Theos-Talk Archives (January 2004 Message tt00365)

Jan 23 2004


Dear Friends:

Here are two more “occult tales” from the pen of HPB..

Seemed interesting to read and think about.

Best wishes,

Dallas

==================================

1

AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY


 
THE circumstances attending the sudden death of M. Delessert, inspector
of the Police de Sûreté, seem to have made such an impression upon the
Parisian authorities that they were recorded in unusual detail. Omitting
all particulars except what are necessary to explain matters, we produce
here the undoubtedly strange history.

In the fall of 1861 there came to Paris a man who called himself Vic de
Lassa, and was so inscribed upon his passports. He came from Vienna, and
said he was a Hungarian, who owned estates on the borders of the Banat,
not far from Zenta. He was a small man, aged thirty-five, with pale and
mysterious face, long blonde hair, a vague, wandering blue eye, and a
mouth of singular firmness. He dressed carelessly and unaffectedly, and
spoke and talked without much empressement. His companion, presumably
his wife, on the other hand, ten years younger than himself, was a
strikingly beautiful woman, of that dark, rich, velvety, luscious, pure
Hungarian type which is so nigh akin to the gypsy blood. At the
theatres, on the Bois, at the cafés, on the boulevards, and everywhere
that idle Paris disports itself, Madame Aimée de Lassa attracted great
attention and made a sensation.

They lodged in luxurious apartments on the Rue Richelieu, frequented the
best places, received good company, entertained handsomely, and acted in
every way as if possessed of considerable wealth. Lassa had always a
good balance chez Schneider, Ruter et Cie, the Austrian bankers in Rue
Rivoli, and wore diamonds of conspicuous lustre.

How did it happen then, that the Prefect of Police saw fit to suspect
Monsieur and Madame de Lassa, and detailed Paul Delessert, one of the
most rusé inspectors of the force, to "pipe" him? The fact is, the
insignificant man with the splendid wife was a very mysterious
personage, and it is the habit of the police to imagine that mystery
always hides either the conspirator, the adventurer, or the charlatan.
The conclusion to which the Prefect had come in regard to M. de Lassa
was that he was an adventurer and charlatan too. Certainly a successful
one, then, for he was singularly unobtrusive and had in no way trumpeted
the wonders which it was his mission to perform, yet in a few weeks
after he had established himself in Paris the salon of M. de Lassa was
the rage, and the number of persons who paid the fee of 100 francs for a
single peep into his magic crystal, and a single message by his
spiritual telegraph, was really astonishing. The secret of this was that
M. de Lassa was a conjurer and deceiver, whose pretensions were
omniscient and whose predictions always came true.

Delessert did not find it very difficult to get an introduction and
admission to De Lassa’s salon. The receptions occurred every other
day—two hours in the forenoon, three hours in the evening. It was
evening when Inspector Delessert called in his assumed character of M.
Flabry, virtuoso in jewels and a convert to Spiritualism. He found the
handsome parlours brilliantly lighted, and a charming assemblage
gathered of well-pleased guests, who did not at all seem to have come to
learn their fortunes or fates, while contributing to the income of their
host, but rather to be there out of complaisance to his virtues and
gifts.

Mme. de Lassa performed upon the piano or conversed from group to group
in a way that seemed to be delightful, while M. de Lassa walked about or
sat in his insignificant, unconcerned way, saying a word now and then,
but seeming to shun everything that was conspicuous. Servants handed
about refreshments, ices, cordials, wines, etc., and Delessert could
have fancied himself to have dropped in upon a quite modest evening
entertainment, altogether en règle, but for one or two noticeable
circumstances which his observant eyes quickly took in.

Except when their host or hostess was within hearing the guests
conversed together in low tones, rather mysteriously, and with not quite
so much laughter as is usual on such occasions. At intervals a very tall
and dignified footman would come to a guest, and, with a profound bow,
present him a card on a silver salver. The guest would then go out,
preceded by the solemn servant, but when he or she returned to the
salon—some did not return at all—they invariably wore a dazed or puzzled
look, were confused, astonished, frightened, or amused. All this was so
unmistakably genuine, and De Lassa and his wife seemed so unconcerned
amidst it all, not to say distinct from it all, that Delessert could not
avoid being forcibly struck and considerably puzzled.

