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Tautriadelta

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Tautriadelta

Post by Karen on Thu 15 Jul 2010 - 0:10

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WONDERFUL TALES OF THE OCCULT = MAGIC BLACK AND WHITE.
Tautriadelta Tells of the Unearthly Marvels He Has Seen in Africa.

A REAL MAGICIAN.
The Extraordinary Feats of Levitation.

How an Aged Rain-maker Passed Through the Solid Walls of the Hut.
A Pupil of the English Novelist Tells Weird Stories of Unseen Powers - Snakes That Come From the Fire.

A real magician, English, well dressed, with close-cropped hair and waxed mustaches, is a curious figure in the world of today. There is one, though, in England whom Mr. Stead, London editor of the Review of Reviews, and one time editor of the Pall Mall Gazette, believes so strongly in that he gives him fifteen pages of his magazine, Borderland, to recount his weird experiences. Mr. Stead says:

The writer of the following extraordinary fragment of autobiography is one of the most remarkable persons I ever met. For more than a year I was under the impression he was the veritable Jack the Ripper - an impression which I believe was shared 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. *** The magician who prefers to be known by his Hermetic name of Tautriadelta, and who objects even to be called a magician, will undoubtedly be regarded by most people as Baron Munchausen redivivus. He has certainly traveled in many lands and seen very strange scenes.

Tautriadelta was a pupil of Lord Lytton, the novelist, says the New York World. He talks of exchanging bodies with his occult friends as the rest of us would talk about borrowing an overcoat. He describes African rainmakers and the marvelous feats of the Obeeyahs as facts.
He says Rider Haggard's "She" is well within the truth, and tells of exhibitions of magic beside which the basket and mango tricks of India are tame.
It is childish to suppose that we have learned the half of what it is possible to know about the laws of nature and human life. A century ago the clearest-headed people would have laughed at the idea of electricity running tram cars.
Two rainmakers in the village of an African king in what is now German territory, the Hinterland of the Cameroons, Tautriadelta describes at length. This was thirty years ago. There was a great drought and all living things were dying for rain.
Out of a sky of brass these two men - "one an old man, a stunted but sturdy fellow, with bow legs, the other, about 30, a magnificent specimen of humanity, six feet in height, straight as a dart and with the torso of a Greek wrestler, but a most villainous face," at blazing noonday drew torrents of rain.
Three thousand warriors surrounded them, and failure meant death. Two minutes after they finished their incantations, while the old man was still writhing in an epileptic fit on the ground, the clouds suddenly gathered and the thunderstorm broke.
"After it was over," says the writer, "I visited the rainmakers, who were fortunately alloted 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-dealers of 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 was a fire on the ground in the center of the hut, and we seated ourselves around it at the three angles of an imaginary triangle.
"Throwing some dried herbs and mineral powders (all of which I carefully examined and identified) into the fire, they commenced singing and rocking themselves backward and forward.
"This continued for a few minutes, when, all rising to our feet, but keeping the same relative positions, the old man began making a series of motions, like mesmeric passes, over the fire. Almost instantly the fire seemed alive with snakes, which crawled out of the fire in scores, and in which I recognized the most deadly serpent on the face of the earth - the African tic-polonga. These brutes raced madly round and round the fire, some endeavoring 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, then opened his mouth wide and a snake's head popped out. He seized hold of it by the neck and pulled out of his throat a tic-polonga between two and 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 the time, excepting for their feather head-dresses, so no clever jugglery or sleight of hand was possible.
"The next thing was that the old man lay down on the floor and told us to take him by the head and the heels and raise him up. This we did to 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 around the hut, I following him closely. He then approached the wall, feet first, and fairly floated through it into the outside darkness. I immediately felt of the spot where he had gone through, expecting to find a hole; but no, all was as solid as stout beams of timber and a foot of sun-baked clay could make it. I rushed outside to look for him, and even ran around the hut, but, with the dark night and 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-dress were dripping wet and that his black skin fairly glistened with rain."
Speaking of "She" Tautriadelta says:
"It strikes me as being not so much the creation of a vivid imagination as the simple recital, or, perhaps, one should say, the skillful adaptation of facts well known to those who penetrated the recesses of the west coast of Africa a generation ago."

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Marvels Of Necromancy by Bhagats of India.

