Helen Vardon's confession
business-like, strangely free from the usual muddle and disorder of a
woman-artist’s studio; the big water-colour easel, the orderly
painting cabinet, the papier-maché lay figure, quaintly arrayed in a
walking costume such as might have been seen in a Regent Street shop
window (miraculously built up, as I observed, of draperies, pinned,
tied or lightly stitched together), the charcoal studies from the
figure, pinned up on the wall for reference, with careful pencil
drawings of heads, hands and feet, and one or two casts of faces and
hands. The working department was a model of matter-of-fact
efficiency.
In curious contrast to this was the domain of Lilith, the mystic. In a
well-lighted corner stood a small table supporting a black velvet
cushion on which reposed a crystal globe of the size of a cricket
ball. Above the table a couple of book-shelves exhibited a collection
of volumes treating of Spiritualism, Telepathy, Apparitions, Psychical
Research, and other occult subjects. On the upper shelf stood a bowl
filled with the letters of a dissected alphabet; while, hanging on the
wall, was a small heart-shaped object with tiny castors, which I
assumed to be Planchette, and by its side a single Egyptian bead
suspended at the end of a silken thread.
Yet these two aspects of this strange girl’s character were not
without a connecting link. On the walls were several framed paintings
signed “Winifred Blake,” mystical figure subjects, recalling, but not
imitating, the works of Burne Jones and Rossetti, exquisitely drawn
and delicately painted in water-colour. The work on the easel was a
similar drawing of a frieze-like character, the figures nude but with
lightly indicated draperies; and one of the nude figures had been
traced on to a fashion-plate board and was already partly clothed in
the walking costume.
My survey of the room and its contents was interrupted by the arrival
of its occupant, who having seated me in the easy chair, perched
herself on her painting-stool and opened the examination.
“Now,” said she, “I don’t want to be inquisitive, but I do want to
know just how you got on. Did you carry out the methods that I
proposed?”
“I did--at least as far as the silent willing was concerned--though
not very thoroughly. I don’t think I did much in the way of
suggestion.”
“And did you sell your work?”
“Yes, I think I may say I did,” and here I gave her an account of Mr.
Campbell’s two alternative offers.
“You have done admirably, Sibyl,” she said enthusiastically. “Your
first essay has been a perfect success. And now, tell me: are you
convinced?”
As I could not truthfully say that I was, I took refuge in polite
evasion, which, however, Lilith brushed aside with some impatience.
“I can never understand this kind of scepticism,” said she. “You have
the cause and effect before your eyes, but yet you refuse to recognise
the connection. You take your work to this man. Outside the shop you
will that he shall buy it. You go in and he does buy it. What more
could you want?”
“But he might have bought the things if I hadn’t willed, you know.”
“Yes,” she agreed; “he might. But that is not the way we reason about
material things. I strike a match and apply it to a laid fire, and the
fire burns. It might have burned if I had not applied the lighted
match, but no one doubts the connection between the lighted match and
the lighted fire. Physical causes and effects are accepted with
unquestioning faith, but as soon as we come to spiritual or psychical
phenomena, this extraordinary scepticism springs up--this curious
refusal to admit and accept the obvious.”
“I am not asserting that there was no connection between the silent
willing and the purchase of my work,” said I. “All I say is that I
don’t regard the connection as proved. I can’t decide for or against
because there doesn’t seem to be enough evidence either way.”
“Yes; I suppose you are right,” she admitted, reluctantly. “But I
should like to convince you, because I am sure you have very unusual
powers.”
She was silent for a short space, and then, suddenly, she asked:
“Have you ever been to a séance, Sibyl?”
“Never,” I replied.
“Well,” said she, “you ought to go to one--not to any of those silly
public shows conducted by mere mountebanks, but to a private séance,
carried out by really earnest people who are seeking to extend our
knowledge. Would you care to come to one with me?”
“It would be rather interesting,” I replied, without much enthusiasm.
“It would,” said she. “You were speaking of evidence just now. Well,
at a genuine séance you would obtain evidence that I think would
convince you of the reality of psychical phenomena. I have a friend--a
Mr. Quecks--who has given me some most remarkable demonstrations, and
I have no doubt that he would be very pleased for you to accompany me
to one of them.”
“Is Mr. Quecks a medium?” I asked.
“No; I shouldn’t describe him as a medium, though he is very sensitive
and has most extraordinary powers. But he is a profound student of
super-normal phenomena and deeply interested in psychical research.
May I ask him to show you some of his experiments?”
“Thank you, Lilith; and I hope you will find me less disappointing
than you have to-day. I am really quite curious about these things,
although I admit a rather sceptical frame of mind. I was wondering,
before you came up, what you do with that bead on the string.”
“That,” replied Lilith, all agog at the question, “is the _pendule
explorateur_--the magic pendulum. It is an instrument of the kind
known in psychical science as an autoscope--an appliance for, as it
were, bringing the subconscious into view.”
“But how does it work?”
“It works by the influence of the subconscious mind upon the muscles.
Let me show you--but you shall try it yourself because you are an
unbeliever.”
