Zhelikhovsky V.P. - Truth about H. P. Blavatsky

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Truth about H. P. Blavatsky

by V. P. Zhelikhovsky

Weekly magazine Rebus, Saint Petersburg, 1883 (Желиховская В.П. Ребус, 1883, № 40-41, 16 октября – 23 октября; № 43-44, 6 ноября – 13 ноября; № 46-48, 27 ноября – 11 декабря).
Vera Petrovna Zhelikhovsky about her sister Helena Petrovna Blavatsky

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eng • rus

I

People who look through periodicals have seen the name of Helena Petrovna Blavatsky in newspaper columns more than once. If they were foreign newspapers – she is lucky! If Russian ones – what troubles are falling on her poor head!.. And one cannot enumerate all the slander and all the absurdities that her compatriots pour her with. Starting from deceptions, charlatanism and up to criminal offenses inclusive. We know H[elena] P[etrovna] well: we were intimately acquainted with her from her early childhood to adulthood. For a long time we have been looking for opportunities to present to those interested in this “out of the ordinary” person a few short essays about her. Whether they believe our truthful words or not, we do not care, satisfied with telling truth – the only truth, it seems, told about her in Russia.

We will not talk about her private life: it is difficult for outsiders to judge the intimate life of a person, even closely known; and it is beside the point. Let's just say that from an early age she was not an ordinary girl: very lively, able, witty and courageous, she amazed others with her original, decisive actions even in childhood. So in her early youth, she very decisively and willfully became her own master, unexpectedly leaving her homeland without letting know her relatives and her husband, who, to his and her misfortune, was three times her age.

She left and spent ten years in foreign lands, in continuous trips across Europe, Asia and America; for several years, she even refrained from correspondence with her family because of the desire to completely disappear from the search of her husband. Only four years later, rumours began to reach her relatives through mutual acquaintances: she was seen in Constantinople, in Paris, in Spain. In London, having gained fame for her musical talent, she was a member of the Philharmonic Society. There she had a famous trial with a certain lord, which at one time made a lot of noise in the English press. Despite her leaving abroad, H[elena] P[etrovna] has always been and is an ardent Russian patriot. Delayed by her contract in London during the Crimean War, she suffered a lot for Russia and always openly expressed her patriotism. Honest and decent people respected this feeling in her; but if a family is not without its black sheep, then even more so in the whole people.

During one of the performances in the theatrical foyer of Drury Lane, the conversation about Russian affairs and Russian people came up in a tone that no truly Russian could bear. One stout lord (of course, one of those who did not smell powder in Sevastopol) shouted and swore – literally swore the loudest. H[elena] P[etrovna] got up and told him that she was Russian and, in the name of her nationality, asked him to shut up. The lord responded with insolence. H[elena] P[etrovna] turned to Englishmen sitting by, asking them to stand up for her rights as a Russian woman and guest in England. Several voices rose for her, others against. The latter overpowered and, incited by them, the angry lord spoke even more sharply and louder. Then Madame Blavatsky once again, all pale with indignation, loudly declared that it was mean swearing from a distance at enemies whom he did not know, and therefore could not judge their bravery and merits; that if no one would silence him, then she would be able to stand up for her own people and not allow him to continue to slander the Russians.

“Which way?” asked the Englishman sneeringly. “Are your arguments stronger than the weapons of hundreds of thousands of your Russian troops?.. It would be interesting to get to know them ...”

“And I do not advise you this – for your own safety ... I myself do not know how, but I repeat: shut up or I will silence you!”

The stout lord burst out laughing.

“In that case,” he said, “I will testify that Russian women are braver than Russian soldiers, who, without reasoning, always flee from our army...”

He did not have time to finish: a heavy candelabrum with all the candles whistling in the air, hit right in the head of the offender ... The lord fell bleeding.

The commotion was unimaginable. They carried him out half-dead, and the matter was taken to court. To the credit of the British, it must be said that the judges, taking into account all the circumstances of the case, were on the side of the woman, insulted in her most legitimate and sacred feelings. Blavatsky, as if in a mockery of the rich lord, was sentenced to pay him for the offense ... five pounds! At this, H[elena] P[etrovna] did not refrain from farce: she publicly, at the trial, gave ten pounds: “Beforehand” ... for a second meeting that could occur between them, she cheerfully explained to the sincerely bursting out laughing audience.

Later, when H[elena] P[etrovna], missing her homeland and making sure that she had nothing to fear from her husband's persecution, decided to petition for a return to Russia, this story greatly contributed to her forgiveness for a ten-year absence and passportless departure to foreign lands.

But just before her return, she became closely acquainted with the circle of adherents of the newly emerging spiritualism; she became friends with the medium Hume and his wife and made with them a wonderful journey to America, during which she herself showed great mediumistic power, which drew the attention of even the American spiritualists among whom she used to spend time.

This power manifested itself in continuous raps that were heard around her almost constantly (esprits frappeurs), in the movement of objects, in increasing and decreasing their weight, in the ability to see her herself, and sometimes to give the opportunity to see others, in her presence, people who have long lived in the places where she was, as well as famous personalities who died at different times.

Knowing a lot of amazing facts from her mediumistic practice both in Russia and abroad, we will give only those that we witnessed ourselves.

The return of H[elena] P[etrovna] to Russia took place in the winter of 1858-1859. Her early youth passed in the Caucasus, from where she went abroad. She returned to the north-west – the Pskov province to her recently widowed sister, a landowner there. She was expected no earlier than spring, but once thinking of returning to her homeland, H[elena] P[etrovna] could no longer wait: she, without warning her sister, arrived quite unexpectedly on a dark winter night and found herself straight at the wedding feast. Her sister stayed with the relatives of her late husband Ya[khonto]v, and that evening her daughter-in-law was getting married. We were having dinner. In the hall, the bells were constantly ringing announcing arriving guests’ carriages. At the moment when the best men were toasting to the health of the newly married, Blavatsky rang the door, and her sister, obeying a feeling unknown to her, in spite of this solemn moment, left quickly the table and ran to open the doors herself, fully convinced that her sister had arrived.

Since the same night, everyone living in the apartment noticed strange sounds, dull and sharp, heard in all objects surrounding the visitor: in the walls, in the floor, in the closet, in the pane glass, in the pillows, in the mirror, in the clock cap and all the little things that were in the room. Though Helena Petrovna laughed the matter off, it was impossible to hide the essence and meaning of those sounds. Persistent inquiries of her sister made her confess that those manifestations accompany her without her will and desire, sometimes intensifying, then weakening, and sometimes completely stopping. Of course, the people in Pskov, like the whole world, knew everything that was written about spiritualism and its various manifestations. Hume, visiting St. Petersburg at that time, caused a great sensation, but, of course, he did not visit Pskov, and its inhabitants never heard the rapping of esprits frappeurs. With the arrival of Madame Blavatsky, the news of the miracles that surrounded her spread quickly and agitated the whole city. And the miracles were really wonderful, leaving not the slightest doubt about their extraordinary authenticity...

The fact is that the rapping was not just unintelligible, but something gifted with understanding and intellect; moreover something that had the gift of recognizing unspoken thoughts, something that freely penetrated into the innermost of each person and freely exposed all his past deeds and present thoughts.