Two or three little incidents, which came under Delessert’s own
immediate observation, will suffice to make plain the character of the
impressions made upon those present. A couple of gentlemen, both young,
both of good social condition, and evidently very intimate friends, were
conversing together and tutoying one another at a great rate, when the
dignified footman summoned Alphonse. He laughed gaily, "Tarry a moment,
cher Auguste," said he, "and thou shalt know all the particulars of this
wonderful fortune!" "Eh bien!" A minute had scarcely elapsed when
Alphonse returned to the salon. His face was white and bore an
appearance of concentrated rage that was frightful to witness. He came
straight to Auguste, his eyes flashing, and bending his face toward his
friend, who changed colour and recoiled, he hissed out: "Monsieur
Lefebure, vous êtes un lâche!" "Very well, Monsieur Meunier," responded
Auguste, in the same low tone, "tomorrow morning at six o’clock!" "It is
settled, false friend, execrable traitor! A la mort!" rejoined Alphonse,
walking off. "Cela va sans dire!" muttered Auguste, going towards the
hat-room.

A diplomatist of distinction, representative at Paris of a neighbouring
state, an elderly gentleman of superb aplomb and most commanding
appearance, was summoned to the oracle by the bowing footman. After
being absent about five minutes he returned, and immediately made his
way through the press to M. de Lassa, who was standing not far from the
fireplace, with his hands in his pockets and a look of utmost
indifference upon his face. Delessert standing near, watched the
interview with eager interest.

"I am exceedingly sorry," said General Von—— , "to have to absent myself
so soon from your interesting salon, M. de Lassa, but the result of my
séance convinces me that my dispatches have been tampered with." "I am
sorry," responded M. de Lassa, with an air of languid but courteous
interest; "I hope you may be able to discover which of your servants has
been unfaithful." "I am going to do that now," said the General, adding,
in significant tones, "I shall see that both he and his accomplices do
not escape severe punishment." "That is the only course to pursue,
Monsieur le Comte." The ambassador stared, bowed, and took his leave
with a bewilderment in his face that was beyond the power of his tact to
control.

In the course of the evening M. de Lassa went carelessly to the piano,
and, after some indifferent vague precluding, played a remarkably
effective piece of music, in which the turbulent life and buoyancy of
bacchanalian strains melted gently, almost imperceptibly away, into a
sobbing wail of regret, and languor, and weariness, and despair. It was
beautifully rendered, and made a great impression upon the guests, one
of whom, a lady, cried, "How lovely, how sad! Did you compose that
yourself, M. de Lassa?" He looked towards her absently for an instant,
then replied: "I? Oh, no! That is merely a reminiscence, madame." "Do
you know who did compose it, M. de Lassa?" enquired a virtuoso present.
"I believe it was originally written by Ptolemy Auletes, the father of
Cleopatra," said M. de Lassa, in his indifferent musing way; "but not in
its present form. It has been twice re-written to my knowledge; still,
the air is substantially the same." "From whom did you get it, M. de
Lassa, if I may ask?" persisted the gentleman. "Certainly, certainly!
The last time I heard it played was by Sebastian Bach; but that was
Palestrina’s—the present—version. I think I prefer that of Guido of
Arezzo—it is ruder, but has more force. I got the air from Guido
himself." "You—from—Guido!" cried the astonished gentleman. "Yes,
monsieur," answered De Lassa, rising from the piano with his usual
indifferent air. "Mon Dieu!" cried the virtuoso, putting his hand to his
head after the manner of Mr. Twemlow, "Mon Dieu! that was in Anno Domini
1022." "A little later than that—July, 1031, if I remember rightly,"
courteously corrected M. de Lassa.

At this moment the tall footman bowed before M. Delessert, and presented
the salver containing the card. Delessert took it and read: "On vous
accorde trente-cinq secondes M. Flabry, tout au plus!" Delessert
followed; the footman opened the door of another room and bowed again,
signifying that Delessert was to enter. "Ask no questions," he said
briefly; "Sidi is mute." 

