< A Lamasery in New York (continued from page 4-50) >
“Is this coterie of students then a lamasery?” asked the reporter.
“You may term it so,” said the mystic, “though technically it is not exactly that. The students are mastering slowly the knowledge possessed by the lamas, but do not expect to become lamas themselves.”
The Oriental pipe had gone out again. The cuckoo clock sang “one.” The ape grinned in ghastly fashion and (or the reporter fancied it) nodded a derisive “good night.” Buddha’s serenity was now almost slumber, and groping their way slowly back from what seemed dreamland, and yet was indubitably a realty, the party dispersed.
Lamaseries
A lamasery is a place where lamas are kept, and, if Mme. Blavatsky knows what she is talking about, it is the school of strange knowledge. It is the home of the Eastern priesthood and the seminary of all magic arts. There the students learn to speak the mystic language alder than Sanscrit in which the adepts throughout the world converse with each other. There they acquire knowledge until they have nothing more to learn. There they are taught to distinguish between white and black magic. There they analyze the human being into his astral and physical bodies and acquire the art of separating them for indefinite intervals, throwing the subject into a trance like a certain tribe of Western Indians who deposit their pappooses at the bottom of a lake during winter and fish them out again in good condition in the spring. The graduate of the lamasery flits at will from place to place, and communicates with friends across the sea to the sound of sweet music. In fact the lamasery appears to be far in advance of the ordinary American university, and if the professors in those institutions would consent to advertise in our newspapers, there can be no doubt that Harvard, Yale and Columbia would be deserted for the more erudite colleges of the East. Why are not respectable fathers of families furbished with catalogues of the leading lamaseries of the world? It might be well too that as a matter of guarantee some of the prizemen from these institutions should travel through Europe and America, giving exhibitions of their wonderful acquirements. We should like to see an adept seat himself upon a piece of magic carpet and soar away through the clouds, or touch a corpse and recall it to life, or turn a rod into a serpent or build a stately palace by dulcet sounds. It would be pleasant to hear one of those men who have nothing more to learn, deliver a course of lectures at the Cooper Institute. The spiritualists and magicians that have heretofore come among us seem ignorant of everything but the fact that others possess ineffable knowledge, and incapable of performing any feats worthy of the attention of sensible people. They can tilt a table or produce cracked tunes, but that is all. Let us by all means have a genuine Senior Wrangler from a lamasery; a wizard with troops of genii at his command; a man who can bestride a broomstick and outpace an Arabian courser; a necromancer who can smooth the wrinkles from the cheek of age. We want an Owen Glendower sort of personage, at whose nativity.
“The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, |
We are weary of all pale and sickly imitations.
<Untitled> (Missionary Wang Foo Choo has)
—Missionary Wang Foo Choo has for some time been laboring among the people of Minneapolis, with a view to their conversion to Buddhism. Thus far, they don’t convert worth a cent. Wang Foo Choo is not discouraged, however, but labors on with unflinching perseverance. He may yet pick up a convert or two, if he does not first die of old age. The American mind is receptive.
The New York School of Magic
...
We are All Wrong
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<... continues on page 4-52 >
Editor's notes
- ↑ Lamaseries by unknown author, World, The, Monday, March 26, 1877
- ↑ Missionary Wang Foo Choo has by unknown author, World, The, Tuesday, March 27, 1877
- ↑ The New York School of Magic by unknown author, World, The, Tuesday, March 27, 1877
- ↑ We are All Wrong by unknown author, Sun, The, Wednesday, March 28, 1877