Having thus given some account of the deona, we now come to the bhagat, called by the Hindus sokha and sivnath. This is the highest grade of all, and, as I ought to have mentioned before, the 'ilm (knowlege) of both the deona and bhagat grades is only to be learned by becoming a regular chela of a practitioner; but I am given to understand that the final initiation is much hastened by a seasonable liberality on the part of the chela. During the initiation of the sokha certain ceremonies are performed at night by aid of a human corpse. This is one of the things which has led me to think that this part at least of these practices is connected with lantric black magic, says a writer in a London magazine.
The bhagat performs two distinct functions - (first) a kind of divination called bhao (the same in Hindi), and (second) a kind of Shamanism called darasta in Hindi and bharotan in Horokaji, which, however, is resorted to only on very grave occasions - as, for instance, when several families think they are bewitched at one time and by the same najo.
The bhao is performed as follows: The person having some query to propound makes a small dish out of a sal leaf and puts in it a little uncooked rice and a few pice; he then proceeds to the bhagat and lays before him the leaf and its contents, propounding at the same time his query. The bhagat then directs him to go out and gather two golaichi (varieties of Posinia) flowers (such practitioners usually having a golaichi tree close to their abode); after the flowers are brought the bhagat seats himself with the rice close to the inquirer, and after some consideration selects one of the flowers and, holding it by the stalk at almost a foot from his eyes in his left hand, twirls it between his thumb and fingers, occasionally with his right hand dropping on it a grain or two or rice. In a few minutes his eyes close and he begins a talk - usually about things having nothing to do with the question in hand, but after a few minutes of this he suddenly throws out an answer to the question, and without another word retires. The inquirer takes his meaning as he can from the answer, which, I believe, is always ambiguous.
The bharotan, as I have above remarked, is only resorted to when a matter of grave import has to be inquired into. The bhagat makes a high charge for a seance of this description. We will fancy that three or four families in a village consider themselves bewitched by a najo, and they resolve to have recourse to a bhagat to find out who the witch is. With this view a day is fixed on, and two delegates are procured from each of five neighboring villages, who accompany the afflicted people to the house of the bhagat, taking with them a dali, or offering, consisting of vegetables, which, on arrival, is formally presented to him. The delegates are posted at each of the four points of the compass and the other two seat themselves with the two afflicted parties to the right of the bhagat, who occupies the center of the apartment with four or five chelas, a clear space being reserved on the left. One chela then brings a small earthenware pot full of lighted charcoal, which is set before the bhagat with a pile of mango wood chips and a ball composed of dhunia, gur (treacle), and ghee (clarified butter), and possibly other ingredients.
The bhagat's sole attire consists of a scanty lenguti (waistcloth), a necklace of the large wooden beads such as are usually worn by fakirs, and several garlands of golaichi flowers round his neck, his hair being unusually long and matted. Beside him, stuck in the ground, is his staff. One chela stands over the firepot with a bamboo-mat fan in his hand, another takes charge of the pile of chips and a third of the bail of composition, and one or two others seat themselves behing the bhagat, with drums and other musical instruments in their hands. All being in readiness the afflicted ones are requested to state their greivance. This they do and pray the bhagat to call before him the najo who has stirred up the spirits to afflict them, in order that he may be punished. The bhagat then gives a sign to his chelas, those behind him raise a furious din with their instruments, the fire is fed with chips and a bit of the composition is put on it from time to time, producing a volume of thick, grayish-blue smoke. This is carefully fanned over and toward the bhagat, who, when well wrapped in smoke, closes his eyes and quietly swaying his body begins a low chant. The chant gradually becomes louder, the sway of his body more pronounced, until he works himself into a state of complete frenzy. Then with his body actually quivering and his head rapidly working about from side to side he sings in a loud voice how a certain najo (whom he names) had asked money of those people and was refused, and how he stirred up certain spirits (whom he also names) to hunt them, how they killed so and so's bullocks, some one else's sheep and caused another's child to fall ill. Then he begins to call on the najo to come and answer for his doings, and in doing so rises to his feet - still commanding the najo to appear; meanwhile he reels about, then falls on the ground and is quite still except for an occasional wince and a muttered, "I see him; he is coming!" This state may last for an hour or more till at last the bhagat sits up and announces that the najo has come. As he says so a man apparently mad with drink rushes in and falls with his head toward the bhagat, moaning and making a sort of snorting as if half stifled. In this person the bewitched parties recognize a neighbor, and sometimes a relation; but whoever he may be they have bound themselves to punish him. The bhagat then speaks to him and tells him to confess, at the same time threatening him, in case of refusal, with his staff. He then confesses in a half-stupefied manner, and his confession tallies with what the bhagat has told in his frenzy. The najo is then dismissed, and runs out of the house in the same hurry as he came in.

