H. P. B.

to     A. P. SINNETT





First published in 1925


 —•— v —•—


The letters here presented to the reader, written by the Founder of the Theosophical Society between the years 1880-1888, are intended to form a companion volume to the recently published Mahatma Letters, and should be read in conjunction with that work. They have been transcribed direct from the originals and without omission except for the occasional deletion of a name where-ever for obvious reasons it was absolutely
necessary to do so. Contrary to the method employed in The Mahatma Letters, the compiler has permitted himself to correct obvious errors of spelling and punctuation, as these were too numerous to ignore, and no useful purpose could be served by leaving them unedited. Here and there in the text a word appears in square brackets. This always indicates that the word is either superfluous, or has been added by the compiler to make the sentence comprehensible. It should be understood that all footnotes are part of the original letters, unless signed “Ed.,” in which case they
have been added by the compiler. With these necessary exceptions the letters are presented to the reader, as already stated, unaltered.

In Section I are to be found exclusively the Letters of Madame Blavatsky arranged as far as possible in chronological order.

Section II contains all the Miscellaneous Letters of interest left by Mr. Sinnett, arranged under the names of the different writers in numbered sub-sections. Some of these have additional value owing to the marginal comments by the Mahatmas M. and K. H.

In Sub-section VIII are included some short notes from M. and K. H. which were overlooked in preparing The Mahatma Letters. They are now published not so much for their intrinsic value, but because in his Introduction to that volume the compiler stated that the whole of the Mahatma Letters left by Mr. Sinnett were then published, and his statement, inaccurate to this extent is hereby made good.

The Appendixes contain: I. An Article by Eliphas Levi on “Death,” which is of particular value because it has comments in Master K. H.’s writing in the margin of the printed page of the magazine in which it originally appeared.


II. Cosmological Notes from Mr. Sinnett’s MS. Book. One version of these notes which does not agree exactly with the MS. book from which his copies were presumably drawn, has already been published by Mr. Jinarajadasa. Although the differences may possibly not be regarded as serious, it is thought that students would be glad to have the opportunity of reading them just as they were left by Mr. Sinnett, and for that reason they are included in the present volume. The material contained in the two volumes was left all together in one box by Mr. Sinnett, and the whole of its contents are now in print with the exception of some miscellaneous correspondence by various writers which is not of sufficient interest to warrant publication. There must be, however, scattered about the world a number of H.P.B.’s letters in the keeping of different people, and it is greatly to be hoped that in the interest of the Movement steps will be taken to publish them.

The compiler takes this opportunity of acknowledging his indebtedness to several friends for painstaking and careful work in checking the originals with the printed proofs, and also for the compilation of the Index.

A. T. B.


—•— vii —•—


Of all the problems which confront the student of Theosophy, there is none more vital in the present day than a thorough grasp and correct perspective not only of the personal character of the Founder of the Theosophical Society, but of the nature of the work she did and the true relationship it bears to the whole fabric of the Theosophical Movement. It is now beginning to be recognised that her writings contain the key to
the profoundest mysteries of Man and the Universe, and those who opposed her, finding themselves unable to disprove the value and truth of her philosophy, sought by means of personal slander and vilification to prejudice public opinion, and thus divert attention from the treasure of knowledge which she was the means of giving to the world, and which, if impartially considered on its merits, must have carried with it the
conviction of the integrity of the writer. In The Secret Doctrine Mme. Blavatsky quoted the words of Gamaliel as being particularly applicable to her own work: “If this doctrine is false it will perish of itself, but if true then it cannot be destroyed.” Just as her work has stood the test of time and public criticism, so will these two volumes provide the means for the vindication of her personal character. The biassed and untrustworthy nature of the Hodgson Report of the Society of Psychical Research, which has provided the basis for so much ignorant and malicious criticism even down
to the present day, is clearly revealed in these pages. Much fresh light is also thrown on the forgeries known as the Coulomb Letters, and also of her relation with the notorious Solovioff, who, in his rage and resentment at being refused the privilege of chelaship, did so much to injure her reputation. It would require a volume to deal adequately with all the evidence on these important questions; the reader is therefore left to form his own conclusions as to whether the heroic figure which stands out so vividly in these pages was the liar, the fraud, and worse than dishonest medium which the Society of Psychical Research and the Spiritualists generally would have us believe, or whether she was what she claimed to be—no medium indeed, but the conscious Agent of the Masters who sent her forth, performing her prodigious task under conditions which


—•—   viii    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY —•—

would make the bravest halt; an occultist pledged to silence as to the true reasons for most of her actions, ever fearful of giving out too much, but yet through it all labouring so fiercely and whole-heartedly for the sake of the few who were entitled to her Master’s thanks. She wrote herself in Letter No. XLV—“Those who see no discrepancy in the idea of filthy lying and fraud even for the good of the Cause—being associated with work done for the Masters—are congenital Jesuits . . . or natural born fools. Had I been guilty once only—of a deliberately, purposely concocted fraud, especially when those deceived were my best, my truest friends, no ‘love’ for such one as I! At best, pity or eternal contempt. Pity if proved I was an irresponsible lunatic, a hallucinated medium, made to trick by my ‘guides’ whom I was representing as Mahatmas; contempt—if a conscious fraud.” Let those who are so limited as to believe that the Masters and their teaching are the invention of H. P. Blavatsky read the account of her journey into the wilds of Sikkim, in which she describes her meeting in propria persona with the Mahatmas M. and K. H. The real nature of these Adepts as living men, or, as H. P. B. called them, “superior mortals, not ignorant flapdoodle gods,” is here placed beyond the realm of speculation.

There is hardly one of these pages that does not throw some unexpected light on the mysteries of the relationship between Adept and chela, and it is thus possible to gain some comprehension of the life of those who, while living in the world, serve the purposes of the Great Lodge of Adepts whose headquarters are beyond the Himalayas of Northern India. Wherever those chelas may be, their hearts will give a warmer and quicker throb as they read the story of H. P. B.’s intimate association with her teachers. As they read further of the trials and torments which inevitably befell those other chelas of forty years ago, it is not they who will be tempted to condemn those who fell from their high estate, dragged into the mire by one or other of the weaknesses of human nature. But while there should be nothing but pity and compassion for the failures, let no student of the Sacred Science fall into the blunder of seeking in the name of “Brotherhood” to justify their indulgences, either ethically or morally.

There are several references to the writing of The Secret Doctrine which show to how great an extent the Masters were themselves responsible for that work. That is why the teaching of H. P. B. “remains for us the test and criterion of Theosophy,” by which all other teaching on the subject must be judged. After all, if the Masters do not know what Theosophy is, no one does, because in its essence, purity and completeness it is alone contained in the secret teaching of which the Guardians are the


—•—  ix        INTRODUCTION        —•—

Masters Themselves. That teaching, as stated by H. P. B., “is not the fancy of one or several isolated individuals, but the fruit of the work of thousands of generations of Adept Seers,” I through whom it was handed down from the first Divine Instructors of our Humanity. It is the substratum and basis of all the world-religions and philosophies, but its doctrines are the exclusive possession of none of them. It was the mission of Madame Blavatsky, under the instructions of those Adepts, to give to the world selected portions of that archaic teaching. It should be remembered that an Adept—a Master, is one who has achieved immortality, and therefore has the power to perceive truth as it is and at will to reflect it without distortion. It is because no one of lesser degree can claim that power always and with certainty that Their testimony must be regarded as the highest authority on all matters of occult doctrine and practice. And here it must be stated unequivocally that from the point of view of the “original programme” of the Society, no theosophical association has any raison detre if it does not remain true to the Masters and their teaching. There are some who seem to believe that it is possible to be faithful to the Masters while denying even the theoretical truth of their teaching. This is where the responsibility of the old Theosophical Society is so grave. In his Introduction to The Mahatma Letters the writer had occasion to point out in what important particulars that Society showed by its actions a serious divergence from the spirit and letter of the original teaching. That volume proves beyond question that H. P. B.’s writings are absolutely consistent with the Masters’ teachings, and in nothing is this more clearly discernible than in her exposition of the doctrines relating to the Life after Death. It is not the least serious aspect of the situation that the Theosophical Society bases its propaganda on this important subject not, as the public has a right to expect, on the message of H. P. B. and the Masters, but on the personal investigation of later students, whose views, for example, on the post-mortem survival of personal consciousness are so different as to represent the direct antithesis of the original teaching.

No serious students of H. P. B. will deny the force or the truth of these arguments, but there are many such who conceive it to be their duty to remain in the old Theosophical Society and at the same time to stand by the original teaching. They are at once faced with certain difficulties which have to be experienced to be understood, but which, fortunately, the constitution of the Society does not make it impossible to solve. Let the reader turn to Letter

  “That is to say, men who have perfected their physical, mental, psychic. and spiritual organisations to the utmost possible degree.”



No. C in this volume, and he will there see how H. P. B. was faced with a very similar situation and of the measures she recommended to deal with it. She lays stress on the fact that the Society was founded as a Universal Brotherhood, in which no one has the right to force his own views on another, but each must be allowed free expression of opinion. She defines what a nucleus of Brotherhood is by quoting Master K. H. almost word for word: “A group or branch, however small, cannot be a theosophical society unless the members in it are magnetically bound to each other by the same way of thinking, at least in some one direction.” She urges that those who intend at all costs to remain true to the original programme of the Society—i.e. to the Masters and their teaching—should found Lodges devoted to that purpose alone. Exactly the same should be done in our own day as a solution of present difficulties.

Therefore, all the world over, let the lovers of the Wisdom of H. P. B. unite, whether they be in or out of the Theosophical Society; let them found Lodges which shall be places apart, sanctified by devotion to the Truth and the Cause of the Brotherhood of Humanity, while seeking their knowledge from her writings, I which contain all and far more than is necessary for the instruction of Theosophists, until the promised hour strikes at the beginning of the last quarter of this century, when another Messenger from the Great Lodge may be expected to appear and carry forward the work of H. P. Blavatsky to the next stage of unfolding.

                                                              A. TREVOR BARKER.
                               December, 1924.


I  That is to say, The Secret Doctrine, Isis Unveiled, The Key to Theosophy, The Voice of the Silence, and her numerous magazine articles in Lucifer and The Theosophist; care should be taken to study these works wherever possible in the original editions or exact reprints of them—the later Revised Editions have been considerably altered and, in the opinion of many students, quite unwarrantably.


  —•— xi     CONTENTS—•—



INTRODUCTION. . . .  vii




LETTERS No I—CXX . . . 3-261

M.’s Instructions to Sinnett . . . 5

H. P. B.’s Attitude to K. H. . . . 7

K. H.’s Correspondence . . . 9

The Lamas of Toling . . . . 11

M.’s Methods with H. P. B.. . . 13

A Marriage is arranged . . . 15

“Confederate” Damodar . . . 17

Prestige of the Great Brotherhood . . . 19

The stuff of which Chelas are made . . .  21

Stainton Moses and Imperator . . .  23

The Septenary Term of Trial . . .  25

K. H.’s Portrait . . . 27

H. P. B. curses her Fate . . . 29

Hume’s Criticisms of H. P. B. . . .  31

The T.S. the Hope of Mankind . . . 33

H. P. B. is made to apologise . . . 35

M. is angry with Hume . . . 37

H. P. B. visits M. and K. H. . . . 39

Mr. Hume must ride his own Donkey . . . 41

An Infernal Power  . . .  43

H. P. B. in “Society” . . .  45

Master K. H. . . .  47

The Power of the Chohan . . .  49

H. P. B. blames herself  . . .  51

H. P. B. on the “ Phoenix” Venture . . .   53

Defence .of Sterling Qualities  . . .  55

Col. Olcott’s Difficulties  . . .  57

True Theosophists wanted . . .  59

In Praise of Col. Olcott  . . .  61

The Chohan’s Karma . . . . 63

H. P. B. on Injustice . . . .  65

Ingratitude  . . . 67

Comments on a Letter from A. K. . . .   69

M. and K. H. intervene  . . . 71



—•— xii     THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY  —•—

LETTERS No. I—CXX—continued

Strange Happenings  . . . 73

The Hodgson Investigations  . . . 75

H. P. B. arrives in France  . . .   77

The Masters and Their Teachings  . . .  79

Anna Kingsford and K. H  . . .   81

Russian Aristocrats and H. P. B . . . 83

Tibetan Chelas . . .   85

The Work of Mohini . . . 87

The Secret Doctrine and Isis Unveiled . . .  89

Mrs. Holloway and K. H  . . . 91

Mohini and the Writing of” Man” . . .  93

Subba Row lies about H. P. B . . . 95

The Crime of divulging Sacred Things  . . .  97

The Coulomb Letters . . .  99

The Karma of an Occultist . . .  l01

H. P. B.’s Martyrdom . . . 103

An Hour of Revelation . . . 105

On Books and Characters  . . . 107

False Reasoning and Bigotry of S.P.R  . . .  109

The Love of the Master  . . . 111

Solovioff resigns from S.P.R . . . 113

The Forger Coulomb . . .  115

Solovioff protests to S.P.R . . .  II7

“Guilty in One—Guilty in All” . . . 119

Dr. F. Hartmann . . .  121

Pure “ Vestals” . . .   123

M’s Corroboration. . .  123

In Defence of Mohini. . .  127

A Double Untruth about H. P. B. . .   129

Missionaries swear to ruin the T.S. . .   131

D. N’s Reluctance to meet H. P. B. . .   133

A List of Calumnies . . .  135

The Treachery of Hodgson . . .  137

The Truth about Hodgson and S.P.R . . .  139

The “Vase” Phenomenon. . .  141

The Metrovitch Incident. . .  143

The Private Part of H. P. B.’s Life . . .  145

H. P. B. never Mme. Metrovitch. . .  147

Myers of the S.P.R  . . .  149

H. P. B. travels with the Master . . .  151

Mentana . . .  153

H. P. B. never a Medium . . .  155

The Countess sees M . . .  157

D.N.nearlymad . . .  159

The Opinion of a Hindu . . .  161

Col. Olcott’s” Temple of Humanity” . . .  163

The Letter of Hurreesinjhee  . . .  165

D. N. a Fanatic  . . .  167

Instructions to Sinnett re D.N . . .   169

The Laws of Occultism . . .  171

D.N.a”Chela” . . .  173

The Reason for Soloviofi’s Defection. . .  175

Medical Evidence on H. P. B . . .   177


—•—  xii   CONTENTS —•—

LETTERS No. I-CXX—continued

H. P. B. like a Boar at Bay. . .  179

Bowaji’s Deception . . . .   181

The Influence of Bowaji. . .  183

Mohini’s Indiscretions . . . .   185

The Dweller on the Threshold . . .   187

A Warning from Master Illarion . . .  189

Libels and the Law . . . .   191

A Family Embroglio . . . .  193

The Writing of The Secret Doctrine. . .   195

Subba Row and The Secret Doctrine . . .   197

The Policy of Masterly Inactivity . . .   199

Mr. Lane-Fox . . .  201

Valuable Evidence from Subba Row. . .   203

Lethargy in the London Lodge  . . .   205

More about Solovioff . . . .   207

Evidence of the Berlin Graphologist . . .   209

A Duchess, a Fairy Tale, and Money. . .  211

The Last Alternative . . . .  213

Myers and Solovioff . . . .  215

The Memoirs  . . .   217

Anna Kingsford . . .   219

The Purpose of the Masters’ Society . . .  221

The T.S. and Masters’ Protection . . .   223

High Opinion of Sir Wiffiam Crookes . . .  225

Sinnett very young in Occult Matters. . .  227

Politics and Opinions . . . .  229

The Ethics of Jesuitry . . .    231

The Will of the Jesuits . . .    233

“Those Accursed Memoirs”  . . .   235

Col. Olcott acts like a Fool. . .   237

H. P. B. gossips . . . . .   239

The Buddha and Brahmanism . . .   241

Buddhas and Bodhisatwas. . . .    243

The Seven Worlds, Races, Globes . . .  245

Evolution and Involution . . .   247

Planets, Rings, Rounds . . .  249

Dimensions and Rounds . . .  251

Maya and Reality . . . .   252

Spirituality of Good and Evil . . .   255

The Power of Seeing and Knowing . . .  257

Man’s Growth and Evolution . . .  259

A Final Correction . . . .  261




I.—Countess Wachimeiste,

LETTERS No. CXXI-CLIV. . .   265/303

A Scandalous Statement. . .   267

Trials and Difficulties . . . .  269

The Sancharacharya and the T.S. . . .   271

A Chela’s Thanks . . .  273


—•—  xiv     THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY  —•—


The “ Russian Spy” Calumny. . .   275

Perfection is to be found Nowhere. . .   277

Babaji’s Frenzy . . .    279

Criminal Charges . . .   281

Babaji and Hatha Yog . . .   283

H. P. B.’s Enemies . . . .   285

H. P. B.’s Second Marriage . . .  287

Continuous Persecutions . . .   289

Professor Selin makes Mischief . . .  291

H. P. B.’s Indiscretions . . .   293

H. P. B. must not be left alone. . . .  295

Personal Feelings must go . . .  297

The Cause of Walter Gebhard’s Death. . .  299

Foolish Credulity. . .   301

The T.S. throwing off its Linga Sarira . . .  303


II.—A. 0. Hume

LETTERS CLV-CLVII . . . .   304/311

Mr. Hume is dissatisfied . . .   305

H. P. B.’s Missing Principle . . .  307

Hume blasphemes . . . .   309

Hume knows better than Masters. . .  311


III.—William Q. Judge

LETTERS CLVIII-CLX . . . .    312/315

Judge received Letters from K. H. . . .  313
Persecutions and Trials in America
. . .   315


IV.—T. Subba Row

LETTERS CLXI-CLXIV . . . .   316/323

The Adepts of India . . . .   317

Why it is impossible to teach Hume . . .   319

Subba Row’s Knowledge. . .   321

A Proficient in Occult Science . . .   323


V.—H. S. Olcott

LETTERS CLXV-CLXXI. . . .   324/334

Sancaracharya an Initiate . . .   325

Hume goes into Polities . . .    327

Col. Olcott “goes” for H. P. B. . . .   329

About Babajee . . . .   331

H. P. B.’s Expenses. . .   333


VI.—Babajee D. Nath


Babajee loyal to Theosophy . . .  337

The “Mystic” Name of D. N. . . .  339

Brahman Customs . . . . .    341

A Letter through Babajee . . .   343


—•—  xv  CONTENTS  —•—


VII.—The Gebhards.—Ernst Schutze.—Mohini.—Damodar.—Elliott Coues.— Anna Kingsford.—Eglinton

LETTERS CLXXX-CXCIV . . . .   345/362

Babajee’s Influence . . .   347

The Handwriting Expert’s Testimony. . .   349

H. P. B.’s Health . . .   351

How Hume received Letters . . .   353

Damodar is indignant . . .   355

Elliott Coues and H. P. B . . .   357

Anna Kingsford and K. H. . . .   359

Puja made to a personal God . . .  361


VIII.—Mahatma Letters

LETTERS CXCV-CCVIII  . . .    363/366

Relative and Absolute Truth . . .  365



I.—Death. By Eliphas Levi. With Marginal Notes of K. H.
. . .  . 369—375

II.—Cosmological Notes. From A. P. Sinnett’s MS. Book . . . .   . 376—386

III.—Cures effected by Col. Olcott in Calcutta by Mesmeric Passes . . .  . 387—389

INDEX                                                                      391—404


A Typical Specimen of Mme. Blavatsky’s Handwriting





Section I


“. . . It was thy patience that in the waste attended still thy step, and saved MY friend for better days. What cannot patience do. . . . A great design is seldom snatched at once, ‘tis PATIENCE heaves it on. . . .”—K. H.


—•— 3 —•—



Going away to-morrow—THANKS to FATE!! The Disinherited tells me you are living in a damp place and that you will suffer from it. Do you live in a tent? Mr. Hume asks me to enclose this slip from the C. and M. Sewer for you. Did you receive Pce Dondoukof’s letter to me. M. wants me to tell you to show it to as many of your French speaking friends and my enemies as you possibly can, and to show it to Mr. Ratigan also. He says he will impress you what to do. Does he want to develop you into a Mejium? My boil aches fearfully yet I tell you I am a she Job!

My love to Mr. Tyrrell and Struit—or how do you spell his name? My best regards to Mrs. and Mr. Patterson.

                                                        Your orphaned friend and -- ?
                                                                                                            H. P. B.

Just received your 20 Rupees. Oh Pioneer—protector of the “up-a-tree”occultists!


March 25th.


You are right. All or nothing is their motto. And why should you subject yourself to daily torture? K. H. will correspond with you the same as he does now if it is all you want.

The “Vega”? Not Nordenskiold’s Vega that went North Pole and passed through Siberia but Eglinton’s Vega on which he sailed for England. By this time and as I write [to] you know all, since you received this morning Mrs. Gordon’s telegram about her having had a letter from Eglinton dropon her nose last night, with remarks from the Bosses and my humble self.Last night between 8 and 9 evening I received two letters from Eglinton

I There is a communication from K. H. written across the lines of H. P. B.’s letter. This appears here in bold type.—ED.



direct in the presence of 7 witnesses from the roof. One was for me, the other for Mrs. Gordon. He asked me to send it over to her in a natural way, but K. H. wanted me to send it off immediately and I did so. The letter from E. and my two visiting cards which I wrote before my guests last night at 8 ½ and the Boss’ remarks were all at Howra in a few seconds. That’s all. “Only that and nothing more.”

K. H. says he saw Eglinton and secured him. Now remains to be seen what kind of “guides” E. will hook on K. H.

I do not feel well. I am sick, bilious, dyspeptic and feel mad with the whole universe. I do not know how I can go to Madras with such a heat.

My love to dear Bossess. If I but knew to write as she does I would be a happy woman.

Yours in moonshine
                                           H. P. BLAVATSKY.

The new “guide” has meanwhile a few words to say to you. If you care anything about our future relations, then, you better try to make your friend and colleague Mr. Hume give up his insane idea of going to Tibet. Does he really think that unless we allow it, he, or an army of Pelings will be enabled to hunt us out, or bring back news, that we are, after all, but a “moonshine” as she calls it. Madman is that man who imagines that even the British Govt: is strong and rich enough and powerful enough to help him in carrying out his insane plan! Those whom we desire to know us will find us at the very frontiers. Those who have set against themselves the Chohans as he has—would not find us were they to go L’hassa with an army. His carrying out the plan will be the signal for an absolute separation between your world and ours. His idea of applying to the Govt: for permission to go to Tibet is ridiculous. He will encounter dangers at every step and—will not even hear the remotest tidings about ourselves or our whereabouts. Last night a letter was to be carried to him as well as to Mrs. Gordon. The Chohan forbid it. You are warned, good friend—act accordingly.
K. H.



Postcard addressed to A. P. Sinnett Esq.

                                                                                                                        TENDRIL, SIMLA,
                                                                                                                                     Aug. 9.

Savez-vous quel jour votre article Indo-British India a ete publie? Le Sept. Et savez-vous, que vous avez trouve un ami pour la vie dans Morya? Ces quelques bonnes paroles prononcies


—•—   5     M.’s  INSTRUCTION  TO  SINNETT     —•—

pour la premiere fois dans le Pioneer. Vous feront plus de bien que tout ce que vous avez fait jusqu’ici. Je ne comprenais pas pourquoi il montrait tant d’anxiete de vous envoyer son portrait. Je comprends tant maintenant.

I send you to-day the proofs of the two letters. Please send them back as soon as possible.

Yours in Indo-British India,
                                               H. P. B. MULLIGAN.


Ordered by My Boss to tell Sinnett, Esq., the following: --

1. Not to lose the opportunity to night of acquainting R. S. with every detail of the situation he can think of, whether relating to the Society or his projected matrimonial ideas.

2. To insist upon having a true copy of the hitherto written sketches of Cosmogony with the Tibetan words, M.’s notes etc. H. P. B. is also ordered to have one, as she has to know thoroughly what Mr. Hume has noted and how much he has elaborated of the explanations. Otherwise when the reaction comes and Mr. Hume begins studying once more—either Mr. Sinnett nor H. P. B. will be au courant of his thoughts; and he will begin once more abusing—like the quartette of musicians in Aesop’s fable—the instruments on which he does not know to play.

3. Mr. Sinnett is advised, once he is in Allahabad, to announce the formation of the Allahabad Society, calling it “The Anglo Indian Investigation (Theosophical) Society” or some such name which would not jar upon the nerves of the unbelieving community. Let it be distinct from the other Branch in Allahabad called the “Prayaga Theos. Society” though the Hindus in it might be very useful to Mr. Sinnett and he will find wonderful mesmeric subjects in it, if he but searches.

4. Mr. Sinnett is advised by M. to make a special duty to prevent his little son being made to eat meat—not even fowls, and to write so to Mrs. Sinnett. Once the Mother has placed the child under K. H.’s protection let her see nothing pollutes his nature. The child may become a powerful engine for good in a near future. Let him be trained as his own nature suggests it.

5. Mr. S. is reminded to telegraph O. not to answer one word to M. Hume until he receives a letter from Mr. Sinnett.

6. Mr. S. is advised, now that he will be alone, to put himself in communication through Adytyarum B. with some Hindu mystics, not for the sake of philosophy but to find out what mental phenomena can be produced. At the Mela there is a number of such visiting the town.



7. Whenever he feels like writing or needs M. advice, Mr. Sinnett is invited to do so without hesitation. M. will always answer him, not only for K. H.’s sake but his own sake, as Mr. S. has proved that even an Anglo-Indian can have the true S---- SPARK in him, which no amount of brandy and soda and other stuff can extinguish and which will occasionally glitter out and very brightly.

It was my wish that she should read the letter to Fern last night. You can also show and read it to R. S. if you like. All of the above is correct.

Yours, M.


Written Nov. 2nd, Lahore, 1880.


I am afraid I begin a task above my strength. But if I do not yet peg out I am determined to fight my way through and never leave one chance to my enemies to bother me. This is why I begged you to publish a few words in reply to a stupid and vile insinuation (and far better if it could be done in the shape of three or four lines in the Pioneer 1st page).

In Bombay Gazette Nov. 6 it is said that “A correspondent of the Englishman throws another ray of light upon the occultism at Simla. He says: In all the correspondence about the T.S. I do not think it has yet been mentioned that Mme B. is the correspondent of a Russian newspaper. A series of letters have appeared in the Anti-English newspaper the Moscow Gazette . . . purporting to be written from India by a lady member of the T.S. who signs herself Ruddha-Bai. The letters are headed “from the caves and forest-valleys of India.” The writer could not well have been other than Mme B. The snake tiger of India enchanted stories narrated in those letters are entirely theosophical and steeped in occultism.”

To this it is that I answered a few lines remarking that the only light which this fact (of my being the correspondent of a Russian newspaper however Anti-English) -- could ever throw upon the Simla phenomena was that of the possibility of some new hallucination on the part of the Govt. of India—perhaps a suspicion that it was the secret Russian political spies who were my confederates. That I never made a secret of my being a correspondent for the Russian newspapers none of which ever was but Anti-English (I would like to find one which is not!) or writing under the nom de plume of Radha Bai. And that so little was it a secret that in my last letter to the Russian papers


—•—   7     H. P. B.’s  ATTITUDE  TO  K.  H.   —•—

from Simla it was from some of the officials themselves that I got the needed information etc. (You know about Ramchundra.)

This it was I sent to you fervently begging you to print it, for I was anxious to break the head of at least one of my idiotic enemies. To this K.H. remarked that it was far better if I should let you write a few words as an editorial remark upon the foolish para: (above cited). I said – no. I knew you did not like to be asked to write, besides my writing would be better and more appropriate. So I sent to you this. But it appears that he need have his own way. For how could my letter be lost otherwise? It was Mah. K. H. who played some trick of his only because he is wise and strong and healthy and I foolish and now weak and sick. I do not hold it as friendly on his part. If I am so useless and foolish why don’t they annihilate me? The doctor (Laurie) won’t permit me to start tomorrow. He advises me though to change locality. Strong nervous disease, fever and etc. he says. Oh I have enough of this old carcase!

                                                                                                 Love to both of you
                                                                                                            Yours quand meme
                                                                                                                       H. P. BLAVATSKY.

Spirit is strong but flesh is weak; so weak sometimes that it even overpowers the strong spirit “which knows all truth.” And now, having almost shaken off its control this poor body raves. Since even I am not above suspicion in her sight, you can hardly be too indulgent or use too many precautions until this dangerous nervous crisis is passed. It was brought on by a series of unmerited insults (which of course such men as you and Col. Olcott would not have even noticed but which none the less put her to the torture) and can be cured only by rest and peace of mind. If you are ever to learn any lesson about man’s duality and the possibility through occult science of awakening from its dormant state to an independent existence the invisible but real I am, seize this chance. Observe and learn. It is cases like this which puzzle the biologist and physiologist. But as soon [as] one learns this duality all becomes as clear as day. I am sorry to say I can now only act thro’ her upon very rare occasions and under the greatest precautions. Mr. Hume’s letter to her, a letter full of suspicion and benevolent insult – proved the “one drop too much.” Her Punjab fever—once the typhoid symptom removed is no worse in itself than many a European has passed through; while I may tell you now that the crisis is over—her reason as well as her life were in peril on Saturday night. As for myself you must always believe me your true and sincere friend.
                                                                                              KOOT HOOMI LAL SINGH.




Tuesday Something.

Your two MSS. received. Well the readers will be stuffed this time and no mistake—with occult doctrine. Mr. Sinnett A.P.’s article, two letters 1 & 2 numbers, Mr. Hume A.O.’s Fragments 11 columns!!! Oxley’s trans-spookian elucubration -- 8 col!!!!! A criticism upon your Review by Maitland and Mrs. Kingsford—etc. etc. And finally a criticism upon Col. O.’s lecture “Is electricity Force or Matter” and an answer by Ma. K. H.—who is becoming a true penny-a-liner, a proof reader through astral light and what not. Only he is in a very sulky mood just now and I think I know why. Well I do not blame him. I would have stood on my head long ago to have my efforts and services thusly recognized.

Now what are you at with my irrepressible Boss? Three days ago he puts up an appearance so unexpectedly that I thought the mountain had tumbled on my head, and blows me up (!!) for not having sent you his portrait! Now what the devil have I to do with that? Olcott gave his crayon portrait to the photographer a month before leaving Bombay; and am I to be held responsible for the photographer’s sins likewise? I like that! I sent for it and got one with the greatest difficulty and he stood over my soul until I had packed and wrapped it up and addressed it to you. Too much love and fondling spoils the children’s temper. Won’t they catch it both—your Tibetan Orestes and his Pylades for cuddling you like two fools! And won’t I be glad of it. You bet my father’s daughter is right, and that the Chohan will snuff them nicely some day for all this. Now what do you want with his portrait? And it does not look at all like him, since he never wears now his white puggery, but simply sticks a yellow saucer on the top of his head like K. H. All this is vexation of spirit and vanity and nothing else. You better ask the Chohan to favour you with his picture, and then see how amiable he looks every Sunday morning.

I feel I am dying. Now are you satisfied? The heat and this working 26 hours out of the 24 is killing me. My head swims, my sight is becoming dim and I am sure I will drop some day on my writing and be a corpse before the T.S. says boo. Well I don’t care. And why the deuce should I? Nothing left for me here; then better become a spook at once and come back to pinch my enemies noses. I will send you your proof. Last night K. H. said that both you and Mr. Hume wrote about an identical thing and in an identical language he says about the fate of the suicides etc. Better look into it. But then again K. H.


—•—       9   K.  H.’s  CORRESPONDENCE —•—

with his criminal indulgence says it is better that Mr. Hume should cut it out of his Fragments, since it is 11 col. and yours only about 7 (the two). As soon as ready I will send you your proofs. I had no time to read them but it must be all right since K.H. says it is. But then, he will find good even the things you throw into your waste basket. I am losing my faith in him. Good bye,

                                                                                                          H. P. B.
                                                                                                                           (that was)

You need not trouble about asking me to forward your enclosed letters to K. H. He is a better hand in eliminating his correspondence from within closed envelopes than a Russian official in the Secret Police Dept. I found but your letter to me. He need not fear my curiosity. Your correspondence interests me very little and I have enough to read my own letters, which I heartily wish went down the hottest place the missionaries can think of. As you may love flattery now that K. H. stuffs you with it, you may perhaps like to read the opinion people have (Hindus) of your “Church Goers.”



Arrived last night, no, -- yesterday morning (it is Scott who came last night from Mooltan). Fisher and Williams met me, and are anxious to join. Last night dined with Mrs. and Mr. Fisher at their house and stopped till 1’OC. after midnight. Today will pass the whole day with Williams at his house and tomorrow morning will start for Dehradun with Scott.

Why do you call me lazy? Why do you reproach me with being silent and not writing? Why do you calumniate me and say I swear? I do not. I wrote to you the sweetest and most refined letter and got no answer from you for a fortnight. Saw “the Boss.” Of course I did. But how can I repeat you all he said since it is difficult for me to write a sane letter and you do not patronise insane ones. There never was a genius but was cracked. And I am a “genius”—so Williams says at least. And now I did not hear or see or smell the Boss for three days. He must have prigged your letter though for I see he knows what you do. How many times did you write to him? he is very cross—at least was when I last saw him at Lahore. Called me a lunatic also for wanting to say my mind to the editor of the C. and M. Sewer. The latter came out again not with a libellous


—•—   10   THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY    —•—

but a most stupid impertinent letter. Well I will not die happy unless I see him horsewhipped by someone, and there are several Englishmen who want to do it. What can I say about your initiating the Fellows immediately? Of course you ought to initiate them and send their applications to me, not to Olcott for I represent him now here. He is at Tinevelly with 50 Buddhist priests and creating a big sensation. As soon as I see the Boss I will ask his permission. But where the deuce is my Boss? Since he blew me up, I did not see him. I guess he must be roosting somewhere near our K. H. Mr. Hume? Why Mr. Hume never said a word about the “Brothers” since you left except to sneer at them once or twice. He said to me before leaving: “In a week I will have done my work of ‘Stray Feathers’ and I must receive a MS. from Morya if he wants me to go on.” That’s all and now there’s Mr. Williams after me to take me away. The Disinherited wants to write to you he says—if you permit him—through Damodar. The Boss said something about going to see Damodar. But D---- does not say a word.

Well goodbye I will write or try to write a more detailed and sane letter from Dehra.

                                                              Yours in Jesus,
                                                                           H. P. B





I proposed remaining here till Monday when suddenly this morning at dawn, I received orders to move onward on Saturday morning the 12th and be Meerut Sunday. Orders are no joke, so I obey and can do no better.

What possessed you to write to me as if I was coming decidedly to Allahabad? How can I come when I have to pass through Baroda and now I am more in the dark than ever. You do not write to me a word about Padshah. I was not aware he had already gone to Lucknow, and now I received a telegram from there asking for a Charter. I sent him one and remained perplexed. There are about 17 Fellows I hear, to be initiated at Bareilly, Fellows who joined long ago but are yet unbaptised unto the Holy Ghost. Therefore, I know not whether I have to go to Bareilly or not, whether I have to go to Lucknow or not, whether I will go this or that way to Bombay. Quien Sabe? It all depends on my boss’s whims; and I verily believe that notwithstanding his youthful appearance he becomes old and is


—•— 11   THE LAMAS  OF  TOLING —•—

falling into his dotage (with all respect due to him). You think me incapable of ever making up my mind; you are regarding me as quasi insane. And what can I do? How can I say I go there or elsewhere, when at the eleventh hour he usually puts in an appearance and changes all my plans—as in the Lahore case. And [what] I should go to Allahabad for? What help can I give you? None. If I go to you then must I give up Baroda—unless you can find a way for me to go there from Allahd without returning back to Toondla or Delhi which would be a fearful expense. Write me to Meerut. If you answer immediately there, it will find me there. Address care of Babu Baldeo Prasad F.T.S. Headmaster Government Normal School.

There’s Church, the Collector, and his wife (old Griffith’s spoon) here with Scott, and of all the foul-tongued, wicked, slandering, wicked women—she is the queen. Speak of me, occasionally uttering improper things owing to my natural innocence and imperfect knowledge of English. She tells things that made the root of my hair turn red and burn with shame! With one wag of her tongue she dishonours any woman with the greatest unconcern possible. Why she is a friend of Mrs. Patterson’s. We have a new Fellow, a Capt. Banon of the 39th of Gwalior. He is a great scholar, knows Sanskrit and other languages. A political officer. He is anxious to know you and be initiated by you and so Scott writes him a letter of introduction to you. He will come on purpose to Allahabad. He writes in his letter to Scott “I shall probably go to Gungotree next summer. There is a grand monastery at Toling where the head Lamas have great occult powers.” Toling is where K. H. was when he first wrote to you. But there are only chelas of the first degree there and I doubt whether they would tell or show him anything. However, it is a good thing if he goes there.

Thanks for what you did for us with the “Englishman.” It’s a skunk of a sewer like the C. and M. Gazette and a first cousin to it. What do you think Hume did? He ordered 200 Copies of Rules with the seal on the top and now when they sent him the bill Rs. 4 he refused to pay it, saying, that as it cost us nothing he would not pay for it. Well, I will, and surely I will not cry for 4 rupees poor as I am. But to say that the Rules “cost us nothing” is good. Why the Rules ordered and paid by Tookaram Tatia are without the seal and quite different from these. So also he ordered first a hundred and fifty and then 500 copies of the Fragments of Occult Truth, saying he would take 200. Then he went down (before your departure) to 100; then when I was going away he said that he thought “a dozen would do.” Now why in the name of wonder did he lead us into this unnecessary



expense? Of course they can be sold at 4 annas but it will take a year or more and the printer has to be paid. I wanted and would have never ordered more than 100. Well, I won’t say a word of course; only I will be more prudent in future. He is positively an extraordinary man: ready to throw thousands for a whim and when it is cooled off, “se faisant tirer par les cheveux” for a few rupees.

The poor Disinherited is very sick. He fell down a cud and nearly broke both his legs. Had it not been for another chela with him who had time and the presence of mind of doing what was needed to arrest him in the fall he would have broken himself to pieces down an abyss of 2,800 feet—a pic! M. says it is a fiendish “Red Cap” who did it; who caught the boy off his guard for an instant and positively took advantage of it in a wink; that he roamed for weeks around the house where there is no adept now but only three chelas and a woman. Of course the D. will soon be better but it is one more proof that even a chela and of the 1st degree can be off his guard sometimes and that accidents will happen in the best regulated families. Enclosed please find another proof of the high virtues of our Christian brethren. I send you the cover only, the contents consisting of the infamous Saturday Review article and another of last year from the
N. Y. Times. Olcott’s portion of a letter will explain to you the thing.

I’ll write from Meerut if I have time. Did my boss write to you why?

                                                                                                              Yours in Jesus,
                                                                                                                                  H. P. B.
                                                                           nee H
                                                                                                                    d---- it.

Ross Scott sends his love. I wish you heard Mrs. Collector Church swear!!



Your telegram just received. Now what does that mean? I knew it was coming for M. hinted already that I would have to give up Baroda this trip and go there from Bombay. But why, in the name of mischief does he want me at Allahabad is more than I can make out. I can’t go to-morrow at any rate. I have to go to Bareilly first, as there [are] 11 theosophists to be initiated and they have been making preparation to receive me. And I have promised to the Meerutians to remain here till


—•— 13   M.’s  METHODS  WITH  H.  P.  B. —•—

tomorrow night, as there are Delhi men who come from Delhi on purpose to see me. I can’t disappoint them, and I don’t suppose the Boss would want me to do such an insulting thing as to disappoint them all. I neither saw nor felt HIM for the last 48 hours. What ails him I know not. Why should he not tell me direct that he wanted me to go [to] you; and what business had he to go and make you an intermediary just as if I do so sooner for you than for him! He knows I am but a SLAVE and that he has the right to order me about without consulting my taste or desire. Very funny. Well, well, I will come. I’ll telegraph you whether it will be on the 18th or 19th.

                                                                                                            H. P. B.



Various Letters and Notes sent by

May - June 1882                      Bombay - Simla.
To be read in order as arranged to be intelligible.


Herewith are sundry letters that it seems desirable for you to see. A few days ago I received the annexed from Damodar.


                                                          PUBLICATION OFFICE OF THE THEOSOPHIST,”
                                                                                                                               5th June, 1882.



When Mme Blavatsky left for Calcutta she left with me (March 30th) a letter for Mr. O’Conor with instructions to forward it to the addressee during the first week of June, if not otherwise ordered. I was accordingly to forward it by to-morrow’s mail but I have just been ordered to forward it to you. I therefore enclose it to you now. Please excuse haste—no time to lose—the mail is about to close.

I hope you have received the two telegrams.



The enclosure was a fastened up envelope addressed to O’Conor. I telegraphed to know what I was to do with it. Then I was told to open, read and then destroy it. Afterwards however you will see that I get permission to show it to you. This is the letter: --


H. P. B. Corresponding Secretary of the T.S.A.S.

                                                                                                                             March 30.


Your letter reaching me the same day that it was written by you, namely—March 24, did not surprise me in the least. But here I am brooding over it for a whole week. Shall I answer it now, or shall I not. If I do, there will be a great outcry about the phenomenon at first, and then the usual compliments of “fraud”—“imposture”—“humbug”—“confederacy.” Now, as you are a F.T.S. though not one of the most active, I regret to say, I do not want to lose you through sheer disgust. My best friends are wavering at the present moment between the “to be, or not to be,” between “Is she or is she not a fraud?” So that I rather wait for the appearance of “Hints on Esoteric Theosophy” which Mr. Hume is preparing to publish and see how the wind blows. If it is favourable—all right; if not—you will never receive this letter. I go to-morrow through Allababad to Calcutta where Mrs. Gordon has already received her letter from Eglinton. I merely write to her—“Is Mr. O’Conor, our F.T.S., a passenger on board the ‘Vega?’ I did not know he was gone.” I’ll see what she answers. Then, when at Calcutta, I may tell her what Koothoomi said to me, namely—how he laughed at your persisting to put a cabalistic sign on Mr. Eglinton’s envelope, and at your disgust when it was destroyed and what you thought of all this. Not very complimentary anyhow. Well, however, there was no fraud that time, though you may believe to the contrary I will tell her many things but not a word of your letter to me for I want to test “Ernest” myself. I leave Bombay and this letter in the hands of Guala K. Deb. with orders that if he does not receive from me orders to the contrary that he should forward this letter to its address in the first days of June. When you receive it—if you do—I will watch and see what you think of all this, and then—tell of it when I see you.

No; I did not receive your letter at the same time as that for Mrs. Gordon but an hour later, in the presence of two theosophists.

I hope your little girl has not forgotten her pretty little “d—d” expression she used when she fell over the threshold. Well may


—•—  15   A  MARRIAGE  IS  ARRANGED —•—

our Lord Buddha’s glory shine upon you and yours. N’oubliez pas une vieille amie.

                                                                                                              H. P. B

P.S. Of course I do not expect you to believe my story; but I want to watch the developments anyhow. What a fraud all round, mon doux Jesus!

Note by A. P. Sinnett on preceding and following letters.

Of course it is exasperating in the highest degree that this letter was not sent at the time it was written. Common sense would have dictated that it should have been sent through one of us, but to bottle it up in this way was simply conduct of a piece with so much else that is extraordinary not only on the part of the O.L. but even on that of their lordships, who seem to take an infinitude of trouble sometimes to provoke suspicions on the part of people half inclined to believe. That may be all right in one way: they may be anxious to turn away half-hearted inquirers, but then so much they do seems as if done for the sake of conveniencing the outsider!

But we can talk of this another time.

Last night I received from the Old Lady the next letter, in answer to one of mine enclosing a bit from Mr. Scott’s letter and O’Conor’s which you asked me to send on at the time we first heard of the letter from O’Conor.


                                                                                         Thursday, 8th May, 1882.


Just arrived home by the express train from Madras whence we started on Tuesday night—and the first letter I receive is yours with the agreeable enclosure from Mrs. Scott and Mr. O’Conor. Well, I can’t say it was precisely a thunder-bolt (the news that Ross Scott suspected me). I had anticipated it for over four months—in short since February. She owes her husband to the Brothers and me. What more natural than that she should traduce both the “Brothers” and myself! She is afraid in her little petty jealousy lest they or I should retain our hold upon her husband – hence the policydes finesses comme de fil blanc! M. defined and foretold the situation four months since, one fortnight after his last letter to R. Scott. His very marriage was to serve a lesson hereafter for both of us, to show how human nature was variable. When I bothered them repeatedly to make R. Scott happy to cure him of his leg, I was told to provide him with a wife—“Miss Hume would do first rate for him”—and then said K. H. – “if he proves faithful and true and the influence of his wife leaves him unshaken in his beliefs and true to his old friends then we will attend to his leg.” Six months Probation



was allowed to Scott. Only six months—though he knew it not—and now behold the fruit! Did not M. write to him before his marriage that he would not correspond with him until after his marriage for reasons he could not tell him and which he did not divulge, even to me until their departure from here Jan. 12th. But, after dropping on Scott’s nose during dinner that letter of his (from M. in which he calls him “faithful throughout”) M. told me a few days later that it was the last letter Scott would ever receive from him, and a month later that Scott had been tested and found shaky. As to K. H. so far back as at Simla he asked me once the question, whether I would be willing to sacrifice Scott’s friendship – (until then a real genuine friendship) if thereby I could secure his happiness, get him a good wife and see his leg cured? I hesitated at first, but only for one second and answered from the bottom of my heart—“Yes, I am ready; for he is young and full of life and I—I am old and will not last long. Let him then he happy. “Very well” said K. H. “Be it so. And now it has come to pass.

I do not know how much or in what Scott suspects me. Suffice that he does. Suffice that a drop of gall has fallen into the pure waters of our mutual friendship (forgive the stupidly poetic metaphor) -- to poison them for ever. I only feel a sincere sorrow for the poor young man; for now – THEY WILL NOT CURE HIS LEG as they would otherwise had he remained true to the cause only for one year, but for six months! And Mrs. Gordon’s prophecy is fulfilled. She is a true medium—tell her so.

As for O’Conor’s letter it is such a stupid transparent thing for me that it is not worth talking about. I did receive his letter one hour later than E.’s for Mrs. Gordon; and with it orders to do about it as I liked, to either answer it or not but to hold my tongue as to the fact of my having received it until further developments. I left it with Damodar and Deb on March 30th with instructions. And to prove it to you -- (about others I do not care) let me, my dear Boss, set your heart at ease. I happened to write to you about this O’Conor’s letter on Friday -- (at Madras) the Disinherited having advised me to do so. I sent my letter Friday. On Saturday, at 1:35 p.m. I received your telegram with your enquiry about O’Conor’s letter. I answered as I was ordered and wrote to you that I should telegraph to Damodar in whose possession I left my answer to O’Conor to send it to you immediately. I sent the telegram on Saturday evening, but whether sent or not that night, it reached Damodar but Sunday when it was too late to send you a registered letter as he always does. Well, he sent it on Monday and you must have received it. Do not send it to O’Conor. I will have nothing to do with Mrs. Scott’s


—•— 17     “CONFEDERATE”  DAMODAR  —•—

friends now. I will have no more tests, no more insults, no more humiliation and explanation. Tear it after showing it to Mr. Hume. You are at liberty to show him also this letter. If your friends and sceptics will insist that, after receiving your telegram of enquiry I had time between Saturday and Monday to send to my “confederate” Damodar instructions, well show them the telegram he received from me on Sunday. This will prove, at least, that he had O’Conor’s answer in his possession ever since March. And if it does not prove it well—

Qu’ils aillent se promener
Qu’ils aillent tous au diable

for what I care!

My love to dear Bossess. When does she or you think of going back on me and the Brothers? Methinks I hear the cock crowing . . . . I hope I will not hear him crow thrice, O Peter, for your own not my sake.

Yours for ever in all the bitterness of my heart,
                                                                                H. P. B

Yes; show this to Mr. Hume by all means. His is a family which has brought me luck ever since I crossed their threshold. Perhaps by this time Mrs. Minnie Scott will have remembered that it was she herself who gave me that last brooch? I would not wonder.


To                                                                                  From
    Malabar Hill                                                            Madras St. Thome

To                                                                         From
Damodar K. Mavalankar                                     H. P. Blavatsky
           c/o Theosophical Society
                       Breach Candy

Letter      to    Oconor
given     you    March
thirty     send   Sinnett.

By Malabar Hill: 4-6-82.



Poor Old Lady! I shall come up and see you to-morrow afternoon.

                                                                                                                 A. P. S




                                                                                                                                 June 20.


I got your second letter of June 13 with traces of the bitter tears shed upon the paper, and it is this letter I mean to answer before proceeding to talk business. We will leave aside the “coarse fibered” one, as you call Scott—this course fiberness is not what would ever trouble me, but it is the thought that he has himself through his own fault lost all chances of recovery and protection. Yet I feel as much friendship and affection for him as I did heretofore. I no more accuse him of having fallen a prey to an evil influence than I would were he to catch the small pox by showing devotional care to his wife (unworthy of it as she may be) when she was afflicted with the disease. He will repent, mark my word, and when I come to Bombay I will send you something that will make you change your opinion of him.

But it is something else that troubles me on your account and this is a twofold matter. 1st your obstinate, determined plan of taking the public in general and the Anglo-Indians in particular into the confidence of every phenomenon that takes place; and 2nd your entirely mistaken position, and preeminently antagonistic attitude towards those who rule the destinies as yet of both K. H. and M.

Maybe I am now speaking under inspiration and you better not pooh-pooh my advice. First then, and concerning the first question: I most decidedly, emphatically and uncompromisingly kick against your eternal desire to do everything I do (in the way of stupid phenomena) with an eye to public enlightenment upon the subject. I DO NOT CARE ABOUT PUBLIC OPINION. I despise thoroughly and with all my heart Mrs. Grundy, and do not care a snap of my finger whether the Wm. Beresfords and the Hon. “What d’ye call them” think well or bad of me as regards the phenomena produced. I refuse to proselytise them at the expense of the little self-respect and dignity that my duty to those beyond, and to the Cause have left in me. I rather not convert them, wherever the Brothers’ names are mixed up with a phenomenon. Their names have been sufficiently dragged in the mud; they have been misused and blasphemed against by all the penny-a-liners of India. Nowadays people call their dogs and cats by the name of “Koot-hoomi” and “the dear old lady” has become with the “Himalayan Brothers” a ousehold-caricature. Now, neither the “dear old lady” per se, nor K. H. and M.—less than all THEY—care about this mocking fiendishness; but we have others behind our backs who, on a general principle would rather not allow



names connected with the great Brotherhood to be besmeared in the eyes of the native multitudes (about the Pelings they do not care in the least). For over two years we fight you and I for this question; you have always insisted that without the Brothers there was no salvation for the T.S., that to take out their names from the concern was like throwing out the part of the Prince of Denmark from Hamlet and—you were wrong. You may insist till doomsday that you were and are right, I will always dispute the point, for I know what I am talking about and I know my actors behind the scenery, while you do not. Therefore, whenever I can avoid giving the public a bone to pick over my and the Brothers’! heads, I will do so.

O’Conor’s letter was not bargained for, and no one expected it. O’Conor—had I sent him an immediate reply—would have but sneered, even while believing it and would have attributed it at best to mediumship, to the sweet “Ernest” & Co., and that is what I will NEVER consent to. If, after seeing what he has seen R. Scott, the best, the most honest and sincere of men, turns round against the Brothers and abuses and now and then even disbelieves entirely their existence, what could I ever expect from a land leaguer, -- a friend of Miss Minnie Hume Scott!! Oh do, “shut up”!; excusing myself for my rude “coarse fibered” expression. You know I love and respect you above all other Englishmen in India. I love you personally for what you have done for me, and I respect you for your firm, fearless and independent attitude in fighting for the Brothers and the Society. But there is that unreasonable, most dangerous feature in you which is liable some day to ruin all irretrievably and that is that thirst of throwing that which is holy to the dogs and scatter pearls before swine, and the utterly fatal idea, that you can ever bring the CHIEFS—beyond—to your way of thinking and writing. Hundred times have I told you and, even K. H. has hinted at that in his letters to you, that, notwithstanding all his personal regard for you, at the first motion of the Chohan’s finger he would vanish out of your reach for ever and ever: you would never hear of him so long as you lived. How mistaken is your notion that there can be no Theos. Soc. without showing the Brothers “like a red rag before a bull’s face” as they express it—will be proved to you in the forthcoming Supplement of the Theosophist. If its contents will not show to you the real practical good the Society is doing—every Brother put aside—for the Natives, (and remember, this is the main object of K. H. and M.) then nothing will.

No. 2. “All this testing and probation business” . . . Well, suppose it is “so repulsive to the straight forward European natures” (you might, perhaps, not identify so thoroughly



all European natures with your nature and thus be nearer to truth), suppose it is, can you help it? And do K. H.’s and M.’s chiefs care for your or even my kicking? Is it they who ever tried to fight their way to you, or is it you who went after them? Did they ever encourage you or any one else? Did they ever show the slightest favour even to Olcott—their humble, submissive, patient, never murmuring slave? It is a “to be, or not to be”—for you. You have either to accept them as they are or else—leave them. It is [as] though you lectured the peak of Mount Everest, for its coldness and ruggedness. Such ideas and complaints as expressed in your letter to me will not shorten the distance between you and K. H. but rather widen the gulf. You are “surrounded by meshes of tests and probations wrapped in invisible threads”—you may bet your life on it. Well, why don’t you make an effort and disentangle yourself by a supreme effort? Break them, it is very easy—only with them you will break the thread that connects you with K. H. that’s all. It is not at his hands, that you have to submit to the “loathsome” horror of being (not) probably (but for a certainty) on probation, for he himself may be said to be on probation—only a far higher and far more difficult one. The CHIEFS do not make any difference during the first years between “Englishmen of the better sort” and any other Englishman or native. In fact, their hearts are rather for the natives. They fear and mistrust (as a nation) the English nation, and in their eyes a Russian, a Frenchman, an Englishman or any other son of Christendom and civilisation is an object to be hardly, if ever trusted. And do you know who it is, who at the present moment is set the deadliest against you English theosophists among the Shaberons? An Englishman, my dear Boss, a countryman of yours, a victim of your British laws and Mrs. Grundy; one who was once upon a time some forty years ago, a highly educated Squire, rich, and a Chief justice in his county, a Greek and Latin scholar. So much --

permits me to say to you, and he is at my elbow—and who now is the deadliest enemy of civilisation and Christo-star as he calls Europe. It is he and not the Tibetan or Hindu born Shaberons who mistrusts the rulers of the “Eclectic T.S.” and that’s all I am allowed to tell you.

“And now choose ye, this day, oh sons of Israel” whether you will worship the gods of your fathers or the new god found by you in the Wilderness.

And to think that you have chosen for your unjust recriminations against their rules and statutes and their time honoured policy just the time when poor K. H. is negotiating as hard as



he can, permission to help the Eclectic in Mr. Hume’s and your persons, and that of having Eglinton to furnish power without expanding their own! A nice diplomat you, my Boss. Then go and complain if you have the conscience to do so, when we receive instead of consent—REFUSAL. I wonder only, how it is possible that a man of your intellectual calibre should be unable to judge fairly and impartially of the situation. Is it they or you who want them? Is it you or they who cares for further intercourse? They may be, and, I have no doubt are quite alive to the good you can do the Eclectic and the Theosoph. Society proper. But you ought to know by this time that you will ever be useless to them personally, to their Fraternity. That you are not of the stuff they make the chelas with, and that, if you are allowed even a correspondence with K. H. it is absolutely out of regard for him, the best, the most promising of their candidates for Buddhaship or rather Boddhisatwaship; and that you make his work far more difficult and even endanger his personal position by such a contemptuous criticism upon their actions. But you are a true Englishman; and as you would treat a Burmah politically, imposing [on] it your will and interference, so you think you can treat occult Tibet—by interfering with its psychological internal policy. Well, you are arrogant and conceited as a nation, I must say, if you, one of the best of its sons do not seem to realize the utter uselessness of what you do, and to instinctively so to say, seek to bring to bear even upon the Tibetan Adepts the weight of your universal interference! I hope you will forgive me the rudeness of my remarks—if rudeness there is, which I hope not—for I speak with a view to your own good and fearing lest you should throw new difficulties in the way of your connection with K.H. and my “Boss”.

Your question I cannot give to K. H. for I do not see him at all nowadays—hardly for a second or two sometimes and for that reason see as little of Djual Kul. But I have Tibetan MSS. just being translated for the Theosophist upon that question and I will make Deb write them out for you as soon as I return to Bombay. I cannot understand how you did not. ........I The remainder of this letter is missing.—ED.


There’s a love chit for you just received. I guess my Boss splits himself owing to Eglinton’s haut fait de magie and explains as promised. Of course you would not believe me—if the card was such a “good imitation of my handwriting” and I am sure



Mr. C. C. M. must have strengthened your belief that it was some new fraud concocted between Mrs. Billing and myself. Well there’s a letter from Mahatma K. H. also. All Mr. Massey’s doings, was it not he, and he alone who proposed and had her elected as the only possible Saviour of the British Theos. Society? Well now thank him and keep her to turn all of you into a jelly. Of course she will wag you as her tail more than ever. I know it will end with a scandal. Well Olcott is coming and then you will have nolens volens to accept the decision of the “nominal” President. My boss gave him instructions and hurries him on.
                                            Yours—but not Mrs. Kingsford’s,
                                                                                                                            H. P. B.



21st July.


Consummatum est! Mail arrived and I was ordered by M. to open Massey’s letter and to send it to you to read before forwarding it to Olcott. Fine finale! But what else could be expected with such a bigoted ass as Wyld at their head. My “atheism” and Olcott’s were perfectly known to them for the last five years since they knew we were Buddhists. Pretext all that, and Divine or godly Wisdom is not “Wisdom of God.” Well, what shall we do? It is on Massey and S. M. that the whole edifice rested. Massey—prejudiced against me as he is by three things he entirely misunderstands – can yet be won, but only by you and not even by Olcott—saith Boss. On S. M.—no use to count upon. Read his last “Spirit Teachings” in Light and tell me, whether a high disembodied Spirit will speak of St. Paul and even of the “Elementary Spirits”—a term coined by me in Isis, for shells, never used but by us, since for ages and in the Kabalistic and Occult books in the West the term stood for Salamanders, Gnomes, etc. that which we call Elementals and in the existence of which no Spirist and S. M. less than they, believe. Read carefully p. 319 Light and tell me whether the dialogue between + I  and S. M. is not a mental dialogue between himself and himself—his emotional self and his intellectual reasoning self. Massey says that S. M. declares the statement of + being a Brother “to be a downright, palpable absolute falsehood”—all right. But K. H. and M. and the old Chohan say that the + of his early mediumship is a Brother, and I will assert it over and over again on my death bed. But assuredly the + of then is not the + of today! Passons. No use quarrelling.

I   This + designates Imperator, the “guide” of Stainton Moses.—ED.



Oh why did you ever have the unfortunate idea of writing to him what K. H. said! He was a theosophist, lukewarm still open to conviction then and now he is an inveterate enemy of K. H.; and you do not, cannot know how bitterly he laughs and scoffs at the very name of K. H.! It is he S. M. (as Mrs. B. writes me) who set all the Theos. Spirts who look up to him as an authority, a leader, against K. H. Well no use as you say to cry over spilt-milk.

I deceived him. C. C. Massey!! Yes, I “deceived” him as I have Scott and so many others by telling them the truth—though but a part of the whole truth for which I am not to be held responsible. But see what Massey says of K. H.’s visit to Eglinton. Oh my prophetic soul! How I did feel this. How right he is then Massey, and how fallen down must be our K. H. in their short-sighted estimation. K. H. laughs at this and so does M. They may indeed. But what shall you say to Massey? Shall you let him labour under this dreadful (dishonouring to all of us) impression that K. H. the brightest, best, purest of all the Tchutuktus actually went in his own person to see that conceited fool. He wrote to you (K. H.) several times on the subject. Is it possible that he should not have mentioned to you, given you an inkling to the truth? How he did laugh at Eglinton’s conceit. How easy it is, he said to me, to show that the best medium in the world is as likely to become a subject to hallucination to Maya. Why Morya said only yesterday, that Stainton M., his “guardian” and guide + notwithstanding, could be made to mistake our Poodi (an Elemental spook) for Christ—if they wanted to. And that after that S. M. would bamboozle involuntarily the whole world of Spiritualists with his assurance that he did see Christ and that Mr. Jesus told him that, this and the other. Is Massey so blind as not to feel that K. H. in giving Egl. his “testimonials” only laughed at him? Is this K. H.’s usual style? Is this gush whose mocking tone was so strong that Olcott felt obliged to modify and let out half of it—when publishing it in the Psychic Notes, is this gush I say like what K. H. writes seriously. Why, fools of London, don’t they see that there was a motive in all this? A motive which will be shown in further combinations, and which may lead to the greatest blow that Spm. has ever received yet and to its partial destruction. Ask Eg.—it is absolutely necessary—why does K. H. look. Let some of our friends (Massey) put him the question, how is K. H. in appearance and judge by the portrait you have. Why Egl. shows Mengens K. H. He is putting Mengens in direct communication with K. H. and the “Illustrious” etc. And from elemental, mocking spooks he may come down to old rags—Mrs. Nichols white nightgown and her husband’s



nightcap to make up K. H. Koothoomi tried without approaching Eg. personally to save him, for, as he says, he is a wonderfully powerful medium. But, he found out that the man though naturally honest enough, as soon as he was under control became a liar, a cheat, deceiving people wilfully and then forgetting all about it. He would submit to nothing; and K. H. who hoped that by bringing him to Simla he could do good to the Society, at least to the phenomenalists, stopped abruptly, for he found out that the power that he would have to use to keep clear of the Elementals and especially the Shells would be more, far more than he would be allowed to use for such a purpose. Yet Massey is right; and even Banon is right, for the high ideal that they had in their minds is broken and K. H. must appear to them as fallen down. Go to S. M.? and why? What good would it do? If one of our Brothers appeared to him during his normal state, then S. M. would take him for a liar, a calumniator, the spirit of a sorcerer who dared to contradict him in his knowledge of +. And if they went while S. M. was under control, then he would remember nothing and mix up and make things still worse. “He (S. M.) is too far gone” they say. “In Maya he lives, in Maya he will die, and in Maya he will pass a long period before his next rebirth.” So let us drop it.

When Eg. was in England already, K. H. told me to do as E. asked me: to send him an obligation and application, and to Olcott’s objection my Boss told him that E. would never be allowed to become a theosophist. And they have kept their word. All that has been done was done with a determined object and motive. I repeat to you the words of my Boss, and you may tell so to Massey. But aren’t you going to defend your friendK. H.? Mr. Sinnett, will you be so ungrateful as to allow K. H. who has sacrificed more than you will ever know of, for the future of both of you and the Society, to be so spoken of by Massey? I am sure you will not—you cannot. Let the whole world revile and suspect me, let them call me names and dishonour the very ground I walk on—but let them not profane our Brothers names—and, oh gods, -- this is just what I expected! You see where it leads to, for them, the holy and the blessed to deal with you civilised, proud Pelings. And you would want them to come out publicly and throw their personalities to the dogs to rent them! I wish I were dead, before I found our K. H. so reviled! I wish they would turn all their rabid wrath upon me with my strong back, rather than to suffer what I do suffer now in the face of such a profanation. It is Mr. Hume’s doubts and suspicions, his challenge to Olcott that have led K. H. and M. to prove to him that it was the easiest thing in the world for them



to convince a medium of their existence. And see how many times have not you said that if only Mr. Hume could be made sure that K. H. and I were not identical, and that they really had powers and could exercise them far away from me then he would ask for nothing more. And now read his despairing letter to me. See—is he satisfied to let things go quietly and progressively? And is it reasonable of him to ask K. H. to give him at once, rightaway, the whole doctrine that it takes years to the adepts themselves to learn? And, since they will not give it to him then will the Eclectic go down and disappear as the British T.S. has. No Sir; human nature and especially Western, British nature is insatiable. Do what our Brothers may—I do not say you, since you seem to have forced yourself to become an exception—the other theosophists will never be satisfied. With every new concession they will clamour for more. Buss ---.

And now what shall we do? Read Massey’s letter and Mr. Hume’s and judge for yourself of the situation. And November is close at our heels. The British Theosophists have postponed their final decision until November—does this suggest nothing to your mind? In November comes the end of our Septenary and I see but little hope. The Chohan is there, and he is not to be propelled by any offerings. He is as stern and impassionate as Death itself.

Pardon me for this long letter but I never write unless there is strict necessity and—we are drowning. And believe me, that it would have been far better had our Brothers never been suggested anything or advised. K. H. is too good; too actively humane and kind yet, and it may be his ruin. He suffers—I know it—whenever he has to refuse you two, anything, and that you do not seem to understand that if he does so it is because there is no help for it—it lies outside of his power. Oh unlucky, unhappy day when I first consented to put you two in correspondence and he through his kindness, his divine charity, did not refuse my request! Better perish the Theosoph. Society and we two—Olcott and I—than that we should have been the means of so lowering in the public estimation the holy name of the Brotherhood!

Turning from the sublime to the ridiculous, behold C. C. M.’s letter in Light. See the shaft thrust by that once devoted, friendly hand. Well I have answered it in the Theosophist which comes out tomorrow. Your “letter of an A. I. T. to a London Theosophist” is splendid but it comes too late for this month. We printed it earlier this month. It will go in the next.

There’s our salvation. To overflood the world with occult publications and our doctrines so far as allowable and so bring conviction to their hearts. K. H. and M. will help of course. But



will they be there to help after November? That is the question.

J. Kool says that the T.S. ought to be composed in London solely of mystics and not to allow in it one single biassed sectarian. Mrs. Kingsford, Maitland, Isabel de Steiger F.T.S., Miss F. Arundale F.T.S., Massey, Palmer, Thomas, and have Seers in it; then would the chelas be sent to develop them at every meeting, to train them, and that the effect would be visible. K. H. was so kind as to dictate to me last night nearly all of my answer to Massey. Send me back Massey’s letter when done with it.

                                                                                      May our Karmas protect and save us.
                                                                                                                                             H. P. B.


August 4, 1882.


And now you will catch it, and aren’t I glad you will. You see truth is a dangerous thing to tell especially to seers inspired by John the Baptist and Hermes. In the paper addressed to the Theosophist (you will find it already announced in Light, by Maitland and Mrs. K.) you are called “your reviewer” (my, the Theosophist’s reviewer) and my poor reviewer who is no masked stranger to the authors of the Perfect Way, is treated in a polite yet very rough way especially for his having left Christianity before he could understand its hidden esoteric beauty. Fuss, fuss. Then an interminable article from that blind bat W. Oxley—versus Subba Row, whom he calls a bigoted orthodox Brahmin!! He had three visits from K. H. “by astral form” he tells the public!!! and the philosophic doctrine therein propounded (in the article by K. H.) is hardly calculated to enlighten the poor mortals or strengthen their esteem for the powers of the Brothers. I was going to reject the MSS. but K. H. ordered me not to and D. K. just brought in a long foot note to be appended to the article which as it is given to me in a double copy I send to you as ordered. K. H. tells you to make alterations in it if you like it, and send them before the thing is printed. Well, as I say to Mr. Hume, it will be a coup de theatre when received in London. Your church goers nearly all distributed. Will send again what remains to American subscribers and to our fellows for judicious distribution. I have insisted that it should be printed as you wanted it and not as Olcott had prearranged it in his Yankee pumpkin. I find that I am a far better business


—•— 27   K.  H.’s  PORTRAIT —•—

woman than he is when left alone and not bossed by him. I sent Deb to the Bombay Gazette Press and had no difficulty in having it printed in such a way. I do not know what the bill will be, I think 15 rup. and I will pay it out of your Occult World sums—which sell (the O. W. not the sums) like hot cakes. You who have accused me so often for my innacuracy you are a nice one to talk. D. Khool pointed out to me a mistake of yours and laughed at you jolly. See pp. 200 and 201. Collect your memory, my son, and try to remember that the details of K. H.’s portrait painting were quite different from what you give. We were sitting—Mrs. S. you and I in the drawing-room when I said something about K. H.’s portrait but added I did not think you would get it. Right away you teased me to try. I told you all right but that I doubted. You gave me first a sheet of note or letter paper and it was left in the scrap book. Nothing happened before lunch, but something happened during lunch on the same day and no “that day nor that night” passed between. I was dissatisfied with the portrait and paper and asked you to give me two Bristol boards marked and took it into my room. After its all right. But you see if you can forget with your young memory the fact that both were asked for by you and produced on the same day – why should not I, with my old and impaired brain forget often things and—like Paul—be “held as a sinner” when I do not lie like him even for the glory of God! All of you are backbiters and calumniators.

Poor Beatson. You will not say, I hope, that he was not treated in the most shabby and mean way. The poor fellow comes to study his Persian for examination, settles quietly down, and then suddenly receives from General MacPherson an offer to accompany him on his staff to Egypt; consents, prepares, spends money, breaks and gives up his study, and now, when all is ready is left out in the cold! It is disgusting such injustice. Why he even let me announce his departure in our theosophical items in the Supplement. And now through a brat, a Vice-regal favourite he is insulted and will be laughed at. I told him he would not go I felt it, but he would not believe. And now he not only does not go to Egypt and loses his chance of promotion but has lost time and will not be able to pass his Persian examination this year. It is terribly mean, and the poor fellow looks very downhearted. You ought to give it them in the Pioneer if you had anything like a heart and any love or feeling for any brother theosophist except your K. H. who refused going to Egypt and thereby displeased his authorities.

He is determined, he says, to leave the Service, buy an occult library, build himself a hut in Cashmere somewhere, and devote



his life to theosophy. But this of course is a “moonshine of vexation” as Deb expresses it. Beatson is in love with Deb. He says he never saw a more charming ideal face than that boy’s face. A “boy” of 30! Poor Damodar is still at Poona, but is all right now in health. The brothers picked him up and even endowed him with such a mesmeric force that he cured several desperate cases (one blindness in a boy) in a few days. Whether it will last or not I do not know. But the Poona Fellows craved for something phenomenal and he gave it to them. I want to run up to Poona for a few days to dry my bones and get out the dampness from every pore of my body I got during this monsoon. To all kinds of insects we have the rats to boot. They are eating up everything in the house from my dresses to cupboards and iron bedsteads. I slew seven of them since yesterday to the great horror and disgust of Deb. But they have devoured my poor little canary bird and I had to get my revenge and did get it by means of cunningly devised traps. I feel I am becoming wicked and cruel, and that if the “old one” will keep me off for some time yet from going home I will become a Marat if not a Maratta Brahmin.