Delessert entered the room and the door closed behind him. It was a
small room, with a strong smell of frankincense pervading it; the walls
were covered completely with red hangings that concealed the windows,
and the floor was felted with a thick carpet. Opposite the door, at the
upper end of the room near the ceiling was the face of a large clock,
under it, each lighted by tall wax candles, were two small tables,
containing, the one an apparatus very like the common registering
telegraph instrument, the other a crystal globe about twenty inches in
diameter, set upon an exquisitely wrought tripod of gold and bronze
intermingled. By the side of the door stood a man jet black in colour,
wearing a white turban and burnous, and having a sort of wand of silver
in one hand. With the other he took Delessert by the right arm above the
elbow, and led him quickly up the room. He pointed to the clock, and it
struck an alarum; he pointed to the crystal. Delessert bent over, looked
into it, and saw—a facsimile of his own sleeping-room, everything
photographed exactly. Sidi did not give him time to exclaim, but still
holding him by the arm, took him to the other table. The telegraph-like
instrument began to click-click. Sidi opened the drawer, drew out a slip
of paper, crammed it into Delessert’s hand, and pointed to the clock,
which struck again. The thirty-five seconds were expired. Sidi, still
retaining hold of Delessert’s arm, pointed to the door and led him
towards it. The door opened, Sidi pushed him out, the door closed, the
tall footman stood there bowing—the interview with the oracle is over.
Delessert glanced at the piece of paper in his hand. It was a printed
scrap, capital letters, and read simply: "To M. Paul Delessert: The
policeman is always welcome, the spy is always in danger!"
Delessert was dumbfounded a moment to find his disguise detected, but
the words of the tall footman, "This way if you please, M. Flabry,"
brought him to his senses. Setting his lips, he returned to the salon,
and without delay sought M. de Lassa. "Do you know the contents of
this?" asked he, showing the message. "I know everything, M. Delessert,"
answered De Lassa, in his careless way. "Then perhaps you are aware that
I mean to expose a charlatan, and unmask a hypocrite, or perish in the
attempt?" said Delessert. "Cela m’est égal, monsieur." replied De Lassa.
"You accept my challenge then?" "Oh! it is a defiance, then?" replied De
Lassa, letting his eye rest a moment upon Delessert, "mais oui, je
l’accepte!" And thereupon Delessert departed.
Delessert now set to work, aided by all the forces the Prefect of Police
could bring to bear, to detect and expose this consummate sorcerer, whom
the ruder processes of our ancestors would easily have disposed of—by
combustion. Persistent enquiry satisfied Delessert that the man was
neither a Hungarian nor was named De Lassa; that no matter how far back
his power of "reminiscence" might extend, in his present and immediate
form he had been born in this unregenerate world in the toy-making city
of Nuremburg; that he was noted in boyhood for his great turn for
ingenious manufactures, but was very wild, and a mauvais sujet. In his
sixteenth year he escaped to Geneva and apprenticed himself to a maker
of watches and instruments. Here he had been seen by the celebrated
Robert Houdin, the prestidigitateur. Houdin recognizing the lad’s
talents, and being himself a maker of ingenious automata, had taken him
off to Paris and employed him in his own workshops, as well as for an
assistant in the public performances of his amusing and curious
diablerie. After staying with Houdin some years, Pflock Haslich (which
was De Lassa’s right name) had gone East in the suite of a Turkish
Pasha, and after many years’ roving, in lands where he could not be
traced under a cloud of pseudonyms, had finally turned up in Venice, and
come thence to Paris.

Delessert next turned his attention to Mme. de Lassa. It was more
difficult to get a clue by means of which to know her past life; but it
was necessary in order to understand enough about Haslich. At last,
through an accident, it became probable that Mme. Aimée was identical
with a certain Mme. Schlaff, who had been rather conspicuous among the
demi-monde of Buda. Delessert posted off to that ancient city, and
thence went into the wilds of Transylvania to Mengyco. On his return, as
soon as he reached the telegraph and civilization, he telegraphed the
Prefect from Kardszag: "Don’t lose sight of my man, nor let him leave
Paris. I will run him in for you two days after I get back."