The Ya[khonto]vs, the relatives of H.P.’s sister, lived in general quite openly; her presence attracted many visitors to them, none of whom was dissatisfied with table-turning and a talking board, or, more correctly, a rapping board, because the answers were given by rapping, which was heard when a certain letter of the alphabet was pronounced, and thus whole sentences were formed in all kinds of languages, even completely unknown to the medium. The poor medium was subjected to all sorts of temptations and submitted very good-naturedly to the most absurd demands to prove being not privy to the events that were taking place. As a rule, she sat quietly doing some needlework in an armchair or on a sofa, apparently not taking the slightest part in the fuss that was going on around her; and work was in full swing. Someone was pronouncing the alphabet loudly; another was writing down letters; still others were in a hurry to ask mental questions, caring only about not mixing up one’s turn. It happened, however, very often that invisible actors gave preference to some: they talked longer, more willingly and more thoroughly with some of those present, while they did not want to answer others at all. It also happened that someone asked, and the answer came to the thought of another person, directly calling the former by name. At the same time, there was much talking, arguing, suggesting all around. Distrust, at times ridicules, sometimes even a very indelicate doubt about the good faith of the medium were heard... Accustomed to such demonstrations, Blavatsky endured them patiently, only sometimes allowing herself a smile or a shrug when she was asked questions of very dubious logic for the hundredth or thousandth time:

“How do you do it? What's that rapping?”

Or:

“How can you read thoughts?.. Why did you know that I was thinking about it?!”

At first, H[elena] P[etrovna] very zealously reassured the inquires of her participation in these miracles, explaining to them her purely mediating part, then she gave up and got off with smiles and silence. When direct doubts about her honesty were declared, the most stupid assumptions were made that it was she herself who rapped, that she had such a machine in her pocket, or that she was clicking her nails; and in the case when her hands were busy with needlework, they assumed the snapping of her toes – then H[elena] P[etrovna] unquestioningly obeyed the most ridiculous demands: she was searched, her hands and feet were tied, and sometimes she was laid on a sofa, they took off her shoes, put their hands and feet on the pillow so that they were in full view of everyone and demanded that rapping could be heard farther away, in other parts of the room. Then she bluntly stated that it was not in her power, she would try, but could not guarantee success. However, her desire was almost always fulfilled, especially at first and in those cases when there were people who were seriously interested: rapping was heard on the ceiling, on the pane glass, in the furniture that was at the opposite wall ... But sometimes invisible actors made fun of the scoffers. One young teacher M. They almost threw glasses off the nose of a certain young teacher M., rapping on the glasses so violently that he grabbed them and turned pale as a sheet. To one lady esprit fort, still very busy with herself, to her playfully mocking questions about what constitutes the best conductor for their communications with people, they answered:

“It’s gold. We will prove it to you now...”

The lady sat with her lips slightly parted in a mocking smile. As soon as the person who wrote down the letters read this answer, she put her hand on the mouth, and her whole face was distorted with fear and amazement!..

Everyone looked at each other. Everyone understood that the lady felt shaking in the gold plate of her false teeth, and when she got up and said goodbye at the same moment, a Homeric laugh burst out at the trick of her antagonists.

It is not possible to convey in detail everything seen and heard during Madame Blavatsky's stay in our circle; one can only mention in general direct and completely clear answers to mental questions, prescribing various medicines in Latin, revealing secrets, stories of invisible actors about themselves and about who they were during their lifetime and in what state they were then. All these amazing, inexplicable manifestations of meaningful and almost omniscient power made a sensation in Pskov and, probably, many people still remember it. For the sake of the truth it should be noted that the truth was not always spoken; on the contrary: very often misrepresented facts were given, as if they deliberately lied and laughed at the gullibility of people who were inclined to see infallible prophecies in their fables. Nevertheless, the fact of the manifestation of a meaningful force that could read thoughts and guess feelings of a person, as well as produce rapping and movement in inanimate things was and is a fact.

II

Here are two facts that happened in front of many witnesses during Blavatsky's short stay in Pskov.

As almost always happens – the people closest to H[elena] P[etrovna], at the same time, were the most inveterate skeptics concerning her mediumistic powers. Her brother Leonid and her father, Pyotr Alekseevich Hahn, for a long time opposed the evidence; finally, the skepticism of the former was shaken by the following incident. There were many guests in the Ya[khonto]vs’ living room; they were busy with some music, cards, but most of all with spiritualism. Leonid Hahn did not take a direct part in anything, but was walking around and watching everything. He was a strong, stocky youth, imbued with the Latin and German wisdom of the University of Dorpat. He stopped behind his sister and listened to her stories about how, in the presence of the medium Hume, some light objects became so heavy that they could not be torn off the floor, while others, incomparably heavier, on the contrary, became unusually light.

“And can you do it? The young man asked his sister ironically.”

“Sometimes I did, but I cannot guarantee success,” replied Blavatsky coolly.

“Can I try?” asked someone, and all vying with each other began to ask her.

“As you like, I'll try; but I ask you to remember that my power is not equal to that of Hume's and that I do not promise anything. I will be looking at this chess table ... Whoever wishes, let him raise it now – and after I look at it.”

“Really, just looking?.. And then what? Won't you hold it?” asked several voices.

“Why should I hold it?” asked Helena Petrovna, smiling.

One of the young men came up resolutely and raised the table like a feather.

“Okay. Will you take the trouble, put it back and step aside?”

The order was obeyed and everybody kept silence. All watched with bated breath what Madame Blavatsky was doing. And she did absolutely nothing; she just glanced with her big blue eyes from afar at the chess table and was staring at it for a few moments. Then, without taking her eyes off it, she invited the same young man with a gesture to raise it.

He came up and took hold of its leg with confidence ... The table did not move.

He grabbed it with both hands.

The table stood as if screwed to the floor.

The young man sat down, put his arms around the leg, began energetically pushing the table with his shoulders to the side, up, in all directions; he was all flushed with tension. It was no use: the table seemed to be rooted to the floor and did not want to move!..

A deafening noise of enthusiasm and exclamations was heard. The young man threw down the table en désespoir de cause, walked away, folded his hands in Napoleonic style and said:

“That's a thing!”

“Truly a thing!” agreed L. Hahn. He had a suspicion that this guest was acting in concert with his sister. “Helena! Can I try it?” asked he.

“Will you do me a favour?”

Her brother came up, smiling, and grabbed the leg of the tiny table with his muscular hand. But the smile at the same second was replaced by an expression of surprise. He took a step back and examined the table he had known for a long time. Then he kicked him hard to the side, but the table didn't even tremble.

Then he overlay with his chest on it and tried to swing it ... The wood began cracking, but did not give in to any effort. Its three legs seemed to be screwed to the floor. Leonid Petrovich lost hope and, stepping aside, said:

“Strange!” his eyes involuntarily ran from the table to his sister.

Everyone agreed with his exclamation. By this time, noisy exclamations had attracted guests from other rooms, and many, young and old, tried to raise or at least move the stubborn chess table, but their desire remained just desire.

Seeing the bewilderment of her brother and, perhaps, wishing to finally destroy his doubts, Helena Petrovna turned to him and, laughing quietly, said:

“Will you now try to pick it up?!”

Hahn hesitantly approached, grabbed the leg again and pulled the table up, almost dislocating his arm from excessive effort: the table flew up like a feather!

Now the second case: it happened not in Pskov, but in St. Petersburg at the Paris Hotel, a few weeks later. Pyotr Alekseevich Gan came there with both daughters on business. The morning passed in trouble, the evenings were spent sometimes at a party or at the theater; there was no question of spiritualism. One evening two acquaintances came to see them; both old men; one is Hahn's comrade in the Corps of Pages, Baron M., the other is his friend, a former Decembrist, Andrei Lvovich K[ozhevniko]v. Both, and especially the last one, were ardent spiritualists and almost for this they came to see for themselves the mediumistic power of Madame Blavatsky.

