“After this abortive phenomena,” remarks the Russian journalist, “things marched faster, and I saw that I should soon be in a position to send very interesting additions to the report of the Psychical Society.”... “Every day when I came to see the Madame she used to try to do me a favor in the shape of some trifling ‘phenomenon,’ but she never succeeded. Thus one day her famous ‘silver bell’ was heard, when suddenly something fell beside her on the ground. I hurried to pick it up—and found in my hands a pretty little piece of silver, delicately worked and strangely shaped. Helena Petrovna changed countenance, and snatched the object from me. I coughed significantly, smiled and turned the conversation to indifferent matters.”
On another occasion he was conversing with her about the “Theosophist,” and “she mentioned the name of Subba Rao, a Hindoo, who had attained the highest degree of knowledge.” She directed Mr. Solovyoff to open a drawer in her writing desk, and take from it a photograph of the adept.
“I opened the drawer,” says Solovyoff, “found the photograph and handed it to her—together with a packet of Chinese envelopes (See Fig. 34), such as I well knew; they were the same in which the ‘elect’ used to receive the letters of the Mahatmas Morya and Koot Hoomi by ‘astral post.’
“‘Look at that, Helena Petrovna! I should advise you to hide this packet of the master’s envelopes farther off. You are so terribly absent-minded and careless.’
“It was easy to imagine what this was to her. I looked at her and was positively frightened; her face grew perfectly black. She tried in vain to speak; she could only writhe helplessly in her great arm-chair.”
Solovyoff with great adroitness gradually drew from her a confession. “What is one to do,” said Madame Blavatsky, plaintively, “when in order to rule men it is necessary to deceive them; almost invariably the more simple, the more silly, and the more gross the phenomenon, the more likely it is to succeed.” The Priestess of Isis broke down completely and acknowledged that her phenomena were not genuine; the Koot Hoomi letters were written by herself and others in collusion with her; finally she exhibited to the journalist the apparatus for producing the “astral bell,” and begged him to go into a co-partnership with her to astonish the world. He refused! The next day she declared that a black magician had spoken through her mouth, and not herself; she was not responsible for what she had said. After this he had other interviews with her; threats and promises; and lastly a most extraordinary letter, which was headed, “My Confession,” and reads, in part, as follows:
“Believe me, I have fallen because I have made up my mind to fall, or else to bring about a reaction by telling all God’s truth about myself, but without mercy on my enemies. On this I am firmly resolved, and from this day I shall begin to prepare myself in order to be ready. I will fly no more. Together with this letter, or a few hours later, I shall myself be in Paris, and then on to London. A Frenchman is ready, and a well-known journalist too, delighted to set about the work and to write at my dictation something short, but strong, and what is most important—a true history of my life. I shall not even attempt to defend, to justify myself. In this book I shall simply say: “In 1848, I, hating my husband, N. V. Blavatsky (it may have been wrong, but still such was the nature God gave me), left him, abandoned him—a virgin. (I shall produce documents and letters proving this, although he himself is not such a swine as to deny it.) I loved one man deeply, but still more I loved occult science, believing in magic, wizards, etc. I wandered with him here and there, in Asia, in America, and in Europe. I met with So-and-so. (You may call him a wizard, what does it matter to him?) In 1858 I was in London; there came out some story about a child, not mine (there will follow medical evidence, from the faculty of Paris, and it is for this that I am going to Paris). One thing and another was said of me; that I was depraved, possessed with a devil, etc.
“I shall tell everything as I think fit, everything I did, for the twenty years and more, that I laughed at the qu’en dira-t-on, and covered up all traces of what I was really occupied in, i. e., the sciences occultes, for the sake of my family and relations who would at that time have cursed me. I will tell how from my eighteenth year I tried to get people to talk about me, and say about me that this man and that was my lover, and hundreds of them. I will tell, too, a great deal of which no one ever dreamed, and I will prove it. Then I will inform the world how suddenly my eyes were opened to all the horror of my moral suicide; how I was sent to America to try my psychological capabilities; how I collected a society there, and began to expiate my faults, and attempted to make men better and to sacrifice myself for their regeneration. I will name all the Theosophists who were brought into the right way, drunkards and rakes, who became almost saints, especially in India, and those who enlisted as Theosophists, and continued their former life, as though they were doing the work (and there are many of them) and yet were the first to join the pack of hounds that were hunting me down, and to bite me....
“No! The devils will save me in this last great hour. You did not calculate on the cool determination of despair, which was and has passed over.... And to this I have been brought by you. You have been the last straw which has broken the camel’s back under its intolerably heavy burden. Now you are at liberty to conceal nothing. Repeat to all Paris what you have ever heard or know about me. I have already written a letter to Sinnett forbidding him to publish my memoirs at his own discretion. I myself will publish them with all the truth.... It will be a Saturnalia of the moral depravity of mankind, this confession of mine, a worthy epilogue of my stormy life.... Let the psychist gentlemen, and whosoever will, set on foot a new inquiry. Mohini and all the rest, even India, are dead for me. I thirst for one thing only, that the world may know all the reality, all the truth, and learn the lesson. And then death, kindest of all.
H. Blavatsky.