To be continued...............

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Tautriadelta Part 2

Post by Karen on Fri 16 Jul 2010 - 1:53

To Learn the Arts of Antiquity.

The announcement that the Theosophical Society of America will soon lay the cornerstone of a college wherein the mystical arts and sciences will be taught is one of the biggest pieces of news that has been flashed across the wire from New York recently, and has awakened a great deal of interest and curiosity from all quarters.
The information in the press dispatches was meager enough, and may well be supplemented by the following data contained in a private letter to a member of the society in this city.
In regard to the school of occultism, says the writer, the following official announcement was made by C.F. Wright:

The real founders of the Theosophical Society are preparing to found a school for the revival of the lost mysteries of antiquity in which those who have served their time in the lesser mysteries or the preceding degree - namely, in the discipline of the soul and the service of humanity - may enter the greater mysteries and become masters indeed by evolving to higher planes of knowledge and power, on the one condition that such power and knowledge shall be devoted unreservedly and forever to the service of humanity. To carry out this purpose funds will be solicited, a suitable site procured and buildings erected, when the aim and possibilities of such an undertaking shall have become apparent to those who have the power and the disposition to carry it into effect. This grand object will be achieved with certainty through the diffusion of real knowledge regarding the origin, nature and destiny of man by the Theosophical Society.

The Child Wonder of a Strange Land.
An Audience With the Dalai Lama in the Heart of Tibet.

HE KNOWS EVERYTHING.
A Boy of Eight Years, With the Wisdom of Sages, Who Says the Science of Numbers Is An Illusion.

Christian countries such as this have so vague an idea of Thibetan culture and particularly of occult science in Thibet that the account which the German scholar, Professor Heinrich Hensoldt, gives of his experiences in the land of Buddha will be regarded by the many as mere fiction. He visited the city of Lhass, and there, after much patient waiting, and aided by strong Buddhistic influences, he was granted an audience with the Dalai Lama, the chief of the Buddhist hierarchy. The Dalai is always a child of very tender age, seldom over 12 years. A new Dalai is usually a child of 5 or 6 years of age, which, being chosen from among the people, is solemnly installed and proclaimed the most holy incarnation of Buddha, and "from that moment seems to partake of the knowledge and power of the great teacher of transcendental wisdom." Professor Hensoldt had been informed that the Dalai was a feeble-minded puppet in the hands of a crafty clique. He says he found him a boy of 8 years old, with eyes that sent astonishment and awe through the beholder. The Dalai addressed Hensoldt in the latter's own native German dialect, which he could not have acquired by any process known to ordinary mortals. Furthermore, the professor had taken special precautions to conceal his nationality. The Dalai fathomed his visitor's inmost thoughts. His knowledge of science was profound. In speaking of time, the Dalai said it was a "mere illusion," and he sought to show that mathematics, the most stable of sciences, was based on the "airy fabric of a vision."
"There is no such thing as time," he said. "It is an illusion, like the conception of space. You say that time is a succession of events. How, if it can be shown that there are no events and that everything is illusion? What is a century, what is a year, what is a day? You say that a day is the time this planet requires for rotating once around its axis. Take the equator of the earth, divide it into twenty-four equal parts, build a house at each of these points; what would be the result? Why, according to your logic, you would have an hour's difference in time in each of these twenty-four houses. Now, imagine these houses ten degrees farther north; you would then have them much closer together, yet there still would be an hour's difference in each; and, finally imagine these houses so close around the north pole that they form a complete circle and are in actual contact - still there would be an hour's difference of time in each. If it is 12 o'clock in one house, it is 1 o'clock in the house to the right and 11 o'clock in that to the left. If the houses were all connected by doors you could run in five minutes through a hundred years of time. In fact, you could recall the past and step into the vanished centuries by merely running in the opposite direction. On the other hand, you could banish time completely and enforce an everlasting present by stepping into the next house the moment the hour was on the point of expiring; thus you could always have it at 12 o'clock. Indeed, by stepping to the pole itself, even this small exertion becomes superfluous, because there is absolutely no time there."
In regard to the science of mathematics the Dalai described it as another illusion, proceeding thus:

