HPB-SB-8-11

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vol. 8, p. 11

H. P. Blavatsky Scrapbooks

from Adyar archives of the International Theosophical Society

vol. 8 (September 1878 - September 1879)

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eng • рус

The Materialisation of a Spirit

By Hensleigh Wedgwood, J.P.

I had on Thursday last an excellent opportunity of observing the astonishing phenomenon of a living form built up before my eyes in my own study. Mr. Haxby sat as medium in the cabinet, consisting of a corner of the room curtained off; and just in front of the opening of the curtains, at a distance of about two feet, Mrs. Guppy Volckman stood with her back to the cabinet. I was directly in front of her at a distance of three or four feet, with two other sitters on my right and two on my left. My attention was first caught by an indistinct cloudy object of rounded form between me and the lower part of Mrs. Volckman’s dress, apparently floating a little above the floor. Presently, the form began to grow upwards, becoming more distinct and solid as it rose, and soon displayed the unmistakeable form of Abdullah, whom we had repeatedly seen in the course of the sitting. He did not seem to rise through the floor, as the bottom of his drapery lay unmoved upon the carpet when he had not risen to above half the height of Mrs. Volckman, and so it continued while he seemed to grow up from within, until he stood up close to Mrs. Volckman on her left hand as distinct and apparently as solid as herself. While standing there we compared the height of the two, and considered Abdullah as the taller by perhaps an inch, while on a similar comparison subsequently made with Mr. Haxby, we considered him to be shorter than Mrs. Volckman by about the same amount. When this little discussion was over, Abdullah began to sink, and gradually disappeared, much in the same way that he had risen up. The medium on this occasion was not confined in any way, but the whole process of the building up of the materialised figure took place so distinctly before my eyes, that it was physically impossible that it could have been accomplished by an escape of Mr. Haxby from the cabinet. The light was a low jet of gas just over my head. The greatly increased power of the medium on this occasion was evidently owing to the presence of Mrs. Volckman. All the materialised figures (of which there were four of different heights) were much freer in their movements than usual. Abdullah unbolted the door and went out alone into the daylight of the hall, from whence he brought something that was lying on the table there. The dwarfish form known as “Cissy,” who generally appears only at the opening of the curtains, came out and climbed up on Mrs. Volckman’s lap, where she lay kicking out her feet against the curtains. Finally, the curtains were drawn aside, and Mr. Haxby shown with a shadowy white figure standing by his side.

Queen Anne-street, Cavendish-square, London, March 16th, 1878.

An Indian Legend

It seems that Moon Mountain, in the south-western part of the town of Monson, has a veritable Indian legend attached to it, fantastic and romantic enough to suit the most fanciful. Of course, its date is ages and ages ago, and a most beautiful maiden is concerned, with an unpronounceable name, but called, for short, Ke-wa-goosh-tunk-kumcan-ge-woek, which means something about the top of a mountain and the bottom of a river, for she was born on the top of Moon Mountain, and her mother, who died at the time, prophesied that in death her daughter should rest among the rocks at the bottom of Chicopee River. She grew to young womanhood, and became her father’s darling and solace, to give him a parting caress when he went to the chase or to war, and to welcome him on his return.

One day, when her father was gone, there came a terrible thunderstorm, and at its height there appeared at the door of the wigwam a young Indian brave, who asked, and was granted shelter. The rain continued to pour and lightning to flash, when suddenly a white horse descended from the skies in a flash of lightning, and the thunder that followed brought a coal-black steed. Just then a heavy gust of wind blew away the wigwam, and the couple were left exposed to the elements. Then the white steed opened his mouth, and said:—

“Maiden, your father is dying, and sent me to carry you to him;” and the black steed said, “Young brave, this maiden’s father sent me to carry you as company for this maiden.”

So they mounted the horses and rode away with the speed, of lightning toward the west. When they came to the place where her father had been, he had been taken away, and they told her a spirit-horse had taken him to his home.

So they turned their faces toward the east again, and when they came to where their wigwam had stood they found an old man there, who said that her father had returned, but, not finding her, he had driven his horse down to the river; so, toward the Chicopee this Indian maiden and the brave made their way, and, as they arrived on the bank, they saw her father in an airy boat on the dark waters, being forced by some invisible power up the stream. He saw her, and said:—

“Come not to me, oh my daughter; I am going to the happy hunting-grounds. The Great Spirit has sent you a protector in the brave at your side! Farewell, I will see you no more!”

