Crowley Ripper

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Crowley’s RipperThe Collected Work

of Roslyn D’OnstonREVISED EDITION

Edited by Jarett Kobek

A Kobek.Com Klassic Reprint2005/2006



Many writings on the topic of Roslyn D’Onston may befound online at Casebook: Jack the Ripper, the finest existingresource on those unsavory murders:

http://casebook.org

This revised edition updates the previous 2005 release,reformatting the pages and including D’Onston’s “AfricanMagic” piece.

In a less savage time these works would have been consideredpart of the public domain. Times change but not always. Dowhat thou wilt.



3

The Whitechapel Demon’s Nationality:and Why He Commited the Murders.

by One Who Thinks He Knows

1 December 1888 Pall Mall Gazette.

In calmly reviewing the whole chain of facts connected with thesedaring and bloodthirsty atrocities, the first thing which strikes one is

the fact that the murderer was kind enough to (so to speak) leave hiscard with the Mitre-square victim. But this most important clue tohis identity, which ‘he who runs may read’, seems to have baffled thecombined intellects of all grades of the police. This admits of no question,because we find in all the journals a note from Sir C. Warren to the effectthat ‘no language or dialogue is known in which the word “Jews” is spelt“Juwes”.’

O! most sapient conclusion! Let us see what we can make of theword.

It will be remembered that a chalk inscription (which it is not deniedwas written by the murderer) was found on the wall in Mitre-square, justabove the body of the murdered woman. It ran as follows: ‘The Juwes arethe men who will not be blamed for nothing’, and was evidently intendedto throw suspicion on the Jews. This writing was seen by the police bymeans of artificial light, and was unfortunately obliterated by them beforedaylight. Hinc illae lachrymae.!

Why did the murderer spell the word Jews ‘Juwes’? Was it that he wasan uneducated Englishman who did not know how to spell the word; washe in reality an ignorant Jew, reckless of consequences and glorying in hisdeeds; or was he a foreigner, well accustomed to the English language, but



[ 4 ] Crowley’s Ripper: The Collected Work of Roslyn D’Onston

who in the tremendous hurry of the moment unconsciously wrote the

fatal word in his native tongue?The answers to these three queries, on which the whole matter rests,are easy. Juwes is a much too difficult word for an uneducated man toevolve on the spur of the moment, as any philologist will allow. Anyignorant Jew capable of spelling the rest of the sentence as correctly ashe did, would know, certainly, how to spell the name of his own people.Therefore, only the last proposition remains, which we shall now show,in the most conclusive manner, to be the truth.

To critically examine an inscription of this kind, the first thing wenaturally do is not to rest satisfied with reading it in print, but to make,as nearly as we can, a facsimile of it in script, thus:-

Inspection at once shows us, then, that a dot has been overlooked by

the constable who copied it, as might easily occur, especially if it wereplaced at some distance, after the manner of foreigners.

Therefore we place a dot above the third upstroke in the wordJuwes, and we find it to be Juives, which is the French word for Jews.Strictly Juives and grammatically speaking, of course, it is the feminineform of Juifs and means ‘Jewesses.’ But in practice it will be found that(Frenchmen being notoriously the worst linguists in the world) mostFrenchmen who are not either litterateurs or men of science are veryinaccurate as to their genders. And almost all the ouvrier and a largemajority of the bourgeois class use the feminine where the word shouldbe masculine. Even the Emperor Napoleon III was a great sinner in thisrespect, as his voluminous correspondence amply shows.

Therefore, it is evident that the native language – or, to be moreaccurate, the language in which this murderer thinks – is French. Themurderer is, therefore, a Frenchman.

It may here be argued that both Swiss and Belgians make French



Crowley’s Ripper: The Collected Work of Roslyn D’onston [ 5 ]

almost their mother tongue; but Flemish is the natural and usual vehicle

for the latter, while the idiosyncrasy of both those nationalities is adverseto this class of crime.On the contrary, in France, the murdering of prostitutes has long

been practised, and has been considered to be almost peculiarly a Frenchcrime.

Again, the grammatical construction of the sentence under examinationis distinctly French in two points — first, in the double negative contained;and, secondly, in the employment of the definite article before the second

noun. An Englishman or an American would have said, ‘The Jews aremen who, &c.’ But the murderer followed his native idiom ‘Les Juifs sontdes hommes’ in his thoughts, and when putting it into English rendereddes hommes ‘the men’.

Again, neither Belgians nor Swiss entertain any animosity to theJews, whereas the hatred of the French proletarian to them is notorious.

The ground for research being thus cleared and narrowed, the nextquestion is, what is the motive? Speculation has been rife, the cries are

many; almost every man one meets, who is competent to form an opinion,having a different one.And in endeavouring to sift a mystery like this one cannot afford

to throw aside any theory, however extravagant, without careful exami-nation, because the truth might, after all, lie in the most unlikely one.

There seems to be no doubt that the murderer, whether mad or not,had a distinct motive in his mutilations; but one possible theory of thatmotive has never yet been suggested. In the nineteenth century, with all

its enlightenment, it would seem absurd, were it not that superstitiondies hard, and some of its votaries do undoubtedly to this day practiceunholy rites.

Now, in one of the books by the great modern occultist who wroteunder the nom de plume of ‘Eliphaz Levy’, ‘Le Dogme et Rituel de laHaute Magie,’ we find the most elaborate directions for working magicalspells of all kinds. The second volume has a chapter on Necromancy, orblack magic, which the author justly denounces as a profanation. Blackmagic employs the agencies of evil spirits and demons, instead of thebeneficent spirits directed by the adepts of la haute magie. At the sametime he gives the clearest and fullest details of the necessary steps forevocation by this means, and it is in the list of substances prescribed asabsolutely necessary to success that we find the link which joins modern




French necromancy with the quest of the East-end murderer. These

substances are in themselves horrible, and difficult to procure. They canonly be obtained by means of the most appalling crimes, of which murderand mutilation of the dead are the least heinous. Among them are stripsof the skin of a suicide, nails from a murderer’s gallows, candles madefrom human fat, the head of a black cat which has been fed forty days onhuman flesh, the horns of a goat which has been made the instrument of an infamous capital crime, and a preparation made from a certain portionof the body of a harlot. This last point is insisted upon as essential and it

was this extra-ordinary fact that first drew my attention to the possibleconnection of the murderer with the black art.Further, in the practice of evocation the sacrifice of human victims

was a necessary part of the process, and the profanation of the crossand other emblems usually considered sacred was also enjoined. In thisconnection it will be well to remember one most extraordinary andunparalleled circumstance in the commission of the Whitechapel mur-ders, and a thing which could not by any possibility have been brought

about fortuitously. Leaving out the last murder,-committed indoors,which was most probably not committed by the fiend of whom we speak,we find that the sites of the murders, six in number, form a perfect cross.That is to say, a line ruled from No. 3 to No. 6, on a map having themurder sites marked and numbered, passes exactly through Nos. 1 and2, while the cross arms are accurately formed by a line from No. 4 to5. The seventh, or Dorset-street murder, does not fall within either of these lines, and there is nothing to connect it with the others except the

mutilations. But the mutilations in this latter case were evidently notmade by any one having the practical knowledge of the knife and theposition of the respective organs which was exhibited in the other sixcases, and also in the mutilated trunk found in the new police-buildings,which was probably the first of the series of murders, and was committedsomewhere on the lines of the cross, the body being removed at the time.Did the murderer, then, designing to offer the mystic number of sevenhuman sacrifices in the form of a cross – a form which he intended toprofane – deliberately pick out beforehand on a map the places in whichhe would offer them to his infernal deity of murder? If not, surely thesesix coincidences(?) are the most marvellous event of our time.

To those persons to whom this theory may seem somewhat far-fetched, we would merely remark that the French book referred to was




only published a few years ago; that thousands of copies were sold; that

societies have been formed for the study and practice of its teachings andphilosophy; and, finally, that within the last twelve months an Englishedition has been issued. In all things history repeats itself, and thesuperstitions of yesterday become the creeds of today.



8

The Real Origin of “She.”by One Who Knew Her.

3 January 1889, Pall Mall Gazette

THE psychological and psychical portions of Rider! Haggard’s “She’’ strike me as being not so much the creation of a vivid imagination asthe simple recital—or, perhaps one should say, the skilful adaptation—of facts well-known to those who penetrated the recesses of be West Coastof Africa a generation ago. Astounding, terrifying, and incredible asthe powers of Ayesba appear to the casual. reader, yet to the men wholaboriously threaded the jungles and swamps of the riverain portion of \Vest Africa, long before Stanley was thought of, they only seem like a

well-known and familiar tale. The awful mysteries of Obeeyah (vulgòObi) and the powers possessed by the Obeeyah women of those days,were sufficiently known to all the slave-traders of the West Coast tomake the wonders worked by “ She “ seem tame by comparison. And,always excepting the idea of the revivifying and rejuvenating flame in thebowels of the earth in which “ She “ bathed, there is nothing but what anyObeeyah woman was in the habit of doing every day. And, the fact forcesitself upon one that “ She “ is neither more nor less than a weak water-

colour sketch of an Obeeyah woman, made white, beautiful, and young,instead of being, as she invariably is, or was, black, old, and hideous as amummy of a monkey. This is not only my own opinion, but that of all theold comrades of “ the coast “ of thirty years ago to whom the subject basbeen mentioned. Although the Obeeyah men were, without exception,clumsy and ignorant charlatans, and simply worshipped Mumbo Jumbo,the Obeeyah women were of a different creed : offered human sacrificesunder the most awful conditions, to Satan himself, whom they believed to

habit the body of a hideous man-eating spider; practised evocation of evilspirits ; and, beyond all dispute, possessed powers far exceeding anythingever yet imagined in the wildest pages of fiction. To even hint at some of




these wonders would be to subject one to one of three alternatives—to be

considered either menteur, farceur, or fou.Well in the interests of occult science, I shall risk these kind

imputations, and in a forthcoming work of professed fiction shall relatethewonders of Obeeyah. One who has witnessed them can easily believein the fabled Medusa, and in many mythological transmutations of whichhe read in schooldays. There is nothing on record in the ancient mythsof any religion that is not done by the Obeeyah of to-day. The humanimagination-whatever philosophers may think—has not the power to

create ; and whatever you have read of magical powers—especially thoseof necromancy mare absolutely possible; absolutely true; absolutelyaccomplished ! From Moses to Bulwer Lytton ; from Jannes and Jambres,of the Egyptians, to all the wonders of India, there is nothing—neverhas been anything—that cannot be done, and is not done, by the AfricanObeeyah.

I remember, more than thirty years ago, meeting an Obeeyah woman,some hundreds of miles up the Cameroons river, and who bad her residence

in the caverns at the foot of the Cameroons Mountains. In parenthesis,I may remark that I could not have existed “there for one moment had Inot been connected, in some form or other, with the slave trade. That bythe way. Judge for yourselves, O my readers, whether “ She “ was not “evolved from Subè, the well-known Obeeyah woman of the Cameroons,or from one of a similar type. Subè stood close on 6 ft., and was supposedby the natives to be many hundred years of age. Erect as a dart, and witha stately walk, she yet looked 2,000 years old. Her wrinkled; mummified,

gorilla-like face, full of all iniquity, bate, and uncleanness (moral andphysicaI), might have existed since the Creation, while her superb formand full limbs might have teen those of a woman of twenty-four. “Pride in her port and venom in her eye,” were her chief characteristics; while her dress was very simple, consisting of a head-dress made of sharks’ teeth, brass bosses, and tails of some species of lynx. Across herbare bosom was a wide scarf or baldric made of scarlet cloth, on whichwere fastened, four rows of what appeared like large Roman pearls, of the size of a large walnut. These apparent pearls, however, were actuallyhuman intestines, bleached to a pearly whiteness, inflated and constrictedat short intervals, so as to make a series of little bladders. On the topof her bead appeared the head of a large spotted serpent—presumablysome kind of boa constrictor—the cured skin of ‘which hung down her




back nearly to the ground. Round her neck she wore a solid brass quoit

of some four pounds weight, too small to pass over her head, but whichhad no perceptible joint or place of union. Heavy bangles on wrists andankles reminded one somewhat of the Hindoo woman’s; but hers wereheavier, and were evidently formed from the thick brass rods used in “the Coast trade,” and hammered together in situ. Her skirt was simply afringe of pendent tails of some animal—presumably the mountain lynx—intermingled with goats’ tails. In her hand she carried what seemed to bethe chief instrument of her power, and what we in Europe should call a

“ magic wand.” But this was no wand; it was simply a hollow tube aboutfour inches long, closed at one end, and appearing to be made of a highlyglittering kind of carved ivory. Closer inspection, however, showed thatit was some kind of reed about an ich in diameter, and encrusted withhuman molar teeth, in a splendid state of preservation, and set with thecrowns outwards. When not borne in the right hand, this instrument wascarried in a side pouch, or case, leaving the open end out.

Strange to say—this mystery I never could fathom—there was

always a faint blue smoke proceeding from the mouth of this tube, likethis smoke of a cigarette, though it was perfectly cold and apparentlyempty. I shall never forget the first day on which I asked her to giveme a specimen of her powers. I had previously witnessed all the marvelsof the Indian conjurers, as well as the ink mirror of the Arab dervishes.Therefore I quietly settled down to enjoy the performance withoutexpecting to be astonished, but only amused. I was astonished, though,to find this six feet of humanity, weighing at least eleven stone, standing

on my outstretched hand when I opened my eyes (previously closed byher command), and when I could feel not the slightest weight thereon. Iwas still more so when, still standing on my outstretched palm, she toldme to shut my eyes again and reopen them instantaneously. I did so, andshe was gone. But that was not all ; while I looked round for her, a stonefell near me, and, looking upwards, I saw her calmly standing on the topof a cliff nearly 500 ft. in height. I naturally thought it was a “double”—that is, another woman dressed like her, and said so to the bystandingnatives, who shouted something in the Ephic language to her. Withoutmore ado she walked—not jumped—over the side of the cliff, and with agentle motion, as though suspended by Mr. Baldwin’s parchute, graduallydropped downwards till she alighted at my feet. My idea always was thatthis tube of hers was charged with some (to us) unknown fluid, or gas,




to get it fixed correctly on her memory. In repeating her incantation, a

few minutes afterwards she pronounced the word “ Louise, “ though Idid not pay much attention to it at the time. When, however, her wandwas waved over the water, evolving clouds of luminous smoke, and I sawdistinctly reflected in it, after those clouds had passed away, the face andform of a relative of mine standing in front of an audience, evidentlyreciting some composition, I told her she bad made a mistake. I did notacknowledge to having seen anything for some time, but at last I told herthat it was the wrong person. Then, naturally, argument followed. She

insisted that I said “ Louise. “ However, at last, I taught her the correctpronunciation of Lewis, and I saw the man I wanted, sitting with his feetelevated above his head, more Americano, and calmly puffing his pipewhile reading a letter. I need scarcely say that I verified the time at whichthese things occurred ; and in both instances I found them; allowing forthe difference in longitude, absolutely and exactly correct.

Space will not allow, or I could go on for hours relating the wondersthat I have seen Subè perform. And the most wonderful all I have left

untold, because they seem, even to myself, utterly incredible. Yet theyare there, burned into my brain ever since that awful night when I was aconcealed and unsuspected witness of the awful rites and mysteries of theObeeyah in the caverns of the Cameroons.

R. D.



13

What I Know of Obeeyahism.by the Author of the Original of “She.”

15 February 1890 Pall Mall Gazette

THE unexpected and extraordinary amount of interest excited bymy article in the Pall Mall Gazette of the 3rd ult., and the numberlessletters of inquiry which I have received, have decided me to give afew particulars with regard to obeeyahism which will, I think, give allthe information my correspondents’ desire. First, then, the very rootand essence of obeeyahism is “devil worship “—i.e., the use of rites,ceremonies, adjurations, and hymns to some powerful and personal spirit

of evil, whose favour is obtained by means of orgies which for horror,blasphemy, and obscenity cannot have been exceeded—if, indeed, theyhave ever been equalled—in the history of the world. These things aretoo utterly horrible even to be hinted at. It is the fashion at present todeny the existence of Satan, Shaitan, Ahrimanes (or whatever you pleaseto call the incarnation of all evil). But all occults, of whatever school, knowthat everything in Nature has its counter-part, that you cannot have lightwithout shadow, heat without cold, good without evil, nor yet a personal

Deity without an equally personal evil principle.The term Obeeyah (vulg. Obi, pronounced Obee) conveys a truer idea

of the sound of the word than Obi, because always after the pronunciationof the last syllable there is the African pant or grunt, which I have roughlyendeavoured to represent by the syllable yah-O-bee-yah. One curiousfact in connection with the Obeeyah, and which seems almost to link itwith bygone ages as a remnant of the old serpent worship is that we readin the Mosaic Scriptures about the “Witch of Endor.” The Hebrew phrase,

thus freely rendered by the translators, literally means “one who asksor consults O-B—not Ob, but O—B, the combination of the two letterssignifying “a serpent.” Now, the Obeeyah women always wore a serpent




place her under an old hamper or rice basket, scarcely large enough to

cover her kneeling down. It is made to do so, however, and the childpressed to the ground by one of the men sitting on it. The other thenbegins his invocations, and taking a tulwar (sword), as sharp as a razor,thrusts it rapidly and furiously through and through the old basket inevery direction, leaving not an inch untouched. The shrieks of the childare fearful, the blood spouts along the blade, the man sitting on the baskethas evidently difficulty in keeping the child down by reason of her terriblestruggles, which gradually grow fainter and fainter, as do her shrieks, until

at last all is over. A deathly stillness prevails, the “ juggler” calmly wipesthe blood from his sword and lifts up the basket. There is nothing there !The crowd opens, and the child comes running into the circle unharmed.Now, thousands of English officers and civilians have seen these two feats,and will vouch for them upon their honour. I have only mentioned themto prepare to some extent the minds of my readers for one or two morethings I intend to relate which I have seen Subè do.

Parenthetically, I would observe that the Hindoo conjurers always

employa little girl, and are unable to perform the feat with a boy—why, I havenot quite been able to fathom, although I have a theory on the point. AlsoI can produce a lady now living, the daughter of an English missionary,who was operated on in the manner described, to the great terror of hermother, who witnessed the performance, and was only presented from

jumping from the flat roof of the bungalow into the compound to saveher child through being held fast by the missionary, who had seen the

performance frequently, and knew the child would be unharmed. Thatlady, like all the other female children whom I have seen, put underthe basket, and afterwards closely questioned, has not the slightestrecollection of the fact. Her father and mother, with others, can, however,substantiate the circumstance.

The Obeeyah seem to worship the arch-demon under different forms:Subè, of the Cameroons, and her tribe believing that he occupied the bodyof a man-eating spider, to whom they offered living human beings. I shallmost probably

,

enter fully into this subject, and give a description of one of these sacrifices in my forthcoming book, “ Subè, the Obeeyah, “ a work of professed fiction. Its readers will have to decide for themselves how muchis absolute matter of fact—whether all or none—and how much imagina-tion. It will not be my part to give any clue to the student of occultism;




it may convey many new ideas, and indicate the true lines on which his

investigations should proceed : to the holiday maker and simple novel-reader it will certainly give a fresh and hitherto unexperienced sensation.One point alone, the awful and mysterious bar placed by Subè betweenthe hero and his love Ismè, the granddaughter of the Obeeyah woman,has never before been attempted—never even been dreamed of by thewildest romaces of fiction. Neither has anything like the terrible death of Ismè through the magical arts of Subè, ever been imagined.

But enough of this : let me revert for a moment to the religion of the

Obeeyah before I give some further details of Subè’s powers. And here I do not think that I am committing a breach of confidence in quotingtwo sentences from the private journal of a gentleman (Mr. G. WilmotBrooke) who has just returned from the Congo. He says “A very curious

,

institution of the place is the Egbo, or Ekpè, secret society. Egbo, or Ekpè,is supposed to be a mysterious person who lives in the jungle, from whichhe has to be brought, and whither he must be brought back and loosedby the initiates alone, after any great State ceremonial. All initiates are

bound together by a bond like Freemasonry. The more I inquire, the moreI have got mystified by its many ramifications, its religion, and its socialaspect. The people recognize two persons—Abusi buni (God) and Ekpèor Egbo (Satan).” Now, although it is “ a far cry” from the Congo to

,the

Cameroons, yet it is a curious and significant fact that while the Obeeyahrecognize no God nor a beneficent spirit of any kind, yet the name whichthey give to the demon whom they believe to be incarnated in the formof the Terrible Spider is Egbe, which is evidently derived from the same

root as Egbo or Ekpè.In my first article I stated that none of Subè’s marvellous powers wasnon-natural ; but I scarcely think that I made my meaning sufficientlyclear. I must premise that she professed to exercise “all power” at first; andmy chief amusement in the weeks in which I was kept a prisoner by her(and undergoing the process of being fattened up to form an appetisingbonne bouche for the spider god) was in proving to her that she not do this, that, and the other—in fact, what schoolboys call “ settingher cappers.” Vide the instance of the stone and trade dollar. But on whatI call “natural lines“ she was perfect. Thus, when she took up a toad tochange it into a tic-polonga, it was not done by any word of command,or “word of power” (as in Hindoo and Talmudic magic), but she rolledit between her bands for a few moments, and pulled and manipulated it




until it was more like a lizard than anything, having distinctly the legs

intact.The next process was to rub away the legs, the body all the timegradually lengthening ; and, last of all, to manipulate the head, andputting her fingers into its mouth, pull out and develop the long, flexible,split tongue of the serpent. When we wanted food, it was only a varietyof the Indian “mango trick.” If mealies were wanted she would plant agrain of mace in the earth, and gaze steadfastly upon the place, her lipsmoving, but no audible sounds issuing from them. In a few moments

(no covering up) a bright green shoot would come up, which grew andgrew, and in five minutes’ time was a considerable tuft of mealies (Indiancorn), every head ripe and fit for use. She would gather these and boilthem for our dinners : but I always noticed that within half an hourthe stalks, leaves, &c., of the plants had turned black, wet, and rotten.,although the food was satisfactory.

A curious point here. Unknown to her, I one day abstracted one of the mealies so produced, and after we had had a good feed, I went out to

examine it. It was only two hours after its production, but it had begunalready to decay, and in a little more time was absolutely perished.As I said just now, I delighted in showing her her incapacity. Thus,

I used to challenge her to produce an orange tree from a mango seedor plantains from mealies ; but this was entirely beyond her power.Give her a seed a leaf, or a portion of the plant required, and she coulddo it ; but she could never in any single instance “gather grapes fromthorns, or figs from thistles.” Likewise, from an egg she would develop

a full-grown bird in a few minutes, but she could not turn a bird into amonkey, nor a fish into a lynx. The towering rages she used to get intoon these occasions generally used to end in a series of violent epilepticfits. She tried all the resources of her magical arts upon me ; but I wasproof against any charm in the world but one, and that was one withwhich she was unacquainted. I possessed a talisman, given me by BulwerLytten (who also taught me the use of it), which not only enabled meto defy all her spells, incantations, and curses, but which was eventuallythe means, not only of her death, but of her absolute annihilation. Stillthis talisman, ancient and powerful as it was, could only preserve frommimical magical processes, and demoniac agencies ; it could not protectfrom death or ordinary physical dangers. Such a talisman has yet to bediscovered.




When Subè wanted to kill an animal, serpent, or anything else,

either for food or other purposes, she simply pointed her tube at itwith a steady gaze, as though taking aim with a revolver. Nothing everappeared to issue from the tube : but in a few moments the animalappeared surrounded by a kind of reddish cloud or thin vapour throughwhich its dying struggles could be seen. On examination, no perforationor injury of any kind could be found. I believe that Subè could do thisat any distance ; she could certainly do it up to 800 yards. But the mostterrible example, to my mind, of her power was in the transformation

of the sexes. One day, being offended with a chief, who sought in vainto pacify her, she said to him. “ I will degrade you and you shall becomea woman! “ Placing her hands upon him while be stood powerless asthough turned to stone—his eyeballs staring in horror—she com-menced her manipulations. Beginning with his face she rubbed awayevery vestige of beard and moustache. The prominent cheek bones fellin and the smooth rounded face of a woman became apparent. Next thepowerful biceps and triceps were rubbed down, and the lank lean aim

of the African woman appeared. Next, seizing hold of his vast pectoralmuscles, she began a different process, pinching up and pulling themout until there were shortly visible well-developed mammae. And soshe proceeded, from head to foot, until, in less than ten minutes, everyvestige of manhood had disappeared, and there stood before us a hulking,clumsy, knock-kneed woman.

Transformations of another kind, and of the most hideous character,were a feature of the orgies which constituted the worship of the demon.

During the frantic dances which took place, and over which Subèpresided, there was a certain amount of transformation of the faces tothe resemblance of certain animals, while the bodies remained human.Not all kinds of animals, only apes, goats, and serpents, were represented; yet while human lineaments were still traceable, the resemblance tothese loathsome objects was utterly horrible, and more like an awfulnightmare than anything else. When I was a boy at school I used toread the Greek, Roman, and other mythologies, and when I carne acrossthe transformations of Circe, and descriptions of satyrs, centaurs, &c.,I used to admire the vivid imaginations of the ancients. But ever sinceI witnessed, long years ago, the awful powers of Obeeyah, I genuinelybelieve that those old writers only related what was actually matter of common knowledge at the time. As to centaurs I don’t know ; but as to




the former existence of satyrs, the transformations of Circe, and the

petrifying action of the Medusa’s head, I am as certain as I am of myown existence.

ROSLYN D’ONSTON.



20

African MagicBy Tau-Triadelta

Lucifer, November, 1890

Before we enter into the subject of the occult art as practised on theWest Coast of Africa, it will be well to clear the ground by first consideringfor a moment what we mean by the much-abused term “Magic.”

There are many definitions of this word; and, in bygone ages, itwas simply used to designate anything and everything which was “notunderstanded of the vulgar.” It will be sufficient for our purpose to define

it as the knowledge of certain natural laws which are not merely unknownbut absolutely unsuspected by the scientists of Europe and America.It is a recognized fact that no law of Nature can be – even for a single

moment – abrogated. When, therefore, this appears to us to be the case –when, for instance, such a universally known law as that of the attractionof gravitation seems to be annihilated, we must recognize the fact thatthere may be other laws at present unknown to Western science whichhave the power of overriding and suspending for the time being the action

of the known law.The knowledge of these hidden laws is what we understand by theterm occult science, or magic. And there is no other magic than this, andnever has been, at any period of the world’s history. All the so-called“miracles” of ancient times can be and are reproduced at the present dayby magists when occasion requires. An act of magic is a pure scientificfeat, and must not be confounded with legerdemain or trickery of anykind.

There are several schools of magism, all proceeding and operating onentirely different lines. The principal of these, and on whose philosophy allothers are founded, are the Hindu; the Thibetan, the Egyptian (including




all human weakness and pusillanimity, the necromancer must outrage

and degrade human nature in every way conceivable. The very least of thecrimes necessary for him (or her) to commit to attain the power soughtis actual murder, by which the human victim essential to the sacrificeis provided. The human mind can scarcely realise or even imagine onetithe of the horrors and atrocities actually performed by the Obeeyahwomen.

Yet, though the price is awful, horrible, unutterable, the power is real.There is no possibility of mistake about that. Every petty king on the

West Coast has his “rain-maker.” It is the fashion among travellers, andthe business of the missionaries, to ridicule and deny the powers of thesepeople. But they do possess and do actually use the power of causingstorms of rain, wind, and lightning. When one considers that howeverignorant and brutal a savage may be, yet that he has an immense amountof natural cunning, and his very ignorance makes him believe nothingthat cannot be proved to him, no “rain-maker” could live for one yearunless he gave repeated instances of his powers when required by the

king. Failure would simply mean death. And the hypothesis that theyonly work their conjurations when the weather is on the point of changeis only an invention of the missionaries. The native chiefs are, like allsavages, able to detect an approaching change of weather many hoursbefore it takes place. And is it at all likely that they would send for therain-maker and give him sufficient cattle to last him for twelve months,besides wives and other luxuries, if there were the slightest appearance of approaching rain?

I remember well my first experience of these wizards. For weeks andweeks there had been no rain, although it was the rainy season. Themealies were all dying for want of water; the cattle were being slaughteredin all directions; women and children had died by scores, and the fightingmen were beginning to do the same, being themselves scarcely morethan skeletons. Day after day, the sun glared down on the parched earth,without one intervening cloud, like a globe of glowing copper, and allNature languished in that awful furnace. Suddenly the king ordered thegreat war drum to be beaten, and the warriors all gathered hurriedly.He announced the arrival of two celebrated rain-makers, who wouldforthwith proceed to relieve the prevailing distress. The elder of thetwo was a stunted, bow-legged little man, with wool which would havebeen white had it not been messed up with grease, filth and feathers. The




second was rather a fine specimen of the Soosoo race, but with a very

sinister expression. A large ring being formed by the squatting negroes,who came – for some unknown reason – all armed to the teeth, the kingbeing in the centre, and the rain-makers in front of him, they commencedtheir incantations. The zenith and the horizon were eagerly examinedfrom time to time, but not a vestige of a cloud appeared. Presently theelder man rolled on the ground in convulsions, apparently epileptic, andhis comrade started to his feet pointing with both hands to the copper-colored sky. All eyes followed his gesture, and looked at the spot to which

his hands pointed, but nothing was visible. Motionless as a stone statuehe stood with gaze rivetted on the sky. In about the space of a minutea darker shade was observable in the copper tint, in another minute itgrew darker and darker, and, in a few more seconds developed into a blackcloud, which soon overspread the heavens. In a moment, a vivid flashwas seen, and the deluge that fell from that cloud, which had now spreadcompletely overhead, was something to be remembered. For two daysand nights that torrent poured down, and seemed as if it would wash

everything out of the ground.After the king had dismissed the rain-makers, and they had depositedthe cattle and presents under guard, I entered the hut in which they werelodged, and spent the night with them, discussing the magical art. Thehut was about fourteen feet in diameter, strongly built of posts drivenfirmly into the ground, and having a strong thatched conical roof. Ieventually persuaded them to give me one or two examples of their skill.They began singing, or rather crooning, a long invocation, after a few

minutes of which the younger man appeared to rise in the air about threefeet from the ground and remain there unsuspended, and floating about.There was a brilliant light in the hut from a large fire in the centre, sothat the smallest detail could be distinctly observed. I got up and wentto feel the man in the air, and there was no doubt about his levitation.He then floated close to the wall and passed through it to the outside. Imade a dash for the doorway, which was on the opposite side of the hut,and looked round for him. I saw a luminous figure which appeared like aman rubbed with phosphorised oil; but I was glad to rapidly take shelterfrom the torrents of rain. When I re-entered the hut, there was only theold man present. I examined the logs carefully, but there was no aperturewhatever. The old man continued his chant, and in another moment hiscomrade re-appeared floating in the air. He sat down on the ground, and I




saw his black skin glistening with rain, and the few rags he wore were as

wet as if he had been dipped in a river.The next feat was performed by the old man, and consisted in severalinstantaneous disappearances and reappearances. The curious point aboutthis was that the old man also was dripping wet.

Following this was a very interesting exhibition. By the old man’sdirections we arranged ourselves round the fire at the three points of animaginary triangle. The men waved their hands over the fire in rhythmwith their chant when dozens of tic-polongas, the most deadly serpent

in Africa, slowly crawled out from the burning embers, and interlacingthemselves together whirled in a mad dance on their tails round the fire,making all the while a continuous hissing. At the word of command theyall sprang into the fire and disappeared. The young man then came roundto me, and, kneeling down, opened his mouth, out of which the head of atic-polonga was quickly protruded. He snatched it out, pulling a serpentnearly three feet long out of his throat, and threw it also into the fire. Inrapid succession he drew seven serpents from his throat, and consigned

them all to the same fiery end.But I wanted to know what they could do in the way of evocation of spirits. The incantation this time lasted nearly twenty minutes, when,rising slowly from the fire, appeared a human figure, a man of great age,a white man too, but absolutely nude. I put several questions to him,but obtained no reply. I arose and walked round the fire, and particularlynoticed a livid scar on his back. I could get no satisfactory explanationof who he was, but they seemed rather afraid of him, and had evidently

– from the remarks they interchanged – expected to see a black man.After the appearance of this white man, I could not persuade themthat night to attempt anything more, although the next night I had nodifficulty with them. A most impressive feat, which they on a subsequentoccasion performed, was the old custom of the priests of Baal. Commencinga lugubrious chant they slowly began circling around the fire (whichsaid fire always is an essential part of the proceedings), keeping a certainamount of rhythm in both their movements and cadences. Presently, themovement grew faster and faster till they whirled round like dancingdervishes. There were two distinct movements; all the time during whichthey were gyrating round the circle, they were rapidly spinning on theirown axes. With the rapidity of their evolutions their voices were raisedhigher and higher until the din was terrific. Then, by a simultaneous




movement, each began slashing his naked body on arms, chest, and thighs,

until they were streaming with blood and covered with deep gashes. Thenthe old man stopped his erratic course, and sitting down on the groundnarrowly watched the younger one with apparent solicitude. The youngman continued his frantic exertions until exhausted Nature could bear nomore, and he fell panting and helpless on the ground. The old man tookboth the knives and anointed the blades with some evil smelling greasefrom a calabash, and then stroked the young man’s body all over with theblade which had done the injuries, and finished the operation by rubbing

him vigorously with the palms of the hands smeared with the unguent.In a few minutes time the young man arose, and there was not theslightest trace of wound or scar in his ebony skin. He then performedthe same good offices on the old man with the same effect. Within tenminutes afterwards they were both laid on their mats in a sweet andquiet sleep. In this performance there were many invocations, gestures,the circular fire, and other things which satisfied me that some portion, atall events, of the magical processes of West Africa had been handed down

from the days when Baal was an actual God, and mighty in the land.




to come a second time, and determined to tell “Louise” positively that this

should be the last meeting. Besides, now, I did not consider it fair to MissK., with whom I was again negotiating, en rapport to a certain extent. So,if anything, it was in rather a sulky frame of mind that I awaited Louise.Just as the quarters before the hour began to chime I distinctly heard the“clink, clink” of the little brass heels, which she always wore, sounding onthe long flagged causeway, leading for 200 yards up to the bridge. As shegot nearer I could see her pass lamp after lamp in rapid succession, whilethe strokes of the large clock at Hull resounded through the still night.

‘At last the patter, patter of the tiny feet sounded on the woodworkof the bridge, and I saw her distinctly pass under the lamp at the fartherend – it was only twenty yards wide, and I stood under the lamp at myside. When she got close to me I saw that she had neither hat nor cape on,and concluded that she had taken a cab to the farther end of the flaggedcauseway, and (it being a very warm night) had left her wraps in the cab,and for purposes of effect had come the short distance in evening dress.

“Clink, clink” went the brass heels, and she seemed about passing

me, when I, suddenly urged by an impulse of affection, stretched outmy arms to receive her. She passed through them, intangible, impalpable,and as she looked at me I distinctly saw her lips move, and form thewords, “Dead or alive”. I even heard the words, but not with my outwardears, with something else, some other sense – what, I know not. I feltstartled, surprised, but not afraid, until a moment afterwards, when I felt,but could not see, some other presence following her. I could feel, thoughI could not hear, the heavy, clumsy “thud” of feet following her; and my

blood seemed turned to ice. Recovering myself with an effort, I shoutedout to “Old Bob” who was safely ensconced with the Bath chair in a nookout of sight round the corner. “Bob, who passed you just now?” In aninstant the old Yorkshireman was by side. “Ne’er a one passed me, sir!”“Nonsense, Bob,” I replied, “I told you that I was coming to meet MissLouise, and she just passed me on the bridge, and must have passed you,because there’s nowhere else she could go! You don’t mean to tell meyou didn’t see her?” The old man replied solemnly, “Maister Ros, there’ssomething uncanny aboot it. I heerd her come on the bridge, and off it, I’dknaw them clicketty heels onywhere; but I’m dommed, sir, if she passedme. I’m thinking we’d better gang.” And “gang” we did; and it was thesmall hours of the morning (getting daylight) before we left off talkingover the affair, and went to bed.



30

Brief sketchesof the life of

VictoriaWoodhull

(MRS. JOHN BIDDULPH MARTIN)

“Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? Then may yealso do good that are accustomed to do evil.” – Jeremiah xiii. 23.

“The fathers have eaten a sour grape, and the children’s teeth are set onedge.” – Jeremiah xxxi. 29.

“Give therefore thy servant an understanding heart…...that I may discernbetween good and bad.”—1 Kings iii. 9.

“Whom he did foreknow he also did predestinate to be conformed to theimage of his son, that he might be the first born among many brethren. Moreover,whom he did predestinate them he also called, and whom he called them he also justified, and whom he justified them heal so glorified.” –Roman viii. 29.

“I admonish thee, whosever art that desirest to dive into the inmost parts of nature, if that thou seekest thou findest not with thee, thou wilt NEVER FINDIT WITHOUT THEE. If thou knowest not the excellency of thine own house,why dost thou seek after the excellency of other things? O man, know thyself;in thee is the treasure of treasures.”—Arabian Alchemist.




The EpiphanyJanuary 6th, 1893.

Sitting in the British Museum on this which the Church of Englandcalls the Epiphany or Manifestation of the Gentiles, I am impressed to

write of that New Epiphany and that modern Manifestation which I feelto be imminent.To-day the Chaldean Magi came, started from their homes in the

far East to a lowly cot in Palestine, where they presented their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to one whom seemed scarcely destined torevolutionise the religious thought and practice of the world. But so it was.Throughout Europe, beyond the Isles of the sea, to the great Americancontinent, faith in that unlikely Messiah was spread until it comes that,

at the beginning of the opening year, we have an account of laying thefoundation-stone of a cathedral in New York, beside which the cathedralsand ministers of the old country will show as pygmies.

And in the shifting of the scene from East to West the old lines havenot been abandoned. It is still the Virgin Mother—virgin in mind andspirit, while mother in body—who is to “have the pre-eminence.”

Other women have paved the way for the Annus Dominae—the yearof our lady. It is not necessary to mention their names. They must decreasewhile she will increase. The gestation period is over. The new birth beganin 1893. The travail pains are past; the nativity passes into Epiphany.

NIKH—Victoria! The name is prophetic. Already it is on the lips of the vanguard. Soon it will echo all along the line.

By this sign conquer. Such the phraseWhich turns to gain a seeming loss ;

When, in the antique pagan days,The eagle quailed before the cross.

Once more behold the wondrous changeThe flag floats white o’er boundless lands,

And still, ‘mid mystic signs and strange,




The ancient legend NIKH stands.

Victoria, see us bending lowWhile dawns the crucial Ninety-three,

“The royal banners, forward go”To hail thy bright Epiphany.

The Hand of Mrs. Victoria Woodhull Martin.




A PALMIST, meeting from thirty to forty persons a day, will naturally

see many curious and startling hands ; many clever ones—many indicatingtalent for some particular career—many with power ; but it would behard to find a hand more extraordinary than this.

The whole nature is so many-sided—Art, Literature, Commerce—allwell marked, all so equal in power, all so crowned with success. Look, forinstance, at the Line of the Head ; it is independent of all the other lines ;it rises high on the mount of Jupiter (first finger), and sweeps across thehand, having power and strength to the very last. Its purpose is high ; its

ambition strong and firm ; it is resolute, undaunted, and determined.It finds an even balance between the mounts of Mars and Luna, thusgiving a hold on the two great worlds of life—on the one (Mars) practicalcommon sense and martial vigour; on the other (Luna) the brilliancy of thought of imagination, fervent eloquence, enthusiasm, and the perpetualcraving for the ideal ; the longing for the higher life, and the practicalapplication of those higher-life truths to the every-day actions of thiswork-a-day world.

It will be observed that the Line of Head, at its point of rising, comesin contact with a line encircling the first finger, the finger of Jupiter. Thecircle has been called, from time immemorial, Solomon’s Ring, and givesto its possessor wisdom, discernment, and marvelous intuition ; whilst atthe same time, it seems to unlock the doors of things occult, and initiatesits possessor into the secrets of clairvoyance, and the mysteries of lifebeyond the veil of human doubt and unbelief.

Those who possess this sign have the extraordinary power of learning

almost without trouble, nothing being too difficult for their minds to graspat once. This may seem hard to believe, but such is the fact that there arepersons like this, who learn without effort; who acquire knowledge in amoment; at whose control there lie inexhaustible stores of thought, andwhose mind are for ever giving and reflecting the half-forgotten truthsof some far-distant age.

Such persons have generally some strange destiny to compete, somework left unfulfilled by some previous race, and are as unconquerable asthe truths whereof they speak.

They are like sudden stars on the horizon of humanity ; they attractthe world by their leadership ; and, passing on to a higher sphere, theyleave behind a world purified and made better by their presence.

The Line of Heart is long and very distinct upon the hand. It will be




observed that its branches run on and touch the large Mount of Jupiter

which has such power. In this matter it takes the qualities of this mountinto the life, and carries them to the end.These qualities are:—The power of leadership—the control of

others—the great ambition to make all their work a success ; and thenever-satisfied longing for something higher—the pride of conqueringdifficulties, and the never-flagging energy that knows no rest.

From the breadth and formation of the Mount, we get the softerqualities expressed. The love of helping others—the self-denial and self-

sacrifice—the veneration for the aged, and the earnest cultivation of religion—that is, as it were, the furnace of life in which the thoughts of the soul are moulded and fashioned.

Thus the Line of Heart starts ; it suffers keenly and deeply, but itnever turns from its high purpose ; it goes on gathering strength from itstrials, and is stronger at the end than at the beginning.

There is weak action of the heart indicated, which will, I fear, causeillness before the end. This could be avoided by ease and rest, but this

nature will never rest ; it has been given energy and ambition for somegreat purpose, and while that purpose is unaccomplished it will work andlabour, asking for life only that it may give life to others, only prayingthat the work may be finished before the labourer can work no more.

The Line of Life is strongly marked ; at about 15 years of age somedecided change is told, probably Marriage. There is great responsibilityattached to this change, and it seems to affect the whole afterlife ; thischange does not last long, trouble and disappointment are the result.

There is again an important change at about thirty, and this seems to bethe real starting point of the great purpose of the heart; from that orbgreat success is shown, but all for the furtherance of the work that by thistime lies close at hand.

Now, looking to the Line of Fate, we find that it appears on the handwith power and strength ; it sends branches up to almost every finger ;one to the finger of Mercury giving success in business, and of anotherto the third, giving dramatic power and success in a public life ; while thethird branch is the great line of Desitny itself, and by its termination itforetells a great future, and ambition gratified before the end of life.

There is a complete change of climate marked on this line, and also onthe Line of Life ; it denotes that two countries will hold the affections, butthat the land in which the great work of the heart commenced will be the




Sketchesof

Victoria C. Woodhull’s Life.THE following is taken from the Toronto Mail, Canada, which was

published twenty-one years ago :

Victoria Claflin Woodhull ; a young woman, whose career has beenas singular as any heroine’s in a romance ; whose ability is of a rare,

and whose character of the rarest, type ; whose personal sufferings are of themselves a whole drama of pathos ; whose name (through the maliceof some and the ignorance of others) has caught a shadow in strangecontrast with the whiteness of her life; whose position as a representativeof her sex in the greatest reform of modern times, renders her an object of peculiar interest to her fellow citizens. In Homer, Ohio, in a picturesquecottage, white-painted and high-peaked, with a porch running round itand a flower garden in front, this daughter, the seventh of ten children

of Roxana and Buckman Claflin, was born September 23rd, 1838. Asthis was the year when Queen Victoria was crowned, the new-born babewas immediately christened as the Queen’s namesake ; her parents littledreaming that their daughter would one day aspire to a higher seat thanthe English throne. The Queen, with that early matronly predilectionwhich her subsequent life has done so much to illustrate, foresaw thatmany glad mothers, who were to bring babies into the world during thecoronation year, would name them after the chief lady of the earth ; and

accordingly she ordained a gift to all her little namesakes of Anno Domini1838.Mrs. Woodhull, who was a candidate for the Presidency of the United

States, should defer her visit to receive that gift till after her election,when she will have a beautiful opportunity to invite her elder sister




in sovereignty, the mother of our mother country—to visit her fairest

daughter, the Republic of the West. Victoria’s school-days comprised, alltold, fewer than three years—stretching, with broken intervals, betweenher eighth and eleventh. The aptest learner of her class, she was the petalike of scholars and teacher. Called “ The Little Queen “ (not only fromher name, but her demeanour), she bore herself with mimic royalty, likeone born to command. Fresh and beautiful, her countenance being famedthroughout the neighbourhood for its striking spirituality, modest yetenergetic, and restive from the overfulness of an inward energy, such as

quickened the young blood of Joan of Arc, she was a child of genius. Thelittle old head on the little shoulders was often bent over her school bookat the midnight hour. She acquired her studies, performed her work, andlived her life by the help (as she believes) of Heavenly spirits. From herchildhood till now, her anticipation of the other world has been morevivid than her realisation of this. She has entertained angels, and notunawares. The gracious guests have been her constant companions. Theyabide with her night and day. They dictate her life with daily revelation

; and, like St. Paul, she is “ not disobedient to the Heavenly vision. ” Shegoes and comes at their behest. Her enterprises are not the coinage of herown brain, but of their divine invention. Her writings and speeches arethe products, not only of their indwelling in her soul, but of their absolutecontrol of her brain and tongue.

Like a good Greek of the olden time, she does nothing without con-sulting her oracles. Never, as she avers, have they deceived her ; nor everwill she neglect their decrees. One-third of the human life is passed in

sleep ; and in her case a goodly fragment of this third is spent in trance.Seldom a day goes by but she enters into this fairy land, or, rather,spirit realm. She is a religious devotee—her simple theology being anabsorbing faith in God and the angels. Moreover, I may as well mentionhere, as later, that every characteristic utterance which she gives to theworld is dictated while under spirit influence, and most often in a totallyunconscious state. The words that fall from her lips are gathered by theswift pen of her sister Tennessee, and, published almost verbatim as shegets and gives them. To take an illustration, after her recent nominationto the presidency of “The Victoria League,” she sent to that committee aletter marked by superior dignity and moral weight. It was a compositionwhich she had dictated while so outwardly oblivious to the dictation that,when she ended and awoke, she had no memory at all of what she had




just done. The product of that strange and weird mood was a beautiful

piece of English, not unworthy of Macaulay ; and, to prove what I say,I adduce the following eloquent passage, which (I repeat) was publishedwithout change as it fell from her unconscious lips :—”I ought not to passunnoticed,” she says, “your courteous and graceful allusion to what youdeem the favouring omen of my name. It is true that a Victoria rules thegreat rival nation opposite to us on the other shore of the Atlantic, andit might grace the amity just sealed between the two nations, and be asecurity of peace, if a twin sisterhood of Victoria were to preside over the

two nations. It is true, also, that in its clear etymology the name signifiesVictory ! and the victory for the right is what we are bent on securing.It is again true, also, that to some minds there is a consonant. harmonybetween the idea and the word, so that its euphonious utterance seems, totheir imaginations, to be itself a genius of success. However this may be,I have sometimes imagined that there is, perhaps, something providentialand prophetic in the fact that my parents were prompted to confer onme a name which forbids the very thought of failure ; and as the great

Napoleon believed in the star of his destiny, you will, at least, excuse me,and charge it to the credulity of the woman, if I also believe in the fatalityof triumph as somehow inhering in my name.” This (she says) she derivesfrom the spirit world. One of her texts is : “I will lift up mine eyes to thehills whence cometh my help—my help cometh from the Lord who madeheaven and earth.” She reminded me of the old engraving of St. Gregory,dictating his homilies under the outspread wing of the Holy Dove. It hasbeen so from childhood. So that her school studies were, literally, a daily

miracle. She would glance at a page and know it by heart. The toughlittle mysteries which bother the bewildered brains of the county-schooldullards were always to her as vivid as the sunshine, and when sent onerrands she believes she has been lifted over the ground by her angelichelpers—”lest she should dash her foot against a stone.” When she hadanything to carry, an unseen hand would always carry it for her. All thismay seem an illusion to everybody else, but will never be other than areality to her. Let me cite some details of these: spiritual phenomena,curious in themselves, and illustrating the forces that impel her career.

“My spiritual vision,” she says, “dates back as early as my third year.”In Victoria’s birthplace, a young woman, about twenty-five years of age,who had been Victoria’s nurse, suddenly died. On the day of her death,Victoria was picked up by the departing spirit and borne off into the spirit




without knowing what she did, took up a book which, on idly looking at

its title, she saw, to her blood-chilling astonishment, to be “The Orationsof Demosthenes.” From that time onwards the Greek statesman has beenmore palpably than in her earlier years her prophetic monitor, mappingout the life which she must follow, as a chart for a ship sailing the sea. Shebelieves him to be her familiar spirit—the author of her public policy, andthe inspirer of her published words.

Without intruding my own opinion as to the authenticity of thisinspiration, I have often thought that, if Demosthenes could arise and

speak English, he could hardly excel the fierce light and heat of someof the sentences which I have heard from this singular woman in herglowing hours. Previous to this there had occurred the remarkableincident which more than ever confirmed her faith in the guardianship of spirits. One day, during the severe illness of her son, she left him to visither parents, and, on her return, was startled with the news that the boyhad died two hours before. “No !” she exclaimed, “I will not permit hisdeath.” And with frantic energy she stripped her bosom naked, caught

up his lifeless form, pressed it to her own, and sitting thus, flesh to flesh,glided insensibly into a trance, in which she remained seven hours, at theend of which time she awoke ; a perspiration started from his clammyskin, and the child that had been thought dead was brought back againto life—and lives to this day. It is her belief that the spirit of Jesus Christbrooded over the lifeless form, and re-wrought the miracle of Lazarus fora sorrowing woman’s sake. The malice of enemies, together with her boldopinion on social questions, has combined to give her reputation a stain.

But no slander ever fell on any human soul with greater injustice. A moreunsullied woman does not walk the earth. She carries in her very face thefair legend of a character kept pure by a sacred fire within. She is one of those aspiring devotees who tread the earth merely as a stepping-stoneto Heaven, and whose chief ambition is finally to present herself at thesupreme tribunal “spotless, and without wrinkle or blemish, or any suchthing.” Knowing her as well as I do, I cannot hear an accusation againsther without recalling Tennyson’s line of King Arthur

“Is thy white blamelessness; accounted blame?”

Fulfilling a previous prophecy, and following a celestial mandate,in 1869 she founded a bank and published a journal. These two eventstook the town by storm. When the doors of her office in Broad Street




were first thrown open to the public, several thousand visitors came in a

flock on the first day to see the “lady brokers,” as they were called. Thedaily press interviewed them ; the weekly wits satirised them ; the comicsheets caricatured them ; but, like a couple of fresh dolphins, breastingthe sea side by side, they showed themselves native to the element, andcleft gracefully every threatening wave that broke over their heads. Thebreakers could not dash the brokers. Indomitable in their energy, thesisters won the good graces of Commodore Vanderbilt—who of all thelower animals prefers the horse, and of all higher virtues admires pluck.

, Both with and without Commodore Vanderbilt’s help, Mrs. Woodhullhas more than once shown the pluck that has the rein of the stock marketas the Commodore holds his horse. Her journal, as one seeks it weekby week, is generally a willow basket full of audacious manuscripts,stunning the reader with a medley of politics, finance, and a new versionof the Bible. In 1870, following the English plan of self-nomination, Mrs.Woodhull announced herself as a candidate for the Presidency—mainlyfor the purpose of drawing public attention to the claims of women to

political equality with man. She accompanied this announcement witha series of papers in the Herald on politics and finance, which have sincebeen collected in a volume entitled “The Principles of Government.” Shehas lately received a more formal nomination to that high office by “TheVictoria League,” an organisation which, being somewhat Jacobinical inits secrecy, is popularly supposed, though not definitely known, to bepresided over by Commodore Vanderbilt, who is also similarly imaginedto be the golden corner-stone of the business house of Woodhull, Claflin,

& Co. Should she be elected to the high seat to which she aspires (anevent concerning which I make no prophecy), I am at least sure that shewould excel any queen now on any throne in her native faculty to governothers.

One night in December, 1869, when she lay in deep sleep, her Greekguardian came to her, and, sitting transfigured by her couch, wrote on ascroll (so that she could not only see the words, but immediately dictatedthem to her watchful amanuensis) the memorable document now knownin history as “The Memorial of Victoria C. Woodhull“—a petitionaddressed to Congress, claiming under the fourteenth amendment theright of women, as of other citizens of the United States, to vote in“the States wherein they reside”—asking, moreover, that the State of New York, of which she was a citizen, should be restrained, by Federal




authority, from preventing the exercise of this constitutional right. The

document was shown to a number of friends, including one eminent judge,who ridiculed its logic and conclusions. But the lady herself, from whosesleeping, and yet unsleeping, brain the strange document had sprunglike Minerva from the head of Jove, simply answered that her antiqueinstructor, having never misled her before, was guiding her aright then.Nothing doubting, but much wondering, she took the novel demandto Washington, where, after a few days of laughing from the shallow-minded, and of neglect from the indifferent, it suddenly burst upon the

Federal Capital like a storm, and then spanned like a rainbow. She wentbefore the Judiciary Committee, and delivered an argument in support of her claim to the franchise under the new amendments, which some whoheard it pronounced as one of the ablest efforts which they have everheard on any subject. She caught the listening ears of Senator Carpenter,General Butler, Judge Woodward, George W. Julien, General Ashley,Judge Loughridge, and other able statesmen in Congress, and harnessedthese gentlemen as steeds to her chariot. Such was the force of her appeal

that the whole city rushed together to hear it, like the Athenians to themarket-place when Demosthenes stood in his own and not a borrowedclay.

A great audience, one of the finest ever gathered in the capital,assembled to hear her defend her thesis in the first public speech of herlife. At the moment of rising, her face was observed to be very pale, andshe appeared about to faint. On being afterwards questioned as to thecause of her emotion, she replied that, during the first prolonged moment,

she remembered an early prediction of her guardian-spirit, until thenforgotten, that she would one day speak in public, and that her firstdiscourse would be pronounced in the capital of her country, The suddenfulfilment of this prophecy smote her so violently that for a moment shewas stunned into apparent unconsciousness. But she recovered herself,and passed through the ordeal with great success, which is better luck thanhappened to the real Demosthenes, for Plutarch mentions that his maidenspeech was a failure, and that he was laughed at by the people. Assisted byElizabeth Cady Stanton, Paulina Wright Davis, Isabella Beecher Hooker,Susan B. Anthony, and other staunch and able women, whom she swiftlypersuaded into accepting this construction of the Constitution, shesucceeded, after her petition was denied by a majority of the JudiciaryCommittee, in obtaining a minority report in its favour, signed jointly




of devotion. For two years as a talisman against any temptation towards

untruthfulness (which, with her, is the unpardonable sin) she wore,stitched into the sleeve of every one of her dresses, the second verse of the 120th Psalm, namely, “Deliver my soul, O Lord, from lying lips, andfrom a deceitful tongue.” Speaking the truth punctiliously, whether ingreat things or small, she rigorously exacts the same of others ; so that adeceit practised upon her enkindles her soul to a flame of fire: and she hasacquired a clairvoyant or intuitive power to detect a lie in the momentof its utterance, and to smite the liar in his act of guilt. She believes that

intellectual power has its fountains in spiritual inspiration. And once,when I put to her the searching question, “What is the greatest truththat has ever been expressed in words ?” she thrilled me with the suddenanswer : “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”

As showing that her early clairvoyant power still abides, I will mentiona fresh instance. An eminent judge in Pennsylvania, in whose court-houseI had once lectured, called lately to see me. On my enquiring after hisfamily, he told me that a strange event had just happened in it. “Three

months ago,” said he, “while I was in New York, Mrs. Woodhull said tome, with a rush of feeling, ‘Judge, I foresee that you will lose two of yourchildren within six weeks.’“ This announcement, he said, wounded himas a tragic sort of trifling with life and death.

“But,” I asked, “did anything follow the prophecy ?” ”Yes,” hereplied, “fulfilment : I lost two children within six weeks.” The Judge,who is a Methodist, thinks that Victoria the clairvoyant is like “Annathe Prophetess.” Let me say that I know of no person against whom

there arc more prejudices, nor anyone who more quickly disarms them.This strange faculty is the most powerful of her powers. She shoots aword like a sudden sunbeam through the thickest mist of people’s doubtsand accusations, and clears the sky in a moment. Questioned by soniccommittee or delegation who have come to her with idle tales against abusy life, I have seen her swiftly gather together all the stones which theyhave cast, put them like the miner’s quartz into the furnace, melt themwith fierce and fervent heat, bring out of them the purest gold, stampthereon her image and superscription as if she were’ sovereign of therealms, and then (as the marvel of it all) receive the sworn allegiance of the whole company on the spot. At one of her public meetings, when thechair (as she hoped) would be occupied by Lucretia Mott, this venerablewoman had been persuaded to decline the responsibility, but afterwards




stepped forward on the platform and lovingly kissed the young speaker

in the presence of the multitude. To see her is to respect her—to know heris to vindicate her. She has faults, but were she without the same traitswhich produce these she would not possess the magnificent energieswhich make her a heroine of history. In conclusion, amid all the rush of her active life, she believes with Wordsworth that

“The Gods approve the depth, and notThe tumult of the Soul.”

So, whether buffeted by criticism, or defamed by slander, shecarries herself in that religious peace which through all turbulence is “ameasureless content.” When apparently about to be struck down, shegathers unseen strength, and goes forward conquering and to conquer.

Victoria Woodhull: A Memory.

By a Church of EnglandClergyman.

“ She openeth her mouth with wisdom,and in her tongue is the law of kindness. ”

— Prev. xxxi. 26.

Every seven years—so the wise tell us—the material structure of

our being is completely changed. Every atom of flesh, blood, and bone




is, renewed ; we are, so to say, “ disintegrated,” and then “recipitated”

afresh. If this is the case—and it is more than likely—do the impressionsmade from without perish with the fleshly tablet on which they werewritten ? or is it true, as De Quincey says, that the human brain is “amighty palimpsest“ from which nothing is obliterated—only coveredup and written over with subsequent impressions ; but so that the olderimpressions may be at any time evoked by what has been so aptly termedthe master-spell of memory ? It is twice seven years since —I know not onwhat pretext—I, called on Victoria Woodhull and her sister. The memory

of that event is fresh, though the details are for the moment obliteratedby the lapse of time. I have forgotten what we talked about, just as I haveceased to remember the occasion of my visit ; but I have no doubt thatboth will be recalled by-and-by through an act of anamnesis, as Platocalls it,—of “ recollection.”

What I do recollect is that the merely physical beauty of the lady of which beauty I had heard so much, was even eclipsed by the higher charmof her conversation, and that I mentally anathematised the din of the traffic

in that Bloomsbury thoroughfare which rendered it so difficult for me tofollow the thread of our discourse. It is often these trifling accessories thatlinger on the mental retina to the exclusion of more important objects. Icannot recollect what we talked about, but. I recollect it was very difficultto talk at all. Then followed a brief period of social intercourse. I used tomeet Victoria Woodhull at dinner parties (I call her so rather than Mrs.Woodhull—we do not speak of Mr. Shakespeare !) ; I am even remindedthat she came to my home, won the friendship of my wife, and played

with my little children, now grown to be men and women and givingme grandchildren to sup-ply their place. But this social phase has fadedconsiderably. It has to be recalled bit by hit, as the scholar recovers fromthe palimpsest, letter by letter, the valuable text lying down below the“trivial, fond records“ that have been superscribed upon it.

Then comes the epoch of the St. James’s Hall lecture on “The HumanBody, the Temple of God.” I have that lecture by me in a volume whichI carefully put aside unread for the moment, because I am, in thisbrief memoir, recording only my own impressions. Here no effort of anamnesis is necessary. The whole incident stands before “my mind’seye” like a picture. It was an epoch in my existence to hear a woman speakin public on those usually tabooed topics—why tabooed I never couldunderstand—and I had never heard a woman speak at all as this woman




spoke. I see that vast hall packed from floor to ceiling with eager listeners,

many of whom may have come to scoff, but they stopped to applaud. Isee a slight woman, who looked even more petite by comparison with hercolossal surroundings, stepping nervously on to that platform, Bible inhand, and I hear her speaking as one inspired during hours which seemedas minutes. How well I recollect her exposition of the old Paradise-legendin the Genesis and the new Paradise vision in the Apocalypse ! It came tome, as it must have come to a thousand others, in the light of a revelation.Again all physical attraction was merged in the mental charm. I cannot

recall any details of dress or what not. But the boldness of that woman’sintuition and the perfect incisiveness of her fluent eloquence have lingeredby me through those twice seven years, and survive the effacements of that twofold period of “disintegration.”

Then the vision faded ; again I know not how. This alone I recall. 1heard that Victoria Woodhull and her sister had made wealthy marriagesand retired into privacy. The incident of that St. James’s Hall lectureremained only as a memory, but a fadeless memory.

Perhaps I thought, with more or less harshness, that the whole planso ably and eloquently projected had expended itself in talk like so manyothers. Its originator had said her say, and there left matters. I do notknow that I criticised thus. I have forgotten if I did, but it might have beenso. Subsequently I listened to other women who dared to speak out—toAnnie Besant,, whose powers I foresaw from the first ; to Anna Kingsford,the young Hypatia whose persona charms perhaps went far to outweighsome little acerbity of manner, sat at the feet of H. P. Blavatsky, and would

not say that I gained nothing by that discipleship ; but none of theselatter experience overlaid or obliterated the memory of those hours in St.James’s Hall. That, however, survived only as a “memory.” The oracle wasdumb “Slowly all things right themselves.” The long years have comeand gone, but that memory, it seems, is not the mere shadow of a shade.

Victoria Woodhull, in her mature womanhood, resolves to fulfil thepromise of her earlier prime. She accepts the maxim of good of BishopCumberland, that “it is better to wear out than to rust out.”

After long retirement she girds on her armour again and prepare forthe bloodless battle. Once more I have seen her in her sequestered home.She is about to go on a lecturing tour, on fabulous terms, at the invitationof the great country where, for the truth’s sake, she was more than oncecast into prison. She may yet be the first woman President the United




States. That is not to my present purpose. I am thinking of her as the

brave, wise woman, on whose lip, as the old proverb, monger wrote, is thelaw of kindness. Say, rather, who was, and is, here the embodied Gospel of kindness ; a Gospel to that great sisterhood hers for whom ignorance hasbeen too long made to stand as the fair synonym for innocence.

How many a woman’s blighted life might have blossomed in: happywifehood and motherhood had she only known what this bola goodwoman would have taught her ! Of course, her boldness in traduced asprurience. Where was ever the Church whose seed was other than the

martyr’s blood ? If they said of the Master that He has the devil, mustthey not, to be consistent with their stern and scholastic logic, creditwith diablerie the disciple who puts aside with firm but gentle: handthe petty conventionalities of so-called “society,” and speaks as only awoman may dare to speak to women, but whose womanly intutions havea message for men also; a message which, spoken as se can and will speakit, they “cannot choose but hear”? As such as living memory do I, a man,welcome back to public life and woman ministry one who must ever be

associated in my mind with that day “to be much remembered” in myown experience, when I first saw ad heard her unfold that first page in herGospel of kindness.

That Gospel in its fulness has yet to be written and preached tothe world.

The Apostle ofWomanhood.

This is a day of new cults, of new dogmas and new prophets ; the oldlandmarks are torn up and cast aside, and wherever we look around—whether in science, in faith, or in morals—we find new departures




everywhere, new orders of things continually arising and pushing to the

front. “The old things pass away, behold ! all things shall become new !”It is not our purpose, within the short space of this article, to dwellupon these new features in the moral and social aspects of the world ; butwe do intend to deal with one phase of the grand upheaval—the greatawakening of the social conscience from its death-like trance—one whichbears within its bosom the seeds of the greatest and most magnificentpossibilities for the regeneration, the social and physical redemption, of the human race.

Not only is the crying need of some new departure in this directionwidely felt, but all kinds of empirical nostrums are proposed by a host of spiritual quacks to remedy the rottenness of modern social life, most of them being founded on the sublime idea of the universal Brotherhood of Man.

But the diverse ways in which it is sought to bring about this grandresult are either utterly impotent in themselves, dangerous to the well-being of society, or are, by their very essence, capable of being entered

into only by the few.An example of the first of these is the modern Spiritualism, whichhas been weighed in the balance and found wanting; no single addition tothe moral code, nor any improved method of applying the existent one,having been vouchsafed in all the myriad séances which have been heldaround the inspired mahogany of its followers. Even supposing, for thesake of argument, that the “manifestations“ were actually caused by thespirits of those gone before (a premise we are by no means prepared to

admit), even then they have added no .single stone to the cairn of humanknowledge, nothing to the sum of human happiness.Spiritualism—even if true—is only a “ Dead Sea fruit.”The second proposition, that of being “dangerous to the welfare

of society,” is well exemplified by modern Socialism, whose followerssoon become dissatisfied with even its advanced tenets and proclaimthemselves anarchists.

Socialism, then, is a delusion and a snare !The third and last phase is seen in the new “Theosophy.” We do not

propose to discuss either Theosophy or its professors here and now ; butwe may say of it that what is true is not new, and what is new is not true! It is the last and most awful Gospel of Despair !

None of these quack remedies will ever avail to save the body politic,




or to elevate the soul of man ; we turn from them all weary heart-sick,

and disappointed, with the haunting doubt arising in our minds—thehorrible question hissing in our ears—”Is life worth living?”A calm, serene, and silver voice, having within it a thrill of ecstatic

triumph, answers us “Yes!”We turn and see before us the apostle and prophets of the new faith—

the new cult of “Womanhood.”This is her mission— first to free her sisters from the moral serfdom

in which they live to-day, and then to teach them a new and sublime

interpretation of Christian morality which shall first regenerate themselvesand next—through them—shall purify and elevate all mankind.This grand system is founded—as all true systems are—on the ever

lasting principles of eternal truth as contained in natural religion. And, astruth cannot oppose truth, therefore we find that nowhere is in oppositionto, but in the fullest harmony with, the divinely-revealed religion of theBible.

Its keystone is the dogma that “the human body is the temple of God,”

and its prophet and apostle is Victoria Woodhull Martin, woman whohas suffered a real martyrdom for her opinions and persistent courage indeclaring them.

Every single one of her teachings has been misrepresented throughoutthe civilised world; doctrines of which she has always had the greatesthorror have been attributed to her, while falsehoods and slanders of the most fiendish malignity and cruelty have been sown broadcast. Thegrossest charges of immorality were brought against her and triumphantly

disproved.She has, from first to last, been mulcted in sums amounting to morethan a quarter of a million of her money; she and her sister were eventhrown into prison in America through the malignity of their persecutors.They were acquitted without being called upon for any defence, sopalpable was the injustice of the charges.

This lady, now for fourteen years the devoted wife of Mr. J. BiddulphMartin, the Lombard Street banker, was formerly well-known to bothhemispheres as “Victoria Woodhull,” and her sister (the wife of Sir FrancisCook, Bart., Marquis of Montserrat, of Doughty 1-louse, Richmond Hill)as “Tennie C. Claflin.”

Shattered in health, reduced in pocket, almost heart-broken, shecame to England, with the instinct of a wounded deer, to hide in soli tude.




Victoria Woodhull found the heart and the home of a great-souled English

gentleman open to receive her, and afford her a haven of rest and peace.But now, having recovered her old energy, her Divine mission presseson her once more, and urges her to resume her public labours for thewelfare of humanity.

There has been a perfect revulsion of feeling in the United Stateswith regard to this injured lady, who at one time enjoyed such a wealthof popularity that she was actually nominated as a candidate for thePresidency of the Republic by the “Equal Rights Party “—a nomination

supported by 509 delegates, representing twenty-six States and fourterritories.There is no doubt—judging from the utterances of the American

papers—that her tour through the States will be one long triumphant“progress,” more like the return of a long-exiled queen to her devotedsubjects than anything else under the sun.

The Americans feel—and say that they feel—that they have donethe purest-minded and most philanthropic woman whom God ever made

an incalculable and irreparable wrong, and they mean to atone for it bytheir welcome back. And when the impulsive, warm-hearted Americansdo make the amends honorable, they do it in no half-hearted way.Americans are “thorough,” or they are nothing at all. But Mrs. Martin,for herself personally, cares for none of these things ; she is too high-souled for that. Of course, it is always more pleasant to hear cheers thanto be hooted at ; but she will accept the ovations awaiting her, not as apersonal tribute, but as homage to her mission. She will hail them simply

as signs that her countrymen and countrywomen are at least prepared tothrow off the chains in which they have hitherto been bound, and to taketo their inmost hearts the life-giving message of the naked truth whichshe brings, as an apostle, to their shores.

This, and this alone, will repay her for the exhausting effort whichshe is about to make, and for the long years of suffering under which hervigorous vitalty was all but crushed.

A divine pity and forgiveness for her countrymen and countrywomenfills the whole soul of this tender, brave-hearted woman, and she believes,nay, she feels, that the long-delayed harvest of her tears and prayers isabout to be abundantly reaped, and they will enter into the “glorious andperfect freedom in the Kingdom of God.”

As Mrs. Martin will, in the course of a very few months, dominate




be trying no sign; combined with a power of passionate indignation which

could, on occasion, culminate in a whirlwind.A chin whose modelling shove a firmness and unshakeable resolutionwhich is simply unalterable courage which noting can daunt and noconsequences deter, whether with a magnetic atmosphere surroundingher which proclaims her individuality, are some of the chief characteristicsof this last and greatest High Priestess of Nature.

That she has a mission from an High, that she has a new message tomankind, which she has not yet herself fully received or understood, is

as certain as that she herself exist.But, whether the new gospel—never even hinted at hitherto in anyof her writings or speeches—will be communicated to the world, orwhether it will be (for a period, at all events) reserved as esoteric truthto be confided only to the chosen few, to the initiated souls who are nowand for all time emancipated and partakers of “the Kingdom,” time alonecan tell. She herself knows not yet.

We shall now conclude this brief notice by a few lines descriptive of

the prophetess from an occultist point of view, which were written by“Tautriadelta,” an initiate of the Hermetic Lodge at Alexandria.

Roslyn D’onston.

“ VICTORIA VITRIX.”

A wheel of fire ; a never-settirg sun ;A lava flood which shall for ever run ;A healing balm ; and a devoring sword :These all contrasted yet they all accord.Who reads this mstery right bath surely been,Within the radian of the living sheen.”



56

III.-Our Gallery of Borderlands.A Modern Magician : An Autobiography.

by a Pupil of Lord Lytton.

Borderland, April 1896.

THE writer of the following extraordinary fragment of autobiographyhas been known to me for many years. He is one of the most remarkablepersons I ever met. For more than a year I was under the impression thathe was the veritable Jack the Ripper ; an impression which I believe wasshared by the police, who, at least once had him under arrest ; although,as he completely satisfied them, they liberated him without bringing him

into court. He wrote for me, while I was editing the Pall Mall Gazette,two marvellous articles on the Obeahism of West Africa, which I haveincorporated with this article. The Magician, who prefers to be knownby his Hermetic name of Tautriadelta, and who objects even to be calleda magician, will undoubtedly be regarded by most people as Baron Munchausen Redivivus. He has certainly travelled in many lands, andseen very strange scenes.

I cannot, of course, vouch personally for the authenticity of any of his

stories of his experiences. He has always insisted that they are literallyand exactly true. When he sent me this MS., he wrote about it as follows“ If you do chop it up, please do it by omitting incidents bodily. The

evidence of an eyewitness deprived even of its trivialities is divested of its vraisemblance. If you leave them as I have written them, people willknow, will feel, that they are true. Editing, I grant, may improve them as aliterary work, but will entirely destroy their value as evidence, especiallyto people who know the places and persons.”

I have therefore printed it as received, merely adding cross-heads.

W.T. Stead




I.—EARLY HISTORY.

I was always, as a boy, fond of everything pertaining to mysticism,astrology, witchcraft, and what is commonly known as “ occult science “generally ; and I devoured with avidity every book or tale that I could gethold of having reference to these arts.

I remember, at the early age of 14, practising mesmerism on several of my schoolfellows particularly on my cousin, a year younger than myself.

But on this boy (now, by the way, a hardheaded north country solicitor)developing a decided talent for somnambulism, and nearly killing himself in one of his nocturnal rambles, my experiments in that direction werebrought to an untimely close.

As a medical student. however, my interest in the effects of mind uponmatter once more awoke, and my physiological studies and researcheswere accompanied by psychological experiments. I read Zanoni at thistime with great zest, but I am afraid with very little understanding, and

longed excessively to know its author; little dreaming that I should oneday be the pupil of the great magist, Bulwer Lytton—the one man inmodern times for whom all the systems of ancient and modern magismand magic, white and black, held back no secrets.

II.— LORD LYTTON.MY INTRODUCTION TO LORD LYTON.

It was in the winter after the publication of the weird “ StrangeStory “ in which the Master attempted to teach the world many new andimportant truths (under the veil of fiction) that I made the acquaintanceat Paris of young Lytton, the son of (the then) Sir Edward. He was atthat time, I suppose, about ten years my senior; and though passionatelyattached to his father, who was both father and mother to him, did notshare my intense admiration and enthusiasm for his mystic studies andhis profound lore.

Anyhow, in the spring following, he presented me to his father asan earnest student of occultism. I was then about an years of age, andI suppose Sir Edward was attracted to me partly by my irrepressiblehero-worship, of which he was the object, and partly because he sawthat I possessed a cool, logical brain and iron nerve ; and, above all, was




genuinely, terribly in earnest.

CRYSTAL-GAZING.

I remember that the first time on which he condescended to teachme anything, he seated me before an egg-shaped crystal and asked mewhat I saw therein. For the first ten minutes I saw nothing and wassomewhat discouraged, thinking that he would blame me for my inability; but presently, to my astonishment and delight, I very plainly descried

moving figures of men and animals. I described the scenes as they cameinto view, and the events that were transpiring; when, to my intensesatisfaction—and I am afraid self-glorification—he said, “ Why, you are asplendid fellow! you are just what I want.’

He then asked me if I would really like to seriously study Magismunder his guidance. His words on this point are as fresh in my memoryas ever. He said, “ Remember, my boy, it will be very hard work, fatiguingto body and brain. There is no royal road, nothing but years of study and

privation. Before you can conquer ‘ the powers ‘ you will have to achievea complete victory over Self—in fact, become nothing more nor less thanan incarnate intellect. Whatever knowledge you may gain, whateverpowers you may acquire, can never be used for your advancement in theworld, or for your personal advantage in any way. Even if you obtain thepower of a King and the knowledge of a Prophet, you may have to passyour life in obscurity and poverty ; they will avail you nothing. Weighwell my words : three nights from this I will call you.”

LORD LYTTON’S DOUBLE.

On the third evening, I never left my rooms after dinner, but lit upmy pipe and remained anxiously awaiting Sir Edward’s arrival. Hourafter hour passed, but no visitor, and I determined to sit up all night, if need be, feeling that he would come.

He did ; but not in the way I expected. I happened to look up from thebook which I was vainly attempting to read, and my glance fell upon theempty arm-chair on the other side of the fire-place. Was I dreaming, ordid I actually see a filmy form, scarcely more than a shadow, apparentlyseated there? I awaited developments and watched. Second by second thefilm grew more dense until it became something like Sir Edward. I knew




then that it was all right, and sat still as the form got more and more

distinct, until at last it was apparently the Master himself sitting oppositeto me—alive and in propriâ personâ. I instantly rose to shake hands withhim ; but, as I got within touching distance, he vanished instantly. I knewthen that it was only some variety of the Scin-Laeca that I had seen. Itwas my first experience of this, and I stood there in doubt what to do. Justthen his voice whispered close to my ear, so close that I even felt his warmbreath, “Come.” I turned sharply round, but of course, no one was there.

INITIATION.

I instantly put on my hat and greatcoat to go to his hotel, but whenI got to the corner of the first street, down which I should turn to getthere, his voice said, “Straight on.” Of course, I obeyed implicitly. In a fewminutes more, “ Cross over” and, so guided, I came where he was. Wherematters not ; but it was certainly one of the last places in which I shouldhave expected to find him.

I entered, he was standing in the middle of the sacred pentagon, whichhe had drawn upon the floor with red chalk, and holding in his extendedright arm the baguette, which was pointed towards me. Standing thus,he asked me if I had duly considered the matter and had decided to enterupon the course. I replied that my mind was made up. He then and thereadministered to me the oaths of a neophyte of the Hermetic lodge of Alexandria — the oaths of obedience and secrecy. It is self-evident thatany further account of my experiences with Lord Lytton, or in Hermetic

circles, is impossible.But in my travels in the far East, and in Africa and elsewhere, I havemet with many curious incidents connected with what Magists term “black magic,” and also manifestations of psychic force and occult scienceas practised by other schools than that to which I belong ; and I will recalla few of them for the benefit of the readers of BORDERLAND.

III.—GERMAN EXPERIENCES.DOUBLING.

The first of these was when I was studying chemistry under Dr. Allan(who was for so many years Baron Liebig’s principal assistant at the greatlaboratory at the University of Giessen). Among the more advanced




students was a Saxon named Karl Hoffmann, who was much given to

the study of psychology, psychic force, and the effects of the magneticcurrent and odic force upon the nervous system. I need scarcely say thatwe fraternised, and soon became almost inseparable. One day we weretalking of the “doppel-ganger,” and he proceeded forthwith to illustratehis position. He told me that his doppel-ganger should visit a public ballwhich was to be held that night ; should speak to and dance with manypersons to whom he was well known ; should spend three hours there,and yet that all the time his real body should be present with me in my

rooms.This was very interesting to me : because, although I knew how toproduce the Scin-Laeca, and even the ordinary doppel-ganger, yet thesewere intangible and impalpable. But he was to shake hands with friends,drink with them, and hold others in his grasp during the dances, and Iwas impatient for the night to come. I employed the interval in makingone or two little private arrangements unknown to him; amongst othersborrowing from an inspector the smallest pair of hand-cuffs which they

had at the police station, and to which there was only one key, which Ialso requisitioned. These were kept for the use of women, if required :why I procured them will appear later on.

As the clocks were striking the hour for the commencement of theball, Karl entered my rooms, faultlessly dressed in his evening suit. I wasalso “ in full armour, “ because I myself purposed going there latter on.

THE ORIGINAL HANDCUFFED AT HOME.

After we had chatted and smoked for an hour, Karl said, “Well ! shallI go to the ball now ?”

I assented, and he quietly lay down on my sofa on his back, folded hisarms across his chest ; and, saying, “ In ten minutes’ time I shall be inthe ball-room,” closed his eyes, and remained motionless. I watched theclock for ten minutes and then went over to his side. He was in a perfectlycataleptic condition : no pulse to be felt : not the slightest flutter of theheart to be detected by the stethoscope : not a breath dimmed the hand-mirror that I held to his lips. I shook him, spoke to him, but, of course,made no impression; he lay there, to all intents and purposes, dead.

I then prepared to go to the ball myself, and see if he had really carriedout his intention : and I knew if I locked the door no one could get in or




out, because it was fastened with a Bramah lock. But, “to make assurance

doubly sure,” I got out the borrowed hand-cuffs and snapped them on hiswrists, putting the key in my pocket.

THE “DOUBLE” DANCING AT THE BALL.

Then I went to the dance, after carefully securing the room door—thewindows having a clear forty feet drop. I hurried rapidly the few hundredyards to the Assembly Rooms and went in ; and almost the first person

I saw was Karl, solemnly revolving in an old deux-temps waltz, with alovely girl in his arms.When the dance was over he took her to a seat, and went to the

refreshment counter to get her something—I forget what, now ; I tappedhim on the shoulder, and he turned round and said, “ Well, you see, I amhere, as I told you.” He went off to his partner; and I, leaving him withher, shot off at a rapid run to my rooms.

There, on my couch, was still extended the form of Karl ! I again

returned to the ball, and there was my friend, promenading with anotherbelle. I remained at the ball enjoying myself, ever and anon coming acrossKarl, either dancing or flirting ; but I kept a watchful eye on the time.When it was nearly half an hour of the time for Karl to return I wenthome and sat down to watch the body until the three hours should haveexpired. I had perfect confidence in my fellow-student’s ability, and sowaited without anxiety for the denouement.

THE TWO BECOME ONE.A few seconds after the three hours had expired, a slight tremor was

observable in the eyelids, a long breath was drawn, and then another, andKarl partially sat up. Then his eye fell on the handcuffs, and for the nextfew moments the air was filled with a series of German expletives andobjurgations not to be found in any dictionary.

I went laughingly to unlock them, but I saw that he was reallyoffended. After a pipe, however, he re-covered his usual sunny temper,and discussed the whole process at some length.

AN EXCHANGE OF PERSONALITIES.




but she had never referred to the occurrences of the afternoon.

I accompanied him the next day, and, oh !—the irony of circumstances; she was brimming over with affection to him, while she could barely becivil to me. I was punished with coldness and disdain for crimes of whichI was not guilty ; and Karl was receiving redoubled endearments throughmy sin of the previous afternoon.

Karl and I never exchanged bodies again; one experience of that kindwas sufficient for us both. I, however, applied myself for some time to thestudy of the phenomena of the doppel-ganger, and derived considerable

harmless amusement therefrom. I would walk about the town, meet witha friend, talk to him ; and, suddenly, while in the middle of an interestingconversation would, by an effort of volition, find myself on the couch inmy own room. The mystification of my friends was immense.

THE DOUBLE ON THE TRAPEZE.

At this time I met Mr. Price, the proprietor of the largest continental

circus, then stationed at Madrid. This gentleman was travelling in searchof novelties, and happened to hear of some of my exploits.He asked me to give him an exhibition of my powers in that line,

privately. I did so. The next day he called at my place and asked me if I could do it in his circus. I said that the locale made not the slightestdifference. He then said that his idea was to have a trapeze performance,in which I should take part ; and the last act of which should be that Ishould ascend to the flying trapeze, get it into good swing, and then throw

a “somersault off.” But instead of catching the other trapeze, or alightingon the ground, as other performers do ; I should, while describing thesomersault in mid-air, vanish into space. Could I do that? Of course Icould ; because, in reality, I should not appear on the trapeze at all, itwould be only my doppel-ganger. There was only one difficulty in theway, and that was, as I could not do a trapeze performance, it followed thatneither could my double.

He soon found a way out of that by suggesting that I should onlycome on for the somersault. So that all that I should have to do would beto climb up the rope, seat myself on the trapeze, swing by my hands, andthen throw the somersault. For this performance he would give me £200for six nights to appear in Madrid.

I accepted his proposal, on the condition that my real name did not




appear on the bills, or be allowed to leak out ; and the contract was to be

drawn up on his return to Madrid in the following week. Circumstances—Fate, if you will—however, intervened ; and at the time that I should have joined him in Madrid to undergo the preliminary training, I was downwith brain fever. It was not to be.

But, enough of “ doubles “ ; I will turn to pleasanter themes.

IV.—IN ITALY.THE EVIL EYE.

When engaged in the Italian War of Independence in 1860, I visiteda place called La Cava, a few miles from Salerno. While taking some foodin a trattoria, I saw an excited crowd rush past the door, following anold peasant woman, who was evidently flying for her life from as ugly-looking a lot of ruffians—principally lazzaroni—as the whole kingdom of the Two Sicilies could produce.

I bolted out into the street, and after the crowd ; and being, after a few

months’ campaigning, in magnificent wind and condition, soon overtookthe fellows. They were shouting mal’ occh’ ! and Mort’ ! (the Neapolitansnever by any chance finishing a word), by which they meant “ The EvilEye “ and ‘ Death to her ! ‘

I congratulated myself on being again in luck, as I had heard a greatdeal in Southern Italy of the mal’ occhio, but had never been fortunateenough hitherto to come across one. So I easily outstripped the crowd,the old woman racing along like a greyhound. As I got within about ten

or a dozen yards of her she caught her foot and fell. I then stopped, facedabout to the gang of pursuers ; and, drawing my revolver, halted the lot inan instant. Cowards to the backbone, none of them liked to be the six menwho would infallibly “ lose the number of their mess “ from the rapidfire of that unerring barrel, and they did nothing but stand and jabber,while the old woman sat up in the middle of the road glaring at them. Atlast one of them on the extreme flank, thinking that I did not see him,picked up a sharp stone and hurled it with all its force at the old woman. Iturned sharply to see if it had hit her; meaning, in that case, to shoot thatfellow—at all events—where he stood.




English missionary, who was operated en in the manner described, to the

great terror of her mother who witnessed the performances, and was onlyprevented from jumping from the flat room of the bungalow into thecompound, to save her child through being held fast by the missionary,who had seen the performance frequently, and who knew the child wouldbe unharmed. That lady, like all the other female children whom I haveseen put under the basket, and afterwards closely questioned, had not theslightest recollection of the fact ; her father and mother with others can,however, substantiate the circumstance.

THE RUPEE CONVERTED INTO A FROG.

After these, one of them asked me to take a rupee from my pocket andhold it tightly in my clenched right hand. I did so, and he—standing atsome twenty paces distant—made a series of “ passes “ in my direction for afew moments, and then appeared to throw some-thing at my outstretchedfist. On the instant I felt that, instead of my rupee, something cold and

clammy was in my hand. I thought, of course, that it was a small snake,and threw it hastily on the ground. It was a lively frog, perfectly harmless; and, as we stood looking at it, the fakir advanced and picked it up by oneleg. He then opened his mouth and dropped it down his throat. It wasseen no more, nor my rupee either; but I reckoned it in afterwards whenhe held out his brass tray with a plaintive “ Bukhshish ! sahib ! “

IMPROVISING A MENAGERIE.

The next feat was rigging up a kind of tent with cloths and draperies,borrowed from the khansamah, in one angle of the compound. Then theyasked us what animals we would like to see come out of the tent. Oneof my friends suggested a water-buffalo. Instantly one of those usefulanimals appeared in the tent-opening, came out, and wandered off rounda clump of bushes. Next, a royal tiger was selected, and, with a terrificroar, a splendid brute bounded out nearly to our feet, then turned andwent after the buffalo. My turn came then, and I was determined to selectan animal that I knew neither of the fakirs had ever seen, thinking thatthat would test their power to the utmost, if not prove an impossibility.So I said, “a kangaroo.” I could not make them understand what kind of an animal it was—at which I secretly rejoiced, and at once said, “Never




mind what it is like, produce it.” They rejoined, “Will the Sahib log know

him when they see him ?” “Oh, yes !” we all said, “trot him out ! “--and,at the word “ Hitherow ! “ a fine “old man” kangaroo hopped out, took aflying leap over the bushes, and disappeared. I hope he didn’t fall in withthat hungry-looking Bengal tiger.

SPITTED, BUT UNHURT.

Next, the thin fakir took a tulwar of a straighter patterned blade than

those usually met with ; and placing its point to the right side of thestouter one, quietly and deliberately ran it through his abdomen untilat least three inches of the point protruded at the left side. There wasno blood to be seen, and the man walked round for us to inspect thegenuineness of the transfixion. We wanted to pull it out, but he would letno one but his comrade touch it. When withdrawn we carefully examinedthe sword, and saw that it was a teal weapon—no spring business.

CLIMBING INTO THE SKY.

Various other minor feats were shown, and then came the piece deresistance. Borrowing a long cord, which was brought by one of the syces,the thin man threw one end up in the air to its full stretch—about 39 feet,more or less.

It appeared to catch on to some invisible support, and hung downstraight ; and the fakir invited us to pull at it and test it, which we

accordingly did. He then began climbing up the rope until he arrived atthe top, where he calmly seated himself on air, and commenced pulling itup. When he had completely done this, his companion called out, “ ‘Jaldi

jao ! “ (Go quickly !), and, while we looked at him, he vanished.We naturally expected to see him come walking up to us afterwards

from behind the bushes, or elsewhere. Bat no : his comrade collected the “bukhshish,” and, with many salaams, departed to join him elsewhere.

MR. JACOB, OF SIMLA

My next reminiscence is an experience at Simla. I had made theacquaintance of many fakirs, and had examined their feats and probed theirmysteries ; but I heard of one man to whom common report attributed all




the powers of Moses—and more. This was a native jeweller and diamond

merchant at Simla, a man of immense wealth, highly educated andpolished. I determined to go to Simla, in the hills, and interview him.I knew a man who had been sent up there to recover after an attack of

enteric fever, a captain of Bengal Lancers, and I prepared to visit him. Inbrief I did so, and arrived at the bungalow, jointly occupied by my friendand a Scotch surgeon-major of Ghoorkhas, just before sunset. During theevening, over our cheroots and brandy-pawnee. I asked if they knew Mr.Jacob. “ Rather ! who didn’t, at Simla ? “

I expressed my intention of making his acquaintance, but my friendsaid that he did not think I should manage it in the few days I had atdisposal. The surgeon-major said, relapsing into broad Scotch in hisexcitement, “Dinna go, laddie ; he’s na canny.” I said that uncanny or not,I had come on purpose ; and, being an obstinate Yorkshireman, I meantto carry it through.

The next morning I went to Mr. Jacob’s bungalow, higher up, aboutthree-quarters of a mile from where I was staying. His bearer informed

me that he was away, and was not expected home for three days, when hehad invited three gentlemen to tiffin. I left my card aid promised to callagain, as I was obliged to leave Simla the day after his expected return ;and I left word that I had come some hundreds of miles to see him.

To strengthen my chances, I marked in pencil a hieroglyphic onthe card ; not knowing to what school he belonged, except that he wasnot a Hermetic. Had he been so, no single word about him would haveappeared in these pages from my pen. I thought it just possible that he

might recognise and know the meaning of the hieroglyph.The result exceeded my wildest expectations. Three days afterwards,1 returned from an early morning ride to find that Mr. Jacob had himself called at our bungalow, and left his card for me, with the hope that I would

join his party at tiffin that day. My Scotch friend looked very glum, andwas sure some harm would come of it.

However, at the appointed time, I gaily mounted the captain’s tat,and set forth. When I arrived, the other three guests were there—one of them, a general officer whose name is a household word in England andIndia. I was received with great empressement by Mr. Jacob (thanks to thehieroglyph), and we proceeded to enjoy the repast.




GRAPES GROWN ON A WALKING-STICK.

Afterwards, when the Trichinopolis were lighted and desultoryconversation set in, our host was asked by the General to show us some,what he called “tricks.” I could see that Jacob didn’t like the word ; buthe simply said, “ Yes, I will show you a trick.” Then he told a servant tobring in all the sahibs’ walking-sticks. Selecting one, a thick grapevinestick with a silver band, he said, “ Whose is this ? It was claimed by theGeneral, and a glass bowl of water, similar to those in which gold-fish are

kept, was placed on the table. Mr. Jacob then simply stood the stick on itsknob in the water and held it upright for a few moments. Then we sawscores of shoots like rootlets issuing from the knob till they filled thebowl and held the stick upright; Jacob standing over it muttering all thetime. In a few moments more a continuous crackling sound was heard,and shoots, young twigs, began rapidly putting forth from the upper partof the stick. These grew and grew ; they became clothed with leaves, andflowered before our eyes. The flowers became changed to small bunches

of grapes ; and, in ten minutes from the commencement, a fine, healthystandard vine loaded with bunches of ripe black Hamburgs stood beforeus. A. servant carried it round, and we all helped ourselves to the fruit.

It struck me at the time that this might only be some (to me new) formof hypnotic delusion. So, while eating my bunch, I carefully transferredhalf of it to my pocket, to see if the grapes would be there the next day.

When the tree was replaced or, the table Jacob ordered it to becovered with a sheet ; and, in a few minutes, there was nothing there but

the General’s stick, apparently none the worse for its vicissitudes.HOW IT FEELS TO BE THRUST THROUGH.

I then described the performances of different fakirs whom I hadseen, especially the only one which puzzled me—the transfixion of thebody with a tulwar. Mr. Jacob smiled and said, “Oh, that’s nothing. Standup.” I did so, and he, taking down a superbly mounted and damascenedyataghan from Persia, which formed part of a trophy of arms on the wall,drew it from its scabbard and held the point to my breast, saying only“Shall I?” I had absolute confidence in him, so simply said “Certainly.” Hedropped the point to about two inches below the sternum (breast-bone)and pushed slowly but forcibly. I distinctly felt the passage of the blade,




but it was entirely painless, though I experienced a curious icy feeling,

as though I had drunk some very cold water. The point came out of myback and penetrated into the wood panelling behind, which, if I rememberrightly, was of cedar wood. He left no of the weapon and laughinglyremarked that I looked like a butterfly pinned on a cork. Several jokesat my expense were made by the others ; and, after a minute or two, hereleased me. I looked rather ruefully at the slit the broad blade had madein my clothes, but Jacob said, “Never mind them ; they’ll be all right by-and-bye.” He began to show us another wonder, and I forgot all about it.

But about an hour afterward there was no trace whatever of any damageto the clothes.

PICTURES FROM THE ASTRAL LIGHT.

Presently he said, “ Well, gentlemen, I hope I have amused you. I wantyou now to amuse me by each giving me an account of some battle he wasin (especially an occasion of being wounded). I am intensely fond of tales

of war and heroism.” Well, we had all four of us plenty of experiencesof that sort, but in the Service it is “ bad form “ to talk about one’s owndoings, so that he had considerable difficulty in getting anyone, to begin.At last the General opened the ball by giving (at our special request) anaccount of the Balaklava ride, in which he had taken part.

He told it as a brave soldier would, simply, but earnestly, and manfully.Our host watched him narrowly, and listened like one entranced, notmissing a single word. He then took from the inner pocket of his jacket a

small baguette, and waved it towards the inlaid panelling of the room.THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.

In an instant a thick mist gathered there, of a deep violet hue, whichrolled away to each side, and there was plainly visible to our eyes the fieldof Balaklava with the Light Brigade drawn up. We saw Nolan ride up, weheard the trumpets blare out the advance, and, finally, the “charge.” Wewatched the death of that unfortunate officer, and then saw the LightBrigade in their headlong charge on the guns. Every incident repeateditself before us. We saw them spike the guns and return, but the mostdistinct figure to our eyes was that of our friend the General. We sawtheir return impeded by a dense mass of Russian lancers, two of whom




; and also pointed out that the New Testament stated that one day all the

deeds that had been done should be made manifest, whether they weregood or evil. All he said was, “ No difficulty about doing that! “

WALKING ON THE WATER.

Presently he asked us if we would like to look at his gardens (amost unusual proposition there). We consented out of politeness, andwent outside. We found there an artificial lake or large pond, of which

we took no particular notice, and lounged about in the shade chattingand smoking. Presently, the officer to whom Jacob was talking at somelittle distance from the rest, called out: “Mr. Jacob is going to walk on thewater.” Jacob said, “ Why not ? ‘ and immediately stepped not into buton the water, and deliberately walked right across the pond. The waterbeing very translucent, we could see the astonished fish darting away inall directions from under his feet. When he got to the other side he turnedround and came back again. As he stepped on the ground I requested to

look at his shoes, to see if they were wetted at all. The soles appeared justas if he had walked over a wet pavement, and that was all. He said : “ Thatis nothing; anyone who can float in air” (Angelice levitate) “can walk onwater ; but I will show you something that really requires power.”

It was a baking hot day in the hot season, and although considerablycooler up there in the hills than in the plains, it was still as ardent as a hotsummer’s day in England.

A BUTTERFLY STORM.Bringing out the baguette again, he waved it slowly round his head.

Presently the air was full of butterflies. They came by thousands, bymillions, till they were as thick in the air as a heavy snowstorm. Theysettled on everything, on us, on our hats, our shoulders, anywhere, likebees swarming, till we presented a ridiculous spectacle. The scene wasso ludicrous that we burst into roars of laughter. This seemed to offendJacob, who was rather touchy on some points, so he said, “ Ali ! you laugh; we will have no more of it.” The butterflies rose from where they hadlit, rapidly went up into the air, higher and higher, till they formed a darkcloud passing the sun, and then drifted off out of sight altogether.

We went into the bungalow again, but there was a decided coolness




Jacob is not actually a Yogi ; though he has studied Yoga, and by its means

performed the feats here recorded. The baguette he employed was almostidentical with that of the Hermetists.

VI.—IN AFRICA.RAIN-MAKERS.

My next experience relates to those much-maligned individuals—the“ rain-makers” in Africa. It is the custom for missionaries, and people

who have never seen them at work, to ridicule the idea of their possessingthe powers which they claim. But their power is a very real one ; and theargument that they only commence operations when they can tell thatrain is coming is absurd on the face of it.

The kings and savage chiefs of \Vest and South Africa are skilledobservers of the weather, and know quite as much about it as the rain-makers. And it must be remembered that they never send for these menuntil every chance is hopeless ; and, further, that the lives of the rain-

makers are always staked on their success. Failure means death—deathon the spot—accompanied by torture of the most horrible kinds.

A RAIN-MAKING SCENE.

I was on a visit to one of the petty “ kings “ in what is today called theHinterland of the Cameroons (now a German settlement), and it was of great importance to me to keep the king in good humour, as his temper,

never very good, was getting absolutely fiendish by reason of the longdrought which had prevailed. There had been no rain for weeks, all thegreener vegetables had perished, and even the mealies were beginning todroop for want of water, and the cattle in the king’s kraal died by scores.Celebrated rain-makers had been sent for, but so far none had turned up.