"What is mathematics based upon? On a hypothetical assumption, viz., the number one, which has no existence. This may seem a new truth to you, but it is as old as the eternal stars. What is your number one? It must relate to some existing object, for all abstract conceptions are ideal and therefore unreal. What, then, is one? Is it a stone, a tree, an animal? That stone, tree or animal will not be the same to any two persons on this planet, because no two minds are alike; besides, the stone which you see today is not the stone which you beheld yesterday, for ever since yesterday your mind has undergone changes, however slight, and your world is no longer the same. Mathematics, then, is based on something which has no tangible or even definable existence, and when you come to consider it a little more closely you will find it full of contradictions, incongruities and absurdities.
"For instance, can you imagine the possibility of approaching an object for ever and ever without the remotest chance of reaching it? Yet this is what your infallible science of mathematics teaches you. Let us suppose that you owe even a single rupee tomorrow, one-fourth the day after, one-eighth the next day, etc., always paying half of what you disbursed on the day previous. You might go on paying day after day for millions of years and you would never pay off that rupee. Of course this is a truth which some of your mathematical prodigies will pronounce self-evident, yet it involves a profound mystery, and it illustrates the fallacy of your science of numbers. Here you are everlastingly adding fraction to fraction and piling up particles of silver to all eternity without the remotest possibility of its ever reaching the amount of one rupee. Imagine it if you can. Each payment brings you a little nearer the goal, but you never reach it. Does this not prove that your wonderfully exact science is an illusion?"

The Dalai Lama finally declared, "We do not "reason out" things, but "see" them, and there is no such thing as doubt or uncertainty in the "world behind the curtain."

A College for the Study of Occultism.

Ernest T. Hargrave, president of the Theosophical Society in America, has also spoken on the subject of the proposed college for the revival of the lost occult arts of antiquity, and in an interview the other day declared his intention of visiting the site of the proposed institution upon his return from a tour around the world. About the college in particular, Mr. Hargrave said:

The statement made by Mr. Wright, pointing to the opening of a school for the revival of the old mysteries I know to be true, and it only needs time to bring it to a fruition. The time has come and nothing in nature can prevent its accomplishment, and now that the old souls are coming back it is absolutely necessary to have this school.
Look at the past and see Egypt, its rise and fall; the decay of other empires; see some of the European countries on the verge of crumbling, and then turn to America in the heyday of its youth. It has not yet reached its turning point, but in the next few years we may expect a big development. The future of this country is a great one, and I look to this country as the nucleus of a race which is to follow the present race, when man will have realized the universal brotherhood.

It was announced that no money would be taken in exchange for teaching in the school, the tuition in which would be absolutely free and for those only who were "duly and truly prepared." About $35,000 in cash has been contributed already.

Tales of Savages Who Kill by Black Magic.