After several successful experiments, the visitors were delighted and surprised at Mr. Hahn, who was coolly playing solitaire, and when being asked, he replied that it was all nonsense, that he did not want to hear such nonsense, and that, in his opinion, this occupation was humiliating for serious people. Old friends were not offended by such an answer and began to strenuously ask Pyotr Alekseevich to go to another room, write a question on a piece of paper and, without showing it to anyone, put it in his pocket. The old man chuckled at first, then he agreed. After doing everything as instructed, he continued playing his solitaire.

“Now our dispute will be resolved!” said K[ozhevniko]v. “Well, what will you say, Pyotr Alekseevich, if the reply is the most positive? You'll have to believe!..”

“I don't know now what I will say!” objected Hahn skeptically. “I only know one thing: in the hour when I believe in spiritualism – I will believe the devil, witches, mermaids, werewolves – all women fables, and I will have to be taken to the madhouse!”

Having said this, he again plunged into solitaire, and we began to listen to the incessant rapping on the plate set on the table. The younger sister was pronouncing the alphabet, one of the guests was writing it down, and Blavatsky's role was that she was present there. (She was also a good writing medium; although this way of communicating could be much faster and easier, but she did not like it, precisely because she was afraid of suspicion).

With the help of rapping and the alphabet one word was formed ... But this word turned out to be so strange that all of us, expecting some complicated phrase, looked at each other in bewilderment, not knowing whether to read it aloud? At our questions whether the phrase was over, we heard energetic reply: “Yes!.. Yes, yes, yes!!”, which was expressed in three raps. Three raps meant strong confirmation.

Noticing our excitement, hearing our exclamations, P. A. Hahn turned around and asked:

“Well?.. Is the reply ready?.. Is it something very intricate?..”

He got up and, laughing, walked over to us. His younger daughter, Ya[chonto]va, got up and answered with a little confusion:

“There is only one word here...”

“Bunny!”

You should have seen the change that took place with this word with the old man! He turned pale and, in perplexity adjusting his glasses, said, stretching out his hand.

“Will you give me it!.. Look ... Really?”

He took it and repeated in a very agitated voice:

“Bunny?.. Yes ... Bunny!.. It’s strange!..”

He took out his note from behind the side of his coat and silently handed it to his daughters. They grabbed and quickly read the question and his answer, prepared in parentheses, to himself. Here is what was written on it:

“What was the name of my first war horse, on which I participated in the Turkish company?” And below in brackets: “Bunny!”

We were triumphant.

It should be noted that P[yotr] A[lekseevich], an old artilleryman, spent most of his life alone, far from his family. His first wife, Elena Andreevna Hahn, nee Fadeeva (the same one that in the late [18]30s and early [18]40s fascinated the entire Russian reading world with her lovely novels and stories under the pseudonym Zinaida R-va) died 27 years old, leaving three children. The eldest Elena was 11 years old, the younger son was 2 years old. Her parents took all the children with them and soon moved with them to Tiflis, where the children grew up, almost without knowing their father. There had never been such intimacy between them, so they could not know the things that were with their father in his early youth. And besides, he himself chose a question about which they could not have the slightest idea.

This “Bunny” had a tremendous influence on old Hahn. As often happens with inveterate skeptics: since he was convinced that there was something in this that had nothing to do with deception, he, believing one fact, completely believed everything and indulged in spiritualism with a purely youthful enthusiasm. Of course, he did not consider himself mad, as previously stated.

III

Among the outstanding phenomena are the following:

On the occasion of a murder committed in a tavern nearby, a district superintendent of police called on. Without saying a word about the purpose of his visit, he appointed a meeting of the peasants the next day, but it turned out to be superfluous on the same day: after tea, as usual, rapping on the walls and furniture began, and the conversation started on the base of the alphabet clarified all the details of this bloody case. Here is a message, though not literal, but very close to the original, addressed in a far from impolite form to the superintendent: “You, old blockhead (or something just as indelicate), here you are entertaining yourself with tea and talk, and tomorrow the murderer, Samoilo Ivanov, will leave early morning for another district and “disappear and not been seen again.” And go now to Oreshkino: there, at the peasant Andrei Vlasov’s place, you will capture him at the attic...”

“Oh, dear! My dear fellows! What kind of miracles are these?” cried the puzzled superintendent. “After all, I have the village of Oreshkino in mind!.. And let me ask: why do you know that the murderer's name is Samoilo Ivanov and that he is in Vlasov's cottage?.. And who is Vlasov?”

The answer came in the same vein:

“You may not see anything farther than your own nose! And we all know what we want to find out!.. Samoilo Ivanov is a soldier on a leave without time limit. He was drunk yesterday, got into a fight and knew himself not how he killed a man with his fist.”

Then the superintendent jumped up and hurried off. The reported circumstances were in full agreement with the information he had collected earlier. He flew to Oreshkino.

The next morning, early in the morning, a messenger appeared, sent by the superintendent to inform ladies and gentlemen that everything happened as had been predicted. The killer was arrested at his lodging for the night with the peasant Vlasov and turned out to be Ivanov, a soldier really on a leave without time limit.

This incident caused a lot of noise in the district and attached great importance to the phenomena surrounding Madame Blavatsky. We personally were most of all interested in the manifestation of the meaningfulness and originality of invisible agents.

The best séances were successful when we were alone, when no one wanted to perform any experiments, no one needed to be convinced or enlightened, and the séance was directed according to the will and orders to which none of us, even the main hero of these phenomena did not meddle in, but left invisible agents to act, on whom the phenomena completely depended. In such cases, they surpassed themselves in their supernatural powers. We have come to the conviction that these are divided into several categories and one of them, the highest, rarely condescends to communicate with strangers, willingly coming to our call only when there is complete harmony between all those present, contributing to the manifestation of mediumistic power. Their actions generally depended little on the will of the medium. Séances like the one with the chess table in Pskov were very rare. In most cases, they acted completely arbitrarily, in no way agreeing with the demands of others. It used to be very annoying when I wanted to recruit a reasonable, intelligent agent, and as if on purpose nothing wonderful came of it! I wanted something outstanding to be said, but only nonsense was said ... I wanted that a phenomenon that had been observed repeatedly would be repeated – and this was almost never happened. I remember how one evening, with guests who had called on from afar on purpose with the aim of “seeing with their eyes and hearing with their ears,” Blavatsky vainly used all the strength of her will – absolutely nothing came of it!.. The guests left dissatisfied, in the most skeptical and mocking mood, and as soon as the door closed behind them, the bells of their carriage clearly sounded in the driveway, as everything began to move, all the furniture seemed to animate, and we spent the whole evening and part of the night, as if among the enchanted walls of the palace of some Scheherazade...

What was not done then?.. All the phenomena we observe at different times – took place on this memorable night. Then the scale was heard on a closed piano in the hall where we were all having dinner. At the first glance of the medium, her cigarette-case, handkerchief, match-box rushed through the air across the room. Then in the adjoining living room lamps and candles were extinguished at once, and when we entered it with fire, it turned out that all the furniture in it stood upside down, soundlessly turned over by invisible hands, completely intact ... Barely recovering from this miracle, we all heard again playing the piano in the hall, but this time the playing was meaningful, like some kind of bravura march. Having looked at each other and seeing that everyone, except for the long-asleep little Liza, was there, we rushed back into the hall and, as expected, found the piano closed.

We sat down at a large dining table and had a séance. The table immediately began to shake violently, quickly moved around the room, rose to the height of a human; in a word, all the phenomena following it always took place when the circle consisted only of persons close to H[elena] P[etrovna].

Among the mass of various and amazing phenomena of that séance, I will describe in detail only two.