Oh my Karma! Mr. Hume’s letter to Miss Green—something is, as he says, “velvet gloved.” Ye gods of the infernal regions, wouldn’t I have given [it] her if they would only let me! I begin to think our brothers chicken-hearted for refusing to make the most they can of my present warlike disposition. Why you sent me back the MS of Khandallavalah is more [than] I can tell. K. H. says you do know and have to know, and that it is only your viciousness that prevents you from admitting that you do know but won’t tell. To tell truth, it is not K. H. who says so, but I know that he must think so, and that’s the same thing. However he carried it off * in disgust with you, I feel sure of it. Goodbye.
                                                                                                H. P. B

•          Your letter and MS.




As K. H. just kindly flopped on my nose a whole Iliad to your address you will not care much to read my letter. Anyhow I have nothing good to say. My plans are burst. The “Old One” won’t let me go, doesn’t want me. Says all kind of “serenades”—bad times; the English will be behind me, (for they believe more in the Russians than in the brothers); their


—•— 29    H.  P.  B.  CURSES  HER  FATE  —•—

presence will prevent any Brother to come to me visibly and invisibly I can just as well see them from where I am; wanted here and elsewhere but not in Tibet, etc. etc. Well I can only beg pardon to have disturbed you and the rest. I had all ready, the whole itinerary was sent from Calcutta, M. gave me permission, and Deb was ready—Well you won’t prevent me from saying now at least from the bottom of my heart—DAMN MY FATE, I tell you death is preferable. Work, work, work and no thanks. I do not blame Mr. Hume—he is right. Well if I do feel crazy it is theirs not my fault—not poor M. or K. H.’s but theirs, of those heartless dried up big-bugs, and I must call them that if they had to pulverise me for this. What do I care now for life! Annihilation is 10,000 better. I leave Bombay for Madras for ever the Headquarters I mean in December if I live.
                                                                                                         H. P. B.


                                                                                                                   August 26th, 1882.


I send you a letter just received from Mr. Hume. Read it if you please and judge. Now, I positively and emphatically decline to receive such letters. He may or may not remain in the Society—it’s the Brothers’ business. He may or may not do it and me under the pretext of philanthropy all the injury he can think of, but he will not do it through me, nor will he take me as his mouthpiece to repeat to K. H. messages which are the most impudent ones in the world. If they have not, I have enough of him and his generous benefactions he forces upon us, if I have to pay such a price as that for it. Why the dickens does he not write all this to K. H. himself? or, have they again quarrelled and the correspondence is stopped? I expected as much and knew it would come to this. He sends me an article for publication; it has and must be absolutely published he says. Now I would have thrown the article into the fire not for what it contains of me, or against Isis—which he calls the most inaccurate work full and teeming with practical errors (much he knows of it!) but what it says of the Brothers, when he calls them “selfish Asiatics” blames and criticises them, warns the public against them etc. I certainly would have thrown it into the fire but K. H. sent word with Morya that he wanted it absolutely published and I have of course but to shut up. But he will receive a nice protest from Subba Row and seven or more chelas at the end of it, and he will make himself hated by all the Hindus who



believe in the Brothers that’s all. I must say, that if his desire is to obtain knowledge from K. H. he takes funny ways to get it.

In his letter as you will see he gives me two more messages. Tell D. K. not to make a goose of himself with sham phenomena! I think he made a goose of himself rather. Djual K. had nothing to do with the face dubbed on the margin of his proof. I did it and by no occult means either, but simply with the finger and some blue pencil before a roomful of visitors who interrupted my proof reading, and then in the evening when Deb received a letter from D. K. I tried for fun to imitate D. K.’s handwriting and failed. It was my proof not his; and it was sent to him (I forgetting entirely that dubbed face was there) because the printers upset or spilled the type that was loosely tied up in the form and there was no time to strike off another proof. I gave my proof then to Deb and he, I suppose, did not notice that the caricature was there, and Hume takes it immediately for a “sham occult phenomenon” and Damodar will write to Fern to decline receiving his letters to M. henceforth. He will not run the risk of being called a forger, and impostor and what not. Damodar a deceiver!! I may as well suspect Olcott or yourself of forgery or deceit as him. I won’t have him insulted and that’s all. I had always said that notwithstanding all his gush and benefactions, he Mr. Hume would become the evil genius of the Society and so he is now. He does that which was never done before; he washes what he imagines to be—and succeeds in making other people imagine—the dirty linen of the sacred Brotherhood publicly in the town bazaars, and criticises in print what he cannot, is unable with his egotistical nature to understand. Why don’t you quarrel with K. H? Why is it that he the mildest of mortals likes you so much and comes to nearly feel sick at the mention of Hume’s name? I do not protest against the cruel, humiliating treatment of myself for I have sacrificed my individuality long ago. But I must say, that ever since he began to write for the alleged good of the Society and assumed the role of its benefactor, father and patron, I have received more insults, more kicks from him than from any body I know of. He made of me a consummate liar, a chronic humbug in the Hints (which he hung and burnt in hell-fire); and now he forces me to publish against myself, against my book with which hundreds and thousands of people, as intellectual as he is himself, are in raptures and well satisfied with and would never have noticed my bad English and vague statements except on the whole as uninitiates—and so will prevent its sale for the last three or four months the only gagne pain of the Society, that


—•—   31   HUME’S  CRITICISMS  OF  H.  P.  B. —•—

which makes it live and pull on without debts. His calling me a liar and a chronic humbug brought its fruit in the shape of a pamphlet from a Rev. Theophilus in which he calls it “an official document confirmed by and published under the auspices of the T. Society.” But I would ask you why should I, to satisfy the doubts and displeasure of the few like C. C. M. and St: Moses, etc.—why should I be sacrificed, be offered in a holocaust to the Lord God of Israel who is Mr. Hume himself in his opinion, I suppose. Our Society lived and thrived well without him whether it was little or much thought of, whether it made, or made no mistakes, and until he came in I was good enough for the masses, except for half a dozen of “choice intellects” like his and yours. And I would rather have preferred to die in my mediocrity than too much celebrity as he makes it now. The higher a position the greater the fall. I only laboured to establish the Society firmly so that after my death—which fortunately is not very far off—it would thrive and a better one than I should come and take my place. Why then should he come in like an African Simoon, blasting and destroying all on his passage, impeding my work, showing my mediocrity in a blaze of light, criticising all and everything, finding fault with everybody and forcing the whole India to point a finger of scorn at me—call me a liar, and that’s him, who is never himself spoken of (see Mrs. and Mr. Watson of Baroda) but as the biggest liar in creation whether rightly or wrongly I don’t know. Is there no salvation for the Society outside of him, the great Hume, the Mount Everest of intellect, as he believes himself? Do you think he does well in disgusting the Europeans with the Brothers -- (to screen himself alone, in future events if any) -- and raising the hatred of the Hindus against him? The Europeans would have neither offered themselves nor would they be accepted as chelas without his pointing them the submarine rocks. The Brothers have enough of Europeans by this time, I guess. You alone have never insulted never quarelled with them, disgusted as you may often feel at the state of things. For even I, a half Asiatic and with none of your niceties and English pruderie and fidgetiness, even I felt disheartened more than once at the crumbling of my ideals. But that was long ago; years since; and since then I learned to know them better, and if they lost in my fiction, they won the more in my real reverential respect. I do not judge them any more on appearances as you do. I know there are many things in their reality which does not agree with our European sense or notions of right—as Hume says in his articles, but then, my dear Mr. Sinnett they have a hundred times more of that which you will never get or have in Europe, nor have they any of our horrible vices and small faults. Their



ways are repugnant he says! Well why does he go after them then? They do not want him; nor are they inclined to bow before him for his Hints and Sundra Iyer’s Essay, of which he makes so much, and which the Sundra Iyer will perhaps refuse to recognise as his own in its new dress. The Brothers do not care a snap of their finger what he thinks of them, and I suspect his letter sent for publication is a great relief to them, in one sense. It is a cruel, cold, rebellious and haughty letter, at best, and the chelas are preparing a protest with Subba Row at the head. I would have never NEVER published it, but M. and K. H. want me to do so and I have but to obey. This letter is a magnificent answer to the ever recurring question “why do not the Brothers favour the Europeans.” They favour more a man who calls them as good as asses, who, he says contradict themselves, are unintelligent or what is the same “intellectually lower” than the European as he says in his article. You are a “baby” for liking their portraits. Mr. Hume would do better? No doubt he would with time given him and materials, and if he knows drawing, especially, he would certainly do it better than Dj. Kh. who has no idea of European drawing, who could hardly make a conception with his Chinese notions of perspective of a face en face in his mind. But let him do it instantaneously as we do. Let him do a fakir’s head, and have it spoken of as a unique by the best painters and art critics, without knowing the first rule of drawing as I did. He can also forge. I have no doubt he can. But had he the slightest conception how their “forging” is done he would not have made a fool of himself when speaking of his big miscroscope. His miscroscope will often show him several layers of various stuffs—black lead, and powder and ink, etc. for I have often seen M. sit with a book of most elaborate Chinese characters that he wanted to copy, and a blank book before him and he would put a pinch of black lead dust before him and then rub it in slightly on the page; and then over it precipitate ink; and then, if the image of the characters was all right and correct in his mind the characters copied would be all right, and if he happened to be interrupted then there would be a blunder, and the work would be spoilt. I did not see the letter with Fern’s name forged on it, therefore I cannot say. But if he thinks of detecting forgery because his microscope shows him several layers of material then—I pity his intellectual perceptions. And, no doubt when K. H. writes naturally, then Mr. Hume can write better than he does. So can you. But let him try to run a race not with K. H. but with a simple chela when a writing or letter is really phenomenally produced and then he will be nowhere. Nor will he be shown anything if he treats the Brothers as if they


—•—   33   THE  T.S.  THE  HOPE  OF  MANKIND —•—

were native clerks. No; they are no GENTLEMEN but they are ADEPTS. I do not now wonder that he (Hume) would never know a Christian, since if Jesus ever lived there’s 99 to 100 to bet that he was an unwashed Jew and no “gentleman” in his manners. Nevertheless he is a God for 300 millions among whom there are intellects as good as Hume’s. I knew he was too haughty to bear with our Brothers. He offering himself as a chela and you innocently believing in his conversion! Fiddlesticks. A Jupiter offering himself as a goat-herd to the God Hermes, to teach the latter manners! Verily—if it came easy to him to prove me an inaccurate fool, a liar, he will find it more difficult in K. H.’s case. Why a chela would hardly be liable to contradict himself “to say one day black and on the other white” on such rudimentary matters as you are taught, as I find from your writings. If K. H. said that the T.S. was the hope of mankind, and then that but two Brothers cared for it, I know what he meant. The T.S. is not going to die with us, and we all of us are but the diggers of its foundations. Where’s the contradiction? He laughs at their desire to make him swallow the idea that they are all “angels and Buddhas”!!! much they care for his opinion. And if they are but weak, boasting fools why the devil does he accept K.H. for his Guru. Why does he not throw him overboard and be done with it. I will be the first to feel the greatest relief. If he has his pride, self-dignity and his ideals, I have them too; and I consider his letter to me worse than a slap on my face. I will not receive, nor will I read any more of his letters. I wrote to him all I write to you and K. H. forbid me to send it to him. He may revile and insult the Brothers, Society and me publicly and privately, he can do no worse than he did already. Of course Mr. Hume is a British ex-official and a gentleman and the Brothers no gentlemen, and I but a poor Russian adventuress a chronic liar in the eyes of Anglo-India, thanks to him. He “loves the Brothers and especially K. H.” He bathes in the milk of his kindness the whole Brotherhood and the “poor, dear old lady” he loves all and everything, and those he loves so well he treats them like the God of Israel who loved his son so well that he sent him to be crucified. He is like the Count Ugolino “qui a devore ses propres enfants pour leur conserver un pere!” He is a Pecksniff your Hume and now, behold! he has become an Adwaitee; a believer in no God. He was an Adwaitee for the last twenty years and what becomes of Mrs. Gordon’s, Mrs. Sinnett’s your’s, mine, Davison, his wife and daughter’s statements to the effect that hundreds of times he maintained last year his P.G. Did he not quarrel with M. in letters and with me in the museum for his Creator and Governor, and moral ruler and guide



of the Universe? Of course we are now all fools, we did not understand him, he does not contradict himself. And why the devil does he write to me tell this and that to K. H., why does he not write himself? And what the deuce does he mean by his l Etre est Etre of E. Levi, and his seeming answers to questions I know nothing about! I verily suspect he took my name but as a screen, a sham and that he was writing to K. H. in his head – and if so, what has happened? Have they quarrelled? And he—HE (!!!) calls the Brothers and K. H. SELFISH! Oh, Jesus son of the nun and uncle of Moses! He calling K. H. the grandest, noblest, purest of men—selfish! a truer and better than whom never existed outside the walls of their low asrum; one who young as he is may have become Chohan and perfect Boddhisatwa long ago, were it not for his really divine pity for the world. Oh the sinner and blasphemer! He is not satisfied with their system, he “wanted many times to break with them.” Oh the irreparable blow to the Fraternity—if he does. A poor dry weed rolling down the Cheops Pyramid would be as likely to hurt the Pyramid as he the Brotherhood by breaking with them. Well look out for yourself. I have done with him. If he injures the Society we will go—to China or Ceylon instead of going December to Madras—that’s all.
                                                             Yours sincerely,
                                                                                   H. P. B.



(Private, not for Mr. Hume.)



This morning I got up from my bed for the first time this week. But never mind me. Your letters enclosing copy to Mr. Hume yesterday and today’s enclosing his answers to it show only that you are of the true stuff, and I hope only I won’t die before you have been rewarded for all your devotion and affection for K. H. by seeing him. And how easy—oh gods! to see him! Read this:

I will remain about 23 miles off Darjeeling till Sep. 26th—and if you come you will find me in the old place. You misunderstood entirely what I shouted to you this morning - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - in the Theosophist
 stands as tho’ it were - - - - - - - I
                                                                                                                                 K. H.
Undecipherable Tibetan characters appear here in the original. This note in K. H.’s writing is pasted on to H. P. B.’s letter.—ED.


—•— 35   H.  P.  B.  IS  MADE  TO  APOLOGISE —•—

I received this yesterday after the operation. Neither of the two answers by Hume astonished me. I sent them off for the delectation of M. and chelas. Only mark my word: Hume is beginning to be off his head. My last illness brought me back several years and I now see what I could never have seen without their help a fortnight ago. “K. H. knows” he says what he Hume knows. Well I guess he does, and mighty more. He bamboozles himself into the insane belief that he is fast becoming an adept and he sees sights and believes in them as revelations. But he is not delicate enough to comprehend that K. H. will to the last be kind and polite. The day I sent you my letter with his “Notes” K. H. had prevailed upon me not to write to him but to send to you instead. I did so; but feeling that I suffocated I got up from bed and wrote him a short letter where I told Hume what I thought of him. To this K. H. did not object but said that as Hume was necessary to them for some purposes yet, he would send him an antidote to soothe his anger against me. The antidote went to Hume in the shape of a telegram from K. H. from somewhere out of Bombay telling Hume as I see . . . “a foolish letter sent against my advice, you must pardon the passion of an old and very, very sick woman,” and then on the following day advised me for the good of the Society to sacrifice my feelings and since he Hume had once offered me his excuses, asked me that I should do the same. I wrote him therefore, another letter, telling him that since K. H. and M. thought I better apologize for some of my rude expressions I do so. At the same time, having devoted half a page to express sorrow if I had hurt his feelings I believe I told him worse things on the three other pages than the day before. But now—I will abuse him no more. When in Tibet a criminal is going to receive just punishment they try to make him as happy as possible during the interval between sentence and the day of his doom. I know he is doomed AND BY HIS OWN ACTIONS.

He “behind the veil”! Behind Magy’s nightcap. He knows and K. H. knows he knows! Oh holy Moses! How grand and mysterious. He thinks “it very possible that nothing but your personal relations with these Brothers may survive and yet the movement, the real spirit of it, may make no less rapid progress. There are other powers coming on the stage—as they know—if the O. L. don’t.” Now please compare this very mysterious sentence, prophetic and blood-chilling, with that other phrase which winds up the 8-column long article of Oxley in the Theosophist . . . “with profound respect and acknowledgment of a power, which, though about to be changed, is as yet as much in its proper place, as that which preceded and will follow” (p. 303, 1st Col.).



Hume must be in correspondence with Oxley surely. I tell you he is off his head, and will yet become a spiritualist. Perhaps he may find out some day that “the other powers” are the Dugpas, who are in a dangerous proximity with himself. Let him remember the universal Kabalistic axiom. “To know, to dare, to will and be silent.” Let him read the impressive phrase translated by Eliphas Levi from the Book of Numbers in Vol. I of “Dogme de la Haute Magie,” p. 115.

“Dans la voie des hautes sciences, il ne faut pas s’engager temerairement, mais, une fois en marche, il faut arriver ou perir. Douter c’est devenir fou; s’arreter, c’est tomber; reculer, c’est se precipiter dans un gouffre.”

You have chosen the right path and you will learn all that a “lay chela” can learn and more without any danger. He wanted to force the hand, to out-Brother the Brothers. Well, well, well, we will see.

The Theos. Soc. will of course prosper “the movement, the real spirit of it, will of course make no less rapid progress.” But it will be our Society or rather M. and K. H.’s Society, and not his—the new one that he has taken it into his head to found in India, with the help of a few insane mystics—spiritualists, whom he will go on bossing.

That’s the secret. He wants to sink “the old Society” and inaugurate a new movement against the Brothers. He took it into his head last March and April. I know all now. Yes, K. H. knows, “if the O. L. don’t”—and K. H. trembles! Bon voyage.

Yes. September, October and—then buss—the last round of the Wheel of the Cycle “Connu!” and it can never frighten me. The “O. L.” may be a fool one side of her; but when the other side awakes even the monstrous intellect of the Opposing power called Hume, does not affect her much.

Well adieu. He corrects and calls it “a letter not an article.” Well, for me and those who are not so literary as he is, article or letter is one thing in a magazine when it has a heading. In my editorial protest I call it a letter, and the chelas call it in theirs indifferently—“article” and “letter” and I did not correct the word.

Good-bye, you, the only English gentleman I know in India; the only true and faithful friend. I now see the difference between a Conservative and a Liberal!! Oh Jesus.
                                                My sincerest fondest love to Mrs. Sinnett and Den.
                                                                                      Yours ever,
                                                                                                    H. P. B


—•— 37   M.  IS  ANGRY  WITH  HUME —•—



Received about September 19th



I am afraid you will have soon to bid me goodbye—whether to Heaven or Hell—connais pas. This time I have it well and good—Bright’s disease of the kidneys; and the whole blood turned into water with ulcers breaking out in the most unexpected and the less explored spots, blood or whatever it may be forming into bags a la Kangaroo and other pretty extras and et ceteras. This all primo brought by Bombay dampness and heat, and secundo by fretting and bothering. I have become so stupidly nervous that the unexpected tread of Babula’s naked foot near me makes me start with the most violent palpitations of the heart. Dudley says—I forced him to tell me this—that I can last a year or two, and perhaps but a few days, for I can kick the bucket at any time in consequence of an emotion. Ye lords of creation! Of such emotions I have twenty a day—how can I last then? I give all the business over to Subba Row. In Dec. or Jan. we shift our Headquarters to Madras and so how can I come to Allababad!

Boss wants me to prepare and go somewhere for a month or so toward end of September. He sent a chela here Gargya Deva from Nilgerri Hills, and he is to take me off, where I don’t know, but of course somewhere in the Himalayas. Boss is fearfully mad with Hume. He says he has spoilt all his work (!?). But really—miserable as I was and shocked over his stupid and “bumptious” (as you say) letter I was sick for weeks before, and so it is not Hume who did all the mischief but M. is nevertheless black as night over him. Ah well, it is my poor old aunt that I pity the most and—poor Olcott what will he do without me! Well I can hardly write I am really too weak. Yesterday they drove me down the Fort to the doctor—I got up with both my ears swollen thrice their natural size!! -- and I met Mrs. Strut and sister—her carriage crossing mine slowly. She did not salute nor make a sign of recognition but looked very proud and disdainful. Well I was fool enough to resent it. I tell you I am very very sick. Yes, I wish I could see you once more and dear Mrs. Gordon and my old Colonel whose “Grandmother” I may meet in some of the lower hells whither I will go – unless I am picked up by Them and made to stick in Tibet.

Well good bye all; and when I am gone—if I go before seeing you—do not think of me too much as an “impostor”—for I



swear I told you the truth, however much I have concealed of it from you. I hope Mrs. Gordon will not dishonour by evoking me with some medium. Let her rest assured that it will never be my spirit nor anything of me—not even my shell since this is gone long ago.
                                          Yours in life yet,
                                                                          H. P. B.

When are you sending your reply to Perfect Way? Aren’t you going to give a Letter No. III for this. True I have your “Evolution of Man.”


                                                                                                                             October 9th.

How did you know I was here? You seem to be surrounded by very gossiping friends. Well now that there is no more danger from your blessed Government and its officials, I was going to write to you myself and explain the motive for the secrecy “which is so very repulsive generally to your European feelings.” The fact is that had I not left Bombay in the greatest secrecy—even some Theosophists who visit us believing me at home but busy and invisible as usual—had I not gone incognito so to say till I reached the hills and turned off the railway to enter Sikkim I would have never been allowed to enter it unmolested, and would not have seen M. and K. H. in their bodies both. Lord, I would have been dead by this time. Oh the blessed blessed two days! It was like the old times when the bear paid me a visit. The same kind of wooden hut, a box divided into three compartments for rooms, and standing in a jungle on four pelican’s legs; the same yellow chelas gliding noiselessly; the same eternal “gul-gul-gul” sound of my Boss’s inextinguishable chelum pipe; the old familiar sweet voice of your K. H. (whose voice is still sweeter and face still thinner and more transparent) the same entourage for furniture—skins, and yak-tail stuffed pillows and dishes for salt tea etc. Well when I went to Darjeeling sent away by them—“out of reach of the chelas, who might fall in love with my beauty” said my polite boss—on the following day already I received the note I enclose from the Deputy Commissioner warning me not to go to Tibet!! He locked the stable door after the horse had been already out. Very luckily; because when the infernal six or seven babus who stuck to me like parasites went to ask passes for Sikkim they were refused point blank and


—•— 39   H.  P.  B.  VISITS  M.  AND  K. H. —•—

the Theos. Society abused and jeered at. But I had my revenge. I wrote to the Deputy Commissioner and told him that I had permission from Government—the fact of Government not answering for my safety being of little importance since I would be safer in Tibet than in London; that after all I did go twenty or thirty miles beyond Sikkim territory and remained there two days and nothing happened bad to me and there I was. Several ladies and gentlemen anxious to see “the remarkable woman,” pester me to death with their visits, but I have refused persistently to see any of them. Let them be offended. What the d---- do I care. I won’t see anyone. I came here for our Brothers and Chelas and the rest may go and be hanged. Thanks for your offer. I do mean to pay you a visit but I cannot leave Darjeeling until my Boss is hovering near by. He goes away in a week or ten days and then I will leave D. and if you permit me to wait for you at your house I will do so with real pleasure. But I cannot be there much before the 20th so if you write to tell them it will be all right.

I have received via Bombay a long article by Mr. Hume. The most impudent and insulting I ever read. If he thinks I will print it, he may whistle for it. I will send it to you to-morrow with my letter for him as Boss advises me to do. If you find my letter good send it to him, and the article keep please and return to me when you see me. I am very weak and must stop. Boss gives you his love—I saw him last night at the Lama’s house.
                                                                        Yours ever,
                                                                                      H. P. B.



December 7th.


‘Pon my honour could not tell. Tried in America where they had stolen old millionaire Stewart’s body, and Brothers said then it was no concern of mine, but that the body would never be found and—it never was, all manner of stories notwithstanding to the effect that it was found.

Your books for review arrived yesterday and with them my BOSS, who put up an appearance. Says—he would try to dictate to me the reviews himself, were it not for the fact—a quite and utterly impossible feat—required, to write as if I (he) belonged to the Church of England! Thanks.

Olcott telegraphed for I had telegraphed him to ask to announce


I  A comment in M.’s writing appears in bold type.—ED.



to you the day of his arrival as you wanted him for Mrs. Sinnett. The Theosophist not out yet and we are the 8th to-day! Why? Because without me all went topsy-turvy and 2,000 Rupees of subscription money spent for what—better ask the wind. Damodar is as loony as a March hare.

As Vice-President and member of the Council you have to be notified of a certain thing. Mr. Padshah as I now find out, went Lucknow to open Branches and initiate Fellows without the sanction and even permission of the Council. He also took 125 Rupees of the subscription money – as there was no other—without asking either my or the Council’s permission, and innumerable complaints against him have been pouring in since I returned, from Dr. Dudley and Council to the effect that he cares about them as much as he cares about a passing donkey; that he, all the time bossed here and played the Master and insulted the Council etc. etc. The worst of all was his lecture, which he gave “in connection with the Bombay Branch” whereas neither its President (Dudley) nor any of the Council had given him sanction or permission to do so. Now what’s to be done in this case? My Boss orders me to notify you of this. With the exception of once 8 or 9 and at another as many lines, from Koot Hoomi, he never received one word from the Brothers, yet, he lowers down all other fellows and publicly boasted at his lecture Framji Hall—that he was one of the very few favoured ones by the Brothers, namely “Col. Olcott, Mr. Sinnett and himself!!” who were in constant communication with him. His behaviour is utterly untheosophical. Now will you, please, sign a paper we will send you (an official paper) blaming his conduct? He does not care a bit about native councillors and it will impress him far more if you sign it. We will send you the paper with his crimes detailed and you give your opinion thereon. M. says its about time to enforce respect for Rules; and if the Council is made so cheap then is the Society and its organisation a—farce. I am disgusted with all this for Padshah deceived me. He now goes on initiating Fellows and sends here neither obligations nor money, but spends it I suppose. Of course if we do not enforce the Rules, the Society is sure to be always in hot water. It is always K. H.’s kindness and extreme tenderness for everything suffering that brings on this. He pitied the Fellow who was disinherited by his Father, and had epileptic fits, and felt miserable and – wrote to him a few lines of consolation, and now, there’s the thanks. The Brothers are again and once more brought into ridicule.

Well, such is our and my fate. Salaam. Yours in hot water,



—•—   41   MR.  HUME  MUST  RIDE  HIS  OWN  DONKEY —•—

When do you want your reviews? Please say. Did the Silent and Scornful “Cynical one” receive Tibet from Trubners I just sent him in lieu of his? Please inform.

P.S. You were mistaken in your supposition that the spiritualists would raise an outcry for Mr. Hume’s Fragments. Not a paper has noticed it. Light not a word; Medium not a breath; the Spiritualist alone had a stupid short para. and a long and as stupid an article to-day about it. I sent to Mr. Hume, Terry’s article in answer to it from Australia. He says that not a point is covered!! Well I have nothing more to say. I told Mr. H. that I could not answer this new article from Terry as my style would so clash with his in the Fragments. And yet the “Boss” always said that the Fragments was a magnificently written article. Oh Jesus, what a life!
                                                                                                    Yours again,
                                                                                                                             H. P. B.

And the “Boss” says so still. But the “Boss” will ask no more Mr. Hume to do anything for either Society or humanity. Mr. Hume will have henceforth, to ride his own “donkey” and we too remain satisfied with our own legs.




I was just ordered to copy out the words (as they stand in Master’s letter) -- regarded as plagiarism. One whom you do not know (nor anyone in the West either, thank goodness!) wants me to draw your attention, that down to the words “our opponents” at the end of the first para. these are simply words that are daily used in writing if read separately by thousands. There is not one idea in them, and the last sentence: “Our opponents the wiseacres” (i.e. the spiritualists) has quotation marks made by the Mahatma in both its portions.

The second para. is the same—words and series of meaningless words by themselves down to “phenomenal elements undreamt of and previously unthought of,” which though a sentence is simply a series of words containing no thought or new idea in it.

He wants to know whether according to your canon of criticism and literary laws such words and sentences would if they were found (as they stand or very like them) -- in other books and works



scattered throughout a dozen of pages constitute a plagiarism? He says he wants your opinion upon the subject before he tells you why. It is only in the para. found out by Farmer and, as he says, which “immediately precedes the portion given above” that there is a long sentence at the end, that could be called “plagiarism” though there is still nothing new or brilliant in it, if there existed no precipitation.

When you answer this I will send it on to this Mahatma.
                                                                                                       H. P. B.

Also—when was “the other letter” you speak of—written? (p. 101 para. 2).


Borrowed Words by Mah. K. H. as italicised in Light, (Jy. 20.)

The terms I - - - - have hitherto been used in a very loose - way - - - - something - mysterious and abnormal, - - - -, - - - - - - - - - shed upon - - recipient minds - light upon - - , - - - - - - - - - as reducible to law as the simplest phenomena - the physical universe. - - “Our opponents” (the Spiritualists) 2 say “the age of miracles is past” but we (also) answer it “never existed.” 3

While not unparalleled or without - counterpart - - history - - - - - - - - overpouring influence - - - - - - -, - - - - both destructive and constructive - destructive - the - errors of the past, - - - - - - - - - - - -, - - - -, - - - but constructive of - institutions, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -, - - - - - - -, - - - - - - - - - - - - -. Phenomenal elements previously unthought of undreamt of, - - - manifesting themselves day by day, with constantly augmented force - disclose - - - secrets of their mysterious workings.

Additional Accusation by S. Farmer.

These truths - - - - constitute indeed a body of - - spiritual - at once profound and practical - - - - - - it is not as an addition to the - - of theory or speculation that they - - given to - but for their practical bearing on the interests of mankind.

I  dashes here stand each for an original word.
2 He was thinking of the Spiritualists, hence the repetition and the word Opponents
3 K. H. has put quotations.


—•— 43   AN  INFERNAL  POWER —•—


                                                                               OOTACUMUND NIGIRI AND BLUE HILLS.
                                                                                                        July Something.


To prove to you that you are as dear to my heart as ever (I beg leave to say that you are not “one so useless” and that it is a fishing fib) I answer your welcome “favour” “sharp and dry” as the Yankees say. But what shall I say? Since your departure I am eternally in hot water for that blessed paper. K. H. used me (I did not hear of him for nearly a fortnight) like a post-horse. I stirred up all our 69 Societies in India and letters sent to your dear Hub, will show to him and you that I have been kicking in this atmosphere like “un diable dans de l’eau benie.” This horrid, dirty agitation kills all. Every one seems to have lost his head over the Bill and this idol business! I wish to Heavens Ilbert and Ripon and your indigo planters got all drowned in their own dye! Your politics will drive me mad like a March hare; and if the Boss does not come to India I will emigrate “armes et bagages” to Ceylon or Burma—I won’t remain here with Hume.

You ask me, dear, whether “the money will come at all.” And how can I know! Goodness, what can I do when even K. H. seems to give it up in disgust and despair. There is some infernal power at work most assuredly, and one of these powers is our Jhut-Sing of Simla, the Seer of the mountains, the “pet chela” of Jacolet the Swami of Almora. Ah if the old Chohan only but permitted our Masters to exercise their powers for one day! But HE will never interfere with India’s punishment, its Karma, as he says, “for having killed so many Buddhists,” though History does not mention such killing. But History was most probably written by “Jhut-Sing,” when in another incarnation. Well, very little hope, I am afraid for us. Better not to deceive ourselves. My Boss M. says that Mr. Sinnett does “an immense good” in England. That a few months more and that the Theos. Soc. will be the great attraction. And behold! even that dear old and ever young Alice—the “lady-love” sticking her nose into politics and signing Protests. What even she be afraid of Native magistrates unless—well, silence is gold.

Olcott is at Ceylon. Had an interview with the Governor!! who called him to use his influence with the Buddhists in the matter of rows with the Roman Catholics. Has grown a beard to the seventh rib and hair floating in silvery locks like a Patriarch. He is going to London in January, I think; Buddhist clergy are sending him for some of their grievances. Well I still hope you



will not see him for you will be here. Oh hopes sweet and delusive! I am at the Morgans, General, the Generaless, six daughters and two sons with four sons-in-law constitute the family of the most terrible atheists and the most flapdoodlish or the most kind Spiritualists. Such care, such kindness and regards for my venerable self that I feel ashamed. Received a letter from Countess Catherine Duchesse de Pomar. Begs for a regular Diploma and a Charter. Is elected President of the new “Societe Theosophique d’Orient et d’Occident,” and writes on a paper with the Isis-Neith Mary Virgin on it “Nursing the Infant Soul” as she expresses it, calling the figure the “Divine Mother Theo-Sophia” surrounded by seven pigeons or “the Spirits of God.” Well, she’ll have her Charter.

Say dear, will do me a great favour? Try to get for me the portrait of the “Divine Anna” and of some other British Theosophist if you can, say I beg for them. Will you?

Poor Minnie Scott is getting blind, she is at the Jhut-Sing’s paternal residence. Davison is here. Keeps two hotels for his Mother and brother-in-law and gets 800 rupees a month. Hates Hume and keeps letter from him in which he tells him of his long conversations in the Museum with K. H. and M. and shows that now he tries to show that they do not exist!!! Davison is disgusted with him and so are all those who know him. Please give “Uncle Sam” the enclosed.

What does Mr. Massey mean by passing “Resolutions” and sending to me remonstrances through Kirby? Since when do the Branches remonstrate with Parent Societies? Well, I like the check. Not to hurt people’s religious feelings! Does he know that the Bishop of Madras proclaimed the Perfect Way “far more dangerous than the atheistical Theosophist,” forbidding to read this work of Satan? It hurts far more the feelings of Protestant Christianity than any advertisement or books of the freethinkers. Bosh. Salaam and may the Lord Buddha love you. Give my love to BOSS I will write to him another time. Too tired.
                                                                                                                    H. P. B.



                                                                                                                               15th Aug.


Enclosed please find my private reply (so far) to the Remonstrance of the most honourable “London Lodge” & Co. You are a nice Jesuit to second such resolutions. Mrs. Grundy and her demands in the name of culture and refinement too much for you to oppose—eh? Were the Anti-Christian tracts to


—•—   45   H.  P.  B.  IN  SOCIETY —•—

proceed from one in odour of sanctity with that superanuated female, no objections would have been made. Allez donc! You are a lot of weak cowardly Grundyists, a flock of moutons de Panurge following your Jockey-club scented leaders and no more. The Official Reply to the remonstrances will be sent when the Council succeeds in putting in good English their “indignated feelings, and the fuming paroxysm of their towering choleric asperities” at this humiliation and new indignity put upon them by a Branch Society, whose members “even being Brothers WILL BE swelling and thundering rulers” (sic). This is a verbatim extract from a letter sent to Col. Olcott by one of the members of the General Council—a Madrassee Moodelyar—in answer to his opinion on the subject of anti-Christian tracts being asked.

