From Blavatsky Archives, abridged.
How a Hindu of Madras Interviewed a Mahatma at Sikkim
by R. Casava Pillai
Reprinted from The Indian Mirror (Calcutta), Vol. XXV, March 3, 1885, p. [2] and March 7, 1885, p. [2].
Nellore, 27th January 1885
Mr. Casava Pillai, F. T. S., Head-Quarter Inspector of Police, Nellore, writes: ---
Having heard that the now famous Madame Coulomb has published a pamphlet against Madame Blavatsky, in which she has spoken about me as an "accomplice," I sent for the pamphlet, and on perusal of the same, I found myself referred to, at pages 45, 49, 50 and 74.
I now feel it my duty, and have obtained the permission of my most Revered Guru Deva, to state the particulars regarding my travels up to and over the Himalayas and their object, with a humble hope that this may, to some extent, convince the readers of Madame Coulomb's slanderous writings of the perfect innocence of the venerable and much-abused Madame Blavatsky; who has, for the sake of India and humanity, almost fulfilled the sad prediction of the Venerated Mahatma Kut Humi, who says: "The devoted woman who so foolishly rushes into the wide, open door leading to notoriety. This door * * * would prove very soon a trap --- and a fatal one * * *." Vide page 95, "Occult World," 2nd Edition.
To begin with my account of travels, I shall have to go so far back as the year 1869, when I was only about 17 years old, and was reading in the Sydapett Anglo-Vernacular School, the Head Master of which Mr. J. D. Voz, a very pious Catholic, who finding my early religious tendencies, used to give me some spiritual instructions at his leisure hours. I was, at the same time, in the habit of attending the Sunday discourses of the Protestant preachers at Sydapett and St. Thomas Mount Mission Schools. These discourses, aided by the entire absence of my parents --- not to mention the easy road to Heaven, promised by the modern Christians, "by the simple faith in Christ that he is the Son of God, and that he died for us," turned my youthful head, and I was determined to become a convert to Christianity. About that time my father happened to come to Madras. This was in July 1869, and I informed my father about my determination, and he, in vain, tried his best to persuade me to change my mind. We parted that night in tears. I went to bed with a fervent prayer to God "to open my eyes and show me the Truth."
That memorable night, which I shall never forget --- the 21st of July 1869 --- I had a dream, I cannot say it was exactly a dream, because I was not fully asleep --- I saw a figure, a majestic figure in the very likeness of the Great Mahatma M., whom I have subsequently seen on the other side of the Himalayas --- and whose portrait is now to be seen in the Adyar head-quarters --- with a book in hand, which he gave me. On my opening it, I found an English translation of the paragraph in the Upanishads, "Prana or Pranava (Om) is the Bow; the Atma, the Arrow; and the Brahman, the Mark" --- and He then recited to me the corresponding Sanskrit --- "Parnodhanuswarohyate Bramhatallakshyamuchyate" --- and, in the most impressive manner, told me that "the Aryan Sages by practicing this have become Muktas, and not by simple faith in any person or God." He added further --- "My child, do not be hasty, the labors of many births alone entitle one to Moksha." On this I awoke, and could not sleep the whole night. The result was I had to change my resolution of becoming a convert to Christianity. The next morning when I went to school, a friend of mine, Chetty, happened to bring a tract of translations of the Upanishads (thinking it was a copy of Niti Chandrika, of the same size, by mistake) from his uncle's library. When I asked him for the Text-book, he placed the copy of the translation in my hands, and on opening the book I found the very exact translation of the Upanishads above quoted, meeting my eye! I begged my friend to lend me the book, which he did, and subsequently I got one from Calcutta. The perusal of this book and other translations of the Upanishads, &c., made me thoroughly give up the idea of embracing Christianity, and showed me the superiority of Hindu religion over all other religions. My trials and labors in this direction, while I was a student, are well known to my early friend, Mr. C. Survothum Row, B. A., F.T.S.
In 1873, on a certain night, I saw the same Mahatma in my dream presenting me a Tamil book, and after saying it was by "Ramalinga Paradesi," he disappeared. This Ramalinga Paradesi was the celebrated Sage in Southern India, who was then at Vadalore --- of whom mention is made in the Theosophist for July 1882. I sent for the book, and used to get the philosophy contained in it explained to me by a friend of mine who has been his disciple. It was from this author that I learnt the philosophy of the Seven Principles in Man and the cosmogony of the world, which have of late been more clearly, and from the more Western scientific point of view, set forth in "Esoteric Buddhism." It is after reading this author and the later work of Mr. Sinnett, I could understand the same sublime, but more mystical philosophy, contained in the "Maha Narayana" and other Upanishads about the "Dhyan Chohanic" solar Pralayas and the number of planetary chains in each solar system.
In 1874, I believe it was in the month of February, I had to go to Madras, and then, while in my uncles' house, met a very famous Astrologer, well-versed in "Nadi Shastram;" he was relating the past, present, and future of the lives of my uncles and others. I asked him "what was in my mind, and if that would be realized, and when"? The object of my thought at the time was the personage who had twice before appeared before me in my dreams, and presented me with books, and given me certain instructions as to whether I would ever attain true knowledge; and this was known to no one else present there. The Astrologer for a while considered, and said "the object of your thought is now beyond the Himalayas and within two years exactly you will see one, but your ignorance will then prevent you from reaping the benefit of his visit at the time. But you need not be sorry for it, as in your 32nd year, you will see him in the flesh, and he will take you under his protection from that date."
My uncles were present at the time and also _____________ , an Hospital Assistant of St. Thomas' Mount.
In 1876, when I had again occasion to go to Madras owing to certain heavy family calamities, one day as I was driving to Madras from Sydapett in a jutka, I was brooding over the fact that the whole responsibilities of a very large family had devolved on my shoulders, the Jutkawallah stopped the carriage near Tenampett on the road-side, and went to buy something in the bazaar close by. In this state of mind, I was seated in the carriage, when I felt a hand over my shoulders from behind --- the sensation that was produced in my mind and body was something heavenly --- so pleasant, and at the same time so solemn, that I could not utter a word --- and while in this state, I saw him from the window of the carriage, and He placing his blessed hand on my head told me in plain northern Hindustani with an admixture of Sanskrit --- "My son, be not grieved --- you will have better days --- and, in the meanwhile, you have my blessings."
With these words he walked away; and I recovered from my abstract mood, perceived Him going into the "Parveta Mandapam" compound adjoining the road, and then he was out of sight. The Jutkawallah having returned, drove the carriage towards the Black Town. As the carriage was approaching Neil's Statute, the idea that the person who appeared before me, dressed in white, as a Punjabi, might be the Sage or Mahatma, predicted by the Astrologer in 1874 --- flashed in my mind, and I at once got down the carriage, and almost ran back to Tenampett, and entered the compound, and searched for Him, but in vain; nor could any one then give me any traces of Him. As I had to leave Madras that very night, I could not make any further search. He was no other than my most revered Guru Deva, who is now known as Mahatma Kut Humi to the Theosophical world. To some of my friends at Nellore, I have related this fact.
Between 1876 and 1880, I had occasion to learn the secrets of the Adwitah Philosophy under two teachers. When I had any doubts, and was not satisfied with their interpretations of the Philosophy, and was very anxious about it, on 4 or 5 such occasions I had the good fortune to see the last-mentioned Mahatma's blessed face in my dreams. When His countenance was smiling and gracious, I would take it as favorable, and if not, otherwise. On one or two occasions he cleared my doubts by word of mouth.
In 1881, I had the good fortune to come in contact with a chela, who was then in the lower stages of his spiritual development at Nellore. He is a Vaishnava by caste, and had lived for some time before 1881 with a Mahatma in the North, having left his parents and family from whom he has now separated himself for good. He is a chela of a high order. His friendship with me brought me in contact with Brother Damodar K. Mavalankar, F. T. S., early in 1881. Just at this time, the familiar and sacred face of my Guru Deva used to appear before me oftener in my dreams, and with a more gracious and approving countenance.
Early in 1882, under the auspices of the chela I have above referred to --- who then happened to be at the head-quarters of the Theosophical Society at Bombay --- arrangements were made for the organization of the Nellore Branch. On an application from the members here, Madame Blavatsky and Colonel Olcott arrived at Nellore, and this branch has been opened. While the Founders were here, I received, for the first time, a letter from Mahatma M., addressed to me and some Theosophists, containing certain instructions as to the management of this Branch, &c. Myself, Mr. Narayana Swamy Naidu, F. T. S., G. Subbia Chetty Garu, F. T. S. (Madras Branch), and Singaravelu Mudalyar, B. A., F. T. S., of the Guntar Branch, were present in the Apstani Hall, Madame Blavatsky was writing at the table, we were seated, and on her telling us that she felt the presence of her Guru in the room, we all looked up, and then within a minute or two, a letter fell before us from the ceiling in broad daylight at about 3 P.M. There were no contrivances or trap-doors to perform the phenomena at the time.
That very day, an hour afterwards, in the presence of about a dozen or more persons (both Theosophists and non-Theosophists), the subject of conversation was to know a certain date, and then one of us (I believe it was G. Subbia Chetty) suggested that Madame might be requested to give us an almanac, and another suggested that it should be one, not available at Nellore. Then all of us joined in the request. Madame Blavatsky remarked, that she would try, as a high chela, Jwalkool, was present in his astral body somewhere near. We were all seated in the same hall, and a verandah adjoining opened to the roof with nothing but the sky overhead. She then called out for the chela to make us a gift of an almanac, and within 3 or 4 minutes one "Almanac for 1882 and Diary Phoenix" were flung at us with some force as if it fell from the sky overhead, and this was handed to me by Madame Blavatsky, and it is with me still. While Madame Blavatsky and Col. Olcott were on their way to Nellore from Guntur, after having opened a Society there, another letter addressed to herself was received from Mahatma M., in the presence of some Nellore, Guntar, and Madras (Branches) members, dropping, as it were, from the top of the boat; the letter is still in the possession of one of the members of the Nellore Branch.
Madame Blavatsky told me, while she was at Nellore, that the "Brothers had spoken to her about me, and that they were watching me long before this," and I replied "that I knew it to be the case." This conversation took place while T. Vijaraghava Charlu, F.T.S., and C. Kotiah Chetty Garu, F. T. S., Deputy Inspector of Schools, and some others were present. It was after this that I really thought more seriously of the appearance of the Mahatmas before me in dreams and otherwise. I then began to concentrate my attention upon the beautiful features of the latter Mahatma, my most revered Guru Deva, whom I then knew to be Mahatma Kut Humi. It was not in vain I did so. Within four or five days I had a response to my prayer. The blessed Mahatma from that time forward used to give me instructions in my dreams --- not exactly dreams --- but a state of half-wakefulness, for want of a better word I call them dreams, and that in one of I believe, it was about the end of May --- I fervently prayed to Him that I might be allowed the happiness of seeing Him in his physical body, to which, after a moment's consideration, the Guru Deva replied that I should have to cross the Himalayas alone. From that moment forward I took the "Diksha" (vow) which my brothers here know very well. After the expiry of about four months, and as soon as my private affairs would allow, I started for Madras, having clearly told two or three of my friends and brothers that I was going to see the blessed feet of my most revered Guru --- on the other side of the Himalayas.
I left Madras on the evening of the 11th September 1882 by the mail train, and reached the Society's head-quarters at Bombay on the 13th September. On that day I was introduced by Madame Coulomb and other Theosophists who then happened to come there as "R. Casava Pillai, Secretary of the Nellore Branch." On the 14th idem, Madame Coulomb and myself both drove in the Society's carriage to the Office of Mr. Tukaram Tatya, F. T. S., and she introduced me to him. Mr. Tukaram Tatya and myself both then went to the Oriental Life Insurance Company.
That day in the afternoon, in the presence of Madame Blavatsky, Madame Coulomb, Mr. Tukaram Tatya, Damodar K. Mavalankar, and another Theosophist whose name I do not know, I received a letter which fell just on my head from the ceiling. It was from my Guru --- in reply to which I kept my letter in the presence of the above persons (except Tukaram Tatya who had left the place then) just near the Statue of Lord Buddha over the shelf in the hall. And in our presence, the letter disappeared. That very night while I was going to bed in Col. Olcott's room, with all doors closed, and in good lamp light, I was startled to see coming out, as it were, of the solid wall, the astral form of my most revered Guru Deva, and I prostrated before him, and he blessed me and desired me to go and see him beyond the Himalayas, in good Telugu language. The conversation that passed between us is too sacred to be mentioned here. He disappeared in the same way as he appeared.
On the following day, the 15th September, myself and Madame Blavatsky started for the North. Mr. and Mrs. Coulomb, Damodar K. Mavalankar, Mr. Tukaram Tatya and another Theosophist (all in three carriages) accompanied us to the platform.
Now I shall have to refer to page 49 of Madame Coulomb's book, giving a description of my dress, &c. She says in reference to me "before he left he had his costume made, consisting of yellow cotton satin blouse, a cap consisting of the same shape as that of Mr. Deb, a pair of top boots, and a pair of very thick cloth trousers * * * * --- they started very quietly, and Madame begged us not to say to any one that she had left. This was to give the thing a mysterious appearance as usual." I was "dressed in yellow cotton blouse." That is the custom of the chelas. Does that imply any trick? Ramaswamy Iyer, at page 67 of the Theosophist for December 1882, says that he travelled in his "ascetic robes" --- I believe it is no sin to do so. I have seen the "Geluckpas," the "Yellow caps," wear the same costume in Bhutan, and further north, and also the chelas of the Mahatmas!
"They started very quietly and Madame * * * * had left." I have shown above that I was introduced to three or four Theosophists of Bombay, and that Madame Coulomb herself introduced me to Mr. Tukaram Tatya, &c., and that we were accompanied to the Railway Station by M. and Madame Coulomb, &c., I believe this is not "leaving very quietly" --- if it is, perhaps, she expected that I should have sent an account of it to the papers, or put it in the Theosophist, that I was leaving for the North in my pilgrim's dress to find my Guru Deva. I do not believe pilgrims ever make any fuss about their pilgrimages. Except informing some of my close friends and my brothers at Nellore and Madras, and the very few I have been introduced to at Bombay (during my stay of two days there) that I was going to the North, in the fervent hope of seeing my Mahatma, I did not think it proper or necessary to proclaim the fact to the world abroad. Further, in case of failure, I should have been put to the necessity of telling every one particulars of my failure to see the Mahatma.
On our way, on the 16th idem, beyond the Bhosawal Junction between the Stations of Chandani and Khandwa, I found the bridges over a small tributary of the Tapti had been washed away by the overflow of the latter river; and the road for about two miles or so suffered therefrom. Then we had to get down and cross the river by a boat. Some boxes of Madame Blavatsky containing her clothing and other necessary articles were left behind by mistake in the boat, and we all got into the train on the other side of the river, without noticing the boxes so left behind. After passing the Khandwa Station, I believe, Madame found out that some boxes were missing, and she got down with her servant, Babula, and things. The train left for the North, leaving Madame, &c., behind, I myself traveling in a 3rd-class carriage. So I had to meet her again at Allahabad on the 18th September (myself having stayed there on the night of the 17th idem). On my way from Khandwa to Allahabad, between the 16th and 17th idem, I had to travel alone. On the 17th idem, when I was some few stations south of Allahabad, with only two or three passengers in the compartment, I had the good fortune of seeing a letter falling over me from the top of the carriage. Madame Blavatsky at that time must have been somewhere between Sahagpore and Jabbalpore, about 250 miles distant from me. This letter was in the familiar hand of my Mahatma, having reference to a letter I had sent at Bombay, which disappeared from the statue of Lord Buddha.
On my meeting Madame Blavatsky on the 18th at Allahabad, we both, along with Babula, started for the North, and reached Chandernagore on the morning of the 19th idem by the mail train.
I there left Madame Blavatsky and her servant near the Railway Station, and crossed the Hughly by a boat to the other side, and walked about 5 miles to the Nalhati Station, and then took the mail train for Siliguri, which I reached on the 20th idem early in the morning, and took the rail for Darjiling which place I reached about evening and met Babaji Dharbagirinath that very night just when I was in the greatest fix to find my way to the North.
We were both together until the 28th idem. We travelled together, both on horse-back and on foot in Bhutan, Sikkim, &c. We visited several "Gumpas" (temples). I had to cross and recross the Ranjit River more than twice, by the swinging bridge as well as the ferry boat.
In the course of these travels, just about Pari or Parchong on the northern frontier of Sikkim, I had the good fortune and happiness to see the blessed feet of the most venerated Masters Kut Humi and M. in their physical bodies. The very identical personages whose astral bodies I had seen in my dreams, &c., since 1869, and in 1876 in Madras, and on the 14th September 1882 in the head-quarters at Bombay. Besides, I have also seen a few advanced chelas, and among them, the blessed Jwalkool who is now a Mahatma.
On the 26th September evening, we both having heard that Madame Blavatsky and Ramaswamy Iyer had come to Darjilling, and was putting up in Babu Parvati Churn Roy's (Deputy Collector and Deputy Magistrate, and Superintendent of the Dehra-Dhun Survey) bungalow - "Willow-Cot," we met them there; and, I believe, Babu Nobin Krishna Bannerji and others of Bengal joined us subsequently.
In the course of our travels in Bhutan, Sikkim and Thibet, we had to sojourn for a night or two at a village in Bhutan where the Dugpas abound. Having staid all day long in a "Gumpah" belonging to that sect of "Dugpas" or the "Red Caps" who are so proficient in Black Magic, and having been rather indiscreet in talking ill of their sect, we had unwittingly placed ourselves in great danger. These "Dugpas" or their "Lamas" having suspected that we belonged to the other sect the Gelukpas or the White Magicians to whom they are inveterate enemies, began to exercise their evil influence, or "Jadu" over us that night, while we were taking shelter in the verandah of a poor man's house at Darjiling. All of a sudden I was disturbed in my sleep --- but was unable to get up, and saw in my half wakeful condition that some most poisonous and dire influence was coming upon me from two of the Lamas (Dugpa Sect) whom we were talking to in their "Gumpah" that day. This influence I was clearly conscious of, and saw it attempting to approach my companion who slept by, but was kept off by the brilliant glare going out of a talisman which he wore on his person. This was a most powerful talisman given to him by the Mahatmas, and by which he was protected. Myself having no such shield, the dark and poisonous influence having surrounded me I began to feel a choking sensation in my heart, and was most miserable. Just at this moment I saw (in my vision of course) Madame Blavatsky in a very disturbed mood, making some passes over me with her hand, and also taking hold of her large ring (with the "Sree-yentra" on it) and touching my forehead with it. Then the bad influence about me vanished, and I awoke and began to vomit, and felt ill for some time, and got better by the morning. The same night the above-mentioned "Dugpas" having failed in their attempt to injure us by "Jadu," they about 20 or more of them with torches and lights came to the place, and asked the owner of the house to show them where we were. Between them and us lay a slender woodwork. Then the very powerful talisman worn by my friend and the protection of our Masters saved us from falling into their hands, and diverted their attention. I mention the above rather long account as only one of the ways in which we were protected by the Masters in that dreadful country of Black Magic. Madame Blavatsky --- though at the time somewhere about Calcutta or Chandernagore or somewhere else, was not over the Himalayas, and was taking an active part in my personal safety. On my meeting Ramaswami Iyer at Darjiling, he asked me if any thing very particular had happened to us that night (the dangerous night in which we were exposed to Dugpa influence). On my asking him why he put the question, he told me that Madame Blavatsky was telling him the previous day "that we (myself and D. Nath) were exposing ourselves to the "Dugpa" influence, and were in the midst of the greatest danger, &c., &c.
I took leave from Madame Blavatsky and my other friends at Darjiling on the 28th idem, and took the train for Siliguri at 10 A.M., and reached it at 7 P.M. A Bengali Babu --- a tea-planter who travelled with me from Darjiling asked me to stay for the night at Siliguri, as I was much tired. I slept for the night in the Railway Store-keeper's house --- a Bengali gentleman and a very hospitable one. On the 29th, I got into the train for Calcutta, and reached the place on the morning of the 30th idem. I stayed at Calcutta and had been to Kalighat that day. Started that night for Gya via Bankipore, and reached the place on the 1st October. I was at Gya on the 1st and 2nd idem, and saw a great Buddhist sage --- who is about the place. Here I received a letter from my Guru Deva in the usual occult manner. On the 2nd, about noon, I started for Allahabad which place I reached early on the 3rd idem. I stayed at Allahabad on 3rd and 4th, and left it on the evening of the 4th for Jubbulpore by mail train which I reached on the 5th. That morning I went to the River Nerbudda which is about five miles from Jubbulpore, and bathed in the river. On the 6th I took the mail train for Bombay, and reached the place at about 10 A.M.
I went to the head-quarters and started that very day by 2 P.M. by the mail. I intended to stay a day or two at Bombay, but the telegrams and letters that were waiting for me from Madras did not allow me the option. I reached Madras on the morning of the 9th October 1882.
From Siliguri and Gya, I had written to my brother-in-law at Madras about my having seen my most Revered Guru Deva on the Himalayas, and he tells me that he has got the letters intact.
On the 10th October 1882, I visited Mr. G. Muttu Swamy Chetty, Small Cause Court Judge, Madras, and informed him and his sons Mr. Lalpett, and Mr. Rajulu Naidu, F. T. S., that I had seen the Mahatmas.
On the 11th idem, I saw my esteemed friend, T. Velayudam Mudelliar, Tamil Pundit, Presidency College, Madras, to whom also I told the fact of my having seen the Mahatmas.
On my reaching Nellore and joining my office on the 16th idem, a meeting of the members of the Nellore Branch Society was convened, when I informed my brothers how I had seen the astral body of my Guru at the Bombay head-quarters, and also how I had been blessed in being allowed to see, and be in company of the Most Revered Mahatmas --- the Himalayas beyond Bhutan. The above are facts and facts are stubborn things....
HELENA PETROVNA BLAVATSKY
[The Theosophical Forum, New York, Vol. V, No. 12, April, 1900;
Vol. VI, Nos. 1, 2, 3, May, June, July, 1900]
[This is an account written by Charles Johnston concerning his conversation with H. P. B. when he met her for the first time in London, in the Spring of 1887, soon after her arrival from Ostende. Even though this text is not from H. P. B.’s own pen, it is published here as it contains a great many points of teaching, and bears obvious marks of authenticity.—Compiler.]
“I understand, Socrates. It is because you say that you always have a divine sign. So he is prosecuting you for introducing new things into religion. And he is going into court knowing that such matters are easily misrepresented to the multitude, and consequently meaning to slander you there.”
—PLATO.
I first met dear old “H. P. B.,” as she made all her friends call her, in the spring of 1887. Some of her disciples had taken a pretty house in Norwood, where the huge glass nave and twin towers of the Crystal Palace glint above a labyrinth of streets and terraces. London was at its grimy best. The squares and gardens were scented with grape-clusters of lilac, and yellow rain of laburnums under soft green leaves. The eternal smoke-pall was thinned to a gray veil shining in the afternoon sun, with the great Westminster Towers and a thousand spires and chimneys piercing through. Every house had its smoke-wreath, trailing away to the east.
H. P. B. was just finishing her day’s work, so I passed a half-hour upstairs with her volunteer secretary, a disciple who served her with boundless devotion, giving up everything for her cause, and fighting her battles bravely, to be stormed at in return, unremittingly for seven years. I had known him two years before, in the days of Mohini Chatterji, the velvet-robed Brahman with glossy tresses and dusky face and big luminous eyes. So we talked of old times, and of H. P. B.’s great book, The Secret Doctrine, and he read me resonant stanzas about Universal Cosmic Night, when Time was not; about the Luminous Sons of Manvantaric Dawn; and the Armies of the Voice; about the Water Men Terrible and Bad, and the Black Magicians of Lost Atlantis; about the Sons of Will and Yoga and the Ring Pass-Not; about the Great Day Be-With-Us, when all shall be perfected into one, re-uniting “thyself and others, myself and thee.”
So the half-hour passed, and I went downstairs to see the Old Lady. She was in her writing-room, just rising from her desk, and clad in one of those dark blue dressing-gowns she loved. My first impression was of her rippled hair as she turned, then her marvellously potent eyes, as she welcomed me: “My dear fellow! I am so glad to see you! Come in and talk! You are just in time to have some tea!” And a hearty handshake.
Then a piercing call for “Louise,” and her Swiss maid appeared, to receive a voluble torrent of directions in French, and H. P. B. settled herself snugly into an armchair, comfortably near her tobacco-box, and began to make me a cigarette. The cuffs of a Jaeger suit showed round her wrists, only setting off the perfect shape and delicacy of her hands, as her deft fingers, deeply stained with nicotine, rolled the white rice-paper round Turkish tobacco. When we were comfortably alight, she told me a charming tale of Louise’s devotion. She had got away from her base of supplies somewhere, in Belgium I think, and things were rather tight for a while. A wealthy gentleman called to see the famous Russian witch, and tipped her maid munificently. As soon as he was gone, Louise appeared, blushing and apologizing: “Perhaps madame will not be offended,” she stammered, “but I do not need money; enfin—madame consentira . . .” and she tried to transfer the douceur to her mistress.
Louise’s entry cut short the story, and H. P. B. turned with a quizzically humorous smile to another theme: “Of course you have read the S. P. R. Report?—The Spookical Research Society—and know that I am a Russian spy, and the champion impostor of the age?”
“Yes, I read the Report. But I knew its contents already. I was at the meeting when it was first read, two years ago.”
“Well,” said H. P. B., again smiling with infinite humour, “and what impression did the frisky lambkin from Australia make upon your susceptible heart?”
“A very deep one. I decided that he must be a very good young man, who always came home to tea; and that the Lord had given him a very good conceit of himself. If he got an opinion into his head, he would plow away blandly, and contrary facts would be quite invisible. But your case was not the first on the list. They had a paper on modern witchcraft, at which another of your accusers proved that pinches and burns could be sent by thought-transference to a person miles away. It was quite gruesome, and suggested ducking-stools. Then you came on. But as far as I could see, the young Colonial had never really investigated any occult phenomena at all; he simply investigated dim and confused memories about them in the minds of indifferent witnesses. And all that Mr. Sinnett says in The Occult Worldseems to me absolutely unshaken by the whole Report. The Poet, the third of your accusers, came down among us after the meeting, and smilingly asked me what I thought of it. I answered that it was the most unfair and one-sided thing I had ever heard of, and that if I had not already been a member of your Society, I should have joined on the strength of that attack. He smiled a kind of sickly smile, and passed on.”
“I am glad you think so, my dear,” she answered in her courtly way, “for now I can offer you some tea with a good conscience.” Louise had laid a white cloth on the corner table, brought in a tray, and lit a lamp. The secretary soon joined us, receiving a tart little sermon on being unpunctual, which he was not. Then we came back to her friends, the Psychical Researchers.
“They will never do much,” said H. P. B. “They go too much on material lines, and they are far too timid. That was the secret motive that turned them against me. The young Colonial went astray, and then the bell-wethers of the flock followed in his wake, because they were afraid of raising a storm if` they said our phenomena were true. Fancy what it would have meant! Why it would practically have committed Modern Science to our Mahatmas and all I have taught about the inhabitants of the occult world and their tremendous powers. They shrank at the thought of it, and so they made a scapegoat of this poor orphan and exile.” And her eyes were full of humorous pity for herself.
“It must have been something like that,” I answered, “for there is simply no backbone in the Report itself. It is the weakest thing of the kind I have ever read. There is not a shred of real evidence in it from beginning to end.”
“Do you really think so? That’s right!” cried H. P. B.; and then she turned on her secretary, and poured in a broadside of censure, telling him he was greedy, idle, untidy, unmethodical, and generally worthless. When he ventured an uneasy defence, she flared up and declared that he "was born a flapdoodle, lived a flapdoodle, and would die a flapdoodle.” He lost his grip, and not unnaturally made a yellow streak of egg across her white tablecloth.
“There!” cried H. P. B., glaring at him with withering scorn, and then turning to me for sympathy in her afflictions. That was her way, to rate her disciples in the presence of perfect strangers. It speaks volumes for her, that they loved her still.
I tried to draw a red herring across the track,—not that there were any on the table. We were limited to tea, toast and eggs.
“The funny thing about the Psychical Researchers,” I said, “is that they have proved for themselves that most of these magical powers are just what you say they are, and they seem to have bodily adopted, not to say, stolen, your teaching of` the Astral Light. Take the thing that has been most made fun of: the journeys of adepts and their pupils in the astral body; you know how severe they are about poor Damodar and his journeys in his astral body from one part of India to another, and even from India over to London. Well, they themselves have perfectly sound evidence of the very same thing. I know one of their Committee, a professor of physics, who really discovered thought-transference and made all the first experiments in it. He showed me a number of their unpublished papers, and among them was an account of just such astral journeys made quite consciously. I think the astral traveller was a young doctor, but that is a detail. The point is, that he kept a diary of his visits, and a note of them was also kept by the person he visited, and the two perfectly coincide. They have the whole thing authenticated and in print, and yet when you make the very same claim, they call you a fraud. I wonder why?”
“Partly British prejudice,” she answered; “no Englishman ever believes any good of a Russian. They think we are all liars. You know they shadowed me for months in India, as a Russian spy? I don’t understand,” she went on meditatively, yet with a severe eye on her secretary, “I don’t understand how these Englishmen can be so very sure of their superiority, and at the same time in such terror of our invading India.”
“We could easily hold our own if you did, H. P. B.,” ventured the patriotic secretary, pulling himself together, but evidently shaky yet, and avoiding her eye.
She was down on him in an instant: “Why!” she cried, “what could you do with your poor little army? I tell you, my dear, when the Russians do meet the English on the Afghan frontier, we shall crush you like fleas!”
I never saw anything so overwhelming. She rose up in her wrath like the whole Russian army of five millions on a war footing and descended on the poor Briton’s devoted head, with terrific weight. When she was roused, H. P. B. was like a torrent; she simply dominated everyone who came near her; and her immense personal force made itself felt always, even when she was sick and suffering, and with every reason to be cast down. I have never seen anything like her tremendous individual power. She was the justification of her own teaching of the divinity of the will.
“But H. P. B.”—hesitated the secretary. But she crushed him with a glance, and he desperately helped himself to more buttered toast only to be accused of gluttony.
Again I attempted a diversion: “There is one thing about the S. P. R. Report I want you to explain. What about the writing in the occult letters?”
“Well, what about it?” asked H. P. B., immediately interested.
“They say that you wrote them yourself, and that they bear evident marks of your handwriting and style. What do you say to that?”
“Let me explain it this way,” she answered, after a long gaze at the end of her cigarette. “Have you ever made experiments in thought-transference? If you have, you must have noticed that the person who receives the mental picture very often colours it, or even changes it slightly, with his own thought, and this where perfectly genuine transference of thought takes place. Well, it is something like that with the precipitated letters. One of our Masters, who perhaps does not know English, and of course has no English handwriting, wishes to precipitate a letter in answer to a question sent mentally to him. Let us say he is in Tibet, while I am in Madras or London. He has the answering thought in his mind, but not in English words. He has first to impress that thought on my brain, or on the brain of someone else who knows English, and then to take the word-forms that rise up in that other brain to answer the thought. Then he must form a clear mind-picture of the words in writing, also drawing on my brain, or the brain of whoever it is, for the shapes. Then either through me or some Chela with whom he is magnetically connected, he has to precipitate these word-shapes on paper, first sending the shapes into the Chela’s mind, and then driving them into the paper, using the magnetic force of the Chela to do the printing, and collecting the material, black or blue or red, as the case may be, from the astral light. As all things dissolve into the astral light, the will of the magician can draw them forth again. So he can draw forth colours of pigments to mark the figure in the letter, using the magnetic force of the Chela to stamp them in, and guiding the whole by his own much greater magnetic force, a current of powerful will.”
“That sounds quite reasonable,” I answered. “Won’t you show me how it is done?”
“You would have to be clairvoyant,” she answered, in a perfectly direct and matter-of-fact way, “in order to see and guide the currents. But this is the point: Suppose the letter precipitated through me; it would naturally show some traces of my expressions, and even of my writing; but all the same, it would be a perfectly genuine occult phenomenon, and a real message from that Mahatma. Besides, when all is said and done, they exaggerate the likeness of the writings. And experts are not infallible. We have had experts who were just as positive that I could not possibly have written those letters, and just as good experts, too. But the Report says nothing about them. And then there are letters, in just the same handwriting, precipitated when I was thousands of miles away. Dr. Hartmann received more than one at Adyar, Madras, when I was in London; I could hardly have written that."
“They would simply say Dr. Hartmann was the fraud, in that case.”
“Certainly,” cried H. P. B., growing angry now; “we are all frauds and liars, and the lambkin from Australia is the only true man. My dear, it is too much. It is insolent!” And then she laughed at her own warmth, a broad, good-natured Homeric laugh, as hers always was, and finally said:
“But you have seen some of the occult letters? What do you say?”
“Yes,” I replied; “Mr. Sinnett showed me about a ream of them; the whole series that The Occult World and Esoteric Buddhism are based on. Some of them are in red, either ink or pencil, but far more are in blue. I thought it was pencil at first, and I tried to smudge it with my thumb; but it would not smudge.”
“Of course not!” she smiled; “the colour is driven into the surface of the paper. But what about the writings?”
“I am coming to that. There were two: the blue writing, and the red; they were totally different from each other, and both were quite unlike yours. I have spent a good deal of time studying the relation of handwriting to character, and the two characters were quite clearly marked. The blue was evidently a man of very gentle and even character, but of tremendously strong will; logical, easy-going, and taking endless pains to make his meaning clear. It was altogether the handwriting of a cultivated and very sympathetic man.”
“Which I am not,” said H. P. B., with a smile; “that is Mahatma Koothoomi; he is a Kashmiri Brahman by birth, you know, and has travelled a good deal in Europe. He is the author of The Occult World letters, and gave Mr. Sinnett most of the material of Esoteric Buddhism. But you have read all about it.”
“Yes, I remember he says you shriek across space with a voice like Sarasvati’s peacock. Hardly the sort of thing you would say of yourself.”
“Of course not,” she said; “I know I am a nightingale. But what about the other writing?”
“The red? Oh that is wholly different. It is fierce, impetuous, dominant, strong; it comes in volcanic outbursts, while the other is like Niagara Falls. One is fire, and the other is the ocean. They are wholly different, and both quite unlike yours. But the second has more resemblance to yours than the first.”
“This is my Master,” she said, “whom we call Mahatma Morya. I have his picture here.”
And she showed me a small panel in oils. If ever I saw genuine awe and reverence in a human face, it was in hers, when she spoke of her Master. He was a Rajput by birth, she said, one of the old warrior race of the Indian desert, the finest and handsomest nation in the world. Her Master was a giant, six feet eight, and splendidly built; a superb type of manly beauty. Even in the picture, there is a marvellous power and fascination; the force, the fierceness even, of the face; the dark, glowing eyes, which stare you out of countenance; the clear-cut features of bronze, the raven hair and beard—all spoke of a tremendous individuality, a very Zeus in the prime of manhood and strength. I asked her something about his age. She answered:
“My dear, I cannot tell you exactly, for I do not know. But this I will tell you. I met him first when I was twenty,—in 1851. He was in the very prime of manhood then. I am an old woman now, but he has not aged a day. He is still in the prime of manhood. That is all I can say. You may draw your own conclusions.”
“Have the Mahatmas discovered the elixir of life?”
“That is no fable,” said H. P. B. seriously. “It is only the veil hiding a real occult process, warding off age and dissolution for periods which would seem fabulous” so I will not mention them. The secret is this: for every man, there is a climacteric, when he must draw near to death; if he has squandered his life-powers, there is no escape for him; but if he has lived according to the law, he may pass through and so continue in the same body almost indefinitely.”
Then she told me something about other Masters and adepts she had known,—for she made a difference, as though the adepts were the captains of the occult world, and the Masters were the generals. She had known adepts of many races, from Northern and Southern India, Tibet, Persia, China, Egypt; of various European nations, Greek, Hungarian, Italian, English; of certain races in South America, where she said there was a Lodge of adepts.
“It is the tradition of this which the Spanish Conquistadores found,” she said, “the golden city of Manoah or El Dorado. The race is allied to the ancient Egyptians, and the adepts have still preserved the secret of their dwelling-place inviolable. There are certain members of the Lodges who pass from centre to centre, keeping the lines of connection between them unbroken. But they are always connected in other ways.”
“In their astral bodies?”
“Yes,” she answered, “and in other ways still higher. They have a common life and power. As they rise in spirituality, they rise above difference of race, to our common humanity. The series is unbroken.”
“Adepts are a necessity in nature and in supernature. They are the links between men and the gods; these ’gods’ being the souls of great adepts and Masters of bygone races and ages, and so on, up to the threshold of Nirvana. The continuity is unbroken.”
“What do they do?”
“You would hardly understand, unless you were an adept. But they keep alive the spiritual life of mankind.”
“What does it feel like, to go sailing about in your astral body? I sometimes dream I am flying, and I am always in the same position; almost lying on my back, and going feet foremost. Is it anything like that?”
“That is not what I feel,” she said; “I feel exactly like a cork rising to the top of water, you understand. The relief is immense. I am only alive then. And then I go to the Master.”
“Come back to what you were saying. I ought not to have interrupted you. How do the adepts guide the souls of men?"
“In many ways, but chiefly by teaching their souls direct, in the spiritual world. But that is difficult for you to understand. This is quite intelligible, though. At certain regular periods, they try to give the world at large a right understanding of spiritual things. One of their number comes forth to teach the masses, and is handed down to tradition as the Founder of a religion. Krishna was such a Master; so was Zoroaster; so were Buddha and Shankara Acharya, the great sage of Southern India. So also was the Nazarene. He went forth against the counsel of the rest, to give to the masses before the time, moved by a great pity, and enthusiasm for humanity; he was warned that the time was unfavorable, but nevertheless he elected to go, and so was put to death at the instigation of the priests.”