Of all the invisible interlocutors that time, Pushkin declared himself the most. At the same time, I ask the reader not to draw a conclusion about our conviction that this invisible figure was a really deceased poet, whose ashes rest in the neighborhood of Rugodevo, in the district named “Svyatye Gory”. We have already expressed our opinion on how much you can trust the messages and statements of these interlocutors. But this does not in the least prevent us from saying that the names of great people were often announced at our séances; while some spoke very intelligently, scientifically and efficiently; others, despite their announcing names of famous people, chatted about such trifles that would do credit to any circus clown, but not to Socrates, Cicero and Martin Luther. And so, that evening Pushkin entertained us with his conversation. He was in a melancholy and gloomy mood and to our questions: why he was so sad? what he suffered from? what he would like? he answered with the following impromptu, which I wrote down, although it does not stand up to any literary criticism:

Why would, my friends, you like to know What my desires are or so? The only desire’s in my breast: Well, in the lap of death to rest... The heaven’s closed anyway! For on the earth I sinned each day. And in the darkness should I stay.

“Poor Alexander Sergeich!” said the father of Madame Blavatsky, when we read him that poem, then he got up, looking for something with his eyes.

“What are you looking for?” asked we.

“Well, for my chibouk!.. I'm tired of cigars, but my chibouk has gone: I can't find it anywhere!”

“You smoked your pipe at dinner.”

“Yes, I did. It seems that now Helena's "spirits" have hidden it...”

“One-two-three!.. One-two-three!..” was heard from all sides in confirmation of this assumption.

“There you are!.. Really? Will you tell me, my dear Pushkin, where you put it?.. Otherwise I will fall into despondency on this earth ahead of time...”

“One-two-three! One-two-three!” rapping was heard on the table.

“Is that you, Alexander Sergeich?..”

We started pronouncing the alphabet.

“No, it's me – your former batman, Your Most Honourable Sir ... Voronov.”

“Ah! Voronov!.. I'm very glad to see you, brother. Remember, my dear, old days: will you give me my pipe?”

“I’d be glad, but I can’t: I am not allowed! Will you, please, take it off yourself? It is over there, on the lamp.”

Everyone looked up. Indeed – the pipe was balancing on the metal lampshade above the table around which we were sitting during the séance. This phenomenon struck us as unusual too, though we were accustomed during the time of experiments not to be surprised at many things that we would not have believed in the recent past, despite any persuasions.

IV

We will now tell about a fact that indicates that H[elena] P[etrovna] was also a psychic medium. If we, describing individual episodes, strictly adhered to the chronological order, then the fact, as relating to 1859, should have been told earlier. It took place in the spring of 1859 when the sisters had just moved to the village. We consider it necessary to pay attention to the fact that none of the sisters before moving to Rugodevo had no idea about it: it was bought by the husband of the younger sister a few months before his death from people who were completely unfamiliar to them. Suddenly, his early death made this estate the only property of his widow and two young sons. They had to make it their home, but they could not have any information about the neighbours around, much less about the people who had lived there before. The younger sister (Ya[khonto]va) knew only that it was bought from a certain Statkovsky, the husband of the granddaughter of its former owners, the Shusherins. Who these Shusherins were, the former owners of these picturesque mountains, pine forests, lakes, birch groves and an old house with a panorama over 30 miles towards Novorzhev – its present owners could not even have an idea, and least of all H[elena] P[etrovna], who lived for ten years outside Russia.

Before the evening, on the second or third day of the sisters' arrival in Rugodevo, they walked around the flower garden, along the facade of the house. The windows of the ground floor faced the flower garden on one side, and on the other side – forming at an angle, into the garden. The whole family lived upstairs: there were eight or nine large rooms; downstairs, to the right of the entrance, their father occupied two rooms; to the left of the entrance there were exactly similar two rooms, along the front facade, they were not occupied by anyone, and waiting for the guests they were vacant and locked. The servants lived in the rooms facing the opposite facade of the house, and they were not visible from the flower garden. Only vacant rooms stood out brightly against a background, especially the second, the corner one, which was all glowing, pierced obliquely through the windows by the rays of the setting sun. The sisters were walking slowly under the very windows along the path, and every time they approached the corner room, the older sister (H[elena] P[etrovna]) looked into it with a long look, reluctantly breaking away from it, and a strange smile flickered on her face ... Vera, the younger one, finally noticed these looks and asked what she saw?

“Do you want me to tell you?” asked H[elena] P[etrovna].

“Just look, don't be frightened.” Why should I be frightened?.. After all, thank God, I don't see anything. Are they from the other world, according to your usual stories?

“I can't say, from this or from that one, because I don't know them, I have never seen them ... But I rather think that from that one ... according to some signs.”

“Well! Do they have dead faces, or what?”

“Oh no!.. Then I would see them as dead in coffins or on the table. This, too, happened to me more than once ... But these – walk around and look like living people. They have no reason to inform me of their passing, because I did not know them alive. But ... they look old fashioned! .. Costumes are the same as now you can see in portraits. Except, however, one person...”

“Which one?”

“Oh! This one looks like a student or an artist. He is in a velvet blouse, belted with a wide belt ... His hair is long, curling up to his shoulders ... This is a very young man, a young man ... He is standing at a distance from the others and looking in the opposite direction.”

The sisters stopped now, and both looked inside the locked room. But it was vacant only for one of them ... Another saw it inhabited, probably, by long gone tenants...

Madame Blavatsky continued:

“Well, he has turned back. Behold! As if he is frightened of us ... and he is gone! How strange!.. He seemed to dissolve in a sunbeam.”

“We'll ask tonight who he could be!” suggested Vera.

“All right! ... But what of that! How can you believe spirits? .. I would give dearly in order to have the power, like others, to invoke exactly whoever I want! But I rarely succeed!.. Look, what an ugliness!.. What does this mean?”

“Why do you tell me: look, look?! As if I am a clairvoyant as you ... Tell me, what are the others like?.. Just listen, and if something is very scary – do not tell me! I do not want to!”

“Nothing of the kind!.. Nothing special. It seemed to me so ... There are three of them ... One, however, I do not see clearly ... It seems a woman. She somehow merges with the shadow in the corner ... But the old woman is standing and looking at me as if she were alive. Lovely fat old woman! A frilled cap, white shawl tied crosswise, gray dress and checkered apron.”

“You're describing some kind of portrait of the Flemish school!” laughed Ya[khonto]va. “Are you serious? Aren’t you inventing?”

“Really, I am not! What a pity, that you cannot see!”

“Many thanks! And I think it is a pity at all! Forget them!.. Terrible!”

“Nothing terrible!.. Only that old man...”

“Which old man?”

“An awfully strange old man!.. Tall, thin, with such suffering on his face!.. And then, his fingernails are terrible! Really!.. Like claws, almost two inches long ...”

“Lord, have mercy! Who are you describing? As if he himself ...”

A “Devil,” wanted Vera to say, but she didn't finish. She suddenly became very scared, and she stepped away from the darkened window.

The sun had already set, but the crimson blush of sunset lay on everything. The flower garden shone with double beauty in this illumination; only the corner of the house cut it in half with a dark blue shadow. Madame Blavatsky remained behind this dark corner, while her sister came out into the bright light and called her to look better at the wonderful view: the distant mountains, overgrown with pine forest, with still gilded tops; the ponds, in which all the green mass of the banks was vividly reflected, and the old chapel, peacefully dozing in the thicket of birches.

Helena Petr[ovna] came up to her thoughtfully. She wanted to know whom she saw then... She was sure that those people had once lived there.

