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s sat in an outer room to keep out undesirable visitors； i was kept a long time kicking my heels。 presently i was admitted and found an old woman in a plain loose dark dress： a sort of old irish peasant woman with an air of humour and audacious power。 i was still kept waiting； for she was deep in conversation with a woman visitor。
i strayed through folding doors into the next room and stood； in sheer idleness of mind； looking at a cuckoo clock。 it was certainly stopped； for the weights were off and lying upon the ground； and yet as i stood there the cuckoo came out and cuckooed at me。 i interrupted madame blavatsky to say。 your clock has hooted me。
it often hoots at a stranger； she replied。 is there a spirit in it？ i said。 i do not know； she said； i should have to be alone to know what is in it。 i went back to the clock and began examining it and heard her say do not break my clock。 i wondered if there was some hidden mechanism； and i should have been put out； i suppose； had i found any； though henley had said to me； of course she gets up fraudulent miracles； but a person of genius has to do something； sarah bernhardt sleeps in her coffin。 presently the visitor went away and madame blavatsky explained that she was a propagandist for womens rights who had called to find out why men were so bad。 what explanation did you give her？ i said。 that men were born bad but women made themselves so； and then she explained that i had been kept waiting because she had mistaken me for some man whose name resembled mine and who wanted to persuade her of the flatness of the earth。
when i next saw her she had moved into a house at holland park； and some time must have passed？？probably i had been in sligo where i returned constantly for long visits？？for she was surrounded by followers。 she sat nightly before a little table covered with green baize and on this green baize she scribbled constantly with a piece of white chalk。 she would scribble symbols； sometimes humorously applied； and sometimes unintelligible figures； but the chalk was intended to mark down her score when she played patience。 one saw in the next room a large table where every night her followers and guests； often a great number； sat down to their vegetarian meal； while she encouraged or mocked through the folding doors。 a great passionate nature； a sort of female dr。 johnson； impressive； i think； to every man or woman who had themselves any richness； she seemed impatient of the formalism； of the shrill abstract idealism of those about her； and this impatience broke out inrailing & many nicknames： o you are a flapdoodle； but then you are a theosophist and a brother。 the most devout and learned of all her followers said to me； h。p。b。 has just told me that there is another globe stuck on to this at the north pole； so that the earth has really a shape something like a dumb？bell。 i said； for i knew that her imagination contained all the folklore of the world； that must be some piece of eastern mythology。 o no it is not； he said； of that i am certain； and there must be something in it or she would not have said it。 her mockery was not kept for her followers alone； and her voice would bee harsh； and her mockery lose phantasy and humour； when she spoke of what seemed to her scientific materialism。 once i saw this antagonism； guided by some kind of telepathic divination； take a form of brutal phantasy。 i brought a very able dublin woman to see her and this woman had a brother； a physiologist whosereputation； though known to specialists alone； was european； and； because of this brother； a family pride in everything scientific and modern。 the dublin woman scarcely opened her mouth the whole evening and her name was certainly unknown to madame blavatsky； yet i saw at once in that wrinkled old face bent over the cards； and the only time i ever saw it there； a personal hostility； the dislike of one woman for another。
madame blavatsky seemed to bundle herself up； being all primeval peasant； and began plaining of her ailments； more especially of her bad leg。 but of late her master？？her old jew； her ahasuerus； cured it； or set it on the way to be cured。 i was sitting here in my chair； she said； when the master came in and brought something with him which he put over my knee； something warm which enclosed my knee？？it was a live dog which he had cut open。 i recognised a cure used sometimes in mediaeval medicine。 she had two masters； and their portraits； ideal indian heads； painted by some most inpetent artist； stood upon either side of the folding doors。 one night； when talk was impersonal and general； i sat gazing through the folding doors into the dimly lighted dining？room beyond。 i noticed a curious red light shining upon a picture and got up to see where the red light came from。 it was the picture of an indian and as i came near it slowly vanished。 when i returned to my seat； madame blavatsky said； what did you see？ a picture； i said。 tell it to go away。 it is already gone。 so much the better； she said； i was afraid it was medium ship but it is only clairvoyance。
what is the difference？ if it had been medium ship； it would have stayed in spite of you。 beware of medium ship； it is a kind of madness； i know； for i have been through it。
i found her almost always full of gaiety that； unlike the occasional joking of those about her； was illogical and incalculable and yet always kindly and tolerant。 i had called one evening to find her absent； but expected every moment。 she had been somewhere at the seaside for her health and arrived with a little suite of followers。 she sat down at once in her big chair； and began unfolding a brown paper parcel； while all looked on full of curiosity。 it contained a large family bible。 this is a present for my maid； she said。 what！ a bible and not even anointed！ said some shocked voice。 well my children； was the answer； what is the good of giving lemons to those who want oranges？ when i first began to frequent her house； as i soon did very constantly； i noticed a handsome clever woman of the world there； who seemed certainly very much out of place； penitent though she thought herself。 presently there was much scandal and gossip； for the penitent was plainly entangled with two young men； who were expected to grow into ascetic sages。 the scandal was so great that madame blavatsky had to call the penitent before her and to speak after this fashion； we think that it is necessary to crush the animal nature； you should live in chastity in act and thought。 initiation is granted only to those who are entirely chaste； and so to run on for some time。 however； after some minutes in that vehement style； the penitent standing crushed and shamed before her； she had wound up； i cannot permit you more than one。 she was quite sincere； but thought that nothing mattered but what happened in the mind； and that if we could not master the mind； our actions were of little importance。 one young man filled her with exasperation； for she thought that his settled gloom came from his chastity。 i had known him in dublin； where he had been accustomed to interrupt long periods of asceticism； in which he would eat vegetables and drink water； with brief outbreaks of what he considered the devil。 after an outbreak he would for a few hours dazzle the imagination of the members of the local theosophical society with poetical rhapsodies about harlots and street lamps； and then sink into weeks of melancholy。 a fellow theosophist once found him hanging from the window pole； but cut him down in the nick of time。 i said to the man who cut him down； what did you say to one another？ he said； we spent the night telling ic stories and laughing a great deal。 this man； torn between sensuality and visionary ambition； was now the most devout of all； and told me that in the middle of the night he could often hear the ringing of the little astral bell whereby madame blavatskys master called her attention； and that； although it was a low silvery sound it made the whole house shake。 another night i found him waiting in the hall to show in those who had the right of entrance on some night when the discussion was private； and as i passed he whispered into my ear； madame blavatsky is perhaps not a real woman at