HPB-SB-10-433

H. P. Blavatsky Scrapbooks

from Adyar archives of the International Theosophical Society

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vol. 10, p. 433	volume 10, page 433 vol. title: vol. period: 1879-1880 pages in vol.: 577
Legend HPB note HPB highlighted HPB underlined HPB crossed out <Editors note> <Archivist note> Lost or unclear SBT, DT Restored

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< "Spirit" Pranks into Caucasus (continued from page 10-432) >

best doctors. There was no hope for him, especially after the cruel operation. He was so weak that he had to be gently turned from one side to the other on a pair of sheets, and was unable even to raise a hand. Suddenly, after a fortnight of agony, when his last breath was expected every minute, he awoke quite bright, and firmly declared to every one of the family that he was now saved, and that from that day he would be placed under the care of another doctor, who would treat him by a method of his own. At night, he called to his mother to bring a saucer of olive oil, and a glass of red wine, and bade her place both on the stand near his bed, together with a wax-light taper. He next implored his mother in the most supplicating terms, in case he should be asleep, to awake him precisely at two a.m., and then leave the room. He assured her that his very life depended on the strict performance of this programme, and begged of her, moreover, not to question him at the time. The boy had been on the very verge of death for over three weeks. As a matter of course, the mother promised everything he liked, but mistaking the whole thing for fever delirium, concluded to tell him it was two, at whatever other hour he might awake, and never for one moment lose sight of him. The boy fell asleep early in the evening, and slept soundly and calmly as he had never slept since his illness. His mother sat near him, watching him as usual; and waiting for her sister, who came usually to relieve her at three o’clock. Suddenly—it needed but one minute to two, Volodya—bear in mind, that the boy was lying then motionless, and that he never could move a muscle without a fearful pain in his operated side and suffocation in his diseased lungs—Volodya awoke, and sitting up in bed lowered both his legs to the floor and loudly called his mother, who had been half dozing. She started to her feet, hardly believing her eyes; her Volodya was hurriedly snatching off his night clothes, shirt and all. . . Then in a solemn whisper, he began supplicating her again to go away, to leave him alone for a few minutes, repeating again that his life was involved in her obeying his prayer. She pretended to leave the room, but hid herself behind the screens near the door. She told me that she now distinctly heard her son conversing with some invisible Presence as if answering questions—to herself inaudible; and that he ended by loudly repeating a prayer, in which the words—“I believe, O Mighty Lord, I believe in Thy sole help, and that Thine hand alone will cure me! . . .” were incessantly uttered. And, then, again the sentence: “These ligatures will fall off at Thy will. . . Thou wilt help me, and they will fasten themselves again on the wound by Thy order!” Upon hearing this, the mother felt mortally frightened, lest her son should snatch away the bandages and the siphon introduced into the gaping wound, and was ready to rush to him, when through a crack in the screen she happened to catch sight of her son. She saw him sitting bent down and motionless upon the side of his bed, in such a posture, as if he were allowing some one to be examining his operated side, and muttering prayers and making signs of the cross all the while. In a few moments, the boy straightened himself up, put on his shirt himself, (he is unable to do as much even now, after a lapse of six weeks!) fixed his eyes upon the ceiling, once more made the sign of the cross, and laid back on his pillow. . . Then the mother cautiously approached him and, not daring to offer him any question upon the mysterious event, simply enquired whether he needed anything more.

“What more can I need, now,” answered the boy with an ecstatic smile, “now, when God himself anointed my wound and promised to cure me?”

From that night forward all idea of death—an idea which had never abandoned him since his sickness, and to which he had been fully resigned—left him.

Twice more, in all three times, he had the mysterious visit, and now to the great disgust of the physicians, he is beyond all immediate danger.

Yesterday I went to see him and had a long talk with the boy. He told me that in each instance he had been forewarned in his dreams of the forthcoming visit and vision of the Presence that cured him; after that, at the appointed hour, the ceiling seemed to open over his couch, a divine luminous light radiated from it, and God himself descended and anointed him with the holy oils—(showing me how He did it). But that which God had told him he imparted to no one but to his mother, assuring me that such were “His orders.” Nothing can shake the boy’s firm conviction that it was not the doctor but the “Lord Sabbaoth,” himself, as he calls the vision—who cured him. And I, without any hesitation whatever, firmly believe in the reality of the vision, and would wish that the whole world should learn and know that among many absurd and meaningless phenomena there are such happy <... continues on page 10-434 >