It happened that on the day of Delessert’s return to Paris the Prefect
was absent, being with the Emperor at Cherbourg. He came back on the
fourth day, just twenty-four hours after the announcement of Delessert’s
death. That happened, as near as could be gathered, in this wise:

The night after Delessert’s return he was present at De Lassa’s salon
with a ticket of admittance to a séance. He was very completely
disguised as a decrepit old man, and fancied that it was impossible for
any one to detect him. Nevertheless, when he was taken into the room,
and looked into the crystal, he was utterly horror-stricken to see there
a picture of himself, lying face down and senseless upon the side-walk
of a street; and the message he received read thus: "What you have seen
will be, Delessert, in three days. Prepare!" The detective, unspeakably
shocked, retired from the house at once and sought his own lodgings.

In the morning he came to the office in a state of extreme dejection. He
was completely unnerved. In relating to a brother inspector what had
occurred, he said: "That man can do what he promises, I am doomed!"

He said that he thought he could make a complete case out against
Haslich alias De Lassa, but could not do so without seeing the Prefect
and getting instructions. He would tell nothing in regard to his
discoveries in Buda and in Transylvania—said he was not at liberty to do
so—and repeatedly exclaimed: "Oh! if M. le Préfet were only here!" He
was told to go to the Prefect at Cherbourg, but refused upon the ground
that his presence was needed in Paris. He time and again averred his
conviction that he was a doomed man, and showed himself both vacillating
and irresolute in his conduct, and extremely nervous. He was told that
he was perfectly safe, since De Lassa and all his household were under
constant surveillance; to which he replied, "You do not know the man."
An inspector was detailed to accompany Delessert, never to lose sight of
him night and day, and guard him carefully; and proper precautions were
taken in regard to his food and drink, while the guards watching De
Lassa were doubled.

On the morning of the third day, Delessert, who had been staying chiefly
indoors, avowed his determination to go at once and telegraph to M. le
Préfet to return immediately. With this intention he and his brother
officer started out. Just as they got to the corner of the Rue de Lanery
and the Boulevard, Delessert stopped suddenly and put his hand to his
forehead.

"My God!" he cried, "the crystal! the picture!" and fell prone upon his
face, insensible. He was taken at once to a hospital, but only lingered
a few hours, never regaining his consciousness. Under express
instruction from the authorities, a most careful, minute, and thorough
autopsy was made of Delessert’s body by several distinguished surgeons,
whose unanimous opinion was, that the cause of his death was apoplexy,
due to fatigue and nervous excitement.

As soon as Delessert was sent to the hospital, his brother inspector
hurried to the Central Office, and De Lassa, together with his wife and
everyone connected with the establishment, were at once arrested. De
Lassa smiled contemptuously as they took him away. "I knew you were
coming; I prepared for it; you will be glad to release me again."

It was quite true that De Lassa had prepared for them. When the house
was searched it was found that every paper had been burned, the crystal
globe was destroyed, and in the room of the séances was a great heap of
delicate machinery broken into indistinguishable bits. "That cost me
200,000 francs," said De Lassa, pointing to the pile, "but it has been a
good investment." The walls and floors were ripped out in several
places, and the damage to the property was considerable. In prison
neither De Lassa nor his associates made any revelations. The notion
that they had something to do with Delessert’s death was quickly
dispelled, in a legal point of view, and all the party but De Lassa were
released. He was still detained in prison, upon one pretext or another,
when one morning he was found hanging by a silk sash to the cornice of
the room where he was confined—dead. The night before, it was afterwards
discovered, Madame de Lassa had eloped with a tall footman, taking the
Nubian Sidi with them. De Lassa’s secrets died with him.
———

"It is an interesting story, that article of yours in to-day’s
Scientist. But is it a record of facts, or a tissue of the imagination?
If true, why not state the source of it, in other words, specify your
authority for it."