She removed the crystal ball and its cushion from the table, and
taking the bowl of loose letters, turned out its contents and rapidly
arranged the letters in a circle, forming a clock-wise alphabet. Then
she took the pendulum down from its hook.
“Now,” said she, “what you have to do is this: you rest your elbow on
the table to steady your hand, and you hold the string with the thumb
and finger, letting the bead hang just clear of the table in the
centre of the circle; and you must keep your hand perfectly still and
steady.”
“But if I do, the bead will remain still, too.”
“No, it won’t, excepting just at first. Presently it will begin to
swing, apparently of its own accord, but really in accordance with
your mental state. For instance, if you let it hang inside a glass and
you will that it shall strike the hour, it will strike the hour. If
you will--or I hold your other hand and will--that it shall swing
round in a circle to the right or left, it will swing round in the
direction willed. But that is an exercise of the conscious will. In
the experiment that we are making now we tap the subconscious. If
there is any thing or person occupying your subconscious mind, the
pendulum will spell out the name of that thing or person by swinging
towards the letters. Let me put the chair comfortably for you, so that
you can keep quite still.”
As I listened to Lilith’s explanation I began to wish heartily that I
had never embarked on this experiment. Of course, I did not believe
for a moment that this absurd pendulum would develop the occult powers
that Lilith claimed for it; but yet her confidence shook mine. And I
had a very strong feeling that, on this day of all days, I should
prefer to keep my subconscious mind to myself. However, there was no
escape; so I seated myself and proceeded to carry out Lilith’s
directions.
For nearly half a minute the bead hung quite motionless from my steady
hand. Then it began almost imperceptibly to oscillate. My eye had
already taken in the positions of the letters which might be
incriminating, and now I observed with uneasy surprise that the faint
oscillations of the pendulum were taking a direction towards the
letter J. I could detect no movement in my hand, but, nevertheless,
the oscillations grew wider and wider until the bead, as if possessed
by a private demon, swung briskly half-way across the circle.
“That is pretty definite,” said Lilith. “It is swinging towards U--or
is it J? The circle ought to have been bigger, so that the letters
need not have been opposite to one another. But I’ll write down both;
U or J.”
The swing of the pendulum now began to shorten; and then, almost
abruptly, it changed its direction to one at right angles, and I
observed with astonishment that it was pointing direct to A.
“It’s either A or P,” said Lilith. “I’ll put them both down.”
Once again the pendulum changed the direction of its swing, and Lilith
noted down E or S; and so, to my growing consternation, it continued
to take up quite distinct changes of direction until six variations
had occurred, when the pendulum became stationary and then began to
swing round in a circle.
“It has finished,” said Lilith--whereupon I instantly dropped the
pendulum. “It is a word of six letters: U or J, A or P, E or S, A or
P, E or S, F or R. Let us see if we can make out what the word is. It
is a pity the letters were opposite; it muddles it up so. They ought
to be in a half-circle, but then they would be too close. But let us
try a few combinations. U-P-E-A-S-F; it can’t be that. U-P-S-A-S-F; it
can’t be that. We’ll try it with J J-A-E-P-E-F; that isn’t it.
J-A-S-E-S-F; that can’t be the word. Do the letters suggest anything
to you, Sibyl? Is there any name that might be lurking in your
subconscious mind, beginning with U or J? Try to think. What did you
do in town yesterday?”
“Oh, various things. I went to the dealer, of course; and then I went
to a private show of pottery and antiques.”
“Pottery,” mused Lilith, scanning the letters that she had written
down. “Let me see: Upchurch? No, that won’t do.” She looked the
letters through again and then asked eagerly: “There wasn’t any
Wedgwood there I suppose?”
Now it happened that while Mr. Hawkesley was talking to us I had
noticed an old gentleman tenderly placing a very fine green Wedgwood
cup and saucer in the show case. So I could, and did, answer
truthfully.
“Yes, there was; a beautiful green Jasper-ware cup and saucer.”
“There!” Lilith exclaimed triumphantly. “Jasper! That is the word! And
yet I don’t suppose you have given that cup and saucer a thought since
you saw it.”
“I had forgotten its existence until you spoke of Wedgwood.”
“Exactly,” said Lilith. “And that is the mysterious peculiarity of the
subconscious. You see a thing or a person perhaps only for a moment,
and straightway forget it. It seems to be gone for ever. But it is
not. It has sunk into the subconscious, to remain there unnoticed
possibly for years until some chance association, or perhaps a dream,
brings it to the surface. But all the time it has been there. And at
any moment it can be brought into view by the use of some kind of
autoscope such as the pendulum or the crystal.”
“The crystal is an autoscope, too, is it?” I asked.
“Yes; but of quite a different kind. The pendulum acts by the effects
of the subconscious mind upon the muscles; the crystal by the effects
of the subconscious mind on the centres of visual perception.”
“That sounds very learned; but tell me exactly what you do with the
crystal.”
“As to me, personally,” replied Lilith, “I do very little with it.
Crystal vision--or ‘scrying,’ to use the technical term--is a rather
rare faculty. I am a very poor scryer. But in the case of a really
gifted observer, the most astonishing results are obtained. The method
of using the instrument is this: The scryer sits in a restful position