Having lived thirty years on the Nilgiris, employing the various tribes of the hills on my estates, and speaking their languages, I have had many opportunities of observing their manners and customs, writes Mrs. E.H. Morgan in the London Theosophist, and of witnessing the frequent practice of demonology and witchcraft among them.
On the slopes of the Nilgiris live several semi-wild people - the Curumbers, who frequently hire out to neighboring estates and are first-rate fellers of forest; the Toim, or Honey Curumbers, who live largely on honey and roots and who do not come into civilized parts, and the Mulu Curumbers, who are rare on the slopes of the hills, but common in Wynaad, lower down the plateau. These Mulu Curumbers are credited with controlling power over all wild animals.
I had on my estates, near Ootacamund, thirty young Badagas whom I had in my service since they were children. From week to week I missed one or another of them and on inquiry was told they had sickened and died. One market day I met the Moneghar of the village to which these young men belonged. The moment he saw me he stopped me and said, "Mother, I am in great sorrow and trouble, tell me what I can do?"
"Why, what is wrong?" I asked.
"All my young men are dying, and I cannot help them nor prevent it. They are under the spell of the wicked Curumbers, who are killing them."
"Pray explain," I said.
"Oh, madam, they are vile extortioners, always asking for money. We have given and given till we have no more to give. I told them we had no more money, and they said, "All right - we shall see!" Surely as they say this we know what will follow. At night when we are all asleep we wake up suddenly and see a Curumber standing in our midst - in the middle of the room occupied by the young men."
"Why do you not close and bolt your doors?" I asked.
"What is the use of bolts and bars to them? They come through stone walls. Our doors are secure, but nothing can keep out a Curumber. He points his finger at Madu, at Kurira, at Jogie; he utters no word, and as we look at him he vanishes! In a few days these three young men sicken, a low fever consumes them, their stomachs swell; they die. Eighteen young men, the flower of my village, have died thus this year. These effects always follow the visit of a Curumber at night."
"Why not complain to the Government?" I said.
"Ah, no use; who will catch them? We must find the money somehow, I suppose," and he turned sorrowfully away.
A Mr. K________ is the owner of a coffee plantation, and employs burghers. On one occasion he took seven or eight burghers along with him on a hunting expedition for big game. He severely wounded a fine elephant with tusks. Wishing to secure the ivory, he followed up his quarry, but could not induce his burghers to go deeper into the forests, for they feared to meet the Mulu Curumbers who lived there. By dint of threats and bribes he finally induced them to proceed cautiously, and as they met no one their fears were allayed and they grew bolder, when, suddenly coming upon the elephant lying dead - oh, horror to them! - the beast was surrounded by a party of Mulu Curumbers, busily engaged in cutting out the tusks, one of which they had already disengaged. The frightened burghers fell back, and nothing would induce them to approach the elephant, which the Curumbers declared was theirs. They had killed it, they said.
But Mr. K_________ was not to give up the game in this fashion. He approached the Curumbers threateningly with his gun and compelled them to retire, and called to his burghers at the same time. The Curumbers only said, "Just you dare to touch that elephant," and retired.
Mr. K_______ thereupon cut out the remaining tusk himself, and slinging both on a pole with no little trouble, made his men carry them. He took all the blame on himself, showed them they did not touch the tusks, and finally declared he would stay there all night rather than lose them. The idea of a night near the Mulu Curumbers was too much for the burghers, and they finally took up the poles and tusks and walked home.
From that day those men, all but one, who probably carried the gun, sickened, walked about like specters, doomed, pale and ghastly, and before the month was out all were dead, with the one exception.

How Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton Appeared in the Astral Light at Paris.

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MYSTIC NEOPHYTE.
An Empty Armchair Is Filled by a Shadow.

The English Magician Tells of His Initiation Into the Secret Arts.
What Was Seen in an Egg-Shaped Crystal - The Master Stood in the Sacred Pentagon of Red Chalk.