“Only this old man intrigues me!” She said. “Why does he have such nails and, you know, some very strange, black, high hat. Like a monk's cowl!”

“Forget them!”

“This is very interesting, especially as I rarely see!.. Other mediums, stronger than me, they say, are constantly surrounded by a mass of ghosts. But it’s not with me. Sometimes only ... Just last night I saw some gentleman with sideburns in Lisa's room...”

“In Lisa's room?.. Near the children??. Oh, no! For God's sake, is it possible to move him somewhere? .. I hope that he came there only for you, and not always dwell here. Why are you not frightened, I wonder?!”

“Why be afraid of them? They are harmless ... most of the time. Yes, I'm used to them! In fact, I am sure that we are all constantly surrounded by thousands, millions of them.”

“And you think that all these are the ghosts of the dead?”

“I'm sure of that.”

“So why aren't we constantly surrounded by our loved ones? Why should we endure the uninvited presence of strangers?”

“Well, I can't tell you that!.. How many times have I wanted to call someone familiar, of close ones. How much I asked and wished with all my heart –nothing came of it! Two or three times I saw familiar people –but not very close ones, and always unexpectedly, not by my will. As far as I have noticed, it is not we who attract their presence at all, but the places where they lived. If you’d like, we can ask some of the servants ... some old man. I am sure that by our description he will recognize them and tell us who they were.”

And the sisters acted accordingly. They took seats on the porch and called the first house-serfs who passed by. They were Timofey Nekrasov, a former tailor who now lived in retirement, and the gardener Ulyan.

First of all, they asked if an old man of such and such a kind had ever lived there: a high hat, long nails, a long gray frock coat, etc.

“Why!” cried both, interrupting each other. “That is our deceased master! It’s him himself!.. It’s our old master, Nikolai Mikhailich.”

“Statkovsky?”

“No, madam! Statkovsky is a young gentleman, he is our master only according to his wife, Natalya Nikolaevna, the granddaughter of, therefore, our real landowner, Shusherin, Nikolai Mikhailich. And that, as you are pleased to describe, is he himself, Nikolai Mikhailovich Shusherin.”

The sisters looked at each other.

“We saw his portrait ... in Pskov,” explained the younger one, not wanting to tell those people all the truth. “So why did he wear such a high hat and didn’t cut his nails?”

“And that happened, if you please, in Lithuania where he served and was infected by a disease called elf-lock. He could neither cut off his nails, nor cut his hair ... So he wore such a velvet hat, as if a priest's kamelaukion.”

“Well, what kind of look was your lady Shusherina? The house-serfs began to describe a person who was not in the least like the old woman she had seen.”

However, from their own stories it immediately became clear that the tall old woman seen by Blavatsky in a semi-German costume was none other than a German woman, Mina Ivanovna, a housekeeper who had lived in the Shusherins' house for more than 20 years. This is not enough. It also turned out that the room in which H[elena] P[etrovna] saw that evening and during many subsequent days the ghosts of the deceased residents of Rugodevo, served all of them as their last refuge on earth: the dead were usually placed there until they were buried in the chapel behind the pond clearly visible from the windows of this room.

Many times after that day, not only H[elena] P[etrovna], but also her little sister Lisa happened to see various ghosts in that old house, full of memories of past times and the deceased. Seven-year-old Liza was not in the least afraid of the personalities she saw, whom she considered living people, and was only amazed at where they came from, and why no one, except her and her elder sister, wanted to notice them. Fortunately, after two or three such cases, this power left the child and never returned to her in later life. With Helena Petrovna, it has remained to this day and to such an extent that it is rarely necessary to inform her about the death of this or that person familiar to her: they always tell her in letters about their death almost before it...

The sisters' stay in Rugodevo ended in a severe illness of the elder one. Several years ago, during one of her travels in the Asian or American wilderness, she was badly wounded. From time to time this wound opened, and then she suffered greatly, even to convulsions and unconsciousness. The illness lasted two or three days and then subsided by itself, but the frightened family did not know this and were very alarmed. They sent to Novorzhev for a doctor, who, however, did not benefit much, because he himself was greatly perplexed and frightened – not by Blavatsky's disease, but by that incessant commotion that, as if increased by her helpless state, was always around her. It was such a chaos of sounds and raps heard in the floor, in the ceiling, in the walls, in the pane glass that a brave doctor was astonished and even horrified. His fear, comic grimaces and requests not to leave him alone in the room with the sick, the haste with which he strove to get out of it, amused Helena Petrovna's household, accustomed to various, much more surprising manifestations of her inherent invisible power, in essence, completely harmless. The fright of the poor doctor long served as the subject of laughter of the residents of Rugodevo and, more than the illness itself, imprinted this episode in their memory.

In the spring of [18]60, both sisters left for the Caucasus to visit their relatives.

V

So far we have spoken in some detail about Madame Blavatsky as a medium, because we have personally witnessed the manifestation of her mediumistic power. We cannot tell in the same detail about the further life and work of H[elena] P[etrovna], although we fully vouch for the truth and subsequent facts, which we will touch upon in this essay.

The follow-up activities of H[elena] P[etrovna] are extremely varied. Her talented, exceptional nature constantly demanded new activities, new interests, new occupations. To be content with the common environment and the colourless existence of the majority was unthinkable for her, as it was unthinkable for a fish to live without water, and a free bird without air. During her ten-year absence from Russia, H[elena] P[etrovna] has lost the habit of an ordinary, dull life.

——————

During the three-week journey of the sisters by a coach-and-three from Moscow to Tiflis, many remarkable events happened, but we will only mention the following one.

At one of the post houses, in the land of the Donskoy army, the postmaster rudely told them that there were no horses. The sun had not yet set, the moonlit night was coming, and they had to waste several hours in vain. It’s annoying, but there was nothing to do, especially since the postmaster disappeared and did not even want to talk to them. I had to settle down for the night, but then we had a problem: at the post house there was only one vacant closet near the hot and dirty kitchen, and the clean room for passers-by was locked and for some reason they did not want to open it. Madame Blavatsky was losing her patience. What! They give neither horses nor a room where to spend the night, there is no word for it!.. But why is the room locked?.. Can we find out?.. But there was no one to ask: the station seemed to have died out. Not a soul anywhere!.. Madame Blavatsky came up to the low windows of the locked room and peeped into it through the pane glass ...

“Aha! That's it!” She exclaimed after a minute. “Just wait! I'll make the postmaster give us horses right now.”

And she resolutely went looking for him.

Wanting to find out what was hiding in the secret room, her sister, in turn, began to peep through the pane glass; but, although the whole room was brightly lit by the setting sun, uninitiated eyes could not see anything in it except the usual post house furniture...

However, to the great amazement and delight of Ya[khonto]va, in less than ten minutes they were given three excellent, courier horses under the supervision of the postmaster himself, who in bewilderment accompanied the travellers with bows; the horses were set in the tarantass, and the travellers went on their way.

“Tell me please, what kind of magic helped you to perform this miracle?” asked Blavatsky her sister.

“It's the same!” She answered laughing. “The poor postmaster took me, probably, for a witch, when I told him that the person who had recently been lying in a coffin in that locked room asked him not to detain us. At first he stared at me, not understanding anything; but when I described to him the appearance and clothes of the deceased, he turned pale and rushed to fill our order for post horses. True, he wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible!.. I immediately asked when passing his housemaid: whom had the postmaster recently buried? It turned out to be his wife. Anyway, thanks to her for helping us!