Would not your friendly and still more Grundyish heart swell with pride and joy were you but to see “the old lady” presiding Juno and Minerva-like over the whole of the Ooty high officials, Carmichael and grand Muff with his Mrs. Muff included? Mrs. Carmichael, Mrs. G. Duff, Mrs. Kenney Herbert and Mrs. Everybody here, bombarding me with invitations to receptions, balls, dinners etc. and seeing that the Mountain will not go to Mahomet coming Mahomet-like to the mountain sitting at her foot, and—kissing my hands!!! Why, they have turned crazy—archi-crazy! and all this for a poor sapphire ring doubled from that of Mrs. Carmichael which became forthwith thinner and smaller the sapphire in her ring having positively become visibly smaller, (this is the thing par excellence that flabergasted and floored definitely Mr. Carmichael who could not be converted until then properly); and for a few paultry bells in Mr. F. Webster’s (Chief Secretary) pocket, and a letter written to him in his own handwriting which I had never seen and which he swears he cannot recognise as not being his though the flapdoodles therein are not surely his; and for some letters sent on the aristocratic noses of the paramount powers at Ooty by Jual-Khool (who salaams you) and etc. etc. etc. Well here I am, my rest destroyed, my existence a torture; my hopes of solitude blasted and—the lioness of the day. My name put on the Government Book in Govt. House in big letters before I had condescended to return Mrs. G. Duff’s visit. My graceful, stately person, clad in half Tibetan half nightdress fashion, sitting in all the glory of her Calmuck beauty at the Governor’s and Carmichael’s dinner parties; H. P. B. positively courted by the aide-de-camps! Old “Upasika” hanging like a gigantic nightmare on the gracefully rounded elbows of members of the Council, in pumps and swallow tail evening dress and silk stockings smelling brandy and soda enough to kill a Tibetan Yak!! On the other hand and as a shadow to the brilliant picture old H. P. B.’s poisonous



diabolic presence among the faithful flock killing by inches the Old Bishop; for H. P. B. with that refined cruelty that characterises heathen souls, had the excellent idea of announcing a tamasha in her suite of rooms (General Morgan’s) on Sunday morning or fore-noon between 10 and 12, just the morning prayer church hour, and on that blessed Sabbath, the poor Bishop had to preach salvation to the empty benches of the Ooty Church.

Well—and where’s the benefit of all this? Only that as soon as asked I obtained transfer for Rama Swami, M’s chela from Tinnevelly to Madras and got a situation or two in the Secretariat for my favourite Chettyars. They say I am doing good to the Society. I am doing bad to myself and Karma.

Well again—I wish your “London Lodge” new members should not write questions necessitating such ample answers. Why bless you only the half of the Replies fill up a whole form of the September Theosophist! and fancy the pleasure. It is I who had to copy most of the Replies written half by M., half by either chelas or handwritings that I see for the first time, and as no printer the world over could make out M’s handwriting. It is more red and fierce than ever! and then I do not like them a bit the replies. Where’s the necessity of writing three pages for every line of the question and explaining things that after all none of them except yourself, perhaps, will understand. Science, science and science. Modern physical science be hanged! and the October number having to devote 15 columns, perhaps, to answering the rest of the Questions and Objections by “an English F.T.S.” M. ordered Subba Row to answer his objection on the date of Buddha’s birth and Cunningham’s fanciful dates. I could not print more this month. With Subba Row’s reply it takes from 15 to 16 columns! Holy shadow!! and who is Mr. Myers that my big Boss should waste a bucket full of his red ink to satisfy him? And He won’t; see if he does. For Mr. Myers will not be satisfied with negative proofs and the evidence of the failings of European astronomers and physicists. But does he really think that any of the “adepts” will give out their real esoteric teaching in the Theosophist?

If you do so much good and have created such a stir with Theosophy in the London circles why don’t you give us something for the Theosophist or do you mean acting all the while sub rosa as K. H. says? “Well, they hate to have their doings commented upon even in the Theosophist—their own Magazine” said to me K. H. the last time I had a glimpse of him which was a long time ago more than a fortnight. What is he about? I think I could get you the 3 letters required now, that Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael adore me and that Vizianagram Rajah who adores them is coming up. But then K. H. told me not to move any more in the matter; that


—•— 47   MASTER  K. H. —•—

he has changed his plans. I verily believe that you have exercised a most pernicious influence on our blessed K. H., for I be turned into a first class shell, if I recognise HIM even since he fell into bad company with you and the rest! There’s a chit apparently from him for “Uncle Sam” sent to me by post from Darjeeling by Bhola Sarma, who lives now in Tibetan and Sikkim flying from one place to another. Let him (Uncle Sam not Bhola Sarma Deva) bless himself with and be satisfied. K. H. becomes too worldly and it will be the ruin of Him. One of these fine days the Chohan will degrade Him to a simple Theosophist and—cut him off with a shilling—though if an occult one even this would be a boon for any one but him.

Well I have to dress myself for a grand party at the Kenney-Herberts, where I mean to flirt with the brandy and Jockey-club smelling aide-de-camps and be prepared to become every one’s jeweller and bell-ringer. Nice social position. Don’t I see through them all. I do, dear Boss, I do, and I despise more bitterly than ever I did—your shallow-minded, back biting, ever shaming and ignorant Jezebel of Mrs. Grundy. With these kinds words --
                                                                                                         Yours truly,
                                                                                                                       H. P. B.

Many salaams, many kisses to my “beloved sister” in Buddha Mrs. Sinnett and Denny, there’s a letter for him from Madame Coulomb. Can’t find it—mislaid somewhere—send it after.


            P.S. If you want peace and quiet and good understanding between the London Lodge and the Parent Society you better take care that there should be no nonsensical pretensions, arrogance, or uncalled for expression of superiority on its part. For, I swear to you if Olcott shall, -- I WILL NOT STAND IT; and I will have no such untheosophical flapdoodle. For months I have something that I have buried deep in my heart and held my tongue hitherto merely out of pure veneration for Mahatma K.H. That HE should be reviled and shown contempt by one who needs all the indulgence of the pure and chaste for his past years of adultery himself; and that He – K. H. should be sermonised in letters to Olcott by a Grandison with 8 illegitimate children calling him father—is something that disgusted me profoundly. No one cared more or loved and respected and made more of M. than I did. But since I read his letters to

I  This postcript is in H. P. B.’s writing. It does not appear to have any connection with the preceding letter—



Olcott and saw him taking it on a tone of a Saint Chastity and Honour, appear to shrink nervously before an imaginary untruth or rather an appearance of untruth of K.H., when he himself had soiled his chaste wings in an action far worse than what he accuses of one so immeasureably higher than himself, I felt disgusted with him. Remember, that hitherto no one in the L. Lodge has done anything for Theosophy—unless you think it the greatest honour for having joined it. Remember that Mrs. K. does not believe, and if she believes she does not care one fig for the Brothers. That so far we had but a Wyld, an Oxon (the eternal opposing power), a Massey, a Dr. Carter Blake etc. to boast of in that Branch. That with the exception of yourself no one has lifted his finger for the Theos. Society in general. That the one who did the most after you for it, is an American – Uncle Sam. Then why the devil should we be salaaming them? Let them resign all to-morrow, for what I care. Let them show regard and respect to us and we will do ditto, not otherwise.

Brown and Parker are here. They quarrelled all the way, but I plainly told them they will not quarrel here for I won’t have Montecchis and Capullettis in the Society. I am ready to do all I can. I furnished and prepared a nice separate room for Mr. Brown with bath and veranda near Mme Colomb’s house. I do, and shall do, all I can for him, he is welcome to all we have, but quarrelling and airs I will have none. Basta I will say no more.


                                                                                                                                August 23.

Well, there’s three consecutive letters I receive from you blowing me up, as you say, and—worse; for I do not care one snap for blowing up but I do care and feel when I am unjustly treated. And you are unjust. First you blow me up and reproach me for feeling and knowing that this letter in Times would be made a pretext for upsetting the project. It is not that I blame or ever blamed you for the spirit of your letter or the views in it—for I have not yet become quite mad—but for its too early issue, for your writing it at all. It only proves that I knew Hindoos, better than yourself, and that you, with all your editorial and political finesse, you yet thought them better than they are. There’s the difference I cannot pretend to explain in English the situation; nor would I perhaps in any language since I never had the gift of the gab nor could I write unless dictated to. But I hope you will understand me. So then in a few words: Your letter was


—•—   49   THE POWER  OF  THE  CHOHAN —•—

noble, generous, well meaning. It was all that and yet it was born out of time—either too late or too early. Had you written it when at Madras—it would have brought you thousands of friends; for it was but the beginning; the tuning of the orchestra and the curtain had not yet been raised. Written just amidst a hurricane, when the Hindoos insulted, reviled, spat upon publicly by the anti-Ilbert mob, men driven to desperation, frenzy and fury—it was untimely. They were just at one of those moments when any man—let alone a half-civilized Hindoo thinks and feels: Who is not with me heart and soul is AGAINST me. That is absurd, childish but it is human nature. Now all you say of Hindoos I know it and vastly more. No one knows better than I do, their suspiciousness, caused by centuries of slavery; their cunning—low cunning often from the same cause and their ingratitude to foreigners only, because there is no more grateful people on the face of the earth when they feel sure of a person—and this they can never do with regard to foreigners, especially Englishmen; for, for one good one, a gentleman—there are in India 9 snobs and no gentlemen—as you yourself know. I recognise all their faults but I cannot blame them for I pity them too much to do so. It was not from the masses though that we expected money but from the oppressors of the masses and the poor; from Zemindars and Rajahs, and these brutes wanted only a pretext. So Durbonga who solemnly promised 25,000 to Olcott, and Col. Massey his Manager with whom Olcott stopped at the city of Durbonga was the first to back out, when your letter appeared; and after him the Guikwar so there was 50,000 lost. And then the Rajahs of Vizianagram and Venkatajeri followed suit, and they were ready with the money. With them it was a pretext. But it is just what I feared, and it came to pass. Now you reproach me that I had solemnly promised, that I felt sure of success. So I did—aye and a far greater one than poor I—your K. H. and M.—though the latter was less confident. All this because they had the Tibetans against them; and—truth must be said—the Chohan himself. Had he permitted them to use their powers of course they would not have failed as they did. They would have foreseen the tremendous row in the future, the fathomless gap that was opening. You say you lost money. My dear Mr. Sinnett—we lost enough of it too; and to us one rupee is more than 100 for you. But neither what you or we lost or rather spent in sending Agents to all parts of India (even Subba Row spent a few hundred and Judge Moota Swami and a few others who were determined to serve the Mahatmas). All this is rot. All of us we shall lose a thousand times more if the last and supreme attempt of K. H. fails: for we are sure to lose Him in such a case. This I know and you must be prepared. Never shall He show



his face nor communicate with any of us. As he had very little if anything to do with us before that year at Simla, so will He relapse once more into unknowningness and obscurity. You do not know how he feels—I do. He never said one word to me about your letter but his alter ego D. Khool did, and he said just what I tell to you now. So if in my excitement I may have written you stupid things and said disagreeable ones, you ought to have attributed them to their right cause not to my disloyalty or anger against you. I nearly wept when I saw this unfortunate letter. I despised always and do despise Hume and for you I had always feelings of gratitude and affection. So if I said anything of Hume’s policy it was to show a parallel, I suppose, that even such a skunk as he is was more political than you aver. And you misunderstood me. Now of course I do not remember a word of what I wrote—as I will forget in a few days this letter -- (can’t help it such is my head); but I am sure I could not say anything bad to you. Nor could K. H. I am sure for I am certain he would have never written to you anything disagreeable. So why do you hint at him?

Then about “Uncle Sam’s” complaint—what the devil do I know about office doings? What have I to do with the business management of Damodar which is Olcott’s business. He sent to Ward this printed notice as he did to thousands, and as Olcott is an American business man, so is Ward, and it is not for a Yankee to kick at sharp business as they call it. I was furiously ashamed when I received your letter and Ward’s telegram. But I felt I was a fool; for Olcott, whom I blew up and skinned for it (he has just arrived here to form an Anglo-Indian Branch) says they send such printed compliments to everyone and Damodar did not know at that time that I had or rather was going to receive these 20 rupees Mr. Ward sent, enclosed in a private and even non-registered to me. Of course he ought to make a difference, but he does not because he is a boy and was not brought up for office business, and shall S. Ward think bad or any worse of me for it? Did I not send him the whole last year the Theosophist, and forbade Damodar to even ask the money for it. “What made me think he was ruined?” Himself—in several letters that I have preserved and can send to you. I never said he had nothing to eat. But I said he had lost a fortune if not all his fortune though such were his own words to me. If he said a fib, that he thought a good joke, then it does not speak in his favour. But then I know that he lost lots of money through Judge at New York and even Harrison his friend, and S. Ward said to me that it was lost through Ski, and thought, or at least wrote that he thought so, that it was perhaps a trial brought on by H. K.—when K. H. never meddled


—•—   51   H. P. B.  BLAMES  HERSELF —•—

in money matters until now—and never will I suppose. I felt very sorry for Ward and told you so; and D. K. if I remember right spoke of his having lost money, and I even believe (though I do not remember it for certain) that K. H. said something about it, that with or without money S. Ward was the best man living. And that K. H. told me that S. Ward had lost all his fortune more than once, that I remember quite well. But whether he lost much or all his money I do not know anything but what S. Ward wrote at the time himself to me. Ask him. But I suppose even K. H. never paid any attention to it; for M. asked me whether I had ever heard of Ski’s doings, and I gave him S. Ward’s letters to me to read. But whether They knew, or believed it I do not know, unless they look especially into something that interests Them—of course even They may believe sometimes, or labour under wrong impressions. Several times M. suspected me of telling him things wrongly until he had looked into my head and found out truth. So for everything else. But if S. Ward lost only a part of his fortune why should he have written to me such letters for? and forced me to write to him what I felt; namely that ruined I loved him best, for I bate and fear too rich people. But all this is bosh and I do not care a twopence whether he is a Croesus or a beggar. I have nothing to do with the miserable 8 rup. or 1 £ of subscription; and I do not see why you should reproach me as though I fearing that now he had lost his fortune would not pay his subscription! For I never meant that he should until he sent to Damodar that money himself. All this is far more “grievous” to me and more “shocking” than it is to you.

And to think that it was I, I horrid old fool, I the idiot of the age, who first brought K. H. into notice! I who have led Him to be now reviled and so abused by every old ass in Light! This is my work and I will not forgive my sin. Do you think that the Chohan and others do not hear every word of abuse against THEM. uttered and printed? That all of Them do not know when a malignant current is set against them? Speaking about malignant currents why did you invite malignant critics and fools at your Conversazione of the 17th—why did you throw pearls before so many swine? Why you had just 63 persons interested—theosophists with you, vegetarians with Mrs. K. and Spiritualists (some) with you both—and more or less friendly; and the rest—more than four times that number were all black enemies or sneering dissimulating hypocrites. And the ladies most of them so undressed that no one from here could look at them. There was but one of the female sex that can be looked at always without blushing in the crowd and that’s “Bossess,” (that’s a compliment to her address) next to her—Mrs. Kingsford. Say—why was she dressed



in a dress that looked like “the black and yellow coat of the zebras in the menagerie of the Rajah of Kashmir?” And is it true she had roses on her hair “which is like a flaming sunset, yellow gold”? And why—mercy on us! Why did she have “her hands and arms painted black, jet black—up to the elbows” for? or was it gloves? and then, is it true she had that night a brilliant metal pocket in front of her, with clasps and bells and something else; and “crescent—moon, tinkling earrings”—symbolical of the growing brilliancy of the “London Lodge.” This moon has borrowed light from the Satellite. And now speaking of moons why, should you in pity sake, speak of forbidden things! Did I not tell you a hundred times that They allowed no one to know or speak of this eighth sphere, and how do you know it is the moon, as we all see it? And why should you print about it, and now “an English F.T.S.” comes out with his question, and this ass Wyld calling it a dust bin. I called his head a dust bin in Light. You will both catch it in the answer you may bet your bottom dollar; for they (the answers) have arrived, the last ones tonight and vous ne l’aurez pas vole as the French say—your savonade. When Subba Row read the question discussed in your Book he nearly fainted, and when he read it (Mr. Myers question) in the galleys—Damodar writes that he became green. Well your business and K. H.’s not mine. But why—why had she “the mystic of the century” so much jewellery on her! How can she confabulate with the unseen Gods when she looks “like a Delhi English Jeweller’s front window.” Well, I too I think I saw her and would like to have her portrait to compare. For she was shown to me. Is she not tall rather, thin in the waist but broad in the shoulders, and very fair, and slightly rosy cheeks and with very red lips and a nose larger or thicker when she speaks than when she is at rest? Her eyes light blue. She is fascinating; but then, why make her beautiful hair look like “the mitre of a Dugpa Dashatu-Lama”? Well all this is bosh. I am sad to death, and do not care [for] joking. Give my love to dear Mrs. Sinnett and to all; to that Yankee humbug too—“Uncle Sam,” who pretends to have become a beggar in his letters. Was it to try me? A good idea. Why, now that you tell me that he is still rich I will never write to him again. You may tell him so. Olcott is going London I believe in January. Colonel Strong has joined and Mrs. Carmichael wants to join but her—“David” is afraid, and Mr. and Mrs. Kenny Herbert and Lady Souter.

Yes; another “No. 3” reproach. It is the carelessness of the “Theos. Office,” ingratitude for the £10 sent by Miss Arundale, that we forwarded no diplomas! Will you kindly ascertain first whether we had to send them to the London Scotland Yard, or


—•—   53   H. P. B.  ON  THE  “PHŒNIX”  VENTURE —•—

Dead letter office—for we could hardly send diplomas to those whose very names we knew nothing about? Had any one sent us in the names of the members, let alone their applications? Damodar has never received one single application nor one name from London. Till now we know nothing either of the number of the members or their quality or even their names, as I say. Let them act officially and according to our laws and we will do the same. “The London Lodge” ought to have been called the criticizing T. S. Very easy to criticise. Nevertheless.
                                                                           Yours in God,
                                                                                        H. P. B


                                                                                                                     Sept. 14.


For over two months I have been ordered by K. H. not to meddle any further in the paper business and—of course I obeyed. Some six weeks ago he came to send through me a letter to you and, there were telegrams passed between Norendro Babu of the Mirror and myself. I then felt very much surprised at Norendro’s hope that you would ever consent to serve the cause of the Zemindars—one that K. H. himself had pronounced INFAMOUS. Well, since I am a woman, ignorant of politics, probably as you repeatedly said and hinted—“a fool” in many things—I kept quiet. But now Norendro telegraphs that you consented and accepted the offer of the Zemindars, and M. ordered Olcott to telegraph to Norendro not to send a single page to you or offer without showing it first to Olcott. There are things and rumours that I am sure did you but know them you would never degrade yourself in accepting such a proposition. I have talked over with Carmichael and Forster Webster the Secretary to Govt. and several other members of Council, and what I understand this Zemindar business is a regular conspiracy to defraud and starve millions of poor cultivators. If so, K. H. must know it, how can you then accept such a terrible thing! I have left no stone unturned to raise the money, in the first way, and (I think I have succeeded). No one desires more than I do that you should return to India. But if you have to buy the return at the price of your honour and reputation—then, well; I have nothing to say. I know one thing, and that is, that my notions about honour and justice seem to

I  It is interesting to compare this letter with those in Secton IV of “The Mahatma Letters.”—ED.



differ widely from other people’s notions. I have warned you what the people say here about this conspiracy of the rich to defraud the poor and do my duty I think. I would rather never see you any more in this life, rather ruin the Theos. Soc. than to be a party to such a horrid unjust, devilish transaction as that of starving the teeming millions to satisfy the greediness of a few Shylocks. I do not know whether you have really settled to accept the proposition or not. But this is what I receive just now. Bhawani Row was successful at last it seems and thus 2 lakhs are raised in the W. Provinces. I send you the telegrams. Had you patience the money WOULD be finally raised. And now I do not know what to do. M. told me to write to you so much about this and—to meddle no more—the same words as said by K. H.!

Je donne ma langue aux chiens. Do not blame me I have done my best, but since the Zemindars are preferred I have nothing more to say. And yet Bhawani Row is a chela of K. H. HE must know of it for B.R. acts under the orders of his master. What’s all this! Olcott also puts on airs of mystery. He telegraphed to you I know, and therefore you must know more than I do now. Buss.

A nice mess about that Elliot or Ellis or whatever his name is—business. What did I say to Mr. Ward of so terrible that he should kick up a row upon the subject? What do I care if whole London goes on the Himalaya and from there slides down to Tibet. If they let them in—it is their not my business. I simply said something to Ward about their catching it for taking life within the Lamasery precincts—shooting. That K. H. would vanish certainly or something to this effect. And now Ward complains to you, you blow me up, Mrs. K. (!) writes to K. H., and K. H. complains to M. and all falls on my head!

I will write no more. I have enough of this. If every action of mine is misinterpreted and I am to be held responsible for everything and be blown up by M. I better subside. Ward would do better to write to American papers to blackguard less the Theosophists, the Society, and especially me. Then came out some would-be very witty, satirical article about an ex-Theosophist—a Fr. Thomas who pretended to expose Slade and expose all and everything, and who now abuses us in the most Hungerford-fish-market way and gentlemen reporters put it down religiously as truth. Between the biography of Thomas’ parrot comes that of our Society and my own in the N. Y. Telegram, a penny paper. I am called there among other good things, “the most ignorant, blasphemous charlatan of the age.” And the Bombay Gazette reprints it in full. Now I have to go again to law. Mr. B. G. will have to prove whether I am “a charlatan.”



I must say that you might do worse than borrow from Russia her laws for libel: and England does seem in this respect a far more barbarous and uncivilised country than Russia. In the latter any Editor would get 3 months prison for uttering such a libellous insulting term and here gentlemen like Gretton Geary repeat the vulgar abuse with the coolest indifference possible and, there seems no redress. I will see though. It is the Statesman’s story over again.
                   Please give my love to all.
                                                                                      H. P. B



Sept. 27.

Just returned home from Ooty through Pondichery, and the first thing waiting for me was your letter of new and fresh remonstrances. I have not my “feathers ruffled” as you call it for myself, but for others as in duty and honour bound, and I must certainly try to impress upon your mind to what extent they are ruffled.

When shall you remember, first of all, that in addressing me upon things done by Col. Olcott during his voyages—you are giving me simply news of which I know nothing; or that in speaking upon office business you are implying to me a knowledge of things I have no more an idea of than the man in the moon. Why should I be made responsible for everything that happens in the Society is something surpassingly strange. However, your letter is so full of unjust, cruel sentences, so unfair as I will prove it just now that I must try and point it out to you for the last time. You must have had dyspepsia while writing it—my dear Mr. Sinnett.—I answer your accusations seriatim.

1. What is it that “ruffles” you in Mrs. Parker? I know her for eight years nearly. She is an enthusiast, a lunatic in many things but no better, sincere, truthful, honest woman ever breathed in an Irish carcase. She is a true theosophist, unselfish and ready to part with her last clothing for the benefit of others. Not very cultured, “coarse fibred” as you call it! Perhaps so; but no more than myself. She was Miss Kislingbury’s greatest friend. And though Miss K. deserted us to become a Roman Catholic, still she is the best she theosophist London ever had. Always prejudice at first sight. Ever judging on appearance. The story with Bennet, Banon, Scott and some others over again.Oh Mr.



Sinnett, how little deep your theosophical insight! Mr. Brown could do no better, no worthier thing than take her under his protection—I respect him for it. (He arrived with her, I know him better now and—respect him less). He befriended the poor woman who gave all she had; became a beggar to save from starvation her poor countrymen in America. He was kind to her while others were harsh and cold to her in London, yourself to begin with, and Wyld that old ass who did all he could to set her against theosophy and us, etc. etc. No indeed: That which offends you does not often offend me and—pour cause. Let us drop it. We will hardly ever understand each other. But you ought to have known that while I care very little for theosophists loaded with jewelry like a Greek corpse and in tiger striped satin and velvet dresses, I care a good deal for those who have theosophy in their hearts not on their lips alone.

Nor is it less funny that though to my knowledge and for over two years and more Olcott corresponds with Mme. Gebhard in the most friendly amicable way; and that I know how deeply he respects and has affection for her, you should now find fault with him for his tone. Who told you this? Is it your own intuition or Mme. Gebhard? If the latter, then she is not the woman I supposed her to be. Again you speak to me of things for which I am not in the least responsible nor have I ever taken an interest in them. Except of the volume annotated on the margin by K. H. and sent to Hume and a MS. commented upon by Djwal Khool, I took no interest in Eliphas Levi’s MSS. Olcott’s manner dictatorial? So it may be to those who do not know him; as mine is very rude in the eyes of strangers, and your’s inexpressibly haughty and cold in those of the rest of the world who do not know you. Olcott asked her to send the MSS., for Olcott is ever thinking of benefiting the Society. And she did undertake the work, which was very kind and would have been quite generous in a non-theosophist but was only natural and her duty as a theosophist. That he thanked her for it and very warmly I know for I have read his letters at least two or three of them. That he may have forgotten or delayed to thank her and acknowledge receipt of the letter is quite possible and no such great sin. I guess had Mme. Gebhard been a Hindu instead of a European you would have never found fault with the delay. We are taken to task for not having published them yet? And who, pray, was there to translate them? Who, besides us two—broken down post horses is there to translate such things? They were not taken notice of? In what way? By publishing an acknowledgment in the Theosophist? But I did not know that the last had been sent at all, and besides they arrived here only hardly



two months ago and since Olcott was not here they were not even opened for a long time. And what’s the use of acknowledging something no one knows anything about until translated? “An illustration of the deplorable way in which the affairs of the Society are managed at Headquarters.” A very fair sentence passed, and quite in keeping with the rest. La critique est aisee mais l’art est difficile.” Do you forget that you are addressing two European beggars with two Hindu other beggars to help them in the management and not the rich Pioneer with lakhs behind it? I would like to see you undertake the management and editing of Phoenix with two pence in your pocket; with a host of enemies around; no friends to help you; yourself—the editor, manager, clerk, and even peon very often, with a poor half-broken down Damodar to help you alone for three years, one who was a boy right from the school bench, having no idea of business any more than I have, and Olcott always -- 7 months in the year—away! Badly managed, indeed! Why we have made miracles in rearing up alone, and in the face of such antagonism, paper, Society, and business in general. Is it Mrs. Gebhard who complained of his tone of authority? And what do you mean in making a difference, in saying—“First of all the constitution of the Society does not justify the assumption of any tone of authority on the part of the President in addressing any foreign members.” The constitution of the Society first of all, does not justify the smallest difference made in tone, privileges granted, or anything between foreigners or Hindus, foreign or local members. The President has no right to use an impolite peremptory tone with any branch or member. And he does not, as far as I know. His tone is his usual tone and may seem “authoritative” when it is simply friendly and outspoken. An American, of course, (or a Russian either, for the matter of that,) is not expected to have the cultured tones of a refined Englishman, nor do we pretend to anything of the sort. But to say that Olcott in writing to Mrs. Gebhard whom he makes so much of, “used a tone of authority” is as unjust as it is absurd on the face of it. As to the accusation of “laying it on a shelf and leaving the MS unfruitful”—will you kindly as a theosophist undertake the translation? And if neither your leisure nor your tastes permit it, then please remember that while you in the midst of all your arduous labours as the editor of the Pioneer used to leave your work regularly at 4 after beginning it at 10 a.m.—and went away either to lawn tennis or a drive, Olcott and I begin ours at five in the morning with candle light, and end it sometimes at 2 a.m. We have no time for lawn tennis as you had, and clubs and theatres and social intercourse. We have no time hardly to eat and drink.

Sorry also, that you should disapprove and “strongly” in the



bargain, “of the letter addressed to the Secretary of the London Lodge by Ramaswamier.” Nor do I see any good reason why, if the “London Lodge” notification was sent through the Secretary, Olcott’s answer could not be sent likewise through his Secretary?

You use very extraordinary words. For inst: you say that the “London Lodge having elected . . . that name pays Olcott as nominal (!!) head of the whole Society the courtesy (?) of a formal report of its action for his approval.” (1) If Olcott is no better in the eyes of the London Lodge than a nominal head, then the sooner it ceases to call itself “Theosophical Society” the better for all parties concerned. Let it call itself “Kingsford Society” if it will; but so long as it is chartered by us, and that the Masters keep Olcott as their agent and representative he is not a nominal but the actual head of the Society, if you please. And, unless you can find in the London Lodge one to replace him, with all his intrinsic rare virtues, and minus his few Americanisms (which few, if any, fair man among real theosophists can ever object to, since none of us is perfect) -- he will remain an actual President to his death day, I hope. The London Lodge “pays him the courtesy”!! The London Lodge did ITS DUTY, its bound duty and nothing more. In the London Lodge there are many persons cultured and of great intellectual value, and as individuals they are respected and appreciated for this by all of us—myself the first. But the London Lodge as a Branch is not a bit better or entitled to any more privileges than any other Branch. When it does theosophical work that will be higher and of more importance than all the rest of the nearly 100 Branches in India, America, and Europe, then can it claim extra privileges and an unusual respect for itself. It is a matter of the most profound wonder to me how you, a man of your intelligence can speak in such a way! How you can go in the way you did and jump at the throat of the very spirit of our Society—perfect equality, Brotherhood, and mutual toleration! If Olcott, instead of answering through his Secretary had, as you say, (while never answering but through his Secretary all other Branches) gone out of his way “to write a long, sympathetic and appreciative letter to the President of the London Branch” I would call it toadyism, flunkeyism and blown his head off for such a lack of self-respect, dignity and pandering to aristocracy. Olcott has written to Mrs. Kingsford and Mr. Maitland in answer to their letters, and appreciates them personally for their own worth as individuals. As “President and Vice-President of the London Lodge” they have no right to expect to be treated with more respect and sympathy than any other theosophists, -- though he denies such feelings to none. And who, in the name of Dickens are the British Theosophists



to claim such unprecedented honours? Are they gods or Emperors or what? I for one prefer for the Society any day a learned Sanskrit pundit, a Hindoo who works for theosophy to the Emperor of Russia or the Empress of India herself. To think that you would have a free born American, who has never bent his neck to the yoke of birth or wealth, but only to true personal merit, and a Russian who broke violently with all the aristocracy to accept her fate for better or worse with the disinherited, the poor, and the unjustly treated of the earth—who is a democrat in her soul—dancing on their hind legs and salaaming their English members—is preposterous!! They may resign all of them tomorrow, if they are not satisfied. And they will have to, if they or any of them ever state publicly that they consider Olcott only a “nominal” head of the Society. We want theosophists not aristocratic noodles who expect respect and honours only because their blood is crossed with that of lords and M.P.’s. What have they hitherto done to merit them? Made us the great honour of joining the Society? It is an honour to them, not in the least to the MASTERS, not even to us their faithful followers; least of all to me whose birth is not a bit lower than that of your Queen and perhaps, purer than hers, and who yet despises every claim based on such birth. Olcott shows “nonsensical affectation of the de haut en bas tone of an official superior addressing a subordinate”!! There are no superiors and subordinates in our Society; none but brothers and Fellow-members; but it is very doubtful whether any of our English members will ever show practically that they consider those lower than themselves by birth or education or race (as they think) as their brothers. What are the great achievements they have made in theosophy or for theosophy? There is not one in London that entered the Society on any other than purely selfish motives; to squeeze out what he can from the Mahatmas and then turn his back upon their hapless countrymen and, perhaps, laugh at them. As M. says, “remains to be seen how Mr. F. V. Myers will receive their Replies”—Whether he will not be the first one (and if not he, then other members) to call them ignorant fools, illiterate Asiatics “with a small Oriental brain” as Wyld expressed it, wanting to make believe, I suppose, that his Jesus was an Anglo-Saxon Aryan. I say that these Replies to “An English F.T.S.” are time lost; they will not accept the truth, and they occupy half of every number of the Theosophist that comes out, crowding off other matter. You have done for the Society more than all of them put together will ever accomplish. And yet even you, you have done it neither for Society nor Theosophy, but merely out of a personal devotion to K. H. And if HE were to abandon the Society



to morrow, or stop corresponding you would be the first to follow suit and we would hear of you no more.

“It looks silly the pretence of his being too busy to write with his own hand in a matter of the kind when something so important as the growth of the London Lodge Society at this juncture is at stake.” Answering the tail of the sentence first, I would ask what has the growth of the Society to do with the change of its name? And what is there so important about it? Simply your personal veneration for the President, I suppose, who has none at all neither for yourself nor the Brothers; on whom she certainly looks de haut en bas. I was from the first against her nomination but had to hold my tongue, since it is K. H.’s selection and that He perceives so wonderful germs in her, that he even disregards her personal flings at Him. And so I was against Wyld’s nomination and my valuation of him proved true. An ugly, bigoted, jealous, indelicate brute he is. The many hundreds of signatures of our Hindu fellows sent in their protest against his beastly criticism of Esoteric Buddhism will show them the veneration the Hindus have for their Mahatmas; and if he had not been kicked out of the London Lodge there would have been a revolution in our Branches against the Lodge itself. It threatened to become another Ilbert’s bill. Remains to be seen whether your fair Light with its presiding genius “M. A. Oxon” will take notice of these Protests. See the grin and fiendish sneer of M. A. Oxon in Light of Sept. 8, against the Kiddle accusation. Olcott has answered it before his departure and he gave it nice to the great medium of “Imperator” K. H. plagiarising from Kiddle!! Then I have a letter from him, written a year before I knew you and in Professor A. Wilder’s (Phrenological Journal) article written seven or eight months later I found about 20 lines verbatim from K. H.’s letter; and now Olcott found in the last Nineteenth Century (July I think, or August) an article “After Death” by Norman Pearson (or something like that) a passage about God something like 18 lines taken verbatim to every comma, from a letter of K. H. written three years ago. Has Norman Somebody plagiarised it from a letter he has never seen? It is a nasty, wicked, mean remark of Oxon’s, directed as much against you, his friend, as against me whom he secretly hates. And fancy, of what a philosophical importance these Kiddle lines, to be worthy of plagiarism! Next to “John, bring me my dinner,” “ideas that travel or rule the world,”—have been mentioned since the days of Plato thousands of times. The “ETERNAL NOW” is a sentence I can show to you in Mrs. Harding Britten’s lectures and in an article of mine in the Spiritual Scientist nine years ago, from which she took or perhaps and most probably did not take it, but simply


—•—   61   IN  PRAISE  OF  COL.  OLCOTT —•—

got it from astral impressions. It makes me sick all your Western wickedness and malice.

To return to nos moutons—it looks silly, does it, the pretence of Olcott’s being too busy to write with his own hand? Well, my dear Sir, allow me to tell you, that I, who have been just travelling with him for three weeks, I saw, and am a witness to it whether he has one moment of freedom from morning to night. At 5 o’clock in the morning the whole courtyard and veranda of the houses we stopped in were crowded with the lame and the cripple. At every station, the railway platforms were crowded with the sick lying in wait for him. I saw him curing a paralytic (both arms and one leg) between the first and last bell. I saw him begin curing the sick at 6 in the morning, and never sit down till 4 p.m.; and when stopping to eat a plate of vegetable soup have to leave it to cure a possessed woman and his plate of soup remaining unfinished at 7 p.m. and then he would sit down and dictate to his Secretary till 2 in the morning; having only three or four hours sleep, etc. etc. I would like to see your President of the London Lodge sacrificing herself for the lepers and the itchy as he does. I would be happy to find one member in your L.L. doing unremunerated one fourth of the work done by Damodar or Balloi Babu. You ask me to receive what you say “in the interests of the whole undertaking concerned,” and I know that the “whole undertaking” is centred for you in the London Lodge. And I say, that you have to receive what I say, in the interests of truth, justice and fairness—with “your feathers unruffled.” And I know that you won’t. I am pretty certain to be called a fool and an idiot by you in your “soul converse.” Welcome. But now you know at least what I think of all this. Of my friendship and gratitude for you and for what you have done you cannot doubt. But I would consider myself the meanest of creatures to read how you lower down poor Olcott—whose shoes none of your most cultured theosophists is worthy to untie—and not to tell you what I think of it. I say you are unjust and unfair. You always forget our penniless position; the helpless position of two people fighting alone and single handed the whole world, and that we have none to help us; and, forgetting Olcott’s rare devotion, unselfishness, blameless and pure life, his great philanthropy and most precious qualities you see but one thing! He is an American, a Yankee, while your English sympathies have been during the war for the South, and whom, I verily believe, you hate and cannot forgive only for their being Northern Yankees—and thus you see only the black (seeming) spots in the sun. Olcott is a thousand times higher and nobler and more unselfish than I am, or ever was. Therefore, I, knowing him as I do—say: there was



no “mistake of policy” on his part, nor shall he ever assume any other policy but that of most impartial justice to all, if I do know him. Nor has he ever suffered himself “to pose in an arrogant attitude”—for such is not his nature. That he may be lacking the cultured estheticism of your country—is but natural; he is not an Englishman but a true American, and I love him the more for it. Buss—as my Boss says. But your remark that he should answer himself reverentially every line of the London Secretary has cut me to the deep. It is simply an insult.