Tautriadelta writes a description of his first interview with Lord Bulwer Lytton for Mr. Stead's "Borderland." I was always, as a boy, fond of everything pertaining to mysticism, astrology, witchcraft and what is commonly known as the occult sciences," he says. "I read "Zanoni" with great zest, but I am afraid with very little understanding, and longed excessively to know its author, little dreaming that I should one day be the pupil of this great magist, Bulwer Lytton - the one man of modern times for whom all the systems of ancient and modern magism and magic, white and black, held back no secrets.
"It was in the winter after the publication of the weird, strange story, in which the master attempted to teach the world many new and important truths under the veil of fiction, that I made the acquaintance at Paris of young Lytton, the son of the then Sir Edward. He was at that time, I suppose, about ten years my senior, and though passionately attached to his father, who was both father and mother to him, did not share my intense admiration and enthusiasm for his mystic studies and his profound lore.
"Anyhow, in the spring following, he presented me to his father as an earnest student of occultism. I was then about 22 years of age, and I suppose Sir Edward was attracted to me partly by my irrepressible hero-worship, of which he was the object, and partly because he saw that I possessed a cool, logical brain, had iron nerve, and above all, was genuinely, terribly in earnest.
"I remember that the first time he condescended to teach me anything, he seated me before an egg-shaped crystal and asked me what I saw therein. For the first ten minutes I saw nothing, and was somewhat 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 came into view, and the events that were transpiring; when, to my intense satisfaction - and I am afraid self-glorification - he said, "Why, you are a splendid fellow! You are just what I want."
"He then asked me if I would really like to seriously study magism under his guidance. His words on this point are as fresh on my memory as ever. He said:
"Remember, my boy, it will be very hard work, fatiguing to 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 achieve a complete victory over Self - in fact, become nothing more nor less than an incarnate intellect. Whatever knowledge you may gain, whatever powers you may acquire, can never be used for your advancement in the world, or for your personal advantage in any way. Even if you obtain the power of a king and the knowledge of a prophet, you may have to pass your life in poverty and obscurity. They will avail you nothing. Weigh well my words. Three nights from this I will call you!"
"On the third evening I never left my rooms after dinner, but lit my pipe and remained anxiously awaiting Sir Edward's arrival. Hour after hour passed, but no visitor. I determined to sit up all night, if need be, feeling that he would come.
"And he did, but not in the way I expected. I happened to look up from the book which I was vainly attempting to read and my glance fell upon the empty armchair at the other side of the fireplace. Was I dreaming or did I actually see a filmy form, scarcely more than a shadow, apparently seated there? I awaited developments and watched. Second by second the film grew more dense, until it became something like Sir Edward. I knew than it was all right and sat still while the form grew more and more distinct, until at last it was apparently the master himself sitting opposite to me - alive and in propria persona. I instantly arose to shake hands with him, but as I got within touching distance he vanished instantly. I knew then that it was only some variety of the Scin-Laeca that I had seen. It was my first experience of this and I stood there in doubt what to do.
"Just then his voice whispered close to my ear, so close that I even felt his warm breath, "Come!" I turned sharply round, but, of course, no one was there.
"I instantly put on my hat and great-coat to go to his hotel, but when I got to the corner of the first street, down which I should turn to get there, his voice said, "Straight on." Of course I obeyed implicitly. In a few minutes more, "Cross over"; and, so guided, I came where he was. Where matters not; but it was certainly one of the last places in which I should have expected to find him.
"I entered. He was standing in the middle of the sacred pentagon, which he had drawn on the floor with red chalk, and holding in his extended right arm the baguette, which was pointed toward me. Standing thus he asked me if I had duly considered the matter and had decided to enter upon the course. I replied that my mind was made up. He then and there administered to me the oaths of a neophyte of the Hermetic Lodge of Alexandria - the oaths of obedience and secrecy.

Source: The San Francisco Call, Sunday June 7, 1896, Page 18

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Author of: "Jack the Ripper: The Satanic Team"
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Re: Tautriadelta

Post by Karen on Thu 17 Jul 2014 - 14:49

REAL MAGICIANS.
A MARVELLOUS STORY.

A real magician, English, well dressed, with close-cropped hair and waxed moustaches, is a curious figure in the world of today. There is one, though, in England whom Mr. Stead, editor of the "Review of Reviews," and one time editor of the "Pall Mall Gazette," believes so strongly in that he gives him 15 pages of his magazine, "Borderland," to recount his weird experiences.
Mr. Stead says: - "The writer of the following extraordinary fragment of autobiography is one of the most remarkable persons I ever met. For more than a year I was under the impression he was the veritable Jack the Ripper; an impression which I believe was shared 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.
.....The magician, who prefers to be known by his Hermetic name of Tautriadelta, and who objects to be called a magician, will undoubtedly be regarded by most people as Baron Munchausen "redivivus." He has certainly travelled in many lands and seen very strange scenes."
Tautriadelta was a pupil of Lord Lytton, the novelist. He talks of exchanging bodies with his occult friends as the rest of us would talk about borrowing an overcoat. He describes African rainmakers and the marvelous feats of the Obeeyahs as facts.
Two rainmakers in the village of an African king in what is now German territory, the Hinterland of the Cameroons, Tautriadelta describes at length. This was 30 years ago. There was a great drought and all living things were dying for rain.
Out of the sky of brass these two men - "one an old man, a stunted but sturdy fellow, with bow legs; the other, about 30, a magnificent specimen of humanity, six feet in height, straight as a dart, and with the torso of a Greek wrestler, but a most villainous face, at blazing noonday drew torrents of rain.
Three thousand warriors surrounded them and failure meant death. Two minutes after they finished their incantations, while the old man was still writhing in an epileptic fit on the ground, the clouds suddenly gathered and the thunderstorm broke.
"After it was over," says the writer, "I visited the rainmakers, who were fortunately allotted 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-dealers of 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 was a tire on the ground in the centre of the hut, and we seated ourselves around it, at the three angles of an imaginary triangle.
"Throwing some dried herbs and mineral powders (all of which I carefully 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 but keeping the same relative positions, the old man began a series of motions like mesmeric passes, over the fire. Almost instantly the fire seemed alive with snakes, which crawled out of the fire in scores, and in which I recognised the most deadly serpent on the face of the earth - the African 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 mono-syllabic word the polongas hurled themselves into the fire and disappeared.
"The younger man, who had hitherto taken no active part, then opened his mouth wide, and a snake's head popped out. He seized hold of it by the neck and pulled out of his throat a tic-polonga, between two and 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 this time, excepting for their feather head-dresses, so no clever jugglery or sleight-of-hand was possible.

