition of these works she claimed that she was assisted by the Mahatmas who visited her apartments when she was asleep, and wrote portions of the manuscripts with their astral hands while their natural bodies reposed entranced in Thibetan Lamaseries. These fictions were fostered by prominent members of the Theosophical Society, and believed by many credulous persons. “Isis Unveiled” is a hodge-podge of absurdities, pseudo-science, mythology and folklore, arranged in helter-skelter fashion, with an utter disregard of logical sequence. The fact was that Madame Blavatsky had a very imperfect knowledge of English, and this may account for the strange mistakes in which the volume abounds, despite the aid of the ghostly Mahatmas. William Emmette Coleman, of San Francisco, has made an exhaustive analysis of the Madame’s writings, and declares that “Isis,” and the “Secret Doctrine” are full of plagiarisms. In “Isis” he discovered “some 2,000 passages copied from other books without proper credit.” Speaking of the “Secret Doctrine,” the master key to the wisdom of the ages, he says: “The ‘Secret Doctrine’ is ostensibly based upon certain stanzas, claimed to have been translated by Madame Blavatsky from the ‘Book of Dzyan’—the oldest book in the world, written in a language unknown to philology. The ‘Book of Dzyan’ was the work of Madame Blavatsky—a compilation, in her own language, from a variety of sources, embracing the general principles of the doctrines and dogmas taught in the ‘Secret Doctrine.’ I find in this ‘oldest book in the world’ statements copied from nineteenth century books, and in the usual blundering manner of Madame Blavatsky. Letters and other writings of the adepts are found in the ‘Secret Doctrine.’ In these Mahatmic productions I have traced various plagiarized passages from Wilson’s ‘Vishnu Purana,’ and Winchell’s ‘World Life’—of like character to those in Madame Blavatsky’s acknowledged writings. * * * A specimen of the wholesale plagiarisms in this book appears in vol. II., pp. 599-603. Nearly the whole of four pages was copied from Oliver’s ‘Pythagorean Triangle,’ while only a few lines were credited to that work.”
Those who are interested in Coleman’s exposé are referred to Appendix C, of Solovyoff’s book, “A Modern Priestess of Isis.” The title of this appendix is “The Sources of Madame Blavatsky’s Writings.” Mr. Coleman is at present engaged in the preparation of an elaborate work on the subject, which will in addition contain an “exposé of Theosophy as a whole.” It will no doubt prove of interest to students of occultism.
The funeral of Baron de Palm, conducted according to Theosophical rites, is an interesting chapter in the history of the Society, and worth relating.
Joseph Henry Louis Charles, Baron de Palm, Grand Cross Commander of the Sovereign Order of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, and knight of various orders, was born at Augsburg, May 10, 1809. He came to the United States rather late in life, drifted West without any settled occupation, and lived from hand to mouth in various Western cities. Finally he located in New York City, broken in health and spirit. He was a man of considerable culture and interested to a greater or less extent in the phenomena of modern Spiritualism. A letter of introduction from the editor of the Religio-Philosophical Journal, of Chicago, made him acquainted with Col. Olcott, who introduced him to prominent members of the Theosophical Society. He was elected a member of the Society, eventually becoming a member of the Council. In the year 1875 he died, leaving behind an earnest request that Col. Olcott “should perform the last offices in a fashion that would illustrate the Eastern notions of death and immortality.”[6] He also left directions that his body should be cremated. A great deal of excitement was caused over this affair in orthodox religious circles, and public curiosity was aroused to the highest pitch. The funeral service was, as Madame Blavatsky described it in a letter to a European correspondent, “pagan, almost antique pagan.” The ceremony was held in the great hall of the Masonic Temple, corner of Twenty-third and Sixth avenue. Tickets of admission were issued of decidedly occult shape—triangular; some black, printed in silver; others drab, printed in black. A crowd of 2,000 people assembled to witness the obsequies. On the stage was a triangular altar, with a symbolical fire burning upon it. The coffin stood near by, covered with the orders of knighthood of the deceased. A splendid choir rendered several Orphic hymns composed for the occasion, with organ accompaniment, and Col. Olcott, as Hierophant, made an invocation or mantram “to the Soul of the World whose breath gives and withdraws the form of everything.” Death is always solemn, and no subject for levity, yet I must not leave out of this chronicle the unique burlesque programme of Baron de Palm’s funeral, published by the New York World, the day before the event. Says the World:
“The procession will move in the following order:
“Col. Olcott as high priest, wearing a leopard skin and carrying a roll of papyrus (brown card board).
“Mr. Cobb, as sacred scribe, with style and tablet.
“Egyptian mummy-case, borne upon a sledge drawn by four oxen. (Also a slave bearing a pot of lubricating oil.)
“Madame Blavatsky as chief mourner and also bearer of the sistrum. (She will wear a long linen garment extending to the feet, and a girdle about the waist.)
“Colored boy carrying three Abyssinian geese (Philadelphia chickens) to place upon the bier.
“Vice-President Felt, with the eye of Osiris painted on his left breast, and carrying an asp (bought at a toy store on Eighth avenue.)
“Dr. Pancoast, singing an ancient Theban dirge: