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vol. title: Vol Four of The Theosophical Society of The Arya Samaj of Arya-wart vol. period: Sept 1878 – Sept 1879 pages in vol.: 350 |
< Chinese Servants (continued from page 8-104) >
...
looking on, he deliberately walked into the next room, sat down to the piano, and putting himself into regular young lady attitude began strumming and singing “Shoo Fly, Don't Boddy My,” then looking at me would say, “I too solly for you, Shoo Fly, Don't Boddy My.” Just then my husband came in and taking in the situation at a glance, made a personal and somewhat forcible remonstrance. As Johnnie whisked out of the door he said: “You too muchee A na…; me no likee you,” and so we parted company.
<Untitled> (Mme. H. P. Blavatsky, Colonel...)
Mme. H. P. Blavatsky, Colonel H. S. Olcott and one other member of the Theosophical Society sailed yesterday on the steamship Canada for Liverpool, en route for Bombay. Herald Dec 19. -78
<Untitled> (Silence in the Lamasery)
Eager to See her Dear Heathen Again, and to Have a Little Tiger Shooting—Greetings by Phonograph—The Theosophical Cat.
On last Sunday night a farewell reception was given to the friends and the members of the Theosophical Society, by the famous heathen of Eighth avenue, Madame H. P. Blavatsky, who, together with Col. H. S. Olcott and another Theosophist, sailed yesterday for Liverpool, en route for Bombay. The spacious rooms of the Lamasery were denuded of furniture, even the carpets having been torn up and sold, and the guests sat on two or three chairs hardly worth selling, and upon boxes and trunks corded and marked for transportation. The usual refreshments were provided in the usual plenty. Tea was served in rotation, only three teacups being left from the sale, but every guest had either a pipe or a cigarette. The long series of “Sunday nights at home” was ending, and there was an unusual number of unusually subdued Theosophists present.
There was much talk of the probable future of the Theosophical Society, which, now that it is in coalition with the Arya Samaj of Aryawart, is expected to become a powerful factor in the development of the mental and religious freedom of the world. But, as was natural, there was far more talk of personal memories and anticipations. Madame Blavatsky carried fully her share of the conversation. Her memories of the years she has passed in America were far from cheerful. “I hate the civilization you boast of,” she said, emphatically. But her anticipations were rose colored. “I shall go to Bombay, and be with my dear heathen,” she said, “who are free from the vices of Christianity at least. I shall only stop for a day or two in England to visit our branch society, and then on to India. When I get there, the first thing I shall do will be to go tiger shooting. I shall go into the jungles with one friend, and with no guides, and we will not come back till we get each of us a tiger skin.”
“But it is not for that I go to India,” she continued. “It is to work for the Arya Samaj. I promise you you will hear of it before long.”
Presently a man came in with a phonograph which had been procured for the purpose of carrying greetings to India, without the possibility of any mistake in their delivery. A tall sculptor was dislodged from a barrel on which he sat, and the phonograph was put in position, after which the greetings were shouted into the paper funnel, and a song in pigeon Hindustanee was sung into it by a jolly English artist. Charles, a huge theosophical cat, was then induced to purr at the machine, and the various records were carefully put away.
Long after midnight the talk was kept up, and from the writings of the Church in the second century to the latest English attack on the Arya Samaj, religious themes were discussed. On Monday and Tuesday the packing was finished, and on Tuesday night the little party gathered in the Canada’s saloon. Charles, in the mean time, had been sent to a good Theosophist’s house, but had disappeared from the basket in transitu, and has not been seen since. “I don’t know where he is,” said the Hierophant, “but I presume we will find him in Bombay when we get there.”
Yesterday morning a few of the most intimate friends of the travellers went to the steamer to bid them farewell. The Hierophant wrote dozens of last despatches on the cabin table, sending messenger after messenger away on various errands, and giving all sorts of instructions as to the future management of the society to the newly chosen officers. Madame Blavatsky held high court in her stateroom, when the inevitable cigarettes were consumed in great numbers, and when a few of her most faithful disciples were telling her of their grief at her departure.
“I am glad to go, but I am sorry to leave the few good friends I have found here,” she said, “and one by one they bade her what was probably their last farewell on earth.
<Untitled> (Colonel Occult and Mme. Blavatski...)
—Colonel Occult and Mme. Blavatski have gone to Bombay. They will bury Baron Von Palm all along the coast of Hindostan.
A Hegira of Theosophists
A lugubrious group of native theosophists, a huge pile of luggage and two or three reporters were gathered on the deck of the steamer Canada yesterday, the occasion being the departure from America of Mme. Blavatsky, Colonel Olcott and an active but unobtrusive Theosophist in whose name passage for the party had been engaged. The three are bound for Bombay, where the Arya Samaj, it is expected, will absorb them.