Levitation Extraordinary.

"The next thing was that the old man lay down on the floor and told us to take him by the head and the heels and raise him up. This we did to 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 around the hut, I following him closely. He then approached the wall, feet first, and fairly floated through it into the outside darkness. I immediately felt of the spot where he had gone through, expecting to find a hole; but no, all was as solid as stout beams of lumber and a foot of sun-baked clay could make. I rushed outside to look for him, and even ran around the hut, but, what with the dark 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 minutes 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-dress were 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 and odoriferous gums being thrown into the fire, we stood in solemn silence, although I could see by the continuous rapid movements of the old man's lips that he was silently repeating the necessary formula. After a long time, that seemed an hour, the figure of a venerable old man slowly arose in the centre of the fire, "in puribus naturalibus." He was evidently an Englishman (having, I noticed, a long purple cicatrix on his back), but I could 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 he managed to mumble out the two words necessary to dismiss him, and as I looked he was gone.
"Neither of the rain-makers seemed to know who he was, and kept up such a rapid gabble to each other for a long time after he had gone that I could not properly follow them; but a few words gathered here and there showed me that they were thoroughly terrified. The Englishman was not at 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 visited them the next evening, just after sunset, they were quite willing to resume the sceance. 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 the old man gradually growing taller and taller until he was level with the 6-foot Soosoo. Then they both began to slowly shoot upward till their heads touched the roof of the hut, about nine feet, and 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 very repulsive and horribly grotesque. Then they gradually resumed their natural height, and, for the first and last time of my acquaintance with them, they both burst out into a genuine hearty, unsophisticated peal of laughter.

Bloody Knife Dance.

"But this was only for a moment; for the next was to be a more serious performance - a reproduction of one of the far-famed mysteries of Baal, when his priests danced before his altar and gashed themselves with knives.
"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 as the space would permit; and every now and then revolving, singing a dirge-like chant. Presently they quickened the time, both of their singing and movement - discontinuing the walking together, and progressing round the circle slowly by spinning like tops - the two men going in opposite directions. Round and round they went, fiercely gyrating and shouting their song louder and louder until it ended in a series of ear-splitting shrieks. Then suddenly in each man's hand appeared a glittering knife with which, every time they passed each other - twice in each circle - they gashed their naked flesh in the breast, arms, face, and sides.
"The scene now became one of sickening horror - the whirling black figures, streaming with blood; the ear-splitting yells in that confined space; the glaring eyeballs and demoniac expression of their faces; and above all, the horrible smell of the flowing negro blood, seemed like a terrific nightmare 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 man suddenly stopped his gyrations and calmly sat down by the side of the hut, as this evidently foretold a speedy close to the horrible scene."

The Wounds Healed.

Tautriadelta then tells how the old man anointed one of the knives with some ointment and passed it over the gaping wounds of his companion. The edges immediately closed, and the blood was stanched. The young man then went through the same operation on the elder, with the result that when they presented themselves for examination neither had a scar or a scratch.
"I had seen enough for the time being," he says, "and was glad to get out into the pure air, with the promise to visit them again the next day. I went the next evening, but the hut was empty; they had gone away at daybreak - no man knew whither. When I asked the King where they had gone, for all answer he pointed to the setting sun. It was dangerous to persevere, and I said no more. I never saw them again."

Source: The Lake Wakatip Mail, Friday February 3, 1899

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Karen Trenouth
Author of: "Epiphany of the Whitechapel Murders"
Author of: "Jack the Ripper: The Satanic Team"
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