VI

H[elena] P[etrovna] lived in Tiflis for no more than two years, and no more than four in general in the Caucasus. Last two years in Imeretia, Guria and Mingrelia, she found herself some business in timber rafting and harvesting the walnut burr, which is very highly valued abroad. But, in spite of her business, she did not give up spiritualism, and her mediumistic power did not leave her, but became only more obedient to the will of Blavatsky. Over time, spontaneous mediumistic phenomena ceased to persecute her, and although their strength and variety did not diminish in the least, H[elena] P[etrovna] now preferred to receive messages with a pencil in the circle of close people: it was both easier and faster ... Sometimes during such séances H[elena] P[etrovna] fell into a kind of trans, as if into a magnetic sleep, but even in her sleep her hand continued twitching and writing on a piece of paper. At the same time, the answers to the mentally asked questions were quite satisfactory.

Meanwhile spontaneous phenomena, although not so often, continued and were very remarkable. Among them was the following one:

At dusk H[elena] P[etrovna] entered the room to her aunt N[adezhda] A F[adeeva] with the words that she was falling asleep; her aunt invited her to lie down, and H[elena] P[etrovna] immediately did it. But as soon as she fell asleep, footsteps were heard in the room; her aunt turned around – no one was there! A minute passed, and again not exactly footsteps, but some strange sounds were heard: as if something was being dragged or rolled across the room, and the floorboards were creaking under the weight. This sound was spreading all over the room, stopping by the bed on which Helena Petrovna was sleeping. After that, one of the books lying on the table opened, fell from its place and, flying up to the ceiling, fell back on the floor...

Alarmed, although not particularly frightened, N[adezhda] A[ndreevna] got up to pick up the book and wake up the niece, thus wishing to end the phenomena; but at that moment the heavy armchair by the bed moved and fell noisily to the floor. The noise woke the sleeping niece; she opened her eyes, sat down and, looking around, asked with surprise: “What is it?.. What has happened?..” Meanwhile, everything became quiet and that evening the phenomena did not repeat.

At the present time, all these spontaneous manifestations of Madame Blavatsky's mediumistic power have stopped, but when exactly we cannot say, since she left Russia again and did not report anything definite.

From her letters, we only know that she is constantly travelling and that it was not she who subsequently submitted to influences that would certainly have seized another, weaker, nature, but on the contrary, she gradually bent them to her will.

Madame Blavatsky never stopped to be interested in the study of spiritualistic facts. So, living in the mid [18]60s in Cairo (from where she very often made excursions far inland of Africa), she was vice-president of a spiritualist society, about which local French newspapers, at that time, published a lot of interesting details.

It is evident from both the reports of this society and the facts known to us that Madame Blavatsky's mediumistic power has not diminished. Here is one of these facts.

Over the past years, many changes have taken place in her family: her grandfather and aunt's husband died, and the whole family moved to Odessa. Helena Petrovna herself had not been to Tiflis for a long time; only her sister with her family remained there for awhile. Some of the former house serfs of the F[adee]vs, who, due to their old age, could not feed themselves, they often resorted to her help. Ya[khonto]va could not help them much, but to old times sake, she did what she could. So she put two old men in the city almshouse: the cook Maxim and his brother Pyotr, once a very prompt footman, but now an armless bitter drunkard. These people sometimes came to her to congratulate her on the holiday. Soon Ya[khonto]va also moved to live in Odessa, while Madame Blavatsky was living in Egypt at that time. The sisters did not correspond often, and correspondence was limited to short letters. After a long interval, Ya[khonto]va received from Blavatsky a long and very interesting letter, part of which consisted of some leaves torn from a notebook and written in pencil under the shadow of the Egyptian pyramids, to see them Blavatsky went in a large company of her comrades, members of the “Spiritualist Society.” ... She described the remarkable phenomena that occurred during their excursion, and, among other things, said: “Will you tell me, please, Vera, is it true that the armless Peter died yesterday (the date of the letter indicated that it took it ten days to come from Egypt)? Can you imagine that one of our English mediums, writing with a pencil on the tomb of one of the pharaohs, suddenly had phrases in a language that none of her companions could read? I was a little far away from them and came just in time to prevent them from throwing the piece of paper covered with incomprehensible scribbles and read on it the following appeal to me in Russian: “Young lady! Young lady! Could you pray for me, a sinner?.. I am suffering: I am thirsty!.. I am suffering!.. “By this name, "young lady," with which our old house-serfs will probably call you and me until our old age,” – added H[elena] P[etrovna], – “I guessed that it was one of them and immediately took up the pencil myself. I don’t know if it’s true, but he called himself Pyotr Kucherov; he announced to me that he had died in an almshouse at the hospital of Dr. Goralevich, where you put him with Maxim, who supposedly also had died even before him. You didn't write to me about this; is it true?..” There were also detailed descriptions of the whole scene and the true words of Pyotr, desperately complaining about what he was experiencing as punishment for his drunkenness during his lifetime, a painful feeling of unsatisfied thirst; and at the end of the letter there was a postscript stating that she no longer doubts the death of the brothers, because she saw both of them that evening...

The sister, interested in this news, immediately telegraphed to Tiflis and received a reply that fully confirms the message of Blavatsky: Pyotr died about ten days ago, exactly on the same date mentioned in the letter of H[elena] P[Petrovna], and his brother died two days earlier.

In order for the genuineness of this phenomenon to be obvious, we consider it necessary to add that Blavatsky could not know about the death of these old men: they died in Tiflis, and H[elena] P[etrovna] had no communication with her relatives living there. And besides, only ten days passed since the day of the death of the second old man according to the date in the letter of Blavatsky, and this period is too short for written communication with Egypt. Obviously, there can be no question of telegraphing.

VII

Avoiding taking information about Madame Blavatsky's later life from her own letters and citing in this sketch only what we witnessed ourselves or borrowed from undoubtedly impartial sources, we have to omit, almost without any interval, several years from the life of H[elena] P[etrovna]. Those wishing to fill this blank can take information from foreign newspapers: since the late [18]60s, newspapers in Cairo, Alexandria, Tunisia, Greece, where Madame Blavatsky spent part of this decade, tirelessly talked about her activities. At present, American and Indian newspapers do not yield to them.

In the early [18]70s, Madame Blavatsky once again visited the south of Russia and finally parted with her homeland, where, despite the diversity of her “out of the ordinary” talents she could not apply them due to lack of connections and patronage. And the field of Russian journalism became accessible to her only when the press of the Old and New World started talking about her.

In 1872 H[elena] P[etrovna] left for North America. Travelling around it and getting to know this country quite well, she settled in New York, where she lived for 7 years. She spent these years in continuous work to acquire knowledge on favourite subjects. In addition to the four or five languages she knew, she learned several more, including three ancient languages: Latin, Hebrew, and Sanskrit. She had already learned Greek earlier while living in Athens. In studying the Sanskrit language, in addition to textbooks, she found great practical help in a Hindu who lived at the “Theosophical Society” premises. H[elena] P[etrovna] managed to arrange so that the doors of the New York Public Library were always open to her, and she could use even those bibliographic rarities that were not made available to the general public. The fruit of those laborious years was a scholarly theological work in two large volumes, which, despite its abstract ideas, had three editions in the first half of the year after its publishing. We are talking about her Isis Unveiled, which has excited so much talk in the foreign press; but in our press it was hardly noticed...

At the same time, Madame Blavatsky, without denying the reality of mediumistic phenomena, received a new look at both the cause of their origin and the role that the medium plays in this. Under the influence of this look, she began to deny her mediumistic powers. She persistently denied the name of the spiritualist imposed on her in letters. So in 1877 in one of her letters she said:

“What kind of spiritualists are we, oh dear?!. If I joined the “Society of Theosophists” (the branch of the Indian Society of Arians existing here), more correctly, the brotherhood called Aria Soma, it is precisely because they honestly fight under the banner of truth and science with all prejudices, with the abuse of false prophets, priests – Kalkhas, as well as with the nonsense of the Spiritualists. We (theosophists) are rather spirit researchers, and even then not in the American, but in the Alexandrian way.”