Explain to you “a little more about Eliphas Levi”? And what the deuce do I know about him? I never saw him. All I know is what I was told. He was a most learned and erudite theoretical Kabalist and occultist. But who ever told you he was a practical adept? Not I. He himself says in his works that he never performed ceremonial magic but once in London evoking Apollonius of Tyana. He was a Roman Catholic Priest—hence his filth and dirt. He had been starved on fasting when in the Order—hence his gluttony and intemperance. In his books he tries to make the esoteric doctrine fit in with R. Catholicism—just as the “fair Anna” does now (and you will rue the day, unless the Chohan can, or rather will consent to break her.) That there is much esotericism in real Catholic Christianity is quite true; but there is still more of fictitious, artificial interpretations. Yet his learning and knowledge were undoubted, and for any one versed in Esotericism his writings are those of a recognised authority—in their theoretical teachings. Of himself he could say: “Do as I tell you, not as I do.” I have never heard before that he was so dirty and gluttonous. But if Mrs. Gebhard says so—she knows better, for I have never met him. My aunt went to see him in Paris and she had a bad impression for he took 40 francs for one minute of conversation and explanation of the Tarrot cards. Boss says—that he was a regular doug-pa with the knowledge of a gelukpa.

Olcott is gone day before yesterday on his northern tour. Maharaja of Kashmir sent for him and K. H. ordered him to go to a certain pass where he will be led to by a chela he will send for him. Brown is not here yet but I had a telegram from him from Colombo. They will be both here after to-morrow. I believe Mr. Brown will rejoin Olcott somewhere. Let him go with him by all means and thus see India and learn much for himself.

Well, are you coming out here or not? Or is it all over? K. H. tells me nothing, and if he does not so much the worse for everyone but I do not care. I am only glad that Olcott will see and converse with him. He is in raptures with the expectation. It appears that it is Maha Sahib (the big one) who insisted with the Chohan


—•—   63   THE  CHOHANS’S  KARMA —•—

that Olcott should be allowed to meet personally two or three of the adepts besides his guru M. So much the better. I will not be called perhaps, the only liar, when asserting their actual existence. The best joke of all is, that Hume tells me repeatedly that he knows now K. H. personally and denies the existence of M., though so many more persons have seen him besides myself. I am really sorry for these Replies that appear in the Theosophist. It does seem wisdom thrown out of the window. Well—Their ways are mysterious.
                      My love to Mrs. Sinnett, and to yourself if you accept it.
                               Yours ever, faithfully but never SERVILELY.
                                                                                         H. P. B




I am very sick, suffering agony, and nearly killed two days ago with injected morphia. This accounts for my silence. It is with the greatest pain that I can write; ailing for the last month and more, and walking during Anniversary on crutches. Yesterday received a three yard long letter from Mrs. K. and her confidential address; first fruit of the kindness of K. H.! Well this is the Chohan’s Karma. However it may be, from Subba Row down to Brown everyone is inexpressibly shocked here with this most impertinent, insolent pamphlet or criticism of Maitland. She demands of K. H. to make her “the Apostle in Europe of Eastern and Western Esoteric Philosophy”!!!!! She has divined she says, the allegory. Everything including Atlantis (!) is an allegory. I am too sick to bother myself with her flapdoodle interpretations. But she can hardly be an infallible Seer, or else Maitland would not have attributed to “Mad. Blavatsky” a sentence written by the Tiravellum Mahatma in Reply No. 2 of October page 3, I have his MSS. I must be deuced clever to have written the “Replies” in the Theosophist, I do not understand ten lines in that occult and scientific jibberish. If it is true—as she complains, that you insist having given in Esoteric Buddhism the WHOLE Esoteric doctrine (which I do not believe) and that you would “force the London Theosophists to accept it au pied de la lettre” then of course she has a semblance of right in what she says. But I do not believe you ever did such a thing. You must know that instead of Esoteric Doctrine you have but half-a-dozen of stray pages, picked at random out of the six-and-thirty volumes of the secret books of Khinti; that there are gaps between every tenet



none of which is complete; and you have been told by the Mahatma in letters you showed us and told by me many times that you could not expect to be given that which pertains only to initiation. No Lay chela can get it nor can one understand the thing properly. Even about Devachan, something you have been explained more thoroughly than anything else, you have very vague ideas about it, I see. As “Fragments” of Occult Science you have succeeded admirably and can claim to have given out to the world crumbs of genuine occult doctrines. As a whole—Esoteric Buddhism cannot of course be considered such, nor have you ever claimed it as far as I know to be the alpha and the omega of our Doctrine. All this is very sad and perplexing. And now the outcome of it is, that I, crippled down and half dead, am to sit up nights again and rewrite the whole of Isis Unveiled, calling it The Secret Doctrine and making three if not four volumes out of the original two, Subba Row helping me and writing most of the commentaries and explanations. Why Mahatma K. H. should have inflicted upon your Society such a plaster as Mrs. K. seems to be, a haughty, imperious, vain and self-opinionated creature, a bag of Western conceit—“God” knows, I do not. My belief is that the Chohan has interfered suddenly as he often does. And now there will be a fine row. But what of the following? On December 7th, Mahatma K. H. sent a letter from Sanangerri to his chelas Damodar and Dharani Dhar Kauthumi with a copy of some passages from his big letter to you. In it He said—that he had notified you and those followers of his who had remained faithful to him that unless the L.L. Society should create a secret section with yourself at the head, while Mrs. K. would be the fair and glittering sign-board of the “Lodge” representing Esoteric Christianity or any other flapdoodle—they (the Mahatmas) would have nothing to do any more with the English Fellows. All Branches to be notified of the same and no chelas to write letters to her or the Lodge without the sanction of the Masters. My BOSS nailed me down very kindly in my effusion No. 2 to her, again, and entrusted Subba Row with the work—a humiliation to which I am becoming accustomed. Subba Row is mad and feels ferocious. He is preparing a pamphlet for private circulation addressed to the Fellows of the London Lodge and the esoteric students of all others. It will be sent to you next week. Pralaya, pralaya! a regular obscuration of the Secret Doctrine. As to the final conclusion of Maitland’s onslaught, delivered to you on Dec. 16th it is the faithful echo that has reached him from the Simla heights, the secret voice of Djoota-Sing—as it was prophesied to you that he should do, his gushing and sweet letters to me now—notwithstanding. Consummatum est.


—•—  65   H.  P.  B.  ON  INJUSTICE —•—

On February 17th Olcott will probably sail for England on various business, and Mahatma K. H. sends his chela, under the guise of Mohini Mohun Chatterjee, to explain to the London Theosophists of the Secret Section—every or nearly every mooted point and to defend you and your assumptions. You better show Mohini all the Master’s letters of a non-private character—saith the Lord, my Boss—so that by knowing all the subjects upon which he wrote to you he might defend your position the more effectually—which you yourself cannot do, not being a regular chela. Do not make the mistake, my dear boss, of taking the Mohini you knew for the Mohini who will come. There is more than one Maya in this world of which neither you nor your friends and critic Maitland is cognisant. The ambassador will be invested with an inner as well as with an outer clothing. Dixit.

As for me let me die in peace among my household gods. I have become too old, too sick and broken down to be of any use. I am dying by inches in my harness. Adieu and my love to Mrs. Sinnett.
                                              Yours ever, here and—there,
                                                                                                  H. P. B


Sir Ch. Turner said at a public dinner that
you were quite crazy and that it would end
surely in your turning a Roman Catholic one                 A
day. He hates us bitterly.                                                                    
Nov. 17, 1883.


Of course I am an old fool—as usual; but this does not prevent you from being a diplomat—a child of your age and civilisation. Your devotion, entire faith in, and love for K. H. I do not doubt, but I cannot get rid of the idea that all of us appear to you but objects immersed in the far off edges of that Koothoomian light. Well I do not complain, I am not vain; and am frank and sincere confessing my faults but ready to plunge and rear like an old Kalmuck horse whenever whipped unjustly. For some time there come letter after letter from you with nothing but remonstrances and pitching into me, as though I were responsible for all that bore the name of theosophy the world over; and claims (as I thought very unjustifiable) for respect to the L.L. Theos. Soc. which the latter did not merit at all in my eyes, for I knew all the time what an unbearable female snob was “the divine Anna.” I knew it, and repeated it and went on protesting from first to last until my BOSS M. called me a “nuisance” and a “short sighted female” (in a letter in the bargain, one of his



“scarlet letters” and through Subba Row) and ordered me “to shut up” an elegant expression he got, I suppose, out of Olcott’s store of Yankee words. Yet he never told me that I was wrong but simply that the zebra-clad Kingsford had been chosen by your guide and protector K. H. and that HE knew what He was about—notwithstanding all. Well I supposed it was one of their usual round about experiments in human nature and so shut up. But now, my tongue is once more untied. Fine doings! And hardly a month since, K. H. knowing certainly what she was after, said to me nevertheless—after telling me that she made the best use of my advertising Bradlaugh’s and Besant’s literature and would impede the circulating of the Theosophist in England—“Write to the Seeress of the London Lodge that you are ready to take out that obnoxious advertisement, if it so hurts their Christian feelings, but that you will not drop advertising free thought literature in general.” And He made me do it. For, of course what Mahatma K. H. says is divine authority for M. and I know it. Well, I had a right to think she had written to him complaining of us; but [I] now I suppose she has not. I am glad your Fellows have proved loyal. Become their President and there is nothing I will not do for you all. But the Anna was a snake, a horned aspic amongst roses and for the life of me I cannot see why she was chosen by K. H. unless indeed to show C. C. Massey’s intuition. Well, let them establish a Kingsfordian Society, and worship at the feet of their fetish. Massey is unsettled in his faith, poor, dear sensitive fellow. The impudent plagiarism has found a ready believer in him. K. H. plagiarised from Kiddle! Ye gods and little fishes. And suppose he has not? Of course they the subtle metaphysicians will not believe the true version of the story as I now know it. So much the worse for the fools and the Sadducees. If they knew what it was to dictate mentally a precipitation as D. Khool says—at 300 miles distance; and had seen as all of us—General Morgan, I, the chelas here (of whom we have three) -- the original fragments on which the precipitation was photographed from which the young fool of a chela had copied, unable to understand half of the sentences and so skipping them, then they would not be idiotic enough to accuse not only an Adept but even the two “Occidental Humourists” of such an absurd action. Plagiarise from the Banner of Light!! that sweet spirits’ slop-basin—the asses! K. H. blows me up for talking too much—says He needs no defence and that I need not trouble myself. But if He were to kill me I cannot hold my tongue—on general principles and as a sign of loyalty to them. Of course if He has said—nor explained this to you then he must have good reasons for it. But ever since Subba Row brought to


—•—   67   INGRATITUDE —•—

us the original scrap of Kashmir paper (given to him by my Boss) on which appeared that whole page from the letter you published—I understood what it meant. Why that letter is but one third of the letter dictated and was never published for you have not received it. There is no connection as it now reads between the first portion and that [on] which begins with the words “Ideas rule the world” and it looks . . . .I

True proof of her discretion! I will tell you all myself as soon as I have an hour’s leisure.                       K. H.

But since they don’t want me to speak of this I better not say a word more lest M. should again pitch into me!

To other matters. I was mad with you and therefore wrote about poor Brown that now “I knew, I respected him still less.” It’s all bosh. He is a fine young fellow and Olcott loves him dearly and he is very much attached to Olcott. Sarah Parker is an ungrateful, vain, selfish, ridiculous old mare. She pretends great fondness and devotion for me and maligns me behind my back—“wondering whether what old Wyld told her of Mme. B. was true.” She owes her visit to Brown and the £60 he gave her—and now calls him a cad, a “mean Scotch blackguard,” whose money can never repay what she has done for him (!) and taught him, he owing all his knowledge to her, etc. They had fights and quarrels daily here every time they met at table and so I packed him off to Olcott. And as I never go down stairs she became so obnoxious to the chelas that they would not have her in the house. She used to force herself into the offices and then sat there repeating “Oh, I am enjoying drinking their magnetism—it is so pure!!” And when Brown went to the Shrine and got a letter from K. H. and I would not let her in (for fear of their quarrelling again before the Shrine) she got so mad that she went into a passion, called them (the Masters) “ungrateful curs” (a la Hume) for whom she had worked in America and for whom she had come here and who now preferred to her that idiot Brown, etc. etc. At this the chelas were so outraged that they declared that if the Colonel would receive her into the Society they would all leave it. (She is not initiated nor ever will be). Dharani Dar Kautumi (K. H.’s chela) gave to her hard, so hard that she was terribly frightened, got the jaundice, and went straight off to Calcutta, where the first thing she did was to demand of Norendra Nath Sen that the Calcutta Society should take for her at their own (Society’s) expense magnificent lodgings, pay for them and keep her in style as the “Society’s Lecturer.” I had given her

I    here several lines of H. P. B.’s writing have apparently been completely erased, and the following note precipitated in K. H.’s writing.—ED.



a few words of recommendation to Norendra, Gordans and Ghosal, pitying her, since she has neither money nor brains, nothing but enthusiasm and—cheek. Yet I warned them all what she was. Well then rejoice. You are a prophet and I am a fool. But still I say I will never turn my back on any woman who even seems devoted to our Cause. She was recommended to me by Miss Kislingbury, and she was all right in America. My Boss had said between two pipes—Try—and left me in the lurch as usual. And now They and you laugh at me. Welcome, gentlemen, do not mind old me. Of course I telegraphed to the Society at Calcutta not to spend one penny on her, since she would have no gratitude, but would only compromise the Society. And Olcott refused to have her initiated. So—there’s an end to it. Triumph with Brown, now.

I send you your trunk and contents through Allen. The paper sent to us by them for Theosophist is one inch shorter than our journal! and 800 rupees sent to them!! That’s Mr. Olcott’s and your doings. What will the subscribers say, I don’t know.

Brown seems to become the Master’s pet. Brown wrote to me a crazy letter from Jubolpore and Allahabad about having seen K. H. and recognised him too—at a lecture! Most extraordinary phenomena took place among the travellers—Olcott, Brown, Damodar and two Madrassee secretaries. Damodar has so developed that he can get out of his body at will. They sent him on the 10th to me, giving him a message and asking him to tell me to telegraph to them the message back as a sure sign he was indeed in his astral body. At the same hour Coulomb heard his voice in my room and I saw and heard him, and telegraphed what he had asked me immediately. You will find it in the Supplement. Then Brown puts letters and questions under Damodar’s pillow and receives answers a few minutes later, in K. H.’s handwriting and his usual paper and from my Boss too. Now they will say that it is Damodar the third humourist an “Oriental” one this once. Olcott saw K. H. at last and so will Brown at Jammu—D. K. says. Now ask Brown to write down what he sees for if you have not seen K. H. there then you will have one English witness at least that he is no myth—the lining of two Occidental Humourists. Harrison is a fool and Ditson F.T.S.—another. They are all fools and Carlisle was right. What do you mean by saying that “their Lordships” write too much for your London Society. It is my Boss and two others you do not know. It is against science, rot for your members that they write. And I always said it was useless and time lost for no one will believe and very few will understand, I don’t. What do you mean by abusing Subba Row? Why read his last against Cunningham—the old man wrote to him and


—•—  69   COMMENTS  ON  A  LETTER  FROM  A.  K. —•—

has made him hundred questions for the sake of science and archeology—which Subba Row says he will not answer. Amen.

Oh Lord, what asses write in Light! He is a fine fellow St: Moses. Very friendly to you. Poor unfortunate, irresponsible and vain medium. And now see—“ ‘Buddha’ is but another name for Lingam, the name of an idol”—according to some English flapdoodle. (See Light of the 27th October—Humphreys I think). Goodbye my leg is very bad again, and I can hardly hold the pen. My love to Mrs. Sinnett and Denny.            

                                                                                Yours, for your sorrow,
                                                                                            H. P. B


                                                                                                                         Nov. 26/83.


We are cooked, both you and I. Of course with that worldly prevision that characterises you so preeminently in the discovery of things well known and long discovered you must have had a prophetic premonition of my fuming, swearing, kicking, and plunging after the receipt of your letter of Oct. 26. Well I knew this, as I had told you, long before. In my sight she was always a selfish, vain, and mediumistic creature, too fond of adulation and dress and tinkling jewelry to be of the right sort. And then you, too, say that from the first you were painfully alive to her defects—whereas this is a moutarde apres diner—for you were fascinated with her like all the rest, July 1881. However, it may be noble theosophist, you and I are cooked beyond redemption—for SHE has the best of us, it seems. Listen. Three days ago I received a letter from her; 8 pages of her beautiful clear writing, with the usual celestial young lady surrounded with the seven pigeons and pressing to her heart the illegitimate offspring of her faux pas—stamped on the paper. A letter reasonable and refined, concise and clear to desperation; a letter breathing the spirit of devotion to theosophy (her “Theo-sophia” of the pigeons, of course); of reverence “profound and reasoned” for the Mahatmas, of “high consideration” for poor I—the whole signed and concluded “with cordial and sympathetic sentiments.”

Oh woman—cunning, besides frailty—is thy name! Now I knew and know that the whole letter is a humbug. The little “unpleasantness” between Maitland and the L.L. fellows, you write took place on the 26th I believe? Her letter is dated the

I          M.’s comments appear in bold type.—ED.



30th of October. Evident what must have been her feelings, her true womanly spite when she wrote this reasonable plaintive letter against Mr. Sinnett’s “unreasonableness” his “eagerness to impress us with the paramount importance of the Mahatmas,” her struggles “to preserve the equilibrium of reasonableness upon this head” and her “admonitions” not being taken by any means “in good part by a considerable number of our Fellows.” She “feared, of late, to see our English Branch degenerating into a kind of idolatrous feeling towards these good and kind Adepts (italics mine) instead of preserving towards them an attitude of reverence only.” It “must be displeasing to the Mahatmas themselves.” It is “injudicious” because in a country “where the eye of criticism and unfriendly ridicule, is kept fixed upon every new movement” and it is “manifestly unwise of our Society to present itself before the World in the guise of a Sect having chiefs accredited with super-human powers of greatness.” All this led to the Standard calling “us a Society founded on the alleged feats of certain Indian jugglers.” (Ital. hers.) “This incident and other similar episodes have much annoyed and exercised” her. Much as she esteems Mr. Sinnett, she thinks that “he is making a mistake in carrying in this country the identical policy pursued by the Society in India. It will be fatally destructive to all our hopes of attracting the attention of the Leaders of Thought (Lankester and Donkin?) and Science whose cooperation would be invaluable to us” etc. etc. etc.

Now I have good reason to quote her language as you will see. Have patience then. Further she goes on saying that what she wants is, that the general public would understand “the basis of our Society to be that we are a Philosophical School, constituted on the ancient Hermetic basis, following scientific methods and exact processes of reasoning independent of any absolute authority of an extraneous kind, although accepting with reverence teaching from competent sources.” Otherwise, and though our such reverse policy in India is perfectly right, for here “the position and influence of Adepts and gurus is understood”—in London your Society under such a mistaken policy as yours—“is liable to be regarded on the one hand, as evincing uncommon credulity and ignorance of scientific methods; and on the other, as a system bearing—to the protestant mind—a striking resemblance to the Catholic system of Directors and confessors, the submission required of the catechumen towards his guru or Mahatmas . . . . I hope,” she concludes, “I have made my position quite clear without exposing myself to any misunderstanding. It would be a help and support to me if you would kindly lay this letter before K. H. himself and ask his Counsel.” She then complains that she had “endeavoured


—•— 71   M.  AND  K.  H.  INTERVENE —•—

personally to come into ‘rapport’ with Mahatma K. H. but have quite failed,” and winds up by asking K. H. to strengthen her by his influence, for which reason thinking that “it may be an aid—magnetically or otherwise—to Mahatma K. H. to see my face (!?!?) -- I send my photograph. . . . It may help him to a right analysis of my present personality . . .” etc. etc.

I believe the “analysis” is all made and long ago. At least I have rightly analysed the sweet, fascinating creature and thus I was going to answer accordingly. I prepared a long, polite and as I thought a diplomatic letter, defending you of course in one sense and blaming only for your thirst for phenomena and tests. Alas, alas! I had calculated without my host! I had no occasion to “submit it to Mahatma K. H.” for the same day he helped himself to it, without saying a word. Now a digression. You say in your last—that whatever K. H. would tell you [to] do, you would do accordingly and add—“and you too.” Well I say that in this case I am not sure I would. K. H. is not my Master however much I revere Him. But, no sooner had I finished copying my letter (English corrected by Mohini) an operation performed on my best paper and with new pen, which took me a whole forenoon to the detriment and neglect of other work, than the following occurred. My letter 8 pages—was quietly torn one page after the other by my BOSS!! his great hand appearing on the table under Subba Row’s nose (who wanted me to write quite differently) and His voice uttering a compliment in Telugu which I shall not translate though Subba Row seemed to translate it for me in great glee. “K. H. wants me to write differently” was the order. They (the Bosses) have put their heads together and decided that the “divine Anna” should be humoured. She is necessary to them; she is a wonderful palliative (whatever on earth the word means in the present case!) and they mean to use her. She must be made to remain the aureolic President, you the nucleus (or nucleatic?) President. Both of you have to face each other as the two poles, chance guided by Masters drawing finally the true meridian between you two for the Society. Now don’t imagine that I laugh or chaff. I am in a state of mute and helpless despair—for this once I be hung if I understand what they are driving at! I simply give you the expressions of Djual Khool as he gave them to me, not to write to her but in order that I should “realize and understand their (the Masters) policy.” The devil a bit I shall! Let Them make for me new brains then for I cannot for the life of me understand how after she has so irreverently abused them in her address—she can remain President! To this D. K. only laughed. “The words of a woman wounded in her physical vanity, angry at not being taken notice of by Master (K. H.) are less than



a passing breeze. She may say what she likes. The Fellows have done their duty to protest as they have, she will know better now, but she must remain, and Mr. Sinnett must become the leader and President of the inner ring.” This is as nearly verbatim as I can remember D. K.’s words whatever the inner ring means. I suppose it is this: Mrs. K. will be the President of the exoteric Theos. Soc. nominally that also of the inner Society, and within the general Society will be an inner esoteric or circle of the Fellows who pursue the study of the esoteric doctrines like yourself. Well I had to write to her in consequence and tell her all manner of pious and lying compliments I do not feel. Let the Karma of this fall upon BOSS—for I have been solely and only the weapon or irresponsible agent in all this. I suppose Mahatma K. H. played first fiddle and my Boss second as usual. I have as you say but to obey.

Quite so for it is the best policy.

That’s all and now I wash my hands. Since the Masters take this upon themselves what have I to say? They want her to write her occult experiences in the Theosophist—she says—and she kindly consents.

Really I do not know how to answer your question about Mrs. Gebhard. Of course she deserves if any to receive direct instructions from the Masters. But how can K. H. go to her—a woman? Don’t you know the strict prohibition? Besides Boss forbids me talking on those subjects. He blew me up several times for talking too much and telling you of things I knew nothing much myself—as about this darned “Moon” question. I was abused more than I ever was for this when the question of the moon—“dust bin” came out. It’s all that wretched Wyld. His answer is so stupid that I will not even notice it. “Mr. B.” indeed! Mr. B. is of course Dayanand who is referred to as Mr. B. in his silly letter in Light. Ah yes! “Mr. B . . . is rapidly disintegrating and become rotten and must no doubt shortly die out altogether,” and “Mr. B.” or Dayanand has very rapidly disintegrated and is just dead on Oct. 30th last as prophesied 18 months ago. Wyld may laugh. But he is disintegrating and rapidly dying out himself—the fool!

Well there’s news again. Day before yesterday I received telegram from Jummar from Olcott “Damodar taken away by the Masters.” Disappeared!! I thought and feared as much though it is strange for it is hardly four years he is chela. I send you both telegrams from Olcott and Mr. Brown’s second one. Why should Brown be so favoured—is what I cannot understand. He may be a good man, but what the devil has he done [of] so holy and good! That’s all I know about him that it seems to be K. H.’s second visit personally to him. He is expected here or in the


—•—   73   STRANGE  HAPPENINGS —•—

neighbourhood by two chelas who have come from Mysore to meet Him. He is going somewhere to the Buddhists of the Southern Church. Shall we see him? I do not know. But there’s a commotion here among the chelas. Well strange things are taking place. Earthquakes, and blue and green sun; Damodar spirited away and Mahatma coming. And now what shall we do in the office without Damodar! Ye gods and powers of Heaven and Hell we didn’t have work and trouble enough! Well, well THEIR Will be done not mine.
                                                    Yours ever in hot water,
                                                                             H. P. B

Give my love to dear Mrs. Sinnett and a kiss to Denny. How is he and the Bossess? Who is Mr. Finch? A candidate for chelaship? What does Mr. Myers say to the Replies? Disgusted I suppose? I thought as much. Well that’s all the Adepts will get for their trouble. Adieu!

Sinnett Sahib—you must not wonder. We have the good of the whole Movement and Society at heart. Even the wishes of the majority shall not prevail—the feelings of the less enlightened minority having also to be consulted. The day must come when all will know better. Meanwhile the akhu tries to fascinate K. H. by her portraiture!


                                                                                           ADYAR, MADRAS,
January 25th, 1884.

By order of my BOSS I send you the Kingsford letters to fondly read and preserve for Olcott when he comes—he will be with you about March 15th or 20th. Subba Row’s answer (by order) to the President and the Vice-President of the London Lodge T.S. is ready and I hurry on the printer to finish it this week. It was impossible to finish it as the Boss wanted the same week, for it is three times as long as the attack and wanted careful revision, Subba Row having lavished such uncultured words as “stupid,” “absurd,” “misrepresentation” etc. that would never do in a pamphlet destined for the refined ears of the members of the L.L. But I do believe he has settled them both the Vice-President and vicious President—whose shadow be trampled upon! It shows what fools they are with all their culture and genius and conceited idea of themselves. As Boss says she is the most foolish woman to open at once all her weakest points, and thus the fittest to be the President of most of the western would be members.



Last night when I wrote this I was so ill that I could not proceed, and now I am not much better but determined to write if it were to tell you many things. Yesterday Subba Row showed me a letter to him in Telugu from our mutual Boss M. (as you know) with instructions to say some more things in the answer to K. and M. Among other things there was a funny news. It appears that you go against my Boss’s advice that there should be 14 councillors in your Lodge -- 7 for you and 7 for Kingsford, for it is his dodge. He writes the particulars now for Subba Row’s information in writing the pamphlet and his words are: “I thought my Peling friend, Sinnett Sahib more perspicacious—tell him I have advised only 7 councillors on the side of the yellow haired woman because I knew that it was four too many. She is needed in the Society, but not as the head of it if it can be helped.”

Now what does all this mean? Do they or do they not want Mrs. K. for je suis au bout de mon Latin, and gave it up long ago. They tell me nothing and—I ask nothing.

And now something that is sure to astonish you, then make you angry and finally cause you to blow me up but I cannot help it.

It appears that I am mortally sick and, as the Masters have cured me repeatedly and have no time to bother with me, and that besides what I want is constant air charged with something (some scientific flapdoodle word) that cannot be got here in India—my Boss ordered Olcott to take me to Southern France—to some secluded village, on the sea shore or to the Alps for a long and entire rest of three months at least. Well I kicked, but the Society wept and cried and asked me to remain alive with them as they did not want me dead, and therefore to go and return. Ragonath Row and Subba Row are to take charge of the Theosophist and Damodar and a new chela who will be sent here in my absence. So I consented with the following condition (imposed upon them moreover by my Boss) I must not, shall not, and will not, go to London. Do whatever you may. I will not approach it even. Had my Boss ordered it to me even—I think I would rather face his displeasure and—disobey him. With the exception of you two, whom I sincerely love, the very idea of London and your groups (Theosophical and Spiritualistic) -- is loathsome to me! As soon as I think of M.A. Oxon, of C.C.M., of Wilde, Kingsford, Maitland and some others I feel a feeling of horror, of inexpressible magnetic disgust creep over me. In short I would not approach London to save 17 lives of mine, so, do not ask me to. I will stop at Marseilles for a fortnight or so, go to Paris to meet some cousins and then right to some secluded spot in the Mountains where I can catch hold of my Boss’s astral tailcoats whenever I choose.



If I die, I will be put out of the way without fuss or scandal and—“addio.” If I get better I will come back via the same way Italy or France and resume my work. We will sail towards the 20th of February from Bombay, for I have promised to go to . . .I   before leaving.

Give my love to dear Mrs. Sinnett and kiss “Morsel.” I hope he has not turned a Dissenter as yet. Write me to Marseilles, my name Poste Restante—to await arrival. When Mohini has done his work with the Colonel in London he will join me to be my Secretary—the Madras and Calcutta Societies paying his expenses.

And now goodbye. Send you my photo—the last one I will ever take. Do not speak nonsense. My Memoirs will NEVER appear.
                                                                                  Yours Tibetanly,
                                                                                           H. P. B


ADYAR. 27.


I am compelled to write to you once more. My own reputation and honour I have made a sacrifice of, and for the few months I have to live yet I care little what becomes of me. But, I cannot leave the reputation of poor Olcott to be attacked as it is, by Hume and Mr. Hodgson who have become suddenly mad with their hypotheses of fraud more phenomenal than phenomena themselves. Others will write and explain to you why such a sudden revulsion of feeling. I with thousand other theosophists, protest against the manner and way the investigations are carried on by Mr. Hodgson. He examines only our greatest enemies—thieves and robbers like Hurrychund Chintamon who has returned here to serve the Gaikwar, and being shown by him some new letters (!! I must have written thousands!) received by him as he assures Hodgson, 7 years ago from America. Hodgson copies some paragraphs from them that he believes the most damaging and builds on that a theory of my being a Russian spy besides being a fraud and hoodwinking Olcott from the first. For instance in a letter about the Arya Somaj I say, probably this I do not deny: Never mind Olcott and what he says (about the blending of the two Societies) I will make him do it. I can “psychologise the old man with one look” etc. Something of the kind in fun, of course. This is construed by Mr. Hodgson to show clearly, on my own confession that from the first I have bamboozled Olcott, psychologised him and therefore that his testimony is worthless. Then

I   This word indecipherable.—ED.



Hodgson assures Oakley that he has seen a letter from me to the same Hurrychund in which the following words occur: “Find me a few members not loyal but disloyal” (to the A. I. Govt., of course).

Now these words, if ever written, could never have been written seriously. You know how I tried to conciliate the Hindus with the English. How I did all in my power to make them realize that their Govt. bad as it seemed to them was the best they could ever have, etc. I defy to find one respectable trustworthy Hindu who will say that I ever breathed a disloyal word to them. Let Hurrychund show to Mr. Hodgson a certain letter I wrote to him in reply to his question in his: “Dear Sister, tell me, is the Russian Govt. as bad as ours? Are they as cruel with the conquered people as our rulers are with us?” etc. I answered him—“May heaven protect and save you of the Russian Govt. Better for every Hindu to drown himself at once than to ever find himself under the Russian Govt.” or words to this effect—but I remember perfectly the spirit I wrote them in. And yet because of this letter and of a certain paper stolen from me by Mme. Coulomb and that the missionaries have shown to him, a paper partially or wholly written in cipher, -- he says—Mr. Hodgson has publicly proclaimed me a Russian spy. Read the enclosed letter that I want to send to him, and you will understand the situation. Oakley says he has gone mad! At a public dinner to call one a Russian spy when these d—d countrymen of mine are playing their tricks beyond the Himalayas is enough to have me locked up by the Ang: In: on mere suspicion. Even Hume was horrified at his language and warned him that he was not in England. And now that a lawyer and Subba Row cross-examined him and Oakley and Olcott went to him demanding an explanation the whole evidence for my being a Russian spy does not amount to a crock. Coulomb stole a “queer looking paper” and gave it to the missionaries with the assurance this was a cipher used by the Russian spies (!!) They took it to the Police Commissioner, had the best experts examine it, sent it to Calcutta for five months moved heaven and earth to find out what the cipher meant and—now gave it up in despair. “It is one of your flapdoodles” says Hume. “It is one of my Senzar MSS,” I answer. I am perfectly confident of it, for one of the sheets of my book with numbered pages is missing. I defy any one but a Tibetan occultist to make it out, if it is this. At all events, the missionaries have done their best to prove me a Russian spy and have failed—while Mr. Hodgson has proclaimed me one publicly.

Is this fair and noble or honest? please ask Mr. Myers. And now on the theory of Mr. Hume that there are no Mahatmas the whole Head Quart: is implicated. We are all frauds and all


—•—   77   H.  P.  B.  ARRIVES  IN  FRANCE —•—

forgers of Mahatma K. H.’s handwriting. Poor Olcott is ready to commit suicide. There’s an end to the phenomena for ever—at least to their publicity—and you may all say good bye to teaching and Mahatmas now. Subba Row repeats that the sacred science was desecrated and swears he will never open his lips to a European about occultism. Oakley will write to you. Mrs. O. is so ill that she returns to London and Mr. O. remains here.

Well, I knew all this before I left. I felt it and said so to Mr. Stead or Stake or whatever his name is at your party.

Good bye all, London Lodge and Occultism, the P. R. S. will kill you. Let them go to Eglinton and investigate the secrets of nature on his slate.
                                                                                                        Yours ever,
                                                                                                                H. P. B.

Please give my love if she accepts it still to dear Mrs. Sinnett.

At this very instant, I receive a letter for you. I enclose it—pardon me but I do hope—it is the last, for I have no more strength to suffer.


                                                                                                                      March 17.