One day, the hottest 1 ever saw in Africa or anywhere else, I wastaking my noonday siesta when the thunderous tones of the big war-drum filled the air. Like everyone else, I sprang to my feet and rushed tothe king’s kraal, wondering what new calamity was going to befall me.All the warriors assembled, fully armed, in the space of a few minutes,speculating, what the summons boded--war, human sacrifices, or what? But their anxious looks were turned to joy, and a deafening roar of

jubilation went up when the king came out followed by two rain-makers;




heavens.

Still motionless stands the statue. Blacker and more black grows thepitchy darkness, until it becomes almost impossible to see. But still thatebony figure stands silently pointing. Then the lowering vault of heavenis riven by a lightning shaft, that seems to blind one by its awful glare:a peal of thunder accompanies it that sounds like the “ crack of doom “ ;and then down comes the rain in torrents—in waterspouts, tons and tonsof it. Verily, they earned their reward !

Of the feast that followed, when the rain had abated into a steady,

business-like downpour that never ceased for two whole days and fairlytransformed the parched and thirsty land, I will not speak. It was like allother royal feasts in West Africa.

MY INTERVIEW WITH THE RAIN-MAKERS.

After it was over I visited the rain-makers, who were fortunatelyallotted the next hut to mine. I found that they both spoke Soosoo and a

little Arabic (which last they had picked up from the Arab slave-dealersof the interior), so we got on finely.By certain means, known to all occultists, I at once acquired their

confidence, and they agreed to show me what they could do. There wasa fire on the ground in the centre of the hut, and we seated ourselvesaround it, at the three angles of an imaginary triangle.

Throwing some dried herbs and mineral powders (all of which Icarefully examined and identified) into the fire, they commenced singing

and rocking themselves backward and forward.A MYSTIC SNAKE DANCE.

This continued for a few minutes, when, all rising to our feet butkeeping the same relative positions, the old man began making a seriesof motions, like mesmeric passes, over the fire. Almost instantly the fireseemed alive with snakes, which crawled out of the fire in scores, and inwhich I recognised the most deadly serpent on the face of the earth—theAfrican tic-polonga. These brutes raced madly round and round the fire,some endeavouring to stand on their tails, hissing loudly all the time,until it absolutely produced the effect on the spectator of a weird dance of serpents. On the utterance of one Arabic monosyllabic word, the polongas




hurled themselves into the fire and disappeared.

The younger man, who had hitherto taken no active part, thenopened his mouth wide, and a snake’s headpopped out. He seized holdof it by the neck, and pulled out of his throat a tic-polonga between twoand three feet long, and threw it also in the fire. I said, “Do it again,”and he repeated the feat several times.

It must be remembered that both men were entirely naked at thistime, excepting for their feather Lead-dresses, so no clever jugglery orsleight of hand was possible.

LEVITATION EXTRAORDINARY.

The next thing was that the old man lay down on the floor, and toldus to take him by the head and the heels and raise him up. This we didto the height of about three feet from the floor, he having made himself perfectly rigid. We held him there for a moment, and then he softly “floated “ out of our hands and sailed right round the hut, I following him

closely. He then approached the wall, feet first, and fairly floated throughit into the outside darkness. I immediately felt of the spot where he hadgone through, expecting to find a hole ; but no, all was as solid as stoutbeams of timber and a foot of sun-baked clay could make it. I rushedoutside to look for him, and even ran round the hut ; but, what with thedark night and the heavy rain, I could see nothing of him. So I returned,wet to the skin. The other man sat by the fire alone, singing.

In a few moments the old man came floating in again, and sat down at

his point of the triangle. But I noticed that the feathers in his head-dresswere dripping wet, and that his black skin fairly glistened with rain.

EVOCATION OF THE DEAD.

The last incident was to be an evocation. Other substances andodoriferous gums being thrown into the fire, we stood in solemn silence,although I could see by the continuous rapid movements of the old man’slips, that he was silently repeating the necessary formula. After a longtime, that seemed an hour, the figure of a venerable old man slowly arosein the centre of the fire, in puribus nataralibus. He was evidently anEnglishman (having. I noticed, along purple cicatrix on his back), but Icould not get a single word out of him, although I tried several times. The




old rain-maker shook like a leaf, and was evidently almost frightened out

of his wits. He could only gasp and stare at the Englishman. At last hemanaged to mumble out the two words necessary to dismiss him, and, asI looked, he was gone.

Neither of the rain-makers seemed to know who, he was, and kept upsuch a rapid gabble to each other for a long time after he had gone that Icould not properly follow them ; but a few words gathered here and thereshowed me that they were thoroughly terrified. The Englishman was notat all what they had expected to see. What they looked for was a black.

FIRST GIANTIFIED, THEN DWARFED.

I could get neither sense nor reason out of them any more that night,so left them and went to my own hut for a good sleep. When I visitedthem the next evening, just after sunset, they were quite willing toresume the séance. This time we formed an isosceles triangle, instead of an equilateral, I occupying the apex. They were very particular on both

occasions in getting the exact distances they required.I sat, therefore, at the apex and they stood at the two other angles.Then the old man began reciting in a loud voice, the other occasionally

joining in at regular rhythmic intervals. Presently, as I looked, I saw theold man gradually growing taller and taller until he was level with the6-feet Soosoo. Then they both begun to slowly shoot upwards till theirheads touched the roof of the hut, about 9 ft. Still keeping on the recitation,they decreased in height minute by minute, till a couple of mannikins,

not more than two feet in height, stood before me. They looked veryrepulsive, but horribly grotesque. Then they gradually resumed theirnatural height ; and, for the first and last time of my acquaintance withthem, they both burst out into a genuine, hearty, unsophisticated peal of laughter.

A BLOODY KNIFE DANCE.

But this was only for a moment; for the next was to be a more seriousperformance--a reproduction of one of the far-famed mysteries of Baal,when his priests danced before his altar and gashed themselves withknives.

For this performance I had to remove from my position at the apex of




the triangle and stand out of the way against the wall of the hut. The two

performers began by slowly walking round the fire in as wide a circle asthe space would permit ; and every now and then, revolving on their ownaxes, singing a dirge-like chant. Presently they quickened the time, bothof their singing and movement—discontinuing the walking altogether,and progressing round the circle solely by spinning like tops—the twomen going in opposite directions. Round and round they went, fiercelygyrating and shouting their song louder and louder, until it ended in aseries of car-splitting shrieks. Then suddenly, in each man’s hand appeared

a glittering knife with which, every time they passed each other—twicein each circle—they gashed their naked flesh in the breast, arm face, andsides.

The scene now became one of sickening horror—the whirling blackfigures, streaming with blood; the ear-splitting yells in that confined space; the glaring eye-balls and demoniac expression of their faces; and, aboveall, the horrible smell of the flowing negro blood seemed like a terrificnightmare or a scene in Pandemonium. I have pretty strong nerves, but I

found the strain on them intense ; and I was truly glad when the old mansuddenly stopped his gyrations and calmly sat down by the side of thehut, as this evidently foretold a speedy close to the horrible scene.

THE WOUNDS HEALED.

The old man took no notice of his gaping wounds, but kept his eyesfixed on every movement of the younger one, who had now ceased yelling

and slashing himself, hut kept on spinning round and round, slowly andmore slowly, till at last he fell prone and utterly exhausted.The elder then picked up both knives (which had short, trowel-like

blades, ground to a razor edge on both sides), wiped them, and carefullysmeared both sides of the blades with some horrible unguent. While hewas doing this, I was carefully examining the wounds of the other man,and found them perfectly satisfactory, going through skin and muscle,and bleeding profusely ; though I could not detect in any case that anartery had been cut; it was distinctly venous blood that issued from thewounds.

The old man then took the “ doctored “ knife of the younger one andcarefully stroked every cut with the blade, beginning front the head, andstroking in a down-ward direction. I could scarcely believe my eyes when,




under this treatment, the gaping edges of the wounds Immediately closed,

and the blood ceased to flow. He then took some more of the grease onthe palms of his hands, and vigorously rubbed the young man all overthe trunk for a few minutes. Here I may remark that all the wounds were“above the belt.” When his operations were completed, he was standingin a large pool of blood which had run down from his own wounds, buthe still took no notice of them.

The young man then performed precisely the same operations on theelder; and then both came and stood in front of me for examination. I

made a good blaze in the fire, and then overhauled them minutely; butthere was no trace of a single scratch to be found—not even a scar!I had seen enough for the time being, and was glad to get out into the

pure air, with the promise to visit them again the next day. I went the nextevening, but the hut was empty : they had gone away at daybreak—noman knew whither. When I asked the king where they had gone: for allanswer he pointed to the setting sun. It was dangerous to persevere, andI said no more. I never saw them again.

THE REAL ORIGINAL OF “SHE.”

The psychological and psychical portions of Rider Haggard’s “She “strike me as being not so much the creation of a vivid imagination asthe simple recital—or, perhaps, one should say, the skilful adaptation—of facts well known to those who penetrated the recesses of the west coastof Africa a generation ago. Astounding, terrifying, and incredible as

the powers of Ayesha appear to the casual reader, yet to the men wholaboriously threaded the jungle and haunts of the riverain portion of West Africa, long before Stanley was thought of, they only seem like awell-known and familiar tale. The awful mysteries of Obeeyah (VulgoObi) and the powers possessed by the Obeeyah women of those days,were sufficiently known to all the slave traders of the West Coast tomake the wonders worked by “ She “ seem tame by comparison. Andalways excepting the idea of the revivifying and rejuvenating flame in thebowels of the earth in which “She” bathed, there is nothing but what anyObeeyah woman was in the habit of doing every day. And, the fact forcesitself upon me that “ She “ is neither more nor less than a weak water-coloured sketch of an Obeeyah woman, made white, beautiful and young,instead of being, as she invariably is, or was, black, old, and hideous as a




Across her bare bosom was a wide scarf or baldrick made of scarlet cloth,

on which were fastened four rows of what appeared like large Romanpearls, of the size of a large walnut. These apparent pearls, how-ever, wereactually human intestines, bleached to a pearly whiteness, inflated, andconstricted at short intervals so as to make a series of little bladders. On thetop of her head appeared the head of a large spotted serpent—presumablysome kind of a boa constrictor—the cured skin of which hung down herback nearly to the ground. Round her neck she wore a solid brass quoit of some four pounds weight, too small to pass over her head, but which had

no perceptible joint or place of union. Heavy bangles on wrists and anklesreminded one somewhat of the Hindu woman’s, but hers were heavier,and were evidently formed from the thick brass rods used in “the coasttrade,” and hammered together in situ. Her skirt was simply a fringeof pendent tails of some animal—presumably the mountain lynx—inter-mingled with goats’ tails. In her hand she carried what seemed to be thechief instrument of her power, and what we in Europe should call “ amagic wand.” But this was no wand, it was simply a hollow tube about

four inches long, closed at one end and appearing to be made of a highlyglittering kind of half ivory. Closer inspection, however, showed thatit was some kind of reed about an inch in diameter, and incrusted withhuman molar teeth, in a splendid state of preservation, and set with thecrown outwards. When not borne in the right hand this instrument wascarried in a side pouch or case leaving the open end out.

SOME OF HER WONDERS.

Strange to say—this mystery I never could fathom —there wasalways a faint blue smoke proceeding from the mouth of this tube, likethe smoke of a cigarette, though it was perfectly cold and apparentlyempty. I shall never forget the first day on which I asked her to give me aspecimen of her powers. I quietly settled down to enjoy the performancewithout expecting to be astonished, but only amused. I was astonished,though, to find this six feet of humanity weighing at least eleven stone,standing on my outstretched hand when I opened my eyes (previouslyclosed by her command), and when I could feel not the slightest weightthereon. I was still more so when, still standing on my outstretched palm,she told me to shut my eyes again and reopen them instantaneously. I didso, and she was gone. But that was not all ; while I looked round for her




a stone fell near me, and looking upwards I saw her calmly standing on

the top of a cliff nearly five hundred feet in height. I naturally thought itwas a “double “—that is, another woman dressed likelier, and said so tothe bystanding natives, who shouted something in the Ephic language toher. Without much ado, she walked—not jumped—over the side of thecliff, and with a gentle motion, as though suspended by Mr. Baldwin’sparachute, gradually dropped downwards until she alighted at my feet.My idea always was that this tube of hers was charged with some—tous—unknown fluid or gas, which controlled the forces of nature ; she

seemed powerless without it.

HER LIMITATIONS..

Further, none of her “miracles “ was, strictly speaking, non-natural.That is, she seemed able to control natural forces in most astoundingways, even to suspend and overcome them, as in the previous instanceof the suspension of the laws of gravitation : but in no case could she

violate them. For instance, although she could take an arm, lopped off by a blow of her cutlass, and, holding it to the stump, pretend to muttersome gibberish while she carefully passed her reed round the place of union (in a second of time complete union was effected without a trace of previous injury), yet, when I challenged her to make an arm sprout fromthe stump of our quartermaster, who had lost his left fore-arm in actionsome years before, she was unable to do so, and candidly declared herinability. She said, “ It is dead ; I have no power “—and over nothing dead

had she any power: After seeing her changing toads into tic-polongas (themost deadly serpent on the Coast) I told her to change a stone into a tradedollar. But no, the answer was the same—” It was dead.”

A KILLER-WILLER.

Her power over life was striking, instantaneous, terrible ; the incidentin “ She “ of the three blanched finger-marks on the hair of the girl wholoved Callikrates and the manner of her death, would have been child’splay to Subé. When she pointed her little reed at a powerful warrior inmy presence—a man of vast thews and sinews—with a bitter hissingcurse, he simply faded away.

The muscles began to shrink visibly, within three minutes space he




was actually an almost fleshless skeleton. Again, in her towering rage

against a woman, the same action was followed by instantaneous results,but instead of withering, the woman absolutely petrified there and then.Standing erect, motionless, her whole body actually froze as find as stone,as we see the car-cases of beasts in Canada. A blow from my revolveron the hand, and afterwards all over the body, rang as if 1 were strikingmarble. Until I saw this actually done, I must confess that I never reallybelieved in Lot’s wife being turned into a pillar of rock salt. After it I wasdisposed to believe a good deal.

A NOVEL FORM OF CRYSTAL GAZING.

One of the things which most impressed me was that she pouredwater from a calabash into a little paraffin, scooped by her hands in thesoft earth, but this was nothing but water, I satisfied myself by the taste.Telling me to kneel down and gaze steadfastly on the surface of the water,she told me to call any person whom I might wish to see, and here a

rather curious point arose. She insisted upon having the name first. I gaveher the name of a relative Lewis, which she repeated after me three timesto get it fixed correctly on her memory. In repeating her incantation, afew minutes afterwards, she pronounced the word “ Louise,” though Idid not pay much attention to it at the time. When, however, her wandwaved over the water, evolving clouds of luminous smoke, I saw distinctlyreflected in it, after those clouds had passed away, the face and form of a relative of mine standing in front of the audience, evidently reciting

some composition. I told her that she had made a mistake. I did notacknowledge to hate seen anything for some time. At last I told her thatit was the wrong person; then, naturally, argument followed. She insistedthat I said Louise. However, at last I taught her the correct pronunciationof Lewis, and I saw the man I wanted sitting with his feet elevated abovehis head, more Americana, and calmly puffing his pipe while reading theletter. I need scarcely say that I verified the time at which these thingsoccurred, and in both instances I found then, allowing for the differencein longitude, absolutely and exactly correct.

Space will not allow, or I could go on for hours relating the wondersthat I have seen Subé perform. The most wonderful of all I have leftuntold, because they seem even to myself utterly incredible, yet theyare there, buried into my brain, ever since that awful night, when I was




than anything, having distinctly the legs intact.

The next process was to pull away the legs, the body all the timegradually lengthening, and last of all, to manipulate the head and puttingher fingers into its mouth, pull out and develop the long, flexible, splittongue of the serpent.

A HARVEST IN FIVE MINUTES.

When she wanted food, it was only a variety of the Indian “ mango-

trick.” If mealies were wanted, she would plant a grain of maize inthe earth, and gaze steadfastly upon the place, her lips moving, but noaudible sound issuing from them. In a few moments (no covering up)a bright green shoot would come up, which grew and grew, and in fiveminutes time was a considerable crop of mealies (Indian corn), everyhead ripe and fit for use. She would gather these, and boil them forour dinners, but I always noticed that within half-an-hour, the stalks,leaves, etc., of the plant, had turned black, wet, and rotten, although

the food was satisfactory. A curious point here. Unknown to her. I oneday extracted one of the mealies so produced, and after we had hada good feed, I went out to examine it. It was only two hours after itsproduction, but it had begun already to decay, and in a little more time,absolutely perished.