“Have the adepts any secret records of his life?”
“They must have,” she answered; “for they have records of the lives of all Initiates. Once I was in a great cave-temple in the Himalaya mountains, with my Master,” and she looked at the picture of the splendid Rajput; “there were many statues of adepts there; pointing to one of them, he said: ‘This is he whom you call Jesus. We count him to be one of the greatest among us.’
“But that is not the only work of the adepts. At much shorter periods, they send forth a messenger to try to teach the world. Such a period comes in the last quarter of each century, and the Theosophical Society represents their work for this epoch.”
“How does it benefit mankind?”
“How does it benefit you to know the laws of life? Does it not help you to escape sickness and death? Well, there is a soul-sickness, and a soul-death. Only the true teaching of Life can cure them. The dogmatic churches, with their hell and damnation, their metal heaven and their fire and brimstone, have made it almost impossible for thinking people to believe in the immortality of the soul. And if they do not believe in a life after death, then they have no life after death. That is the law.”
“How can what people believe possibly affect them? Either it is or it isn’t, whatever they may believe.”
“Their belief affects them in this way. Their life after death is made by their aspirations and spiritual development unfolding in the spiritual world. According to the growth of each, so is his life after death. It is the complement of his life here. All unsatisfied spiritual longings, all desires for higher life, all aspirations and dreams of noble things, come to flower in the spiritual life, and the soul has its day, for life on earth is its night. But if you have no aspirations, no higher longings, no beliefs in any life after death, then there is nothing for your spiritual life to be made up of; your soul is a blank.”
“What becomes of you then?”
“You reincarnate immediately, almost without an interval, and without regaining consciousness in the other world.”
“Suppose, on the other hand, you do believe in heaven, say the orthodox El Dorado?”
“Your fate after death is this. You have first to pass through what we call Kama Loka, the world of desire, the borderland, in which the soul is purged of the dross of animal life; of all its passions and evil desires. These gradually work themselves out, and having no fresh fuel to keep them burning, they slowly exhaust themselves. Then the soul rises to what we call Devachan, the state which is distorted in the orthodox teaching of heaven. Each soul makes its own Devachan, and sees around it those whom it most loved on earth, enjoying happiness in their company. If you believed in the orthodox heaven, you see the golden city and the gates of pearl; if you believed in Shiva’s paradise, you find yourself in the midst of many-armed gods; the Red-man sees the happy hunting grounds, and the philosopher enters into the free life of the soul. In all cases, your spirit gathers new strength for a fresh incarnation.”
“Must you come back? Is there no escape?”
“If your material desires are unexhausted at death, you must. Desires are forces, and we believe in the conservation of force. You must reap the seed of your own sowing, and reap it where it was sown. Your new life will be the exact result of your deeds in your preceding life. No one can escape the punishment of his sins, any more than he can escape the reward of his virtues. That is the law of Karma. You must go on being reborn till you reach Nirvana.”
“Well, it seems to me that all that is more or less contained in the orthodox beliefs, only a good deal distorted.”
“Yes,” she answered; “that is just it. The orthodoxies do contain the truth, but their followers do not understand it; they put forth teachings which no intelligent man can accept, and so we are all drifting into atheism and materialism. But when we Theosophists show them how to interpret their teachings, it will be quite different. Then they will see how much truth they had, without knowing it. The stories in Genesis, for instance, are all symbols of real truths; and the account of the Creation there, and of Adam and Eve, has far more real truth than Darwinism, once you understand it. But that can only be done by Theosophy.”
“How would you, as a Theosophist, set about it?”
“Well,” she answered, “in two ways: first, by giving out the truth, as it is taught today in the occult schools, and then by the comparative method; by setting people to study the Aryan and other Eastern scriptures, where they will find the other halves of so many things that have proved stumbling-blocks in the Bible.”
“For instance?”
“Take that very teaching of heaven and hell and purgatory. The sacred books of India light up the whole of it, and make it a thoroughly philosophic and credible teaching. But you must study the Oriental religions before you can fully understand what I say. Remember that in the Old Testament there is absolutely no teaching of the immortality of the soul, while in the New Testament it is inextricably confused with the resurrection of the body. But the Upanishads have the real occult and spiritual doctrine.”
“Well, I can thoroughly understand and sympathize with that; and to put forth any such teaching at a time like this, when we are all drifting into materialism, would seem a big enough work for any school of adepts and Masters. I can see how the teaching of rebirth would make life far more unselfish and humane, and therefore far happier. What else do you teach, as Theosophists?”
“Well, Sir! I am being cross-examined this evening, it would seem,” she answered with a smile, and rolled me another cigarette, making herself one also, and lighting up with evident relish. “We teach something very old, and yet which needs to be taught. We teach universal brotherhood.”
“Don’t let us get vague and general. Tell me exactly what you mean by that.”
“Let me take a concrete case,” she said; and glanced meditatively at her secretary, who had been listening quietly and with serious and sincere interest to all she had been saving, even though he had heard much of it from her, time and again. He began to grow a little uneasy under her gaze, and she noticed it and instantly fastened upon him.
“Take the English,” she said, and looked at him with those potent blue eyes of hers, as though he in his own person must answer for the sins of his race.
“H. P. B.,” he said, rising with a sigh from the table; “I think I had really better go upstairs and go on copying out the manuscript of The Secret Doctrine”; and he disappeared.
“Do you think he will?” said H. P. B. with a smile of infinite good-humour. “Not he; he will cuddle into his arm-chair, smoke endless cigarettes, and read a blood and thunder novel.”
She was mistaken, however. When I went upstairs to say good-bye, he was in the arm-chair, serenely smoking, it is true; but it was a detective story. He sat upon it, and said something about getting to work.
“Take the English,” she repeated. “How cruel they are! How badly they treat my poor Hindus!”
“I have always understood that they had done a good deal for India in a material way,” I objected.