I have received the kind invitation of yourselves, of Mrs. and Miss Arundale, of Mrs. Going and several others. I am deeply touched by this proof of the desire to see my unworthy self, but see no use to kick against fate and try to make the realisable out of the unrealisable. I am sick, and I feel worse than I felt when leaving Bombay. At sea I had felt better, and on land I feel worse. I was laid up for the whole day on my first landing at Marseilles, and am laid up now. At the former place it was I suppose the vile emanation of a European civilised first class hotel with its pigs, beef and old cats mixed with frogs; and here—well, here it is due to the kind hand of providence. Anyhow I am falling to pieces; crumbling away like an old sea biscuit and the most I will be able to do, will be to pick up and join together my voluminous fragments and gluing them together carry the ruin to Paris. What’s the use asking me to go to London? What shall I, what can I do amidst your eternal fogs and the emanations of the highest civilisation? I left Madras a mon corps defendant. I did not want to go—would return this minute, if I could. Had not “father” ordered it, I would not have stirred from my rooms and old surroundings. I feel ill, miserable, cross, unhappy. My poor uncle, General Fadeyef, is just dead and I suppose I have to go in mourning. Then I expect



my sister to come and see me somewhere after 20 years of separation and perhaps the old folks—my two aunts. I would not have come to Nice but for Madame A. Hammerle, our dear Theosophist from Odessa. Lady Caithness is the embodiment of kindness. She does everything in creation to humour me, and I came for two days instead of the six weeks she wanted me to stop with her. But I had reckoned without my host—the Mistral of Provence and the cold winds of Nice. And now I am laid up. Mohini and Bowajee (the two soit disant “Secretaries”) are gone to Paris yesterday—and Olcott and I came here feeling we had no right to disregard the kind invitation, expressed in 36 telegrams and letters. She is a dear good friend, she will be a real friend shortly—yet even for all that I feel I have no right to stop here beyond a few days, and as soon as I am better we mean (Olcott and I) to join the “Secretaries” in Paris, only to begin fidgetting as soon as I am there and wishing myself sooner in Jericho than horrid Paris. What kind of company am I to civilised beings like yourselves? It is very, very kind of Mrs. and Miss Arundale to invite me, I am unworthy of such a warm expression of kindness and sympathy. I would become obnoxious to them in 7 minutes and a quarter, were I to accept it and land my disagreeable bulky self in England. Distance lends its charm, and in my case my presence would surely ruin every vestige of it. The “London Lodge” is in its sharpest crisis. Olcott with his instructions from his Mahatma (father), and Mohini with his orders from Mahatma K. H. are the best calculated persons to set things right. I would do the reverse. I could not (especially in my present state of nervousness) stand by and listen calmly to the astounding news (from Gough!!) that Sankara Charya was a theist and Subba Row knows not what he is talking about, without kicking myself to death; or that other still more astounding declaration that Masters are evidently “Swabhavikas”! Oh sweet Jesus, and shall I begin contending against the Goughs and Hodgsons who have disfigured Buddhism and Adwaitism even in their exoteric sense, and risk bursting a blood vessel in London upon hearing these arguments reiterated? Not I. I have the greatest respect for Mr. Massey’s enormous powers of “clear and unimpeachable logic” but can only wonder that such a keen metaphysician hangs his faith—after rejecting the authority of even Subba Row—upon the flapdoodle dicta of the unutterably ignorant translation and dead-letter interpretations of the Gough and Co. Vade retro Satanas. Let me die in peace—if I have to die, or return to my Lares and Penates in Adyar, if I am ever doomed to see them again. You shall have Olcott and Mohini—buss. Please do not be angry with me. Really and indeed I do



not feel like going to England. I love you all at a distance, I might hate some of you of the L.L. were I to go there. Don’t you understand why? Can’t you realise with all you know of me and of the truth, (the latter is ignored only by those who will not see it) that it would be an inexpressible suffering for me to see how the Masters and their philosophy are both misunderstood. How shall I stand there, and see Their teachings tested and rectified by the sublime absurdities of a Hodgson who acquaints his readers so coolly with a creature he calls “God, that is, of an absolutely immaterial being.” A “being” and one absolutely IMMATERIAL!! (see p. 22 of C.C.M.’s new pamphlet The Metaph. Basis of E. Buddhism) Ye gods and “immaterial” nothings! I rather plunge for ever into eternal Nirvritti myself.

However, this will do. You must understand my position, otherwise I cannot say more.

Please call in a small meeting at your place of all those who have kindly remembered me by welcoming my arrival in Europe. It is really very kind of them and I will never forget the truly sympathetic feelings expressed in their letter. And tell Mrs. and Miss Arundale, Mrs. Going, Mme. Isabel Steiger, Mrs. Golindo, Mrs. E. C. Knowles, Messrs. Finch and Ed. Wade, how deeply I thank them for their invitation and welcome. Also how deeply sorry I am that I am unable, for the present, at any rate, to avail myself of all this and thus realise their desire to see me. But do also tell them all, that indeed it is rather a gain than a loss to them not to come into closer proximity with my unattractive self than they now are. Every one is not blessed with my “beloved sister’s” (Patience Sinnett) disposition to overlook my many vices and shortcomings. Therefore, tell to my other would be “beloved brethren and sistern” that it is in sheer love for them and out of regard for their civilized feelings, that I refuse to show myself by “day light” little as there may be of the latter article in London.

And now—goodbye. Behave yourselves like true theosophists—children of Light and Pragna, and accept the sincere blessings and good wishes of your
                                         fast departing, hapless friend and brother
                                                                                      H. P. B

Love to Morsel. Mea culpa. Your friend and Master sent you through me (at least I had it second hand from Djual Khool) a lock to replace the one Dennie had, (what ails the said lock, did he lose or damage it?) but I do not know where I have put it. It’s somewhere in my trunk. I will find and send it to you.
                                                                                                    H. P. B.






Every body in the house is gone to the theatre—even Olcott. Sick and ill—humoured I am sitting alone in my quiet room with that new “Reply to Subba Row” by the irrepressible “Perfect Way Twins”—lying before me. And now, I am distinctly ordered by BOSS to pen for your benefit the following questions:

(1) Are you, in the presence of this literary farago, of this jungle of sleight-of-hand logic and wrangling going to remain silent?

(2) If we wait for Subba Row’s Reply to this Reply—then we will have to eat our livers for over three months; and even then ten to one he will only laugh, and as I am not there to stand over him and make him write an answer—he will pay no attention to it.

(3) No one will undertake to go over again (not I, at all events) the whole ground of misconceptions and, as I now see, wilful misrepresentations that begun with their Manifesto No. 1, and now ends with this new “Reply.” The ground was well covered by Subba Row; he explained the whole situation and their mistakes as clearly as one could put it in English; and yet, even now they find holes to pick in, and S.R. is made to appear inconsistent—if not worse. May be, possibly, I am not English scholar enough to take in correctly and in every case, the profound logic and the objections made by both—Messrs. Maitland and Kingsford and L.C. Massey; -- but I consent to be hung if there is a fool, in this world, fool enough to fail perceiving that the whole thing is a hopeless case of the most stupid wrangling, under the garb of logic and philosophy. Besides which the latter production contains a clear misstatement of our beliefs. When, where, how, and what is there in the combined writings of the Mahatma -- (may He forgive me for having thus thrown His holy Name in pasture to the 19th century Seers and Initiates!) -- Subba Row, myself, or any one else that gives them the right to say that we believe in an actual Satan? (pp. 16, 17 et seq.). We, who reject with all our powers the absurd idea of a personal God, we will believe in a personal Satan!! Do they joke or are they in dead earnest? Do they really believe that such is our belief, or is it a mere literary ruse? Hang me if I know!

(4) And then, what do they mean by—“the Master has not yet attained to the highest Mysteries, and does not know the


—•—   81   ANNA  KINGSFORD  AND  K. H. —•—

truth on this point” (i.e. Satan). Now this, I would call simply “cheek” and “impudence” (see p. 16).

(5) And what is the implied meaning of the last para. on page 17, and the first on p. 18? Do they mean to suggest that while Mahatma K. H. may not have reached as yet “the degree of initiation to which the disclosure of such truth belongs”—he, Mr. M. and she Mrs. K. have reached that degree? And do you mean to tell me that there may be found even one person among your theosophists in England fool enough to rely more on the assumed initiation in a preceding life, and therefore infallible illumination in the present life of Mrs. K.—than on the teachings of Mahatma K. H.? Proh pudor! -- my dear “Brethren and Sistern” enjoy your Karma for having elected her President. It is your and Mr. Massey’s (your friends) doings. And now even he goes against you and your Master. Vade retro Satanas! How can I ever face a Society some of whose members harbour such insulting thoughts and express them in print? This is why I cannot come to London. Were I to follow the dictates of my affection for both of you and my desire to get personally acquainted with such charming members as Mrs. and Miss Arundale, Mr. Finch, Mr. Wade and others I know the results. I would either jump up and tear heaven and hell at the first opportunity, or have to explode like a bomb-shell. I cannot keep calm. I have accumulated bile and secreted gall for over six months during this Kingsford-Sinnett embroglio; I have held my tongue and been forced to write civil letters which are now represented in the light of “sympathetic and encouraging correspondence.” I—well, never mind what, and how much I suffered of these coleres rentrees; my present illness is more than partly due to them. But, I am not born for a diplomatic career. I would spoil the broth, and do no good—at any rate, not till after the whole thing is settled and the equilibre-theosophique est retabli.

But now, why should not you call in a meeting before Olcott’s arrival? Why should not you draw the attention of every sensible man to the transparent humbug of the last Reply? Why should not you try and smooth his way? The worst of it is, those eternal references to Gough’s translations of Sanskrit texts! Is it possible that Mr. Massey should rely upon the dead letter, disfigured renderings of Gough or even a Max Muller, of Sanskrit texts, the inner meaning of which can be understood only by initiates! But all this is hopeless. Lillie is “an authority” now—and Gautama Buddha shown by him a theist, and Gough has transfigured Sankaracharya into a believer of Iswara, a personal God, a Being!!!

I do not know what it is that Master ordered Olcott to do.



He keeps his own counsel and says nothing. But I feel sure that even the Chohan would not force her upon the Society against the will of the majority. Let her found a Society apart from yours—a distinct “Esoteric Christianity London Lodge,” and you establish a Society of your own. How is it possible to accept the proposed farce of a Theos. Society alleged to draw its teachings from our Mahatmas, when, as soon as the latter will say anything that does not quite agree with Mrs. K.’s inspiration and prophetic utterances—their teachings will be forthwith attributed to either “a wilful misrepresentation of doctrine,” or, from the fact that the teacher has not as yet reached the degree of initiation to which disclosure of such truth belongs.” Who is to check the utterances and denials of Mrs. K.? Who can control her assumptions and assertions. She will say—“It is not so, I know it, for I have been initiated during the reign of Psametichus or Sesostris,” and the people will have to open their mouths and hold their tongues. Impossible! Funny position. Oh how inexpressibly higher than her stands in her intuitional knowledge, kindness, and modesty my dear Lady Caithness.

                                                                      Well tata.
                                                                              Yours in rags,
                                                                                              H. P. B

You may read this to our friends, to all if you like.

P.S. Another thing. She represents you as an awful fanatic, an intolerant materialist and one who will force his Esot: Buddhism as a complete system, now this is bosh—Master says. I know through him that you do nothing of the kind. You are a loyal, faithful and uncompromising friend and chela of Mahatma K. H. and you stand by him, as I now see, as true as any of his immediate chelas. But I also know that the “Celestial Gemini” correspond with A. O. H. (who has now lost his guru by death, the Almora Sage who was to expose our Masters as Dugpas) and I recognise more than one solitary stroke of his pen in their writings and gratuitous insulting assumptions about what our Masters may be. Why then—BOSS asks, don’t you write and refute all her fibs and expose the malevolent charges. “He hurts the Society and his own cause”—says BOSS—“Tell him so from me.” Now, my BOSS wants her—since the old Chohan is in love with her vegetarianism and her love for animals—to remain President—but not necessarily of your Society. The Chohan wants her in the Society, but would not consent to force the opinion or vote of a single member of the L.L. He will not influence the last of them, for he then would be no better than the Pope who thinks


—•—   83   RUSSIAN  ARISTOCRATS  AND   H. P. B. —•—

he can enforce implicit obedience and then avoid to take upon himself the person’s Karmas. This is what BOSS has just been telling me to write to you. Hence you better prepare and seek the opinion and advice of every member who is of your way of thinking and get ready to split yourselves in two Societies, for this is what the Colonel has to do—I am told. I believe you misunderstood Mahatma K. H.’s telegrams and letters—so Mohini tells me. For they wanted her to remain President so far as They were concerned and to show They did not care a rap for her implied and even expressed insults. Mahatma K. H. had to make it a sinequanon of his teaching you so long as there was but one L.L. and one Society. But since the Chohan is desirous there should be two, on the strength of Art. I (Rules) i.e. “composed solely of co-religionsts”—let her preside over her “London Lodge” and Esoteric Christians—and you over the “Tibetan Lodge” and Esoteric Buddhists. DIXIT.              Correct. M.

Two words of myself. In Marseilles upon landing—a gastritis; in Nice upon leaving the train—a bronchitis (dragged to the French theatre where I went to sleep in a corner of the Ducal box, slept during 3 acts, and caught cold through the opened door). Now, gum boils, neuralgia, rheumatics and sciatica, with fever in my ears and diptheria in my toes. A pretty specimen of healthy humanity! On the 26th we go to Paris and on the 4th or 5th Olcott has orders to go to London. Uncle Sam has pneumonia and is laid up in Rome, he telegraphs me. Karma. Ever since my arrival I fell in with a colony of Russian aristocrats—the Tchelishtchof—the Demsdofs, Lvofs, Count Koshkela Dolgorouki and the tutti quanti of titled stars. They exasperated me, and gum boils notwithstanding, drag me to their dinners and lunches, their sumptious palaces and etc. accepting my dressing gowns and evening deshabilles, cigarettes, and compliments with a Christ like forbearance doing great honour to their patriotic feelings. They are proud of me they say; they invite me back home (I wish they may get it) and invite Babula and admire him, permitting him even to kick against the indispensable pair of white cotton gloves at dinner for the sake of admiring his flaming yellow livery and earrings. I will have an extra earring put in his nose before I go to Paris. I met here also a lady, with whom I used to play when quite little children both of us, at Saratof when Grandfather was Gov. General of the place. She knew me by name, having heard of my felicitous marriage with old father Blavatsky, and fell this morning into my arms weeping and wiping her nose on my sympathetic bosom. It was very touching—very. Thus I am—or rather Babula is—the sensation of the day here. At Marseilles he had an admiring audience of 500 men



strong, running after him to admire his gold earrings and theosophical livery. The Duchess takes him out near the coachman when driving out alone and makes much of him.
                       Oh Moses—sweet civilisation!
                                                                                                                           H. P. B.

As I was going to send this I found to-day (Saturday) your letter. Well I think, if not K. H. then my Boss answers your questions—Is it not the same? Its ages I did not hear from K. H.!


                                                                                                            46, RUE NOTRE DAME DES CHAMPS,
April 27.


Yours—all right. Please convey my tenderest regards to A. P. Sinnett, Esq., your “worst” half, and tell him that 1st I am strictly forbidden by both Masters to serve henceforth as a postman. I wrote him to this effect from Adyar; and 2nd: Had I even a desire to disobey, I could not do so, since his letter to me—as Mrs. Gebhard knows—was tenantless of any other letter either to Mahatma K. H. or Mah. Morya—my BOSS (and now his bit of a letter is also gone, and I can’t find it to quote his words). This shows that probably my BOSS was at his tricks again, for which I am mighty glad. Please no more letters through ME. Let me pass away in peace and inner beatitude. I have written to Mr. Sinnett a letter before this one; in answer to his in which he urges me, virtually to go against the order of my Master. Funny that he should not realise that when my Master orders—I have but to obey, regardless of every consequence. Nor has he shown himself very polite or anxious to do what Master asked him to do, since what he was expected to do in all friendliness, was not to advise me to do that or the other with regard to the Secret Doctrine—which he dashed—but simply to help. Well when he saw he could not do it why not say so, but go on writing 4 pages against Master’s orders. I wrote to him perhaps a too harsh letter, for which I beg his pardon but I could not help it. He knows me and that I am neither one to conceal my feelings, nor to show that exquisite politeness and hypocrisy in personal dealings for which you of the West are so famous for, and that you are made to begin practising from your nurseries and teens.

The “Spook” business at Eglinton’s does not astonish me,


—•—   85   TIBETAN  CHELAS  —•—

for I have my serious doubts whether it was his Elementals or “spooks” alone connected with that business. That it was neither of the two Masters’ chelas is sure. They would not be permitted to show spite or fling reproaches at no one, least of all to take part in public mediumistic performances. But there are other chelas of other Masters—“greasy Tibetans” pur sang—I know some of these gentlemen, to be fine fleur of future adeptship or—of signal failure as many of them may experience. And I know, that they love your “Western Metaphysicians” still less than they do Orthodox Brahmins. It is they who tried to go against the Phoenix—and their Masters too, for the matter of that, who are pure blooded Mongolian Buddhists. And it is they who call your Lord and Master “the three eyed Peling” and would call him worse, were they not afraid of Mahatma K. H. and my Boss. They are chelas after all, and there is much of the mortal man in them yet. What is it of so “admirable” that they said? Why don’t you write all. If it is they whom I am thinking of—they are great friends with the native Peruvian, Mexican and Red Indian Adepts and chelas. Par consequence—with Ski (Mrs. Billing’s protector—whether the adept or the spook he uses as his proxy). Djual Khool won’t tell me of course, or I would ask. But do tell [me] what he, or they wrote.

The seal is lovely. Please order it to be stricken on note and letter paper thick and thin, and of various sizes very large or very small and on the envelopes. I want to take home with me of such paper for two or three guineas. Tell me what I have to pay and I will send you immediately the money. My foolscap has probably remained in your hall where Arthur left it, for badly as I need it I have not yet received it. Poor Miss Arundale took the trouble of buying it for me and you do not send it. Oh ye, of little faith!

The L.L. evenement and row is becoming “monotonous.” BOSS frowns at it considerable. Let me tell you so. He says that whereas it was all at first on Mrs. K.’s Karma now all of you try to share it and disburden her of the heaviest part. Olcott has been guilty of some flapdoodle. Master says they (Gurudeva K. H., nor he) never meant to lead any of the Societies by the hand or tied to their apron strings. You know the rules and laws and bye laws—act up to them. Now that the “Hermetic” has burst, the Chohan will be down upon you, and upon Olcott the first one, who is too weak says Master. “Why should not they use their own judgment” remarked last night Dj. Khool. Rather than be men they are like children fighting and seeking to make even of Mohini their prop and protection. Well Mohini cannot



stop much longer with you. He has to come here with the Colonel and be in Paris toward the 7th or 9th, I hear. They have a tremendous large conference at the Geographical Hall prepared for Olcott here for the day he may appoint, not later than the 15th and Mohini is wanted badly here as and more badly than you need him in London. Why you have the boy with you for over three weeks now, and had time to learn the whole Rig Veda by heart by this time. Why did you not utilise him? You let him go flapdoodling about and losing his time. His Master wanted him to go to the British Museum and frequent libraries, and even go to Oxford. And there he is catching the dogs by the tail in the streets of London instead of utilising his time with profit. Besides though he does not say a word like a true Hindoo and Chela, he yet dislikes Massey as much as Mrs. K. and M. for insulting his Master as Massey has. Massey becomes insufferably idiotic. Now I have said the word. Judge tells me today that he received two letters from him speaking of Mahatma K. H. as though he were a pick-pocket, and expressing suspicion that I had read some of his letters, which, says Judge, I have never laid my eyes upon. He is unfit for the London Lodge your C.C.M. not on account of what he thinks of me for I do not care a snap of my finger NOW what he may say and think, however much it hurt me before—but because of his attitude to the Masters. I can never forgive him that, and he may be told so right away, for all I care for him. A poor, weak, vacillating, ever doubting ninny he is now—judging of human nature and its weaknesses by his own weak sugar-and-castor-oil nature. He disgusts me, and Master says this very moment: “Tell her they can have Olcott and Mohini for the 7th but both have to be here before the 11th, and better advise her as a friendly caution from me, not to pass from one room—with the fire place blazing—into another room cold and damp. She would do well to get out of London during May, June, and July. In August she is safe.” Now, it’s just what He had told me before. Take care of your health for mercy’s sake! When Mme. Gebh. was telling me how sorry she was you had not gone with her, Master’s bell came and said Mme. Gebh. was right. It would have done you good.

Now good bye. From July 1, I am at your service of the Londoners. Before then it seems impracticable.
                  Yours ever truly and sincerely—for indeed I love you.
                                                                                                      H. P. B

Love to Messrs. Finch, Hood, Wade, etc. etc.


—•—  87   THE  WORK  OF  MOHINI  —•—


                                                                    PARIS, RUE NOTRE DAME DES CHAMPS,
April 25.


You speak like John “the Golden Mouth”—whoever the creature be—but you speak at the same time, very selfishly. You, of the quarrelling London Lodge are not precisely the Alpha and the Omega of Theosophy, nor are you the only and best beloved of the Masters. You had Mohini for over three weeks and you will have him still till the 8th or the 9th of May—fortnight more.

Now there are persons here speaking well English, devoted Theosophists, and as devoted philosophers and metaphysicians going the wrong way for lack of one to put them straight. They too want Mohini, and his Master who is personified justice and has promised to them also a chela to explain to them many of the Mysteries is not likely to be untrue to his word. Here too he has done and has to do some more “valuable work” and stimulating their zeal. Most assuredly “he did not come from India to copy letters” for me; but one of the reasons he has come for is to help me on the Sanskrit portion of the Secret Doctrine. Therefore Mohini cannot stop in London when Colonel returns to Paris; nor can their “lordships” see the propriety of doing everything for one Society—even though it be “the London Lodge”—and nothing for another Society.

Besides you will not succeed to draw from Mohini anything new. He has strict orders to hold within the limits of what was already given to you and not to overstep that. It is surely no one’s fault that you were occupied with the Debates. And I tell you truly, honestly and openly that he will not be permitted to give you anything that will enable to set you to work on some fresh literary work for the public. All that you can get from him is explanations, rectifications and a last polish to what you have attempted to give in Esoteric Buddhism—the theory about the moon, “dust-bin,” of course severely excluded. You are, to conclude this portion of the debatable questions contained in your letter—mistaken if you think that Mohini has come from India solely for “being instrumental” in the work going on in your Lodge—however important—and “the establishment of the London Theos. Soc. on a firm basis.” Nothing like it. I have my orders and I will abide by them. I do not know what the Mahatma K. H. may have told you, but I know what Mahatma M. tells and orders me and I know what I was ordered to do through Djual Khool and it is this: Mohini must come with us, (1) to



represent the Mahatma and his opinion in the important crisis of the London Theos. Soc. (2) explain and rectify the errors the mind of some “fellows” is filled with owing to their misunderstanding the doctrine hinted at in Esot. Buddhism—especially the misrepresentations made by Mrs. K. and M.; (3) not to permit any sort of injustice to be done, any favour shown, if unmerited etc.; (4) to disabuse the minds of all the members in Europe (not of the L.L. alone) as to the nature of the Mahatmas; to show them in their true light and nature, as superior mortals not as inferior flapdoodle Gods. In short, to do work, both in London, Paris and even Germany if I go there, for there Mohini would according to his instructions, have to follow me. BUSS. Show this to Mohini and ask him whether it is so or not. Now question (2).

I thank you for the intention you had of writing the Preface for Secret Doctrine—I did not ask you to do it but the Mahatmas and Mohini here, and Subba Row there, are quite sufficient for the task of helping me. If you do not think that “the scheme is feasible as announced” I am sorry for you and your intuition. Since the Guru thinks it otherwise I will take my chance of following rather his order and advice than yours. This, in sincere friendship, but in as great a determination. To say that I “would do wisely to direct the repayment of subscriptions and withdraw the announcement” is to talk sheer flapdoodle. I did not undertake to rewrite and bother myself with that infernal book for my own sweet pleasure. Could I annihilate it by hurling the accursed work into the 8th sphere I would. But my own predilictions or wishes have naught to do with my duty. MASTER orders and wills it be rewritten and rewrite it I will; so much the better for those who will help me on the tedious task, and so much the worse for those who do not and will not. Who knows but with God’s blessing and help the thing may turn out “a splendid piece of work” anyhow. Nor will I ever, with your permission and begging your pardon, of course, agree with you that “it is madness to try and write such a book for monthly parts” once that the Guru so ordains it. For, notwithstanding the remarkable respect I feel for your western wisdom and business like talents, I would never say of anything my Master (in particular) and the Masters (in general) tell me to do—that it is sheer madness to do their bidding. One chapter at any rate, “on the Gods and Pitris, the Devas and the Daimonia, Elementaries and Elementals, and other like spooks” is finished. I have found and followed a very easy method given me, and chapter after chapter and part after part will be rewritten very easily. Your suggestion that it must not “look like a mere reprint of Isis”



is nowhere in the face of the announcement (which please see in the Theosophist last page). Since it promises only “to bring the matter contained in Isis” within the reach of all; and to explain and show that the “later revelations” i.e. Esot. Buddhism for one, and other things in the Theosophist are not contradictory to the outlines of the doctrine given—however hazy the latter is in that Isis; and to give in the Secret Doctrine all that is important in “Isis” grouping together the materials relating to any given subject instead of leaving them scattered throughout the 2 vol. as they are now—then it follows that I bound to give whole pages from “Isis” only amplifying and giving additional information. And unless I do give numerous reprints from Isis, it will become Osiris or Horus—never what it was originally promised in the “Publisher’s Notice” which—please read.

And now having opened one of the safety valves in my steam engine—I beg to subscribe myself ever your friend and well wisher

Take care what you do by keeping your wife in the dampness and fogs of London. You ought to have sent her away with Mad. Gebhard. Remember, she needs sunlight and complete rest if you would have her on her legs this day six months. Take this as a very serious warning.




I find I am a fool—most decidedly so, since beginning a letter to you with the appalling sentence “My Boss M. wants me to tell you so and so,” I trusted so much in your intuition as to imagine that without a dash or something to indicate where the Boss’s suggestions ended, and my own flapdoodle began; I went on speculating and advising and thus lead you into the natural error of taking my own words for those of Master! Now, having read your letter, and seeing at once how important it is that we should not allow the divine Whistle-breeches to have such a strong handle as she would otherwise have—if she were to remain Prest. of the London Lodge (even though it were composed only of four members), I see all the absurdity and danger of my careless writing. The words of the Master were -- (and I now copy them verbatim from the astral records helped in it by his senior chela) -- “She has to remain President” . . . (since it is the Chohan’s desire she should not quit the Society if it can be



helped) -- “of a Society, even though the two groups had to change their names.” The suggestion about the “London Lodge” and “Tibetan Lodge” names was wholly mine; and even having written it, and hardly posted the letter, I repented, for I remembered what Master said, and Mah. K. H.’s letter to Subba Row—about this. See page 44 of Subba Row’s Reply about the “proposal.” Besides which the “Tibetan Lodge” was a proposal of Maitland and I was very angry at the time. I do not know what possessed me to write the thing! I felt so disgusted that any change, anything that would pitch her out of your Society seemed preferable to her still being in it. As always—Master had come, his voice said “you will write to him so and so”—and he went away. And I, having delivered myself of his chief message—namely that it was time that you should emphatically deny, and expose her lies—made a mess of the rest by writing in His spirit and not in His words; and as I see now it is the words precisely that were important. You are right, perfectly right, and I say again I am a fool, a poor broken down idiot in this weakness of my body that weakens my brain also.

Ye gods! why is it that the Chohan wants her at all! Is it for our or your sins? I know that all the rest (K. H. and Boss and chelas in and out of Tibet) do not want her. But it seems a fatality that the old venerable gentleman who never meddles in anything theosophical least of all European, should have thrown his eye upon her! Djual Khool told me in Madras that he never saw his “Master” so embarrassed. Is it that the Chohan Rimbochy wants to disgust you all, with all such contradictions, inconsistencies and counter-orders? I asked D. K. and he only looked at me and said nothing. Well so far, I know that Master has given Olcott nothing to do that would contradict your desires. Quite the contrary. I know that his mission is to rid you of her without separating her entirely of the Society. I know that Their desire is to have you President of the Society of the “Occultists” of London—and no one else, and that They are forced to tolerate her on account of and out of deference for the wishes of the Chohan—His name be blessed. Well Sinnett, my dear, all this is not natural. Broken down, enfeebled as I am physically and intuitionally, I have yet unforgettable knowledge enough to feel that there is somewhere in all this—“une anguille sous roche.”

The notes “by proxy” hold good among the Fellows of your Society not among those of other Branches. The Duchess has no right to vote in your L.L.; and Master ordered me to tell her so when she mentioned that she had sent Mrs. K. her vote, and Master told so to Olcott. See Rule VIII—“no branch has the right to exercise jurisdiction outside its chartered limits.” As to


—•—   91   MRS.  HOLLOWAY  AND  K. H. —•—

Mme. de Morsier she is now dead against Mrs. K. and will not vote for her—neither has she the right to. She is all for Mohini and Mohini is “the Master’s ambassador” as she calls him. Thus it is settled.. . . . I



I perform my last duty, and am obliged to do so. Mrs. Holloway asked me whether she could go to Windsor and I said I saw no reason why she should not take rest—that the only order I had received and which I know was in my Master’s letter to you was that she should sleep at Mrs. Arundale every night, that she should come, in short to live at their house if she wanted to write her book. Now if she contravenes the Master’s orders which are those of Mahatma K. H. I wash my hands of all. But I must tell you plainly that Mrs. H. having been sent from America here by the Master’s wish who had a purpose in view—if you make her go astray and force her unwittingly into a path that does not run in the direction of the Master’s desire—then all communication between you and Master K. H. will stop. I am ordered to tell you so.

You do not know what you are doing! You are ruining the L.L. Theos. Soc. and playing into the hands of Mrs. Kingsford and your enemies.

Remember I never was more serious than I am now. Were the Society to fall; I must do my duty.
                                                                                                                                           H. P. B

I verily believe you want to run to your ruin.


Saturday morning.


Mrs. Holloway is just gone, and left me a few parting words for you, in the presence of Miss Arundale. “Do me the justice,” she said—“to tell Mr. Sinnett, that to the last I was living here on two planes—the physical and the spiritual. Judging me from the physical he could not, of course, understand me, for I was living on the spiritual. To the last I have been acting under the direct orders of Master, and could not therefore, do as he (Mr. Sinnett) would have liked me to. This he would never consent to fully realise.”

I    The remainder of the letter is missing.—ED.



And, as a corroboration on my side, (which of course will not go far with you, but I have promised her and must do it) let me tell you my dear Mr. Sinnett, that apart from what I may have told her, and letters of Master to me about her, she had direct orders from Him, and acted upon. She tells me that you said that I told you otherwise; namely that the injunction ended when you came to Elberfeld. I can only say that I have never told you so and that you again misunderstood me. I said that personally, it was a matter of perfect indifference to me whether she would stay at your house or not; but that I knew it was Master’s express wish she should not; that it was she herself, who, determined to carry out His orders, refused to do so; and had made several appeals to me to support her in this statement. This I did several times but you would never believe me. She was greatly disturbed (mentally) all the time, and her development has suffered thereby. But I hope she will be calmer now and rest.

May be I will not see you again; therefore let me tell you once more about the planets, rings, and rounds. You may copy this and send it on to Hubbe Schleiden and Frank. I said there were no such garlands of sausages  as they thought of planets; that this representation was not even graphical but rather allegorical; that our seven planets were scattered about; that Rounds meant what you said, though the explanation was very incomplete, but that the rings what you call i.e. the seven root races and the evolution of man in his eternal septenary geration was misunderstood, not only by you but could not be understood clearly by any one uninitiated; and that, even that which might have been told by you, you had not told it for you have misunderstood one of Master’s letters. This Subba Row and Mohini will prove to you any day on the authority of one of Master’s letters. Now follow what you will find in Mrs. Holloway’s “Man”—and you will see yourself. It is a difficult subject, Mr. Sinnett, and one can give it out fully only under two conditions. Either to hear Master’s voice as she does; or to be an initiate oneself. Master (my Master) and the Mahatma gave you only what is permitted, and even that will be found difficult to express unless the idea is thoroughly impressed on one’s mind. And now, goodbye. My real, sincere love to Mrs. Sinnett and my best wishes for yourself. I still hope that some day you will understand “things occult” and myself better than you do now.
                                                                                                                              Yours faithfully,
                                                                                                                                                             H. P. B


—•—  93   MOHINI  AND  THE  WRITING  OF  “MAN” —•—



On board.


I write a few words first for the sake of the Cause generally and all of us in particular. As I thought this day was one of revelation and retribution all over and round: the great test as a Cause is at an end, now we have but to wait for results. The first one is a letter from Mr. Finch and a confession from Mohini that the “Apocalypsis” that had to supersede Esoteric Buddhism and crush it out, not only out of market but out of existence is—good for nothing. Mr. Finch says that this is a work which “can only lower the Masters.” The four chapters written entirely by Mohini are of course good, but wherever the spring of inspiration has let loose its waters, it is rough, unsystematic, reads like a meaningless jibbering of a schoolboy—makes ugly patches in the work and will certainly do no credit to the “two chelas” supposed to have written under the direct inspiration of a student. Well—the probation is at an end it seems—at least Act I. Master wants it to be issued before Christmas and we have to do it. Only poor Mohini will have to rewrite the whole chapter and remodel all the places where his collaborator gave original ideas. I wish you would see Mohini and have a talk with him about this work. He will tell you HOW it was written for he is now free to speak.

My Master whose voice I have just heard orders me to tell you that as Mohini is likely to stop in London till January, you better profit by his presence to complete your literary work that sleeps for want of materials but ought not. Seriously you ought to have him as often as you can to explain and teach you upon the subjects touched in your new book for now Master will give him orders to that effect. Hitherto he could not come to you, give or explain the least thing—for reasons your intuition may explain to you. Now he can and will do so. Dispose of me, for you I will consent now even to serve again as a postman. But for you alone and will beg you to keep me the secret. I will write from either Algiers or Malta and explain. Do answer me. Love to Mrs. Sinnett.
                                                                                                                               Yours truly again,
                                                                                                                                                                  H. P. B.




Copy of the letter to be sent through Olcott. I want you to correct it. I am determined to sue the Coulombs for this.

•          HODGSON ESQ.


I have always laboured under the impression that in English law so long as one was not proven “guilty” legally, one was held innocent; and that a one sided testimony—especially that of recognised enemies could be put aside even in a Court of Justice. You seem to act on different principles. You are welcome to do so. In the matter of phenomena I have come to care very little whether I will be proclaimed in your Report to the P.R.S. a humbug and a fraud twenty times over, or not; though I doubt the propriety and good taste of your proclaiming me all this beforehand among your Madras acquaintances. However, even to this I am indifferent.

But you went further. At Mr. Garstin’s dinner the other night you spoke of me as a “Russian Spy.” You have supported this assertion against Mr. Hume’s laugh and denial, and that of Mr. and Mrs. C. O. so seriously and with such emphasis that it becomes a matter of the gravest importance for me to have it proved publicly whether I am a “Spy” or not. As I defy any mortal man to bring valid proof that I have ever written one line or received one from the Russian Govt. for the last 15 years during which period I became an American citizen, and that I am as loyal to the British Govt. that now gives me hospitality as you can be—I would have been perfectly justified in taking out summonses and have you arrested, for the vile and dangerous calumny but for three considerations:

(1) You are the friend of the Oakleys whom I love and respect and would avoid dragging as unwilling witnesses;
(2) Only a fortnight ago I had an affectionate regard for yourself whom I believed impartial and just;
(3) People might, and would say that it was a revenge for your having “found me out” and shown “a consummate fraud” as you express it.

And pray do not think for a moment that any one has repeated to me your conversations and accusations at Mr. Garstin’s. I know every word that was said at table by means that even your P.R.S. recognise and could not deny in me. I thank you also for your additional fling at an innocent and absent woman who has never done you any harm, in saying that you believed her a woman capable of every and any crime. You may believe


—•—   95   SUBBA  ROW  LIES  ABOUT  H. P. B.  —•—

me personally what you like, but you have no right to express your slanders publicly.

