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HPB-SB-8-105: Difference between revisions
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{{Style P-Align right|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 whi{{Style S-Lost|sked}} out of the door he said: “You too muchee A na{{Style S-Lost|…}}; me no likee you,” and so we parted company.}} | |||
{{Style P-Signature in capitals|Lizzie R.}} | |||
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... | —Colonel Occult and Mme. Blavatski have gone to Bombay. They will bury Baron Von Palm all along the coast of Hindostan. | ||
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... | 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 {{Style S-Small capitals|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. | |||
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... | <center>'''Her Future to be Spent in Theosophic Devotion, Varied with Tiger Hunting in the Limitless Indian Jungle.'''</center> | ||
“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 {{Style S-Small capitals|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. | |||
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