A MAGICAL TALISMAN.

As I said just now, I delighted in showing her her incapacity. Thus Iused to challenge her to produce an orange seed from the mango seed, orplantains from mealies, but this was entirely beyond her powers. Giveher a seed, a leaf, or a portion of the plant required, and she could do it,but she never could, in any single in-stance, gather grapes from thorns orfigs from thistles. Likewise, from an egg, she would develop a full-grownbird in a few minutes, but she could not turn a bird into a monkey, nor afish into a lynx. The towering rage she used to get into on these occasionsgenerally used to end in a series of violent epileptic fits. She tried all theresources of her magical arts upon me, but I was proof against any charmin the world but one, and that was one with which she was unacquainted. Ipossessed a talisman, given me by Bulwer Lytton (who also taught me theuse of it), which not only enabled me to defy all her spells, incantations,




all kinds of animals, only apes, goats, and serpents were represented.

Yet, while human lineaments were still traceable, the re-semblance of these loathsome objects was utterly horrible, and more like an awfulnightmare than anything else. When I was a boy at school I used toread Greek, Roman, and other mythologies, and when .[ came across thetransformation of Circe, and descriptions of satyrs, &c., I used to admirethe vivid imaginations of the ancients, but ever since I witnessed, longyears ago, the awful powers of Obeeyah, I genuinely believed that thoseold writers only related what was actually matter of common knowledge

at the time. As to centaurs, I don’t know, but as to the former existenceof satyrs, the transformation of Circe, and the petrifying action of theMedusa’s head, I am as certain as I am of my own existence.

VII.—IN FRANCE.

I now recall some experiences of hypnotism, as it is now the fashionto call it, for want of a name which will really express it.

I had, of course, done a good deal in it myself : but when Dr. Charcot, of the Salpetriere, first made public his experiments, I was much interested,and determined to run over to Paris and witness some of them myself.I need. perhaps, scarcely say here that Dr. Charcot was no quack, nofaddist, no obscure practitioner; but, in all questions of mental diseases,the foremost expert in France. Dr. Liebeault, who collaborated with him,is well known to the medical world as a distinguished physiologist andpsychologist. I went to Paris, and called on Dr. Charcot, whom I found

indisposed ; and I was turning away somewhat gloomily (as I could onlyspare time for two days in Paris), when I met almost on the threshold ananalytical chemist, a Frenchman of Italian origin, with whom I had at onetime been associated in a series of toxicological experiments.

I told him of my disappointment, and he said, “ You have lost nothing,come and dine with me at the Richelieu, and f will introduce you to one of his pupils who has, in fact, attained better results than Charcot him-self.”The latter statement I took leave to doubt ; but, there being nothing elseto be done, I consented.

A HYPNOTIC SUBJECT.

To cut the matter short, we went after dinner with Mons. Y. to the




“ No. try mine.” He took mine and laid it on the top of her head. He then

asked her the time, to which she replied, “ Huit heures, moins vingtneuf minutes.’’ He told her that was wrong. at my request. She persisted inrepeating the same time: he saying to me, “but. she is right, monsieur: “and, taking out his watch again, showed me it. And I said, Yes, she is rightby your watch ; but I want her to tell me the time by the watch that is onher head. ‘ Of course, she was unable to do so ; because the hypnotiser hadnot locked at it, and so was not able to convey the suggestion.

I was infinitely more pleased at his failure than if he had succeeded

: because I had all along maintained against the Frenchmen) that theresults they obtained were due not to clairvoyance, as they maintained,but to “ suggestion.” I wanted to see how far suggestion could go in givingtemporary knowledge of subjects far beyond the ken of the hypnotisedperson. So I suggested that, as we all knew Greek, a sentence should bewritten in it, and submitted to her. I wrote a verse from St. John, and sheread it with the greatest ease.

We made many more experiments, which all tended to prove my

contention as to the clairvoyance.Mind I do not for a moment dispute that a real clairvoyant faculty ispossessed by some persons ; but I do maintain that hypnotism can notcommunicate that power. Where it is manifested, it is rot in any degreeattributable to hypnotism.

READING THE SUBLIMINAL MIND.

A. was the next to be subjected to the influence. I hypnotised hermyself, and the reading tests were as satisfactory as in the previous case; but in one of them a curious, and up to that time unheard of, incidentoccurred. I had written, in Urdu characters, the Hindu saying, “Aur noortariki men chumakhtai hai (“ The Ligh shineth in the darkness “). Whenwriting, I could not for the life of me remember the word “chumakhtai,”and so, left a blank space. Bear in mind (this being important to recollect)that I knew the word well enough : it lay hidden somewhere in my latentconsciousness ; but, as Paddy says, I “ disremembered “ it.

The woman read the whole sentence. out as it ought to have beenwritten, mentioning the missing word ; and it was only when I heard itfrom her lips that I remembered it. Now, it seems to me that the womanmust not only have been en rapport with my waking mind, but also with




MEDICINE VICARIOUSLY ADMINISTERED.

He then took a bottle of Cognac from a cupboard, and poured onlya few drops into the water. Immediately she exhibited every sign of intoxication, and began to laugh and sing uproariously. Finally, she gotup and began to dance, when he thought it time to stop that, and addeda single drop of liq. amnion he to the water. She was sober in an instant,and gasped for a moment or two, as though she had swallowed a dose of ammonia.

The influence of several other drugs was shown, among others beingan infinitesimal dose of tartarised antimony, which in a few momentsproduced genuine and excessive vomiting. He then put into the glass one-tenth grain of acetate of morphia, which instantly induced a deep andprofound sleep.

I lifted up her eyelids at this point, and examined the pupils. Theyshowed unmistakably the action of morphia; and her pulse, which a shorttime previously had gone up to me, under the influence of the brandy,

was now very slow and thready.The only possible way to wake her, was to remove the sensitivenessfrom the water and drugs, and restore it to her. This he did, and her statebecame once more normal.

He wished her to rest a few minutes, before proceeding to the nextexperiment. This interval we improved, by having a cigarette and a littleof the Cognac, largely diluted with water.

EXPERIMENTS WITH A PHOTOGRAPH.The allotted time being expired, he selected a photo-graph of the

woman, from a pile of several portraits of patients which was on themantelpiece, and told us that he would transfer her sensibility to thephoto—which, by the way, had been taken when in the hypnotic state afew days before. He thought, at that time, that a photograph of the womantaken in her usual waking condition by an ordinary photographer, wouldbe of no use; but here he was mistaken, as a little accident which occurredshowed me.

Mons. Y. and myself then went into another room, taking the photowith us, and leaving my friend with the “ subject.” It was explained to himthat Mons. Y. would stick a needle into various parts of the photo-graph




II—Elementals.

Borderland July 1896

A CORRESPONDENT, signing himself “R. D’O.,” to whom Isubmitted the foregoing paper, writes me as follows:

“ The doctor, in his otherwise very able paper on this subject, makesone great and fundamental error, which to a great extent destroys thevalue of his communication. He treats of two essentially different classesof beings as being identical, and assumes that the undoubted visitations of elementaries to human beings are made by ‘ Vampires.’ Now ‘vampires’

and elementaries have scarcely anything in common, either in theirorigin, their nature, or their temperament. They are two absolutelydistinct species of spirits.

“ But before I proceed to their differentiation, a few words as to thesevisitations. In the first place there is no doubt that they actually do takeplace: everyone who has investigated the subject knows instances wherewomen of great intellectual powers, and having no tendency whateverto hysteria or illusions of any kind (being at the same time persons of undoubted veracity), claim that they have been—and are—visited in thismanner.

“ The immense mass of evidence, collected from many countries, bydifferent scientific observers — medical men and others—cannot be setaside. Doubtless, if only one or two cases existed, we should explain themby the one word—’ hysteria’ ; but the accumulated mass of facts from somany different temperaments cannot be dealt with in this manner. Wemust accept the facts, though we may differ as to their cause. And as tothis there are only three solutions possible :—1. That they are purely theproduct of a too vivid imagination, probably assisted by hysteria ; 2. Thatthe visitants are, what they usually represent themselves to be, spiritsof predeceased lovers ; 3. That they are other spirits, ‘elementaries’ or‘vampires,’ masquerading as spirits of the dead.




“ The answer to the first hypothesis is, that, as a rule, the recipients

of these visits are, more frequently than not, people not distinguishedfor imaginative powers. And the slightest reflection will show that anenormous fund of creative imagination must exist to make a womanabsolutely certain that her lover is present with her as tangible as in life.

“ And not only do these manifestations take place, but, in many cases,long conversations are held, sometimes for hours together; questionsare asked and answered, and replies (sometimes true, but usually false)obtained which could not have emanated from the brain of the querist,

being sometimes accurate in-formation of circumstances which couldby no possibility have been known to her. Further, these visitations arefrequently made to men, when, of course, the visitor is of female form.Another fact, difficult to account for on the first hypothesis, is that thesevisits have been, paid to people who had never heard of such things, andwho were Philistines of the Philistines regarding all, kinds of ‘ spirit’ orpsychic phenomena.

“ Consequently, we will dismiss theory No. 1 as untenable, and consider

No. 2. That is, that the visitants, warm, living, breathing, palpitating, arethe spirits of the dead. And here I will quote one who, amidst an enormousfarrago of nonsense, self-deception, and false fact, has somehow stumbledon a few truths—Anna Kingsford : ‘There are no such things as “spiritsof the dead,” there are only “ shades “ of the dead.’ And these shades arecertainly unable to make themselves even audible, much more tangible,palpable, and warm-blooded. We know quite sufficient about them toknow that.

“ Then there only remains the third proposition, that they are otherspirits, who, for their own purposes, assume the shape and verisimilitudeof dead persons.

“ Is Dr. Hartmann right then in considering them to be ‘ vampires’ ?and, if not ‘ vampires,’ what are they ? “ The learned doctor has evidentlythoroughly studied the subject of vampires, enjoying as he does facilitiesfor research in the very country which (if we except the West Indies) hasfrom time immemorial to the present been the scene of their most awfulmanifestations—Hungary.

“And it is quite true what Dr. H. says, that ‘persons obsessed by avampire are always sensually inclined people ; and usually given to secretvices.’ influences ; nothing more is needed.

“ Dr. H. recounts five cases within his personal know-ledge, which he




attributes to the action of vampires. But, of these five, only the third and

fifth in order were undoubtedly due to vampire action, and the first one isalmost more than doubtful. The others were certainly not vampires. Thereis no reason for thinking that the old lady who undermined the health of her servants was under the power of a vampire : it being a well-knownfact that many (in fact most) very old people who sleep with young andimpressionable ones, gradually absorb the greater part of their vitality ;and all physicians in this country are very precise in forbidding it.

“ The second case shows no trace of a vampire’s presence, of its ‘

devouring’ propensities, or of its horrible hate for the victim from whomit nightly drains the very life-blood. It is simply a case of an ‘ “ elemental“ (as the doctor says) making use of and being aided by the elementary of the suicide.’ But, as before said, an ‘ elemental ‘ is not a vampire.

“ The third case, of the millers boy, is a good in-stance of one mode of action of an undoubted vampire.

“ In the fourth case the ‘dual,’ there is nothing to indicate a vampire.The idea that the ‘ dual ‘ drew all the woman’s strength from her was

most probably not the fact. The fifth case is doubtless a genuine one of vampirism by the living, as Dr. Hartmann asserts.“ Now then, having so far cleared the ground, what are vampires“ They are not ‘ elementals ‘ but ‘ demons ‘ : there are no ‘demon

elementals.’ Demons are differentiated from spirits in possessing souls,and this, while it intensifies their power of malignant hate towards man,renders them, in one sense, superior to sex passion. They have an infinitecapacity of hatred and malignity, which they can only gratify at the

expense of those who are sensuously inclined. But they have no power—as the elementals have in certain cases—to assume human form : theycan give no pleasure, either mental or physical. All that they can do is toabsorb, to waste, to madden, and destroy.

“ Dr. Hartmann gives very correctly all the recognised symptoms of vampirism.

“ The elementals, on the contrary, are in this connection perfectlyharmless. So far from bearing any hatred or malice towards the recipientsof their favours, they are actuated towards them by (at least so far as theyare capable of feeling it) love. This is self-evident by their conduct.”



[ II ] Crowley’s Ripper: The Collected Work of Roslyn D’Onston

of J. W. Brodie-Innes, was a woman named Mable Collins. Her novel,

The Blossom and the Fruit, is probably the best existing account of thetheosophic theories presented in dramatic form. One of the great virtuesacclaimed and defended by this lady was that of chastity. She did not goquite as far as the girl made famous by Mr Harry Price upon the Brockena few years ago, whose terror of losing the jewel of her maidenhood wassuch that she thought it unsafe to go to bed without the protection of a man; but Mable Collins had considerable experience of this form of chastity a deux; at the same time, reflecting that one of the points of H.

P. B.’s mission was to proclaim the Age of the Woman, she occasionallychose a female for her bed-fellow.Some few years before Whitechapel achieved its peculiar notoriety,

the white flame of passion which had consumed the fair Mabel and herlover, who passed by the name of Captain Donston, had died down; in facthe had become rather more than less of a nuisance; and she was doingeverything in her power to get rid of him. Naturally eager to assist inthis manoeuvre was her new mistress, a lady passing under the name of

Baroness Cremers, whose appearance and character are very fully andaccurately described in a novel called Moonchild:An American woman of the name of Cremers. Her squat stubborn

figure was clad in rusty-black clothes, a man’s except for the skirt; it wassurmounted by a head of unusual size, and still more unusual shape, forthe back of the skull was entirely flat, and the left frontal lobe muchmore developed than the right; one could have thought that it had beendeliberately knocked out of shape, since nature, fond, as it may be, of

freaks, rarely pushes asymmetry to such a point.There would have been more than idle speculation in such a theory;for she was the child of hate, and her mother had in vain attempted everyviolence against her before her birth.

The face was wrinkled parchment, yellow and hard; it was framed inshort, thick hair, dirty white in colour; and her expression denoted thatthe utmost cunning and capacity were at the command of her rapaciousinstincts.

But her poverty was no indication that they had served her and thoseprimitive qualities had in fact been swallowed up in the results of theirdisappointment. For in her eye raved bitter a hate of all things, born of the selfish envy which regarded the happiness of any other person as an



Crowley’s Ripper: The Collected Work of Roslyn D’onston [ V ]

chunks of raw flesh, cut from a living body, can hardly do so without

copious evidence on his chest.One evening, Donstan had just come in from the theatre -- in thosedays everyone dressed, whether they liked it or not -- and he found thewomen discussing this point. He gave a slight laugh, went into the passage,and returned in the opera cloak which he had been wearing to the theatre.He turned up the collar and pulled the cape across his shirtfront, made aslight gesture as if to say: “You see how simple it is;” and when a socialdifficulty presented itself, he remarked lightly: “Of course you cannot

have imagined that the man could be a gentleman,” and added: “Thereare plenty going about the East End in evening dress, what with opiumsmoking and one thing and another.”

After the last of the murders, an article appeared in the newspaper of W. T. Stead, the Pall Mall Gazette, by Tau Tria Delta, who offered a solutionfor the motive of the murders. It stated that in one of the grimoires of theMiddle Ages, an account was given of a process by which a sorcerer couldattain “the supreme black magical power” by following out a course of

action identical with that of Jack the Ripper; certain lesser powers weregranted to him spontaneously during the course of the proceedings. Afterthe third murder, if memory serves, the assassin obtained on the spot thegift of invisibility, because in the third or fourth murder, a constable onduty saw a man and a woman go into a cul-de-sac. At the end there werethe great gates of a factory, but at the sides no doorways or even windows.The constable, becoming suspicious, watched the entry to the gateway,and hearing screams, rushed in. He found the woman, mutilated, but still

living; as he ran up, he flashed his bullseye in every direction; and he wasabsolutely certain that no other person was present. And there was nocover under the archway for so much as a rat.

The number of murders involved in the ceremonies was five, whereasthe Whitechapel murders so-called, were seven in number; but two of these were spurious, like the alien corpse in Arsenic and Old Lace. Thesemurders are completely to be distinguished from the five genuine ones,by obvious divergence on technical points.

The place of each murder is important, for it is essential to describewhat is called the averse pentagram, that is to say, a star of five pointswith a single point in the direction of the South Pole. So much for thetheory of Tau Tria Delta.

It is not quite clear as to whether this pseudonym concealed the identity

Crowley Ripper

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