Soon after the publication of H[elena] P[etrovna's] book, her name, in addition, got on the pages of Russian publications: Professor Wagner's articles on spiritualism in the Russkiy Vestnik; translations some fragments of Mr. Olcott’s (the President of the Society of Theosophists) “People from the other world” about the séances of the Eddie brothers reminded of Blavatsky in Russia. Almost immediately after this, foreign magazines began to speak loudly about the role played by H[elena] P[etrovna] at the cremation of the body of Baron de Palma in New York. These reviews also got into the Russian press, but, alas, they did not do her any good, just as later even the praise to her book, borrowed by some, very few, newspapers did not. A strange but positively indisputable fact! Every time strangers spoke approvingly of her, the Russian immediately told a fable in an ironic tone, or even simply spread slander: “What? Is this the same Madame Blavatsky who lived among us?.. But it cannot be!” And as a result of this, “it cannot be”, in the sense that a Russian woman wrote an intelligent book in English, it suddenly became possible, without any data, to assert that she was a charlatan, badly brought up, stupid, ugly (what does this have to do with to her merits or demerits, and, in the end, that when she was 17 years old she killed (?!) her husband and therefore fled from Russia...” One must love one’s fatherland very much so that, despite such bouquets presented by compatriots, one still remains in a Russian at heart and such an ardent patriot, which Madame Blavatsky has remained until now!..

Baron de Palme, whose death was mentioned above, was a very rich man and bequeathed a large fortune to branches of theosophists so that they built a crematorium (oven for incineration of corpses) and, turning his body to ashes, would take it by small amounts to remember him by. This was performed during a solemn ceremony that attracted huge masses. New York papers published many reports about it, and illustrated magazines for the first time published portraits of the main figures of the “Brotherhood of Theosophists” and a portrait of Blavatsky among them. At the same time, many of her articles attracted general attention, and especially those written in defense of the unjustly accused medium Slade and against Huxley, who delivered 3 lectures in New York, aimed exclusively at proving the non-existence of the eternal human soul. For the last article H[elena] P[etrovna] was recognized as having a brilliant literary talent, and when her “Isis Unveiled” was published, she immediately took an honorable place in the scientific world and arose interest of the whole New York to such an extent that she did not have peace from new acquaintances, and especially from reporters' pursuit. Following the American press, the European one also started talking about her. The London Phrenological Journal published a portrait of her and something like a biography. “Public Opinion” declared that her Isis was “the most remarkable phenomenon in the literature of our century.” There is no need to say anything about special works devoted to spiritualism and similar branches of science: Isis as a profession de foi of a person whom they until now considered quite agreeable with their views, caused a sensation in their midst. At the same time, the literary significance of H[elena] P[etrovna] and her funds immediately rose; her article fees quadrupled.

“Imagine my surprise!” writes she to her sister in one of the letters of that time. “For my last article, sent to the newspaper – Tribune about esotericism and nirvana in the Buddhist religion, I thought to get 100-150 dollars, but they sent me 400!.. It means that I have become fashionable. I am flooded with offers. For an absurd feuilleton, which I write off hand, just to get rid of annoying requests, they give me 60-70 dollars. And before, for a much more perfect and serious work of the same size, if they gave 20 dollars, I was so glad. But in fact, do they pay for the quality of articles?.. They pay for the name. I wrote no worse before, maybe I worked at my articles much more carefully – but they didn’t know my name?.. But now it’s in vogue, so the editorial staff do not leave me alone: everyone needs me and they pay à qui mieux-mieux!.. They are lucky not to pick a presumptuous person: my father's daughter is modest and won't have high opinion of herself!..”

The last remark is quite true: H[elena] P[etrovna] was not seized with presumptuousness and pride being praised to the skies, especially by representatives of small daily papers, in the hope of getting an article out of her or being accepted at her illustrious Lamasery – “New York Lamasary,” as the house on 7th Avenue, Madame Blavatsky’s residence was nicknamed. These visits provided H[elena] P[etrovna] with abundant material for articles that were more or less truthful, but always interesting for the majority of the public ... She really attached so little importance to her literary work that she was constantly sincerely surprised at such a success. Here is what she wrote to her family at that time about her work on the essay that brought her such fame:

“I don’t know why my works are so praised? True, during these years I worked and studied a lot, but in fact, my “Isis” was being written so easily that it was not work, but pleasure!.. I am often surprised at the ease with which I manage to write about Byron and about important matters! ... An article is required; I start writing whether about metaphysics, psychology, philosophy of the ancients or zoology and natural sciences, I am not thinking, I do not ask myself whether I can do it or have the strength to do it, but I just start writing. And it turns out well!.. As if someone who knows dictates me ... Don't think that I'm crazy, but I am convinced to be inspired ... I believe to be influenced and I am strong in my belief in the influence ... Not I speak and write, but my inner ego, my luminous self, thinks and writes for me. Look, have I really become so learned in a few years that as soon as I write an article (in my opinion, the most vacuous one!) all the local magazines start fussing? Reviews, praises of really learned experts, editors and reporters visits, orders of articles are just coming in shower. Where does it come from?..”

It is obvious to us – from where; but H[elena] P[etrovna] was sincerely convinced that her works were facilitated by “indirect influences”; that even the best pages of her Isis were written “under dictation.” In the midst of her working at this difficult, very abstract essay, which required references to several hundred authors of various ages and nationalities, she wrote to her sister the following:

“... You may not believe, but I, as in a daze, as if in some feverish delight! When I am awake and, it seems, in a dream too I am busy with my “Isis”! I am looking, watching and it's a feast for the eyes to look at it, as its veil is getting thinner and falling down in front of my eyes! For almost three years now as in front of me, day and night, the images of the past have been rushing around ... Slowly, as in a magical panorama, centuries after centuries are passing in front of my eyes. Races and peoples, countries and cities are arising, collapsing and disappearing. The hoary antiquity is being replaced by the historical period; myths give place to real events and people, and every phenomenon, every revolution – from the first cause to the subsequent natural results – is impressed in my memory ... When I think, it seems to me that my thoughts are like some kind of multi-coloured blocks: I put them together, and in the end something always comes out geometrically correct. I can't understand where I got such memory from, such understanding and clarity of conclusions?.. Someone helps me: obviously, the “Master” does!..”

She was helped, in our opinion, by her natural talents, and by the knowledge and memory developed by intensive labours. But, as can be seen from the excerpts from her letters, she herself valued it least of all, rejected her personal participation in the work, attributing all her success to some “influences”, suggestions of some mythical “Master.”

VIII

Those interested in the present activities of Madame Blavatsky can get detailed information about her from her letters From the Caves and Wilds of Hindustan, published in the Mosk[ovskie] Ved[omosti] and the Russkiy Vestnik under the pseudonym of Rudda-Bai; from various foreign newspapers and magazines; from individual writings such as Sinnett's book The Occult World, and, finally, more from her own magazine, The Theosophist (see announcement on p. 442). We need, in addition to this brief essay, to say a few more words about her social and spiritualist activities, to refute the many false rumours that got into the Russian press about her.

The last Russian-Turkish war found Madame Blavatsky in America. In the midst of it, she almost abandoned all other affairs, devoting all her time to an ardent struggle with the literary enemies of Russia. She gave such strong rebuffs to almost every attack of journalists against the Russians that the local supporters of our enemies almost fell silent in New York.