The above is not signed, but we would take the opportunity to say that
the story, "An Unsolved Mystery," was published because we considered
the main points of the narrative—the prophecies, and the singular death
of the officer—to be psychic phenomena, that have been, and can be,
again produced. Why quote "authorities"? The Scriptures tell us of the
death of Ananias, under the stern rebuke from Peter; here we have a
phenomenon of a similar nature. Ananias is supposed to have suffered
instant death from fear. Few can realize this power governed by
spiritual laws, but those who have trod the boundary line and know some
few of the things that can be done, will see no great mystery in this,
nor in the story published last week. We are not speaking in mystical
tones. Ask the powerful mesmerist if there is danger that the subject
may pass out of his control?—if he could will the spirit out, never to
return? It is capable of demonstration that the mesmerist can act on a
subject at a distance of many miles; and it is no less certain that the
majority of mesmerists know little or nothing of the laws that govern
their powers.

It may be a pleasant dream to attempt to conceive of the beauties of the
spirit-world; but the time can be spent more profitably in a study of
the spirit itself, and it is not necessary that the subject for study
should be in the spirit-world. 


===========================================

2

THE BRIGHT SPOT OF LIGHT

 
[Vol. III. No. 2, November, 1881.]

[MADAME,—In the last issue of your valuable journal, a member of the New
York Theosophical Society seeks to be enlightened as to the cause of a
bright spot of light which he has often seen. I also am equally curious
to have an explanation. I attribute it to the highest concentration of
the soul. As soon as I place myself in that prescribed attitude,
suddenly a bright spot appears before me which fills my heart with
delight, this being regarded as a special sign by the Indian devotee
that he is in the right path, leading to ultimate success in the Yoga
practice, that he is blessed by the special grace of the Almighty.

One evening, sitting on the ground cross-legged, in that state of
concentration when the soul soars into high regions, I was blessed with
a shower of flowers—a most brilliant sight, which I long to see again. I
tried to catch at flowers so rare, but they eluded my grasp and suddenly
disappeared, leaving me much disappointed. Finally two flowers fell on
me, one touching my head and the other my right shoulder, but this time
also the attempt to seize them was unsuccessful. What can it be, if not
a response that God has been pleased with his worshipper, meditation
being, I believe, the unique way of spiritual worship.

P.
September 18th, 1881.]

---------------------------------------------------


It depends. Those of our orthodox native contributors who worship some
particular God—or, if they so prefer, the one Îshvara under some
particular name—are too apt to attribute every psychological effect,
induced by mental concentration during the hours of religious
meditation, to their special deity, whereas, in ninety-nine cases out of
one hundred, such effects are due simply to purely psycho-physiological
effects. 

We know a number of mystically-inclined people who see such "lights" as
that described above as soon as they concentrate their thoughts.
Spiritualists attribute them to the agency of their departed friends;
Buddhists (who have no personal God) to a pre-nirvânic state; Pantheists
and Vedântins to Mâyâ—or the illusion of the senses; and Christians—to a
foresight of the glories of Paradise. 

The modern Occultists say that, when not directly due to cerebral
action, the normal functions of which are certainly impeded by such an
artificial mode of deep concentration—these lights are glimpses of the
Astral Light, or, to use a more "scientific" expression, of the "
Universal Ether," firmly believed in by more than one man of science, as
proved by Stewart and Tait’s Unseen Universe. 

Like the pure blue sky closely shrouded by thick vapours on a misty day,
so is the Astral Light concealed from our physical senses during the
hours of our normal daily life. But when, concentrating all our
spiritual faculties we succeed, for the time being, in paralyzing their
enemy (the physical senses), and the inner man becomes, so to say,
distinct from the man of matter—then the action of the ever-living
spirit, like a breeze that clears the sky from its obstructing clouds,
sweeps away the mist which lies between our normal vision and the Astral
Light, and we obtain glimpses into, and of, that Light.

The days of "smoking furnaces" and "burning lamps" which form part of
the biblical visions are long gone by—to return no more. But whoever,
refusing natural explanations, prefers supernatural ones, is, of course,
at liberty to imagine that an "Almighty God" amuses us with visions of
flowers, and sends burning lights before making "covenants" with his
worshippers. 
[Ed.]

=========================

DTB