“India is a well-ventilated jail,” she said; “it is true they do something in a material way, but it is always three for themselves and one for the natives. But what is the use of material benefits, if you are despised and trampled down morally all the time? If your ideals of national honour and glory are crushed in the mud, and you are made to feel all the time that you are an inferior race—a lower order of mortals—pigs, the English call them, and sincerely believe it. Well, just the reverse of that would be universal brotherhood. Do them less good materially—not that they do so very much, besides collecting the taxes regularly—and respect their feelings a little more. The English believe that the ’inferior races’ exist only to serve the ends of the English; but we believe that they exist for themselves, and have a perfect right to be happy in their own way. No amount of material benefit can compensate for hurting their souls and crushing out their ideals. Besides there is another side of all that, which we as Theosophists always point out. There are really no ’inferior races,’ for all are one in our common humanity; and as we have all had incarnations in each of these races, we ought to be more brotherly to them. They are our wards, entrusted to us; and what do we do? We invade their lands, and shoot them down in sight of their own homes; we outrage their women, and rob their goods, and then with smooth-faced hypocrisy we turn round and say we are doing it for their good. There are two bad things: hypocrisy and cruelty; but I think if I had to choose, I would prefer cruelty. But there is a just law,” she went on; and her face was as stern as Nemesis; “the false tongue dooms its lie; the spoiler robs to render. ’Ye shall not come forth, until ye have paid the uttermost farthing’.”
“So that is what the adepts sent you forth to teach?”
“Yes,” she answered; “that and other things;—things which are very important, and will soon be far more important. There is the danger of black magic, into which all the world, and especially America, is rushing as fast as it can go. Only a wide knowledge of the real psychic and spiritual nature of man can save humanity from grave dangers.”
“Witch-stories in this so-called nineteenth century, in this enlightened age?”
“Yes, Sir! Witch-stories, and in this enlightened age! What do you call it but a witch-story, that very experiment you told me of, made by my friend the Spookical Researcher? Is it not witchcraft, to transfer pinches and burns, pain and suffering, in fact, though only slight in this case, to another person at a distance? Suppose it was not as an experiment, but in dead earnest, and with dire malice and evil intent? What then? Would the victim not feel it? Could he protect himself? And would not that be witchcraft in just the sense that sent people to the stake and faggot all through the Middle Ages? Have you read the famous witchcraft trial at Salem? Yes, Sir! Witchcraft in this very enlightened age,—the darkest, most material, and unspiritual that the world has ever seen.”
“Oh, but sending pinches by thought-transference can do no great harm?”
“You think not? Well, you don’t know what you are talking about. That is the privilege of the young! Once the door is open for that sort of thing, where do you think it is going to be shut? It is the old tale; give the devil an inch, and he will take an ell; give him your finger, and he will presently take your whole arm. Yes, and your body, too! Do you not see the tremendous evils that lie concealed in hypnotism? Look at Charcot’s experiments at the Salpêtrière! He has shown that a quite innocent person can be made to perform actions quite against his or her will; can be made to commit crimes, even, by what he calls Suggestion. And the somnambule will forget all about it, while the victim can never identify the real criminal. Charcot is a benevolent man, and will never use his power to do harm. But all men are not benevolent. The world is full of cruel, greedy, and lustful people, who will be eager to seize a new weapon for their ends, and who will defy detection and pass through the midst of us all unpunished.
“Yes, Sir! Witch-tales in this enlightened age! And mark my words! You will have such witch-tales as the Middle Ages never dreamt of. Whole nations will drift insensibly into black magic, with good intentions, no doubt, but paving the road to hell none the less for that! Hypnotism and suggestion are great and dangerous powers, for the very reason that the victim never knows when he is being subjected to them; his will is stolen from him, and mark my words: these things may be begun with good motives, and for right purposes. But I am an old woman, and have seen much of human life in many countries. And I wish with all my heart I could believe that these powers would be used only for good! Whoever lets himself or herself be hypnotized, by anyone, good or bad, is opening a door which he will be powerless to shut; and he cannot tell who will be the next to enter! If you could foresee what I foresee, you would begin heart and soul to spread the teaching of universal brotherhood. It is the only safeguard!”
“How is it going to guard people against hypnotism?”
“By purifying the hearts of people who would misuse it. And universal brotherhood rests upon the common soul. It is because there is one soul common to all men, that brotherhood, or even common understanding is possible. Bring men to rest on that, and they will be safe. There is a divine power in every man which is to rule his life, and which no one can influence for evil, not even the greatest magician. Let men bring their lives under its guidance, and they have nothing to fear from man or devil. And now, my dear, it is getting late, and I am getting sleepy. So I must bid you goodnight!” And the Old Lady dismissed me with that grand air of hers which never left her, because it was a part of herself. She was the most perfect aristocrat I have ever known.
It was long after that, before we came back to the question of magical powers. In August, 1888, H. P. B. had a visit from her old chum, Colonel H. S. Olcott. He was writing, at a side table. H. P. B. was playing Patience, as she did nearly every evening, and I was sitting opposite her, watching, and now and then talking about the East, whence Colonel Olcott had just come. Then H. P. B. got tired of her card game, which would not come out, and tapped her fingers slowly on the table, half unconsciously. Then her eyes came to focus, and drawing her hand back a foot or so from the table, she continued the tapping movement in the air. The taps, however, were still perfectly audible—on the table a foot from her hand. I watched, with decided interest. Presently she had a new idea, and turning in my direction, began to send her astral taps against the back of my hand. I could both feel and hear them. It was something like taking sparks from the prime conductor of an electric machine; or, better still, perhaps, it was like spurting quicksilver through your fingers. That was the sensation. The noise was a little explosive burst. Then she changed her direction again and began to bring her taps to bear on the top of my head. They were quite audible, and, needless to say, I felt them quite distinctly. I was at the opposite side of the table, some five or six feet away, all through this little experiment in the unexplained laws of nature, and the psychical powers latent in man.
No experiment could have been more final and convincing; its very simplicity made it stand out as a new revelation. Here was a quite undoubted miracle, as miracles are generally understood, yet a miracle which came off. But at our first meeting, Mme. Blavatsky did not even approach the subject; none the less, she conveyed the sense of the miraculous. It is hard to say exactly how, but the fact remains. There was something in her personality, her bearing, the light and power of her eyes, which spoke of a wider and deeper life, not needing lesser miracles to testify to it, because in itself miraculous. That was the greatest thing about her, and it was always there; this sense of a bigger world, of deeper powers, of unseen might; to those in harmony with her potent genius, this came as a revelation and incentive to follow the path she pointed out. To those who could not see with her eyes, who could not raise themselves in some measure to her vision, this quality came as a challenge, an irritant, a discordant and subversive force, leading them at last to an attitude of fierce hostility and denunciation.
When the last word is said, she was greater than any of her works, more full of living power than even her marvellous writings. It was the intimate and direct sense of her genius, the strong ray and vibration of that genius itself, which worked her greatest achievements and won her greatest triumphs. Most perfect work of all, her will carried with it a sense and conviction of immortality. Her mere presence testified to the vigour of the soul.
[CW Vol 8 Pages 392-409]