“The Tribune”, “The Sun”, “The Daily Times” were the main organs of H[elena] P[etrovna]. She so sharp and witty blew the slanderers up that they found it unsafe to arouse the anger of this “Russian American”. Aristarchus Bey, the then Turkish consul in Washington, guided by correspondence from Turkey, suffering from both geographical and numerical blunders, issued a strongly-worded accusation against the Russians for their alleged atrocities in Asia Minor. H[elena] P[etrovna], taking advantage of these blunders, rebuffed the consul in “The Sun” so much that he recognized it as necessary to come to her in person and, referring to a misunderstanding, rejected everything he had written. This episode made a strong impression in New York.

She also had an outstanding altercation with the papal nuncio for her articles against the Catholic clergy and especially against the Pope while he had “Te deum” for the prosperity of Turkey and the success of Turkish arms.

As once in London she alone defended the honour of Russia in a crowd of Englishmen, so now she fearlessly spoke, wrote and branded our enemies. In the heat of her indignation and patriotic feelings, she forgot expatriation, her American citizenship and her theosophical interests and only set herself one goal: to hold high and firmly her Russian banner!.. Her voice died away and drowned in the general chaos of feelings, interests and worries of that time, almost reaching Russia; but nevertheless those Russians who know her actions cannot but pay her due tribute of justice and respect. She did everything she could, not in one word, but in deed. At that time, the pages of more respectable Russian publications were not yet open to her; she constantly wrote for the newspaper “Tiflis Bulletin” and all the fees she received from the editorial office were donated to the Tiflis barracks for the wounded.

In 1878, all the main representatives of the Society of Theosophists in America – its president, Colonel Henry Olcott, and others, including Madame Blavatsky, as Corresponding Secretary, moved from New York to India, in Bombay. They were summoned there by the main figures of the brotherhood “Arya Samaj”, natural Buddhists, learned Pandits of the Hindus, who accepted them with such joy and honour that at first they even aroused the fears of the police. The British authorities were afraid if they had political goals ... But soon they became convinced of the opposite; convinced that the objects of the “Theosophical Society” were only aimed at enlightenment of people and possible relief of hard life in India through the approval and dissemination of the pure, very moral teaching of the ancient Vedas. For more than 30 years, Buddhism, so to speak, was revived to a new life through the efforts of several Indian scholars, especially a certain Swami (saint) named Dayananda Saraswati. Thanks to his knowledge of ancient and new languages, deep study of the Vedas and, in general, many-sided erudition, this wonderful man was not afraid to enter into verbal and printed altercations with European doctors of various branches of science and wins scholarly disputes. He especially criticized the materialistic theories of Huxley.

Buddhists believe in the divine principle – in the trinity of human nature itself: in the eternal spirit, in the semi-immortal soul (which becomes eternal only in the case of a person's moral purity, uniting with his divine spirit and hovering over the head of every mortal even during his life), in other words, into his astral, spiritual body and mortal body. The main tasks of the “Theosophical Society” are not at all the exclusive spreading of Buddhism, as some say – it has its own, stronger preachers. The tasks of the Society: a serious search for truth and justice in everything – in life, in science, in yet unexplained natural phenomena. At the same time, of course, they zealously help the efforts of their Buddhist members in spreading and supporting their faith – the oldest in India, fully recognizing the purity of its moral foundations and the undoubted difficulty of fighting against it in India even on the part of Christian truths, due to the hatred that the English missionaries were able to fill native population with. For the sake of the success of their humane, noble objects, the Theosophists could make no other choice. Their tolerance and concern for the welfare, for the education of the poor population of India, the trust and love that it managed to inspire the population with explain the success of the Society. First of all every branch of the Theosophical Society, wherever it opens, tries to help the poor brethren, hospitals, libraries and schools. Children are admitted to their schools without distinction of religion. In general, tolerance in matters of conscience, religion and political convictions is the main rule of the Society.

It can count on widespread success precisely because its tasks are completely moral; it strives for the consolidation of mankind, for the equality of peoples and their well-being by the power of enlightenment and general goodwill, without intruding in the least into individual convictions, into the conscience and belief of each of its members, granting everyone full moral freedom, respecting the inviolability of other people's beliefs and not violating them. Lately, the founders of the Theosophical Society, Colonel Olcott and Madame Blavatsky, broke up with their original patron, the Indian sage Dayananda Saraswati on the base of religious tolerance issues. They accuse him of dishonest behaviour concerning the non-Buddhist members and left him without any hesitation, proving once more their strength and influence. Their last year's journey to Ceylon, to this cradle of Buddhism, where for thousands of years the priests have been guarding their holy relics – the manuscripts of the Vedas and the tooth of the Buddha himself – this journey, similar to the procession of triumphants and almost demigods, already sufficiently demonstrates their popularity.

Not so long ago, the newspaper “Caucasus” (according to some German newspaper) called Madame Blavatsky “the great priestess of the Society of Theosophists,” and the “Odessa Leaflet” announced that she was publishing “in London (?) a “Sanskrit journal” ... We are accustomed to this kind of incorrect news about her and take this opportunity to notice that although H. P. Blavatsky can be absolutely truly called not a priestess, but the founder of this Society, she is content, officially, only with the title of the corresponding secretary. In addition, she indeed publishes The Theosophist, not only in London, but in Adyar, near Madras, where the main representatives of society moved to from Bombay last year because of climatic conditions.

The number of members of the Theosophical Society is already 50 thousand. Its organ is the magazine Theosophist, about the tendencies of which, as well as about the objects of theosophists, the French scientist and President of the Psychological Society in Paris C. Foveti in his article La science et de la Théosophie says the following:

“The desire of their (theosophists) to connect Europe with Asia through mental ties has a great humanitarian meaning ... Our Western modern civilization is undoubtedly mobile and progressive, while the Eastern civilization, sacredly keeping the traditions of antiquity, has frozen in the social and religious forms of the past. The former embraces Europe and America with the entire globe; the latter, enclosed in its most ancient centers – India and China, extends over most of Asia and is represented by almost half of the world's population. To unite these two civilizations through mental communication, to set them in motion with science, philosophy, the success of enlightenment and religious ideal – such is the idea, such is the object of the undertaking, the initiative of which Madame Blavatsky took upon herself. Thus the woman took upon herself the implementation of the great project of the future merging of all members of the human family and the implementation of its spiritual union!”

At the end of the article, Mr. Foveti gives some details from the life of H[elena] P[etrovna]; gives some idea about her scientific knowledge, about the merits of her book “Isis Unveiled”, which he characterizes as follows: “This remarkable work has a high philosophical significance and shows deep, amazing knowledge...” Then, describing the activities of Madame Blavatsky, he recalls the historical fact, relating to 1831, and since H[elena] P[etrovna] was born in the same year, the author stops at the coincidence of these events. Here is what he says about this:

“It took a person as gifted as Madame Blavatsky to be at the height of such an undertaking ... It reminds me the Saint-Simonists who had been announcing to the world since 1831 the emergence from the East a woman who would unite both societies, eastern and western, and would be the mother of a regenerated society. Deceived by their dreams, some of them even went to the East in search of this woman ... They travelled in vain across Egypt, Syria and Asian Turkey, without meeting anybody like her ... They left too early,” says Foveti with full conviction, “if they had left 50 years later and would have travelled further, they would have found in Madame Blavatsky a Russian woman performing the great work of spiritual merging that they dreamed of...”

With this review of the French scientist we will finish our truthful narrative about H. P. Blavatsky.

Footnotes

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