However it may be, I expect from you a written statement over your signature of all you heard from the Coulombs about my being a spy that led you to form such a conclusion. I will also beg of you a description of the paper or papers she showed you, for this time I mean to sue her and put an end to such an infamy. This is a serious affair Mr. Hodgson and it is yourself who have forced me into this course of action.
                                                                                                                                                                                              H. P. B.


June 16th.


If we had two dozen like you two and a dozen like Sinnett—Masters would be with you and the Society long ago. I mean what I say and what more is—I know it.

Listen: try to disconnect the L.L. as much as you can from the H.Q. You may be at heart—one. Try to become two in the management. Karma is taking its course. We cannot help it. But the innocent and the true should not suffer for the guilty and the untrue. And oh, dear, how many traitors and Judases of all colours and shades we have in the very heart of the Society. Ambition is a terrible adviser! Show this to Mr. Sinnett. Let him be truly “keener” in his work, not only in his interest for the Society. Let him not hesitate to sacrifice if needed—friends, myself included. Olcott is becoming a wind-bag full of vanity. But do not blame him. He has fallen under the influence of one who has become to him what I used to be in the days of old. He is a terrible sensitive notwithstanding his big beard. I pity and love him as of old. But he is throwing the blame upon me alone—forgetting his exhibition of Buddha, his flapdoodle cramming with phenomena the psychists and so on. Master will never spurn him, for no one in this world will work as devotedly and unselfishly as he has. But why should the L.L.—the head and brains of the T.S. suffer and risk disintegration for the wild beatings of its heart—the Adyar H. Quarters? Such as Subba Row—uncompromising initiated Brahmins, will never reveal—even that which they are permitted to. They hate too much Europeans for it. Has he not gravely given out to Mr. and Mrs. C.O. that I was henceforth “a shell deserted and abandoned by the Masters?” When I took him for it to task, he answered: “You have been guilty of the



most terrible of crimes. You have given out secrets of Occultism—the most sacred and the most hidden. Rather that you should be sacrificed than that which was never meant for European minds. People had too much faith in you. It was time to throw doubt into their minds. Otherwise they should have pumped out of you all that you know.” And he is now acting on that principle.
             Please let Mr. S. know this,
                                                    Yours for ever the same,
                                                                                        H. P. B


                                                                                                                                                                       TORRE DEL GRECO,
Sunday, 17 May.


You may show this, or simply tell Mr. Sinnett about the following. Gaboriau had intensely begged me to offer him as a chela to Mahatma K. H. or my Master, and the former had accepted him on a trial. Thus he was a chela and no lie can be implied to me in saying to Mr. Sinnett that “Masters had chelas everywhere.” At the time, as many a time before and after that I had determined not to mix myself any more in the transmission of letters from Mahatmas. Had MASTER permitted me to carry out this resolution I would not, perhaps, be now here an exile and dying far away from India! But He did not so permit, telling me however I could send the Mahatma K. H.’s letters through some other chela if I was so cowardly. D. K. was then trying an experiment on Mr. Sinnett to see whether he could succeed in suggesting the idea into his head to go through France and had said: “I want to see if I can bring the two together, (meaning S. and G.) Gaboriau is extremely sensitive and mediumistic and I may succeed in training him for something, though I am afraid he is a fool.”

This gave me the idea (1) that Mr. Sinnett might be induced by suggestion to stop at Nantes, and (2) that anyhow I would ask him to forward the letter to London and so find myself clear of at least one letter, and I sent it on through Gaboriau.

The experiment failed. Mr. Sinnett is not very sensitive and went through some other road. I have not tried to mislead him, neither then, nor at any time. I simply kept silent, as I have in many other cases phenomenal and semi-phenomenal, with regard to letters received by him. But he, measuring occultism upon the standard of daily life and rules makes no difference between a



deliberate lie and the desire or rather sad necessity of concealing things. When he told me that he had received a letter from Nantes (this laughing) I felt very much embarrassed, and understood that D. Khool had failed, which he had not told me. I simply said “Have you?” and the words he correctly stated to you, about chelas everywhere, unless I wrote them using them in a letter of which I am not certain. The proof that I had no desire to mislead him is found in the fact that I have never asked Gaboriau to make a secret of it. He was a “chela” and dropped only when preparing to sail for Adyar and prevented from going there as he had been found a perfect fool. If Mr. Sinnett will see guilt and dishonesty in every such circumstance, then, since I now tell him plainly that there are a hundred things I have had to conceal from him, he is at liberty to drop me and even my existence from his life altogether. I have never deceived him, never tried to mislead, never lied to him. I have tried my best to serve him and my present misfortune and the quasi-ruin of the T.S. are due primarily to his independent way of thinking, of thrusting occultism, and its mysteries into the teeth of a prejudiced unprepared public by publishing his two books. Had phenomena and the Masters been sacredly preserved among and only for Theosophists, all this would not have happened. But it is my own fault as much as his. In my zeal and devotion to the Cause I have permitted publicity and as Subba Row truly says “committed the crime of divulging things most sacred and holy that had never been known to the profane before” and now comes my Karma. I had always seen in Mr. Sinnett the most devoted and useful member of our Society, I have told to him things I never said even to Olcott, but I could not divulge all even to him. Since Mahatma K. H. tells him that he has not dropped him and has the same regard for him as ever, what more does he want? They can, if They like, find other channels of communication with him besides myself. Let him drop me out of his life like a bad penny, and give me up like so many others have, now that I am dying from the effects of the Simla causes. I have done my best, I can serve him no longer, and I ask and pray but for one thing, to be left to die like a mangy dog, quietly and alone in my corner. May the Masters bless and protect you all—and may my martyrdom and sufferings known perhaps to the Masters alone—do some good to the Society and help it turning a new leaf. But if even those sufferings will prove to have been sent and accepted in vain, then is the T.S. doomed and it has indeed been started prematurely.
                                                                                                      Yours to the last
                                                                                                                                                           H. P. B.




                                                                                                                                       TORRE DEL GRECO,
  June 21.


The sight of your familiar hand-writing was a welcome one, indeed, and the contents of your letter still more so.

No, dear Mrs. Sinnett, I never thought that you could have ever believed that I played the tricks I am now accused of; neither you or any one of those who have Masters in their heart, not on their brains. Nevertheless, here I am, and stand accused, without any means to prove the contrary—of the most dirty, villainous deceptions, ever practiced by a half starved medium.

What can I, and what shall I do? Useless to either write, to persuade, or try to argue with people who are bound to believe me guilty, to change their opinion. Let it be. The fuel in my heart is burnt to the last atom. Henceforth nothing is to be found in it but cold ashes. I have so suffered that I can suffer no more—I simply laugh at every new accusation.

“Notwithstanding the expertise” you say. Ah, they must be famous those experts, who found the Coulomb’s letters genuine. The whole world may bow before their decision and acuteness; but there is one person, at least, in this wide world, whom they can never convince that those stupid letters were written by me, and it is—H. P. Blavatsky. Were the God of Israel and Moses, Mahomet and all the prophets, with Jesus and the Virgin Mary to boot, come and tell me that I have written one line of the infamous instructions to Coulomb—I would say then to their faces—“fiddlestick—I have not.”

Now, look here, I want you to know these facts. To this day I have never been allowed to see one single of those letters. Why could not Mr. Hodgson come and show me one of them at least. I suspect he has brought some of them to London—otherwise how could the expertise have been made? Why has he never showed me one, at least, at Adyar. And now, strong in their impunity the enemy has come out with still more letters and still more wonderful. I leave it to you and all of you to judge. There’s a letter shown, it seems, which they have not yet dared to publish, but the contents of which are summarised by Patterson in the April No. of the “C.C.M.” I am charged in it, and orally, of having written in 1880 a letter to the Coulomb, then at Ceylon, in which what I say to her shows plainly that from 1852 till 1872 for twenty odd years I have been otherwise occupied than with occult studies. Now who will ever believe—though even


—•—   99   THE  COULOMB  LETTERS —•—

my fraud in phenomena were to be believed by the whole creation, that in 1880, I, who was then at Bombay, bent upon proving the existence of Masters and with my plans of imposture—if I had any—well matured already, that I should have written such a letter to one whom I had hardly known 8 years before, who was no friend of mine, only a casual acquaintance with whom since I left Cairo in 1871 I had never had any correspondence, and whose very name I had forgotten! In that infamous letter I am made, nevertheless, to say that I had left my husband, loved and lived with a man (whose wife was my dearest friend and who died in 1870 -- a man who died too a year after his wife, and was buried by me at Alexandria) HAD three children by him and others! ! ! (sic) and etc. etc., winding the whole confession by asking her not to speak of me as she knew me, and so on: sentences strung together, to show that I had never known the Masters, never was in Tibet, was in fact an impostor.

It is only wasting time to argue upon all this. Those who believe the published letters genuine, have no reason to disbelieve in that one, and if there are such fools in this world—or people so cunning as to play the part of a fool—who can believe me capable of writing such a suicidal confession, to such a woman, a perfect stranger to me with the exception of a few weeks I had known her at Cairo—well those people are welcome to do so. The Masters being involved in this also, and I, determined to RATHER DIE A THOUSAND DEATHS than pronounce Their names, or answer questions about Them in a Court of law—what can I do? Ah, Mrs. Sinnett, the plotters proved too cunning, too crafty for the T.S. and especially for myself. She—that female fiend—knew well, I would and could not defend myself in a Court because of the accusations, of myself and friends, and the whole of my life being so intimately connected with the Mahatmas. And to think that I should have been such a fool as to have imagined, at one time, that in India it was as in Russia—that I could refuse to answer questions that were matters too sacred for me to discuss about in public. I never knew that the judge could, if he chose, sentence me to prison for contempt of Court, unless I answered all the blackguardly questions about the Masters, the padris had prepared. Well and I kicked and clamoured to be allowed to go into Court to punish the villians and prove them liars. And now, I know better. I have learned, at my expense, that there is neither justice nor truth, nor charity for those who refuse to follow in the old tracks. I have learned the whole extent and magnitude of the conspiracy against the belief in the Mahatmas; it was a question of life or death to the Missions in India, and they thought that by killing me they would kill Theosophy. They



very nearly succeeded. At any rate they have succeeded in fooling Hume and the S.P.R. Poor Myers! and still more poor Hodgson! How terribly they will be laughed at some day. En attendant, they are busy crucifying me, it seems. Psychic research indeed. “Hodgson’s” research, rather! But pray tell me. Is it the legal thing in England, to accuse publicly even a street sweeper in his absence?; without giving him the chance of saying one single word in his defence?; without letting him know even of what he is precisely accused of, or who it is who accuses him and is brought forward as chief evidence. For I do not know the first word of all this. Hodgson came to Adyar; was received as a friend; examined and cross-examined all whom he wanted to; the “boys” -- (the Hindus) at Adyar gave him all the information he needed. If he now finds discrepancies and contradictions in their statements, it only shows that feeling as they all did, that it was (in their sight) pure tomfoolery to doubt the phenomena and the Masters, they had not prepared themselves for the scientific cross-examination, may have forgotten many of the circumstances; in short, that not feeling guilty and having never either been my confederates or my dupes, they had not rehearsed among themselves what they had to say, and thus, may very well have created suspicions in a prejudiced mind. But the whole trouble with us is, that we have never looked at Mr. Hodgson at first, as a prejudiced judge. Quite the reverse. Well I was the first one to be punished for my confidence in his fairness. To think that while I was laid up on my death-bed, he came daily as a friend of the C. Oakleys, dined at the H.Q., abused and vilified, and betrayed me daily, in their presence—and that I never knew the truth till the end! Ask him—has he ever confronted me with my accusers? Has he ever tried to learn anything from me, or given me a chance of defence and explanation? NEVER. He acted from the first day as though I was proven guilty beyond the shadow of a doubt. He played traitor with me; and acted not like any honest enquirer would have done, but as a Govt. prosecutor, an attorney general or whatever his legal names. And now behold the results. It is disgusting, SICKENING to see how he played into the hands of the padris and the padris in his. Oh for my prophetic soul! I did foresee all this, in London.

Enough. It is all dead and gone. Consummatum est.

Here I am. Where I shall go next, I know no more than the man in the moon. The only friend I have in life and death is poor little exiled Bowajee D. Nath in Europe; and poor dear Damodar—in Tibet. D. Nath keeps at the foot of my bed, awake for whole nights, mesmerising me, as prescribed by his Master. Why They should want to keep me still in life is some-


—•—   101   THE KARMA  OF AN  OCCULYIST —•—

thing too strange for me to comprehend; but Their ways are and always have been—incomprehensible. What good am I now for the Cause? Besmeared with mud, spat upon, doubted and suspected by the whole creation except a few—would I not do more good to the T.S. by dying than by living? Their will be done not mine.
                                                                                                       Yours in life and always,
                                                                                                                                             H. P. B.


                                                                                                                                                                       TORRE DEL GRECO,
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              July 23rd.


Do not tremble at the sight of this table-cloth. Lately my sight has become very weak and my hand so unsteady that I fancy somehow I can write more easily on large paper.

I hope you will forgive me for delaying my answer for more than a week; but I had work to finish for the papers, and had to do it for vile cash and lucre, as the burden of poor Mary Flynn and Babajee is now upon me also, and I have to work for my living, or rather for ours. And I write so slow now! One hour pen in hand, two hours in bed, my sight getting dim, heart faint (physically) and fingers stiff. Ah, well, it’s my Karma; and I have nothing to say. No dear, I have not—speaking of Karma—seen your husband’s new book, I see nothing now-a-days, but I asked Bowajee to send for it to London.

I was rather astonished to hear you say my letter made such an impression on yourself and your uncle, and I was agreeably surprised too; still it was real surprise; for, though I do not remember a word I said in it, still I could not have written to you anything more or less than what I had written dozens of times to others, and said in so many words—a hundred. But what you say, only made me sadder. Do not fight for me, my kind, dear Mrs. Sinnett, do not defend me; you will lose your time and only be called a confederate, if not worse. You would hurt yourself, perhaps the Cause, and do me no good. The mud has entered too deeply into the hapless individual known as H. P. B., the chemicals used for the dye of slander were, or rather are, too strong, and death herself, I am afraid, shall never wash away in the eyes of those who do not know me, the dirt that has been thrown at, and has stuck on the personality of the “dear old lady.” Ah, yes; the “old lady” is a clean thing to look at now; an honour to her friends, and an ornament to the Society, if anything. Alone the “Occult World” has the key to the situation and the truth.



But the Occult World is at a discount now, even at the Headquarters. The poor Colonel has it securely locked up for the present under a triple key, at the very bottom of his poor, weak heart, and dares not for the time being, have it on his tongue. A reaction, and an exaggeration with him, as usual. He has stuffed the S.P.R. with what could not but appear to the majority cock and bull stories, and had fights with me for asking him not to take them as arbiters, not to have anything to do with the Dons; and now when their arbitration had such a glorious end for us, he got frightened out of his wits and has become a Brahmin, a regular Subba Row for secrecy. He forgets the “they who shall deny me before men, I shall deny them before my (Tibetan) father.” He does not deny the Masters, of course, but he is mortally afraid to pronounce even their names, except in strict privacy. Ah! If he had but half that reticence and discretion, when he thrust the Lord Buddha on His wheels, before the intuitional gathering at the Psychic Research Meeting! But it is too late. Consummatum est.

Well, really and indeed I would not have cared one brass pin for my personal reputation, only that every bullet of mud shot at, and passing through me, splatters the unfortunate T. S. with odoriferous ingredients.

You “cannot imagine how anyone knowing you (me) can believe you (me) guilty”—guilty of the asinine actions charged upon me? Nor could I—six months ago, but now I can. When was truth accepted and remembered, or lies and slander fail to be accepted and treasured in people’s brains? The world is divided into the millions who do not know me, who have never seen or heard me, but who have heard of me; and what they did hear, even in the palmy days of Theosophy, when it was nearly becoming a fashion, could never prepossess them in my favour; and among those millions—a few hundreds—say thousands—who have seen me personally, i.e. the very rough personality in her “black bag,” and of unrefined talk. Those who do know me and have had a glimpse of the inner creature—are a few dozens. But if you divide these into those who do believe, but are afraid of losing caste; those who know but whose interest it is to appear uncertain; and again those whom our phenomena kicked out of saddle—like the spiritualists—and broke the head of their own hobbies—what remains? A dozen or two of individuals who like yourself have the COURAGE of being honest with themselves and the still greater one of showing they do have it, under the nose and in the face of the idiots and the selfish of the age! Of course, you all who believe in, and respect the Masters cannot without losing every belief in Them, think me guilty. Those who feel no discrepancy


—•— 103   H. P. B.’S  MARTYRDOM —•—

in the idea (Hume was one of such) of filthy lying and fraud even for the good of the cause—being associated with work done for the Masters—are congenital Jesuits. One capable of believing that such pure and holy hands can touch and handle with no sense of squeamishness such a filthy instrument, as I am now represented to be—are natural born fools, or capable themselves of working on the principle that “the end justifies the means.” Therefore, while thanking you, and appreciating fully the great kindness of your heart that dictated you such words as—“were I convinced tomorrow that you had written those wretched letters I should love you still”—I answer—I hope you would not, and this for your own sake. Had I written even one of those idiotic and at bottom infamous interpolations now made to appear in the said letters; had I been guilty once only—of a deliberate, purposely concocted fraud, especially when those deceived were my best, my truest friends—no “love” for such one as I! At best—pity or eternal contempt. Pity, if proved that I was an irresponsible lunatic, a hallucinated medium made to trick by my “guides” whom I was representing as Mahatmas; contempt—if a conscious fraud—but then where would be the Masters? Ah! dear child of my old heart, I was, I really was guilty, of but one crime from the natural standpoint of human conception. Many are the things I have been obliged to conceal by holding my tongue; many—though fewer—those I have allowed to go uncorrected before the world’s criterion and the belief of my friends; but these were no phenomena of ours, but only the mistakes and hallucinations, the exaggerations of other people, quite sincere too. And if I did so it was only because I was ever afraid of injuring the Cause; and that had I “revised and corrected” those first editions, I might have been called to task to explain the remainder, which I could never do, without betraying things I was not permitted to divulge. Never, never, shall you, or even could you, realise with all your earnestness and sympathy for me, and your natural keen perceptions—all I had to suffer for the last ten years! What could people know of me? The exterior carcase fattened on the life-blood of the interior wretched prisoner, and people perceived only the first, never suspecting the existence of the latter. And that “first” was charged with ambition, love of cheap fame, mercenary objects; with fraud and deceit, cunning and unscrupulousness, lying and cheating—by the average outsider; with insincerity and untruthfulness, suspected even of passing off deliberately bogus phenomena—by my best, my dearest friends. Bound up, as I was, from head to foot by my pledge, an oath involving my future life—aye, even lives—what could I do since I was forbidden to explain all, but insist on the truth of the little



I was permitted to give out, and deny simply the unfair charges? But as I hope redress in my future existence, when this terrible period of Karma wans away; as I venerate the Masters, and worship MY MASTER—the sole creator of my inner Self which but for His calling it out, awakening it from its slumber, would have never come to conscious being—not in this life, at all events; as I value all this—I swear I never was guilty of any dishonest action. I may have appeared often heartless for allowing occasionally people to sacrifice themselves as I did, while knowing they had none of my chances, in this life of theirs, to progress very far; but then, it was for their good, not mine. Whether they progressed or not, reward for the good intention was stored for them by their Karma; while, in my case, the more I progressed in occult matters, the less I had any chances of happiness in this life, for it became more and more my duty to sacrifice myself for the good of others and to my own personal detriment. Such is the law. Ah, if they only knew, some of my “friends,” who, if they do not go publicly against me, still entertain very serious doubts as to my honesty—if they only knew now what they are sure to learn some day—when I am dead and gone, with my memory soiled from head to foot—the real good I have done to them! I do not pretend to say, that I have done so for their own sake; for generally I was not even thinking of their personal selves. But since, they have happened to come within the circle where the poor old pelican’s blood was being shed, and had their share of its fruition, why should some of them prove so cruel, if not ungrateful!

My dearest Mrs. Sinnett—my heart is broken—physically and morally. For the first I do not care; Master shall take care it shall not burst, so long as I am needed; in the second case there is no help. Master can, and shall not interfere with Karma. My heart is broken not for what my true, open enemies have done—them, I despise; but for the selfishness, the weak-heartedness in my defence, the readiness shown to accept and even to force me to all manner of sacrifices—when Masters are my witnesses, I was ready to shed the last drop of life in me, give up every hope, for the last shred of—I shall not say happiness—but rest and comfort in this life of torture, for the cause I serve and [as] for every true Theosophist. The treachery—that atmosphere of soft and sympathetic words, expressive of the utmost selfishness at the bottom of them, whether due to weakness, or ambition—was something terrible. I shall not mention names. With some, with most of them, I shall remain on good terms to my dying day. Nor shall I allow them to suspect I read through them from the first. But I shall never—nor could I if I would, forget that for-


—•— 105   AN  HOUR  OF  REVELATION —•—

ever-memorable night during the crisis of my illness, when Master, before exacting from me a certain promise, revealed to me things that He thought I ought to know, before pledging my word to Him for the work He asked me (not ordered as He had a right to) to do. On that night when Mrs. Oakley and Hartman and everyone except Bowajee (D. N.), expected me every minute to breathe my last—I learned all. I was shown who was right and who wrong (unwittingly) and who was entirely treacherous; and a general sketch of what I had to expect outlined before me. Ah, I tell you, I have learnt things on that night—things that stamped themselves for-ever on my Soul; black treachery, assumed friendship for selfish ends, belief in my guilt, and yet a determination to lie in my defence, since I was a convenient step to rise upon, and what not! Human nature I saw in all its hideousness in that short hour, when I felt one of Master’s hands upon my heart, forbidding it cease beating, and saw the other calling out sweet future before me. With all that, when He had shown me all, all, and asked “Are you willing?”—I said “Yes,” and thus signed my wretched doom, for the sake of the few who were entitled to His thanks. Shall you believe me if I say, that among those few your two names stood prominent? You may disbelieve, or perhaps doubt—yet it was so. Death was so welcome at that hour, rest so needed, so desired; life like the one that stared me in the face, and that is realised now—so miserable; yet how could I say No to Him who wanted me to live! But all this is perhaps incomprehensible to you, though I do hope it is not quite so. I . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . him, and I have already . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wurzburg—about 4 or 5 hours from Munich. I do not want to live in any of the large centres of Europe. But I must have a warm and dry room, however cold outside, since I never leave my rooms, and here healthy people catch cold and rheumatics unless they have palaces. I like Wurzburg. It is near Heidleberg and Nurenberg, and all the centres one of the Masters lived in, and it is He who advised my Master to send me there. Fortunately I have received from Russia a few thousand francs, and some benefactors “sent me Rs. 500 and 400 from India”. I feel rich and wealthy enough to live in a quiet German place, and my poor old aunt is coming to see me there. I intend to take a nice set of rooms and happy will be the day I see you at my samovar, if you intend really to come down (or up?) to see me. From Elberfeld it is not very far, less than a day’s journey, I believe. Then I shall live, at my Master’s bidding and pleasure, or rather

I  The letter has been mutilated at this point, and half of two lines are missing.—ED.



vegetate during day and live only during night, and write for the rest of my (un)natural life. The Coulombs I hear, have left India and are coming to London, where I suppose they, or rather she, will pay you a visit. They will leave no stones unturned, so long as there remains one person in the world to believe in me, and the missionaries have promised them Rs. 5000 yearly, if they go on ceaselessly with their work of H. P. B. destruction. They are welcome to do and say what they like.

My sincere love and regard to all. How is dear little Dennie?

Yours ever the same, I


                                                                                                                                                                       6, LUDWIG STRASSE,
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      19th Aug., 1885.


While at Luzern, a week ago, I was strongly impressed to write to you. Why didn’t I? I do not know. Perhaps, because for months I had not heard from you, and somehow I could not fit myself in again to letter-writing, which is now a torture to me, for reasons there’s little need of explaining.

But hardly arrived to this little quiet town which I have chosen for my new abode I received your letter of Aug. 1st. It touched me more than I can tell. My dear Mr. Sinnett, if there ever was a man in this wide world that I have misunderstood—because perhaps, I have never paid a strict attention but to one side of him—it is you. I never doubted your great devotion to the Mahatma, your real interest for the cause, though with you the latter always rested independent of, more than within, and blended with the T.S. But one could remain for ever faithful to both the movement and its chief motors, and yet shrink from any further contact, with one so dishonoured, so seemingly vile as I now stand. But your personal kindness shows to me that, as usual, I was an ass on this plane of existence, and that what the Mahatmas alone do is well done, and what they know and say is alone just and truthful, as may be always found out in the long run by him who knows to wait. However, I shall not waste time and try your patience by personal disquisitions. I mean to answer your letter, one question after the other.

You are right—I have not seen Karma to that day that you sent it to me, for which—many thanks. I have read it without stopping from the first to the last line. I was afraid it would

I  The portion with the signature has been cut out.—ED.


—•— 107   ON  BOOKS  AND  CHARACTERS —•—

resemble “Affinities”—in which bits of real palpitating flesh, torn out of as living and real individuals are stuck into mannequins born out of the author’s fancy and made to pass off as heroes “copied from nature.” I was pleased to find the contrary in your “Karma.” In “Affinities” the heroes are either caricatures, or ideals very grossly exaggerated in beauty and importance, as for inst. Colquhoun -- (Oscar Wild, I fancy). In Karma the original of Mrs. Lakesby is neither flattered nor her defects exaggerated. You have taken but the real existing features as though from life, passing all the very prominent defects in charitable silence. But, is it only “charitable silence,” my dear Mr. Sinnett? I am afraid you are still somewhat under the spell. Well, it is better that one should stick to his friends even with all their defects, than alter opinion of them and abandon or turn one’s back upon them, at the first change of scenery. It is not for me to take you to task for constancy, when it is to that feature in you, perhaps, that I owe now the kind letter received, when I know how impossible it is for you to think me wholly blameless in the matter of fraud—let alone my own natural defects and perhaps—vices.

Yes; I know how hard it was for you to talk of me in London and especially in Paris. The Mahatma said always—“it is as it should be, and he cannot act otherwise” and I have come to see that He was right, and I—wrong as usual. I might speak to you of “Karma” till tomorrow—I like it so much; but I have other things more important for us to speak of; yet I may add one word more.

D. N. has asked Mohini for Karma; but Mohini is now a great character—and has not perhaps time to attend to all he is asked to do. Anyhow I have it now, and thank you for it once more. You will do more good by fancy novels in which truth and such truths are found in apparent fiction, than by works as the Occult World in which every word is now regarded by all except theosophists—as hallucination and the cock and bull stories of confederates.

I am “the subject of constant thought and conversation” in your circles. I wish I were not; for trust and friendship, or distrust and resentment—neither friends nor foes will ever realise the whole truth. So what’s the use? Put your hand on your heart, my dear Mr. Sinnett and tell me: has any of my enemies uttered since May last (1884), one thing, or the smallest charge that had not been broached previously by them whether in private talk or newspaper gossip and hints? The only difference between Coulomb—Patterson—Hodgson charges now, and those previous to the Adyar scandal—is this: then the newspapers only hinted, now—they affirm. Then they were restricted (however feebly)



by fear of law and a sense of decency; now they have become fearless, and have lost all and every manner of decency. Look at Prof. Sidgwick. He is evidently a gentleman, and an honourable man by nature, fair minded as most Englishmen are. And now tell me, can any outsider (the opinion of the “Fathers of S.P.R.” is of course valueless) presume to say that his printed opinion of me is either fair, legal, or honest? If instead of bogus phenomena, I were charged with picking the pockets of my so called victims, or of “bogus” something else, the charging with which when unproved is punishable by law if not wholly demonstrated, would Prof. Sidgwick, you think, have a leg to stand upon in a court of justice? Assuredly not. There is not one phenomenon that can be proven wholly false from beginning to end—legally, were phenomena something accepted in law. Then what right has he to speak publicly (and have his opinion printed) of my deceptions, fraud, dishonesty and tricks? Shall you maintain that it is fair of him, or honest or even legal, to take advantage of his exceptional position, and the nature of the question involved, to slander me, or, if you prefer—I shall say to charge me thus and dishonour my name—on such wretched evidence as they have through Hodgson? The only right that the S.P.R. has—is to proclaim that all their investigations notwithstanding, they got no evidence to show that the phenomena were all genuine; that there is a strong presumption from the scientific and logical, if not legal stand-point, to suspect that there may have been exaggerations in the reports, suspicious circumstances attached to their production, etc.—never deliberate fraud, deception and so on. Their July Report sets them all—from Myers and Sidgwick down to their last admirer—as donkeys. They show themselves absurdly, most ridiculously unfair in it. Can you blame after this, Solovioff and other Russian theosophists for saying that the chief motor of their wrath against me is—that I am a Russian? I know it is not so; but they, the Russians like Solovioff and the Odessa theosophists, cannot be made to see the cause of such a glaring injustice in any other light. Between the two horns of the dilemma they have no choice. Every fair minded man with brains in his head, must say after reading the Report and comparing what is said on page 452 and page 453 -- that those who said and edited it, are either moved by a blind, wild, personal hatred and prejudice; or that they are—DONKEYS.

Please read—and if you have, owing to some unaccountable reason, failed to remark this before—judge now. On page 452 Prof. Sidgwick read the following statement (See para. 5th) about their disclaiming “any intention of imputing wilful deception to Col. Olcott.” Following this—there comes the question of


—•— 109   FALSE  REASONING  AND  BIGOTRY  OF  S. P. R. —•—

envelopes in which Mahatmas writing was found—which might have been previously opened by me or others. Letters from the Masters received at Adyar when I was in Europe “might” have been “in all cases” arranged by Damodar, etc. etc. The disappearance of the Vega packet “can be easily accounted for” by the fact of a venetiated door near Babula’s room—a door by the bye, which was hermetically covered and nailed over -- (walls and door) with my large carpet, if you remember, etc. etc. But we shall suppose, that the Vega packet was made “to evaporate” fraudulently at Bombay. How then shall Mr. Hodgson, Myers and Co. account for its immediate, instantaneous reappearance at Howrah Calcutta, in the presence of Mrs. and Col. Gordon -- (Captain and Mrs. Miller of Karma?) and of our Colonel, if the said Colonel is so obviously immaculate that the Dons of S.P.R. felt bound to offer him public excuses? One thing is obvious: either Colonel Gordon, or Mrs. Gordon or Col. Olcott was one of them at that time my confederate, or they, the gods of S.P.R. are making fools of themselves. Surely no sane man with sound reasoning, acquainted with the circumstances of the “Vega case,” or the broken plaster portrait case, or Hubbe Schleiden’s letter received in the German railway while I was in London and so many other cases—shall ever dare to write himself down such an ass as to say that while I am a full blown fraud and all my phenomena tricks, that the Colonel is to be charged simply with “credulity and inaccuracy in observation and inference”!!

How is this, as a sample of the value of the scientific researches of the great S.P.R. which sits in Areopagus over the humble theosophists? Ah—gentlemen of the theosophical jury, you of London, and especially of Adyar, how easily you could have knocked up into an omelette your Cambridge dons had you felt yourselves as full of contempt for the learned society of “scientific” investigators as I did from the beginning, instead of looking up to it as to a 19th cent. oracle in psychic matters! Mohini must have lost his head not to have flattened the Psychists on the spot. These two pages alone contain the full condemnation of the S.P.R.; and they are sufficient in themselves to show them before any human jury as prejudiced, unfair judges, unfit for the position they have arrogated to themselves. They are worthy of their “caligraphic expert” Mr. Netherclift or whatever his scientific name. “Barkis is willing,” dear scientific friends, to assume that Isis Unveiled, and all the best articles in the Theosophist, as every letter from both Mahatmas—whether in English, French, Telugu, Sanskrit or Hindi, were written by Madame H. P. Blavatsky. She is willing to have it believed that for more than 20 years “without being so much even as a medium,” she has



bamboozled the most intellectual men of the century, in Russia, America, India, and especially in England. Why genuine phenomena, when the author herself, of the 1000 bogus manifestations on record before the world—is such a living, incarnated phenomenon, as to do all that and much more? Why, it needed only a Mad. Coulomb, and a dozen of unwashed bad-smelling Scotch and American padris, backed by such clever experts and investigators as the Cambridge Dons, to upset the whole machinery. Let Mr. Hodgson find me out one single case revealed to him by Mad. Coulomb, that had not been already planned and hinted at by Indian and American newspapers before, and then I shall bow my diminished head. The poor wretches have not even had the difficulty of inventing something new. The “brooch” incident at Simla has been discussed ad nauseam four years ago, by the Lahore and Bombay papers which became their prophets—unconsciously. She studied and kept the papers for years. She began building her plan of treachery in 1880, from the first day she landed at Bombay with her husband, both shoeless, penniless and starving. She offered to sell my secrets to the Rev. Bowen of the Bombay Guardian, in July 1880, and she sold them actually to the Rev. Patterson in May 1885. But those secrets were “open letters” for years. Why should I complain? Has not Master left it to my choice, to either follow the dictates of Lord Buddha, who enjoins us not to fail to feed even a starving serpent, scorning all fear lest it should turn round and bite the hand that feeds it—or to face Karma which is sure to punish him, who turns away from the sight of sin and misery, or fails to relieve the sinner and the sufferer. I knew her and tried my best not to hate her, and since I always failed in the latter, I tried to make it up by sheltering and feeding the vile snake. I have what I deserve, not for the sins I am charged with but for those which no one—save Master and myself know of. Am I greater, or in any way better, than were St. Germain, and Cagliostro, Giordono Bruno and Paracelsus, and so many many other martyrs whose names appear in the Encyclopedias of the 19th cent. over the meritorious titles of charlatans and impostors? It shall be the Karma of the blind and wicked judges—not mine. In Rome, Darbargiri Nath went to the prison of Cagliostro at the Fort Sant Angelo, and remained in the terrible hole for more than an hour. What he did there, would give Mr. Hodgson the ground work for another scientific Report if he could only investigate the fact.

No; it is not “the Brothers’ policy of covering up such evidence . . . of their existence”—but that of the MAHA CHOHAN, and it is Mahatma K. H.’s Karma. If you have never given a thought to what may be His suffering during the human intervals


—•— 111   THE  LOVE  OF  THE  MASTER —•—

of His Mahatmaship—then you have something yet to learn. “You were warned”—says His Chohan—and He answers—“I was.” Still He says He is glad He is yet no Mejnoor, no dried up plant, and that had He to suffer over and over again—He would still do the same for He knows that real good for humanity has come out from all this suffering, and that such books as “Esoteric Buddhism” and “Karma” would not have been written for years to come had He not communicated with you, and had not orders been given to me to do what I have done—stupidly sometimes as I may have carried them out. These are Mahatma K. H.’s own words. No; He is not “right away in Nirvana”—except during the hours of His Mahatmaship. His “devachan”—is far off yet, and people may hear of Him when they expect it the least. I never see or hear of Him, lately—D. N. does. But I know what I say, though I have no orders to tell it to anyone. Remember only that He suffers more, perhaps, than any one of us. And you do not know how right you are in saying that “Well as He loved, He will love me truly—Yea even better than I love Him”—for even you can never love Him as well as He loves you—that particle of Humanity which did its best to help on and benefit Humanity—“the great orphan” He speaks of in one of His letters.