“I go to my beloved heathen,” said Mme. Blavatsky, enthusiastically. “I am tired of what you call civilization. And yet,” she continued, a little sadly, “at the very last I find myself sorry to leave some of the friends I have found here. I feel that I have done some good, however, in America. I have converted a few persons at least from the terrible bondage of Christianity, and I have helped to found a society which will, I believe, maintain the warfare.”
“Take care of that phonograph,” shouted the Hierophant just at this moment to a sailor who seemed about to drop a heavy box.
“Have you a phonograph among you?” asked The World reporter.
“We have indeed,” said Colonel Olcott, “and we are taking over the voices of our members. They all talked into the machine the other night, and we have the record, and will grind out their greetings to the Arya Samaj when we get there. Now the Americans have laughed at the accounts they have had of Eastern magic, and I suppose the Hindoos will at first laugh at the explanation we will give them that they are actually listening to the voices of their American brothers.”
“Do you think they are fools?” asked Mme. Blavatsky.
“By no means,” said the Colonel, suavely. “But I mean those who are not scholars. It will be on the same principle that the Americans don’t believe in magic.’ They don’t understand the laws.”
The time was too short for the dissertation that the learned Hierophant had ready, and the attention of the party was turned to leave-taking.
“I do not think I shall ever come back,” said Mme. Blavatsky, “but I hope to see many of you in India, my friends.”
Colonel Olcott did not commit himself to not coming back. “Anything is possible,” he said, and the theosophists were partially comforted. “At any rate,” he continued, “we will be likely to come over occasionally in our astral bodies.”
The general impression in secular circles was that the Theosophistical Society had dishonorably failed to provide any more corpses for the Hierophant and the priestess and that they are seeking a land where life is reasonably cheap and a funeral once a week—or perhaps twice a week, counting second-hand ones—can be contracted for.
Blavatsky Bids Farewell
“Ho! for the heathen lands,” said Mme. Blavatsky to her companion yesterday as she stood on the deck of the steamer Canada outward bound. She looked glad as she spoke, and she seemed to see far out beyond the somewhat unpleasant surrounding of luggage, machinery and busy sailors, into the limitless jungles of India. Yet a sadder look came into her eyes as she said: “I am glad to go, and yet I have friends here whom I am sorry to leave. I do not like your America with its churches and its vices, but I have found a few good friends here.”
On Sunday night the last meeting of the Theosophical Society had been held at the Lamasery, and while theology and tea afforded the usual evening entertainment, yet there were mournful faces among the devoted Theosophists there. The society continues its existence, but its headquarters are to' be changed. A barrel stood in the middle of the almost empty parlor, which formerly had been full of elegant furniture, and on the barrel stood a phonograph. Into the tunnel of the machine the Theosophists, one after one, shouted greetings to their brethren of the Arya Samaj, and the tin-foil on which their speeches were recorded was carefully packed away. After all had been put on record, conversation grew lively. In one room Col. Olcott was converting the phonograph operator to theosophy. In another a group was drinking tea. In still another, Mme. Blavatsky, Dr. John A. Weiss, and Prof. Alexander Wilder were discussing the Gnostics and the Neo-Platonists in the Second century. In a fourth room some of the newly chosen officers were arranging their work to be done after the Hierophant and Mme. Blavatsky had sailed for Bombay. In every room were clouds of fragrant tobacco smoke.
“I shall be far happier in India,” said the hostess, again reverting to her departure, “than I can be in your America. The first thing I shall do when I get to Bombay will be to go tiger-hunting with my friend ✗ here,” pointing to a modest Theosophist. “I know how to hunt them, and we will go out alone without guides. There is danger, of course, but it is glorious sport. Oh, I do love to shoot them! You wait until they are just springing upon you, and as they rise the vulnerable spot is exposed. You shoot, and Mr. Tiger is dead. If you miss, of course it is bad, but you must not miss.”
“We are going to stop for a day or two, only, in London,” said she, when the conversation had turned on another topic, “just to exchange greetings with the Theosophical Society there, but we shall lose no more time than is unavoidable on the way, for we have word that our presence is necessary in India.”
The party broke up at a late hour, but it was not announced on what day the distinguished pilgrims would leave the country. It was desired that the departure should be as private as possible. So it happened that comparatively few persons, besides the ubiquitous Star reporter, were present to receive their last farewell. The few, however, were near and dear friends, and the usual good spirits of the dauntless Theosophists were overclouded. At last the last words were said, the friends came ashore and thronged to the end of the pier to catch the last farewell wave of the handkerchiefs of the pilgrims. These soon became invisible, and Mme. Blavatsky was gone from America, probably forever.
Editor's notes
- ↑ Mme. H. P. Blavatsky, Colonel... by unknown author
- ↑ Silence in the Lamasery by unknown author, Sun, The, Thursday, December 19, 1878
- ↑ image by unknown author
- ↑ Colonel Occult and Mme. Blavatski... by unknown author
- ↑ A Hegira of Theosophists by unknown author, Sun, The, 19 Dec., 1878
- ↑ Blavatsky Bids Farewell by unknown author, New York Star, Thursday 19 Dec., 1878