Then the airy boat disappeared, and her father with it. Frantic with grief, the maiden urged her steed into the waters, and the brave followed. When they arrived at the spot where her father went down the horses vanished from under them, and they were left struggling in the waters.

Then her father again appeared, and said, “My children, receive my blessing,” and they all went down together, and were never seen again.—''Springfield Republican.

An Inspirational Lecture at Ulverstone

On Friday evening last the library room of the Ulverstone Temperance Hall was filled by an audience composed of the leading Spiritualists of that town, Dalton, Barrow, and Millom, with other friends, the Occasion of the concourse being to listen to an “inspirational” lecture by Mr. Colville, the well-known Spiritualist trance speaker.

Mr. James Hamer took the chair, and stated that Mr. Colville had been sent by the Lancashire Association of Spiritualists. He defined the nature of Mr. Colville’s mediumship, which was that of an “inspirational speaker.” He then called upon the audience to send up in writing any subject on which they desired Mr. Colville to address them. About a dozen topics were handed in, and each having been put to the show of hands, the vote of the majority was found to be in favour of one “On the Best Spiritual Gifts, and How to Attain them.”

Mr. Colville then rose and spoke for nearly an hour. His flow of language was remarkable. With scarcely a pause, he dilated upon the various spiritual gifts, such as those of prophecy, healing the sick, and the gift of tongues. The best gifts could only be attained by attending closely to the cultivation of the human body, otherwise the intelligences from the spirit world could not successfully influence the medium. Abstinence from alcoholic drinks, and smoking, with a careful attention to diet, so that nothing coarse or unclean be taken into the system, was recommended, and the daily eating of fruit when in season was desirable.

At the close of the lecture questions were put by the audience. In reply to one minister the speaker said that, in order to become open to inspiration, it was desirable for a young would-be speaker to go to the summit of a hill or mountain occasionally with a few friends, and then, keeping his mind perfectly passive, just speak out the thoughts as they entered. The purity of the atmosphere in elevated positions was such as to render it much easier for other-world intelligences to influence the speaker, and render his task one of inspiration rather than of mental labour. He added that it would be very difficult, if not impossible, for a person over forty years of age to become an inspired orator. The sooner in life inspirational speaking was commenced the better and easier it would be. It had to be understood, however, that the controlling intelligences required a finely-organised brain for high efforts; just as it would be impossible for the grandest musician to give forth harmony from a defective instrument, so would it be for them to speak with eloquence through a brain of a low order.

Another reverend gentleman asked in what way Spiritualists regarded the atonement of Christ? In answer, Mr. Colville’s guides said that in the ranks of Spiritualism there were men of all creeds and beliefs, but if they wanted to know the view of the particular intelligence then controlling, he would say at once that Christ came on earth to reconcile man to God, but certainly not to reconcile God to man.

A hymn was sung, and the chairman then stated that Mr. Colville’s guides would be prepared to deliver an impromptu poem on any subject they might choose to name. Several were handed in, such as “Sympathy of the Two Worlds,” “The Crescent and the Cross,” “On the Borderland," “Death,” “Total Abstinence,” “The Communion of Angels,” and “In Memory of Sir John Barrow.” The latter, being of local interest, was chosen almost unanimously. Mr. Colville then asked, who was Sir John Barrow? One of the audience contended that spirits ought to know; to which Mr. Colville replied that it was a great mistake to suppose that each spirit knew every other spirit who had passed away. They, themselves, did not know every one on this earth, and was it to be expected that they, who were chiefly deceased Americans, were able to know anything of Sir John Barrow? If they had this knowledge, then spirits would, indeed, be omniscient, and equal to the Omnipotent Himself. If any one would be good enough to tell them a few facts about Sir John, they would be quite prepared to proceed with the poem.

Mr. Robert Casson then briefly sketched the life of Sir John, mentioning that he had risen from a cottage home in Uiverstone to become the Secretary to the Admiralty and a master of many little-known languages. To his memory a monument had been erected on a hill adjacent to the town. Mr. Colville, without hesitation, delivered a poem of several verses anent the subject, full of kindly sentiment, praising the laudable ambition of the deceased, who had, without—

Title, rank, or earthly fame, Nobly earned a knightly name;

And in a very creditable manner Mr. Colville convinced many that inspiration was, indeed, a veritable fact, whether it came, as alleged, from the spirit-world, or from the depths of his inner consciousness. The general opinion was that Mr. Colville had accomplished a literary feat which very few men living would dare to undertake.

The proceedings closed in the usual manner with the singing of the doxology.

Editor's notes

Sources

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  London Spiritualist, No. 291, March 22, 1878, p. 137