What you say of the respective situations in which are placed the European and Indian Theo. Societies—is quite true. Olcott with all his grand qualities has become—especially of late and under new influences of which I shall not talk—a perfect bag of conceit and silliness. This he does unconsciously. He will be led by no one except the Master he says—and Master refuses to lead him except on very important business having nought to do with his personal or the Society’s—Karma. Result—complete flapdoodle.—Il pose pour le martyr! The—poor man. So blinded is he, that honestly believing he is thereby saving the Society, the CAUSE—as he expresses it—he adopted of late the policy of propitiating the Moloch of public opinion by cautiously admitting that I might have supplemented at times bogus for real phenomena!; that I am suffering at times from mental aberration—and so on. He is stupid enough in his real and immaculate, though ever unwise honesty, to forget that by admitting even so much, and that which he knows for a certainty to be false—he thereby confesses himself the first and chief confederate in the alleged bogus phenomena. But it is too long to write about. When I see you—and I hope to goodness I will—I shall tell you many a strange thing. Only remember, that so early as at Elberfeld I told you already what Master had said to me. He is unfit to lead on the Society except nominally because the Society has outgrown him. Let him remain a nominal President—but let us



active Presidents—one in India, the other in Europe—the third in America, begin working with that object. You alone ought to become the President in chief of all the European Societies, and for life—who ever else may be the year President of the L.L., or the Paris, or German Th. Societies. Such is the desire of my Master—I know it. For myself—I am resolved to remain sub rosa. I can do far more by remaining in the shadow than by becoming prominent once more in the movement. Let me hide in unknown places and write, write, write, and teach whoever wants to learn. Since Master forced me to live, let me live and die now in relative peace. It is evident He wants me still to work for the T.S. since He does not allow me to make a contract with Katkoff—one that would put yearly 40,000 francs at least in my pocket—to write exclusively for his journal and paper. He would not permit me to sign such a contract last year in Paris when proposed, and does not sanction it now for—He says—my time “shall have to be occupied otherwise.” Ah, the cruel, wicked injustice that has been done to me all round! Fancy, the horrid calumny of the “C. C. M.” and Patterson whose statement that I sought to defraud Mr. Jacob Sasoon of Rs. 10,000, in that Poona business, has been allowed to go uncontradicted even by Khandalowalla and Ezekiel, who know as well as they are sure of their existences that this special charge, at any rate, is the most abominable, lying calumny; whatever the value of the Rama Singa’s phenomenon! Why should my best friends allow me to be so vilified! Why should the Report of the Defence Committee have been suppressed and declared by Olcott in print to have been stopped? Is it not, as Patterson says—a direct confession that the Committee had committed a mistake, found me after all guilty—and thus stopped the defence? Who of the public knows, that after having worked for, and given my life to the progress of the Society for over ten years, I have been forced to leave India—a beggar, literally a beggar depending on the bounty of the Theosophist -- (my own journal, founded and created with my own money!!) for my daily support. I—made out to be a mercenary impostor, a fraud for the sake of money when I never asked or received one pie for my phenomena, when thousands of my own money earned by my Russian articles have been given away, when for five years I have abandoned the price of Isis and the income of the Theosophist to support the Society. And now—I am generously allowed Rs. 200 monthly from that income to save me from starvation in Europe, and reproached for it by Olcott in nearly every letter. Such are facts, my dear Mr. Sinnett. Had not the poorest Society in India—or rather four members of that poorest Society in the N.W.P.—hearing I was cold and penniless,


—•—  113   SOLOVIOFF  RESIGNS  FROM  S. P. R. —•—

and without any means landed at Naples, sent me each of them two months of their pay (in all Rs. 500) -- I could not have come here. None of the Hindu Societies are allowed to know my true position. Truth and facts are concealed from them, lest they should revolt, and show angry feelings for the Colonel. When they begin to clamour too loudly for me, they are told that it is I who refuse to come back!! It is only now that they begin suspecting the truth. Luckily Katkoff sent me 4,000 fs. he owed me, and now I am all right for a time, and I shall now send back the 500 rupees, for they are all four, poor men. Pardon me for saying all this and showing myself so selfish. But it is a direct answer to the vile calumny and it is but right that the theosophists in London should know of it, to enable them to put in a word of defence for me. Solovioff is so indignant that he sent in his resignation to the S.P.R. He wrote a long letter to Myers and now the latter answers him, supplicates and begs of him not to be so severe on them, not to resign, and asks him whether he still maintains that what he saw at Elberfeld was not a hallucination or a fraud; and finally begs of him to come and meet him at Nancy—where he shall prove to him my guilt! Solovioff says that since he is placed by their Report as so many others, between choosing to confess himself either a lunatic or a confederate—he considers it as a slap on the face, a direct insult to him and answers Myers, demanding that his letter should be published and resignation made known. He intends stopping here at Wurzburg with me for a month or so, with his wife and child. There are others too in Paris and Petersburg who intend to withdraw from membership of the S.P.R.

Yes; it is Olcott’s cramming of the Cambridge Psychists with his experiences; and his wretched, cheeky appearance with his Buddha on the wheels, at that meeting of the S.P.R.—that brought on us all the misery. Yet he denies it. He actually maintains in India, and to my face, that it is I the only cause of it; that it is my visit to Europe that caused it all! Well—be it so.

No; you are mistaken, if you think, that it is the Masters who want people to believe me guilty. On the contrary; though unable to help me directly for they dare not meddle with my Karma, they are too just not to desire to see me defended by all those who feel honestly that I am innocent. Those who do, only help their Karma, those who do not—put a stain on it. Believe me every such defence is recorded by Them. What They want is, only to show that phenomena without the comprehension of the philosophical and logical conditions that bring them about—are fatal and will ever turn disastrous. But why should I tell you all this, when your “Baron Friedrich” speaks, as though



he was repeating words pronounced by the Masters! You know—or ought to know what they really want, and even to comprehend the real nature of the Laws. It is but right and just that I, or any other single individual devoted to the cause, should gladly and willingly sacrifice himself, and allow himself in every case to be sacrificed for the good of the many. But this is in a general way, and has or rather can have no reference to details. It is right that I should be ready to become the goat of atonement for the good and progress of the Theos. Society by withdrawing from the movement, in order not to irritate too much the wild Bull. But what good can I do the cause by permitting myself to be considered a mercenary, vile wretch, by allowing Patterson and Hodgson slanders to go uncontradicted? I do it positive harm. And that is what Olcott and many others do, by half-measures, by pretending to confess that I may be guilty and that it is quite possible, by even withholding from the Theosophist the addresses of sympathy and condemnation of my slanderers sent to me by the Paris and Odessa theosophists and also the German branch. What right have they to suppress those Addresses that were sent to Adyar to be published in our journal by Drummond and Mad. de Morsier, by General Kogen and Zorn, by Hubbe Schleiden and others? While my enemies tear me to pieces the Adyar people play at “hide and seek”—they pretend to be dead—Oh! the poor miserable cowards!! Mind—it is not the Hindus whatever you may have been told. I shall prove to you by dozens of letters that they are the first deceived. I tell you I suffer more from theosophical traitors than from the Coulomb, Patterson, or even the S.P.R. Had all the Societies held together as one man; had there been unity instead of personal ambitions and passions awakened, the whole world, Heaven and Hell themselves could not have prevailed against us. Sacrifice me I am willing, but do not ruin the Society—love it and the Cause. How is it possible that none of you should have pounced upon the glaring, evident unfairness, and I shall say stupid idiotic way, the Psychic investigations have been conducted. When or where have you heard of a defendant sentenced, without being given the chance of putting in a word? What right have they to accept the Coulomb letters as genuine, when I have never been allowed to even look at one? Hodgson had them in Madras. He came daily to dine and eat and drink at Adyar, he had them in his pocket. Has he ever shown to me one of them? It is fair that taking advantage of my dying condition, then of my being unable to quit my room, he should come daily to the C.O.’s, and while going up to see me several times, that he should never try to give me a chance. It is an untruth to say that Hodgson has


—•— 115   THE  FORGER  COULOMB —•—

not “fished in troubled waters” or “collected in secret” his evidence—for he has done both. True, his “unfavourable view of the evidence was communicated to the leading theosophists”—i.e. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper Oakley, and a few others never to me. It is I myself who found it out at a time when no one dreamt yet at Adyar that he had turned against us. And had I not found it out (told by Master who showed me Hodgson at Bombay, and allowed me to read his thoughts while I was motionless and dying on my sick-bed) Hodgson’s proceedings would have remained “secret.” Ask Mrs. C. O. whether it was not so; and she, laughing at me, calling me a goose and so on when I told them suddenly that Mr. Hodgson had turned against us. Ask her, and even Hodgson himself knows it.

Of course without seeing the letters I cannot help you to any clue to the mystery. I know how it was done; but since I cannot prove it any more than I can show how my handwriting appeared on my own visiting card at Eglinton’s seance at “Uncle Sam’s”—what’s the use in saying it? Was not that my identical handwriting on that card? And yet you know it was not done by me. Alexis Coulomb’s handwriting is naturally like mine. We know all how Damodar was once deceived by an order written in my handwriting to go upstairs and seek for me in my bedroom in Bombay when I was at Allahabad. It was a trick of M. Coulomb, who thought it good fun to deceive him, “a chela”—and had prepared a semblance of myself lying on my bed, and having startled Damodar—laughed at him for three days. Unfortunately that bit of a note was not preserved. It was not intended for any phenomenon but simply a “good farce” (une bonne farce) by Coulomb, who indulged in many. And if he could imitate so well my handwriting in a note why could he not copy (he had four years to study and do it) every scrap and note of mine to Mme. Coulomb on identical paper and make any interpolations he liked? The fact that she was preparing for Treachery ever since 1880 is a proof of it. That other fact that when Subba Row wrote to me to Paris to collect my recollections well, to remember and tell him whether I had ever written to her any compromising letters for if so it was better to buy them of her at any price, than to allow her to ruin my character and perhaps the T.S.—I answered him (May 1884) that I had never written her anything that I should fear to see published; that she lied, and could do what she pleased. All this is a good proof, I believe, to show that I had never written any such thing. Otherwise, and indeed if I could have forgotten that hardly three months before I had given her written instructions to deceive Mr. Jacob Sassoon at Poona—then would Olcott be justified in saying that I suffer from “mental aberrations” that I am an insane



lunatic! Subba Row has my letter written to him in answer to his from Paris. This is “the authoritative statement” (for me, of course not for the Psychists) that I have. I have seen Coulomb copying one of such scraps of mine, at his table, in a scene shown to me by Master in the Astral light. Shall my statement be believed, you think? Then what’s the use! The Coulombs and Patterson were afraid to let me see these letters and handle them, for they believe and know what Masters can do: they fear the powers of those, whom they pretend to have been invented by me. Otherwise why should they have extracted from Hodgson the promise not to allow the few letters he got from them, into my hands? Ask him, ascertain why he has never shown them to me? Why he never told me even that he got them? This is a serious fact, more serious than it appears on the surface.

I authorise you to do with the MS. (a kind of my phenomenal biography) entitled “Madame Blavatsky”—whatever you like. Mrs. Holloway made a row with me (ask Miss Arundale and Mohini) for asking you to look it over, correct and publish it. She chaffed me and called me a fool, saying that I voluntarily gave you up that which would bring me fame and money; that once you got it into your hands you would never give it me back, but use it and publish it in some new book of yours. Ah, she did say of you complimentary things on that day—a few days before her departure. I was disgusted but held my tongue. Please keep it and accept it as a present if you can ever use it. I shall never have anything to do with it—so I give it to you, for ever and to the end, to either use it or give it to Mrs. Sinnett to make paper curls of it.

I do not think Olcott shall ever visit America—no fear of that, for he is too afraid of his horrid wife and her new husband. Your idea is very good. I hope I shall see you before you start.

Well I believe I have written a volume. Please excuse, but you know I cannot condense my thoughts as you do.
            1,000 salaams and good wishes to Mrs. Sinnett and all the friends. Do not forget the old –
                                                                                                               “Exile of Wurzburg,”
                                                                                                                      Yours ever and for ever,
                                                                                                                                                 H. P. B


                                                                                                                                                                         6, LUDWIG STRASSE,

YOUR letter from Elberfeld requires more than a postal card and a short telegram. Have you received both, or one, or none?


—•— 117   SOLOVIOFF  PROTESTS  TO  S. P. R. —•—

For, if not dugpas, then there seems to be fatality all round me, which interferes with letters, knocks every one off his feet and plays generally the deuce with those who have not yet quite turned away from me.

Last week I had written to you a letter of 24 or more pages. There was important information in it. On Thursday, Aug. 20 I received a letter from Mrs. Sinnett, written—Grand Hotel, Brussels, in which she tells me—it is before me—that if I answer her immediately the letter will find her at Antwerp where you will stop at Grand Hotel until Saturday. As my letter was ready I sent it off without delay addressed A. P. Sinnett, Esq., Grand Hotel, Antwerp (Belgique). You ought to have received it on the following day. Where is it? No wonder you should feel surprised at my not answering you “a line or two,” when all my letters get lost! Why, Solovioff went with Darbagiri N. to the post office when it was taken.

I do not see why my aunt should delay your coming. She sleeps during the day and talks with me all night. You shall play at the Sun and Moon with her as everybody else and she may be useful to you in some things. The same with Solovioff. He wrote a long letter to Myers and sent in his resignation to the S.P.R. as every man who is given by them the choice of confessing himself either a hallucinated fool or a confederate should do. There are two more Russians who will resign, I hear, from that scientific body. Now Myers writes a long letter to Solovioff begging of him not to resign and asking him whether he still maintains that he saw Master at Elberfeld, Miss Glinka ditto and others idem. Solovioff answers he does and insists upon his resignation and having his letter of protest published. I tell you what Mr. Sinnett. You may say what you please but your Cambridge Dons do not act as honest people should. When I see you I shall explain much more and Solovioff has to tell you a good deal. I cannot go over the 24 pages of my letter to you again. I hope you shall get it and then you will know. Thanks for Karma; opinion of it expressed in the same letter. Rugmer’s Hotel is near by, and very cheap and food good. The Solovioffs are there. They will remain with me for a month longer. We see each other very little though for we have both of us work to do.
                                                                                                 Much love to Mrs. Sinnett.
                                                                                                                         Yours truly and forever,
                                                                                                                                                            H. P. B.




                                                                                                                                                                     6, LUDWIG STRASSE,
Sept. 2, 1885.


No, my dear pessimist, I can assure you, that your visit shall not be “spoiled” in any way, for I shall neither be “cross or busy,” nor shall I be ill, at any rate, no worse than I generally am; not even “surrounded” by my court; for, to be so surrounded, requires a court, and when a friend or two turns up, and that I am forced to acknowledge that I have some friends left in this world, it is all I can expect from Fate and Karma which have found such amateur hangmen and executioners to volunteer doing their dirty work as—Myers, Hodgson & Co. Rest assured then that nothing and no one is likely to spoil the “pleasure” you have been, as you kindly say, looking forward to, if any one in this world of maya can yet find any in the company of such an old ruin as I now am.

On the 29th, if it was Saturday last I was sitting with Solovioff over my samovar, and he was asking me when I had heard last from Mrs. Gebhard or any one of the family. I told him I had heard from Mr. Gebhard in November last at Cairo, and we had a conversation not very pleasant for me in which I was assured that I had been given up by our dear Elberfeld friends, and I simply answered that if I was—that it was my own fault combined with Karma again. Yet, knowing what I do know (and you shall know it when I see you) I kept my own counsel, and said nothing; only I could not help feeling very sad, and remained silent, when suddenly I saw also very faint shadows, my remembrances carried me back to the “occult room” upstairs, and my sick room, and I was told by Master (I did not see Him, only heard His voice) that I was very ungrateful and a dzin-dzin. Whose shadows they were I could not say—for I recognised none it was so rapid, but there was a strong feeling in me of affection and regret about Mrs. G. and thought of Elberfeld. HE perhaps who spoke the words, either peeped in Himself astrally or sent one of His people. That’s all I know.

Miss Arundale is going to resign and some other members too she says.

Poor Hartmann. He is a bad lot, but he would give his life for the Masters and Occultism, though he would do far more progress with the dugpas than with our people. He is like the tortoise—one step forward and two back; with me now he seems


—•—  119  “GUILTY  IN  ONEGUILTY  IN  ALL” —•—

very friendly. But I cannot trust him. Before going away he said about Mrs. C. Oakley “pire qui pendre” to all of us—and now he writes to her a letter eight pages long. No man is more quick at catching occult ideas, no one less apt to comprehend them spiritually. What he says of Olcott and the Society is true enough, but why should he be so spiteful in the opinions expressed! Speaking of O.—I can only say—poor, poor Olcott; I can never cease loving him, one who was my devoted friend and defender for ten years, my chum, as he expresses it. But I can only pity one so dull, as not to comprehend instinctively, that if we were theosophical twins during our days of glory, in such a time of universal persecution, of false charges and public accusations the “twins” have to fall together as they have risen together, and that if I am called—at all events half confessed a fraud by him, then must he be one also. Had I not known him still watched by the Masters, and protected to a certain extent by MASTER, I would have sworn he was possessed by Dugpas. Fancy him writing to Miss Arundale, Baron Hoffmann, and many others I could name that I was mad (in the real sense of the word) and had been mad many years; that I may have been guilty of bogus phenomena at times, in my moments of mental aberration and whatnot! -- Guilty in one, guilty in all. Ah poor, poor fool, who digs an abyss under the Theosophical Society with his own hands!

Well, au revoir. Give my love to all, who can accept it and to you two foremost. Bowajee is supremely happy, Mohini and he wept for joy. There is peace and quiet, and the Kingdom of Heaven in my long suffering heart since yesterday, seeing round me my poor old aunt, Miss A., Mohini. Best wishes and love.
                                                                                                                                         Ever yours,
                                                                                                                                                   H. P. B.




De mieux en mieux! Enclose you Olcott’s letter with a copy of L. Fox’s I—whom may his “Karma” bury under its ruins! It is Hume’s inventions. “Sell” my Theosophist? Why not sell myself and Society at once, if we have become such a saleable article. I immediately telegraphed—“I absolutely refuse to sell Theosophist—to Adyar and spent forthwith the famous £3 16s., or nearly so. And now I mean to fight tooth and nail

I   See pages 324-5.—ED.



and I adjure you by Master’s name to help me with good articles from time to time for my poor journal—the child of my heart. Hume being now in London is sure to intrigue and plot with some of the London Lodge—with Mrs. Kingsford with whom he’s in passionate correspondence being in love with, without having seen her; with our friend Mrs. C. O. who is under obligation to him for her passage money here; with this one, that one, and the other. I do think it would be more diplomatic in you and better policy to see him, if he can. But then he said he “despised you for your credulity”—at Adyar. Well the cloud is very black on that part of the horizon where he is—for he is unscrupulous, bargains very cheap for a lie when it suits his purposes and he is a good deal of a Jesuit—when needed. Our Karma—save us!

Got Mrs. Sinnett’s letter from the 12th saying I had not written to her. Why, I sent an enormous letter to her and you, a joint one, after receiving stamps and your books, and one for you. Now I am very anxious to know whether Mrs. Sinnett received that letter of mine in a large blue envelope about secret matters. Please let me know by return of post. I would not have it lost for the world.

Poor Padshah! All his efforts, struggles, his sacred vows—all, all gone because his fifth principle is so developed and drags him to Cambridge, while his sixth is dormant, half blind and is unable to FEEL the Master. Poor Boy! why can’t people separate wretched me from the Masters, why not despise, spurn me, spew me out from their mouth but remain true and loyal to TRUTH incarnate. I do feel sad for those who are good and yet fall off.

I have sent you francs 20 -- 10 Tedesco gave me—the other 10 for Five Years of Theosophy which please ask Mohini to buy and send me, as Hartman took away his bound (five vol.) of Theosophist and I am verily theosophiless now.

Well, to end, I had a pretty attack of palpitation of the heart which nearly carried me away the other night—the karma of talking for a week with six or seven people visiting me from morn to night. Hubbe Schleiden brought the doctor at midnight and by morphine and digitalis, hook and crook, the terrible knockings of the heart which seemed to have gone mad were stopped. But I am happy to say there is an enormous enlargement (or expansion?) of the heart which must, and shall carry me away.

In this sweet hope,
                                                                                                                            Ever yours,
                                                                                                                                        H. P. B.


—•— 121   DR.  F.  HARTMANN —•—


                                                                                                                                                                          LUD. ST. 6,
                                                                                                                                                                                           Oct. 9th.


First of all—thousand thanks to your tyrant for his four books—and 10 thousand thanks for the stamps. It will please old aunt. The bright side of life being disposed of, and Providence in your two stately shapes duly thanked, I have to return to the dark side of my life. In this direction “abundance of wealth” becomes indeed embarrassing, for I know not with what to begin. However, you have heard I suppose of the first slap in the face I have received at Adyar? Without asking me, they have, it appears, disposed of my Theosophist and kicked my name off even from its title page. If so—and Nivaran’s news proves a fact, I have done with them indeed. Never shall one line from my pen appear in a journal, my own blood-property of which I am deprived in such an impudent way—and as suicidal moreover, and more so, than the suppression of the Defence pamphlet. Now the public and enemy shall say—“Mme. B. is indeed kicked out of the Society—even the editorship and proprietorship of her paper was taken away from her. Her guilt is fully recognised at Adyar.” AMEN.

Ever since D. N.’s return home, a dark cloud has settled upon me, and it did not clear off from the additional fact that for five or six days I could not have one half an hour’s conversation with him. The arrival of Dr. H. was the signal for the arrival of Profes. Selin, Hubbe Schleiden, my dear two Schmiechens, and that for a whole week I had a fair in my rooms. It made me positively sick. I had to give up to Hartmann my (own) room, and slept for six nights on the sofa in my writing room. The magnetism of that man is sickening; his lying beastly; his slander of Hubbe Schleiden, his intrigues unaccountable but on the ground that he is either a maniac—utterly irresponsible for the most part, or allowed to be possessed by his own dugpa Spirit. He is exceedingly friendly with me—and was trying all the time to put me up to every kind of mischief. He told me he was in correspondence with the S.P.R.—people who had offered him membership (!!); and that though he refused it he was ready to accept, if I said so, for then he could protect me and defend before the public for he could say anything I told him. I answered I wanted no lies told, there were enough of those in S.P.R.—without his help—what I wanted was—TRUTH and justice. I wonder whether it is true that



he was offered membership—or is it only another fib? Try to know if possible. Now—


I have ascertained most positively that D. N. has nothing personal against you. He feels the greatest affection and respect for both of you and gratitude to Mr. Sinnett. He had heard from some one in Paris whom he won’t name but whom I suspect, that Mr. Sinnett had said while in Paris that all the Hindus at Hd. Qtr. were liars; and that made him desperate, for he then thought that every word he said to Mr. Sinnett would be regarded as a lie. Now I feel sure Mr. Sinnett said nothing of the kind and if he has, he did not mean to include in that category our friend D. N. He is fearfully sensitive, quite in an abnormal, unhealthy way. He who was so frank, merry, good natured, has become gloomy, secretive, so easily irritated for the smallest thing, that one is afraid to talk to him, especially before other people. I have learned so much at least now from him—that his return to his Master depends upon the restoration of the T.S.’s previous status: unless the Society begins again to run smoothly, at least in appearance, he has to remain exiled—as he says—for it appears that his Master—Mahatma K. H. holds him, Damodar, and Subba Row responsible for the two thirds of Mr. Hodgson’s “mayas”—he says. It is they, who, irritated and insulted at his appearance at Adyar, regarding his (Hodgson’s) cross-examination and talk about the Masters—degrading to themselves and blasphemous with regard to Masters; instead of being frank with H. and telling him openly that there were many things they could not tell him—went on to work to augment his perplexity, allowed him to suggest things without contradicting them, and threw him out of the saddle altogether. You see, Hodgson counted without his host: he had no idea of the character of the true Hindu—especially of a chela—of his ferocious veneration for things sacred, of his reserve and exclusiveness in religious matters; and they (our Hindus) whom even I had never heard pronounce or mention one of the Masters by name—were goaded into fury in hearing Hodgson make so cheap of those names—speaking laughingly of “K. H.” and “M.”—etc. with the Oakleys. And it is unfortunate me who now pays for all!

There is another thing, and this is absolutely ghastly. D. N. showed me an order from his Master, written in Telugu, to go with Miss A. and Mohini to Paris and London and try to save the Society from another scandal ten times worse than the present one. He has saved the situation and all glory to him, poor boy! but he has made himself fearful enemies at Paris, oh, for the horror, the sickening disgusting horror of the whole thing. Speak


—•— 123   PURE  “VESTALS” —•—

of the inner Circle, of the Oriental Group! The “Roman” group it ought to be called, with all those Messalines in it! My dear, dear friend, I cannot trust to paper names, it is too disgusting. But if you have ever murmured in the bottom of your heart and the solitude of your own room, at the injustice done (I have—I am sure!); at so many efforts remaining unnoticed and unhelped; at the sight of so many devoted theosophists ready to sacrifice their lives as they said, for the Cause and Masters—neglected, unnoticed by the latter—then do so no more! If Sodom was justly punished, then so would the Oriental Group be—if Masters were men to punish instead of allowing things to go on naturally and break down under their own weight—and you and Mr. Sinnett would be the only Loth and his wife saved—I verily believe. So do not risk to be changed into a pillar of salt, as Mrs. Loth—do not ask me more than I can say—but watch and see for yourself. I have been already punished for my curiosity and for forcing poor little D. N. to tell me the truth—my heart has changed into a pillar of ice cold marble—with horror. I wish I had never heard what I have. But know one thing: the Anglo-French messaline who, inveigling Mohini into the Barbyan wood, suddenly, and seeing that her overtures in words were left without effect—slipped down her loose garment to the waist leaving her entirely nude before the boy—is not the worse one in the Oriental group. Of all those pure “Vestals” she is only the most frankly dissolute, but not either the most lustful or sinful. She had no sacred duty entrusted to her to fulfil. She must be a cocotte by nature and temperament—she is neither hypocritical, nor does she aim at public saintliness. There are others in the group, and not one but four in number who burn with a scandalous ferocious passion for Mohini—with that craving of old gourmands for unnatural food, for rotten Limburg cheese with worms in it to tickle their satiated palates—or of the “Pall Mall” iniquitous old men for forbidden fruit—ten year old virgins! Oh, the filthy beasts!! the sacrilegious, hypocritical harlots!; do forgive me, dear, to use such words but I shall never be able to do justice to my feelings. And let not Mr. Sinnett or yourself say “nonsense” to this. I have all the proofs in hand: letters, notes, and even confessions, AUTOGRAPH CONFESSIONS to little D. N.—imploring him—what do you think—to forgive them? Oh no; but to help them to satisfy their unholy lust, to influence Mohini to yield to them “once—only once!” Let us all bow before the purity of the poor Hindu boy. I tell you—no European would have withstood the pressure. So foolish he was, so little vain, that to the time D. N. came with his Master’s instructions to open his eyes and protect him, he had never understood what those females were driving at. In secret


•          one of them is X----- Y-----; the two others I can never, shall not name. The golden haired amanuensis of ----- went so far as to write in a trance an “order” from some unknown great adept “Lorenzo,” ordering Mohini in cunningly couched expressions to make of “X . . . .” his alter ego, his own body to do with her body as he pleased—but that such a union was absolutely necessary for the development of both, the psychical having to be helped by the physiological and vice versa. Mohini did “as he pleased.” He tore the epistle like a fool, but luckily D. N. found the bits and has them. One of these days one or the other of the London Potiphars shall turn round in her fury and act like Mrs. Potiphar of the Pharaohs, shall father her own iniquities upon Mohini and—ruin the Society and his reputation. D. N. got from him all these epistles to keep; and added to what he got personally—it makes a nice collection. And to believe, with such a state of things, that Masters shall approach the Oriental group at even a 100 miles off!

But what shall you think of a woman who, realising the impossibility that Mohini should ever accept her in such a light, knowing he is pure and is determined to preserve his “chela-purity” and chastity, that in short she can never hope to become the means of his down fall at first hand; who in order to facilitate for herself the thing, and willing even, in her first ferocious passion for him, to accept the rests of another—favorises and helps that other (B-----) to seduce Mohini!! All this in the confession No. 2 (for there are two, from two parties—and now say Master does not help!). This hapless woman suffers fearfully. She, at least, as I fervently hope, gave up the idea altogether, and feels a horror for herself. But repentance cannot obliterate the action. And oh Lord—even “daggers” and “killing,” such like threats are brought into play! The last epistle of B----- sent to Babajee D. N. is an apocalyptic vision on 8 pages of foolscap—in which Masters name is blasphemously used and words put in His mouth—Babula would feel ashamed of. She sees herself in that vision killing Mohini with a dagger bought “Passage Jouffroi.”—Now what shall we do!

“I guess” you understand now why poor D. N.’s “moral tone” was falling down, and his “sympathy” in high demand at London. The little fellow is a brick. He used no sweet manners, no equivocations, to tell the “fiery” ladies the four truths. He showed them all his great scorn and contempt for them, frightened them with his Masters indignation to death; called all the Tibetan thunders and lightning upon their immoral heads, promised them for their next incarnation that they would be buried alive up to the throat in the frozen earth and that the vultures would peck

—•— 125   M.’S  CORROBORATION —•—

their eyes out and peck their heads to death for daring to seduce a chela. “Never shall I forget,” writes one of them—“your just and holy anger—but, oh—pity, pity me, poor weak woman! And ask your friend (Mohini) not to be so hard for me!”—Oh, Dyhan Chohans and devas of purity, veil your sad faces and save the hapless T. Society! Where are we going to, at this rate?

For mercy sake keep all this, you and Mr. Sinnett in the most inaccessible recesses of your hearts. For the sake of the Cause, spat upon, trampled under the feet—be silent but watch as keenly as you can do, lest something else should turn up. One of those four Messalines would be sufficient to kill the Cause for ever. And Adyar! See how those Theosophists love each other! Now Leadbeater is accused of having turned from a thoroughly good man into a bad Anglo-Indian, under the influence of Cooper Oakley! He is accused of saying bad things of me, and what not!

Good-bye. Dark is the horizon and not one light spot do I see in those thick black clouds. Hubbe Schleiden is sorry he came too late; he wanted to see you and explain the situation. Dr. H., intrigues fearfully, sets everyone against him, laughs and shows him unfit to be a President; trying to be elected President himself, etc. All as it should be.
Yours for ever and seriously in profound gloomy despair,
                                                                          H. P. B

Approximately true copy of one 8th of the whole truth.


                                                              Nov. 28/85


In days of my youth—when I had a reputation to lose as all other women have—a young lady, I mean an unmarried woman, was, for the slightest petit scandale d’amour—where she was the pursued victim, not the Messaline or Mrs. Potiphar, hooted out of respectable society and seen no more. No one would marry her, no respectable family receive her; no social gatherings would tolerate her, until the day of her marriage—if a fool could be found. Nowadays it appears different. Unmarried spinsters pursue men into their bedrooms; strip themselves naked before a man they have sworn to seduce—in full day light, in woods, and—because that man won’t have them, they swear revenge; and it is the amazed spectators who had no hand in those little passe temps copied from scenes in the lupanars of Rome and Pompeii—it is they who tremble before such revenge—not the acting and active modern Messalinas!



There are actions in our lives that to the day of death we are unable to account for. Such was the impulse that prompted Mr. Sinnett to introduce his “Roman” character in the trance-scene in Karma; the thought that had pursued him for nearly 3 years in relation to something said in one of K. H.’s letters; and finally that led him to get acquainted and dance with, and then initiate that reincarnation of a Stabian Hetera, once called the “Tepidarium Damsel”—into the wretched and doomed Theos. Society.

And now—behold Karma!!

Ladies and Gentlemen of the L.L. We are right in the hornet’s nest and no mistake about it. The enclosed letter from Mme. de Morsier—who knows perhaps once upon a time the step-mother who sold the Stabian beauty to the Tepidarium—may explain much, and it also may explain nothing. It is in answer to mine written to her on a “half-shell” order. It appears that Mr. S. was anxious not on account of the presence of such a “bijou” in the Theosophical family but simply feared she might disgrace the O. L. still more -- (as though it was possible!) by charging her with opening Mohini’s letter, one addressed to him at any rate. Well I suppose by this time you have read a copy of the letter forwarded by me to the Emilie de Morsier and sent to Mohini by D. N.? As soon as I had learnt that Mr. Sinnett was required to give his word of honour that I had not opened one of her (B-----‘s) letters—I, whose name is H. P. B. in this unwelcome incarnation wrote to ask the Emilie to tell the “Stabian” reincarnation that I had read the letter—though I had never opened it. But all this is immaterial since I might have opened it and still no harm done, for it was one to Mohini between whom and me no secrets are possible as he may, or may not tell you. Having disburdened my heart, on the day following I wrote another letter. I asked her to keep it confidential. Told her what she had been doing; how she had fallen under the influence of Mad. B-----, the Avitchean powers (beautifully natural in her case) and propensities, and therefore what were the influences that surrounded her. Ended by telling her, that with her highly nervous temperament, her sensitiveness, etc.—if she went on as she did, I was commissioned to tell her (and that I was) that it might lead her to a dangerous illness and perhaps—worse. The enclosed is her answer.

The work of Karma in every line. It bursts through!

The handwriting is so bad that those words that I could make out, I have tried to make them more legible. Please note the sentences marked with blue.

Yes; she is right. This time if the scandal bursts it shall [be]


—•— 127  IN  DEFENCE  OF  MOHINI —•—

hundred times worse and more terrible than the Coulomb tricks. These touch but myself—one of mighty little consequence. The future “stranger” shall be born but to sweep off like a cyclone from the face of the earth the London Lodge, if not the Theos. Society in India. It shall carry it off in a tornado of ridicule not of indignation, against the shameless old spinster who is destined to become its mother—oh no!; the ridicule will be for Mohini and the blasphemous laugh for the MASTERS of such a chela. In India where they care for the former and pay little attention to the failings of the latter—the scandal shall do no harm—except perhaps to the extent of strengthening the contempt of the Hindus for European ladies. In London it shall be the end of the Lodge. In England it is those who dare to unveil vice and try to suppress [it] who, like Stead, are tried and imprisoned. The B---- shall become the heroine of the day and Mohini shall be hooted out. For if, I say, she succeeded in convincing Mme. de Morsier of her innocence and of Mohini’s infamy and lust—so much so that de Morsier is preparing to play the Nemesis at the risk of death “pourvu que je fasse mon devoir”—why shall she not succeed in persuading all the London people she knows of the same? A voice whispers in my ear “It is Mr. Sinnett, I believe, who introduced B. to de Morsier and brought the two ardent creatures together?” Karma, karma, my good friends!

Mohini is pure and innocent and that’s just the reason why he shall be made out guilty. Take my advice and send for him, and have a good consultation. There remains one thing for the boy to do, the measure is violent and requires moral courage or—the full force of innocence: let Mohini go to Paris face the B----- before Mme. de Morsier and force her to confess her vile lie and calumny of the Potiphar she is.—I shall not sign—


DEAR “couple of God”—only do not speak even to Mohini of my two private letters to Mrs. S. It is useless and would only frighten him. All depends—the future success, I mean, of the L.L. on our strict silence in reference to this unfortunate business—especially the latter named—or third party. For, whereas in the B----- and X----- Y----- cases, there’s pure animal lust in the last named, it is simply the working, if I may say so, of the “Dweller on the Threshold”; it was a trial, bitter terrible and the more ferocious, since it was the last outburst in her life—the “last rose of summer.” Poor, poor, dear girl—but she has withstood it bravely. I have written her a long letter as ordered to show to



her that I know all and knew much last year already in reference to some other things only never opened my lips to any one in this world. Without precising things I have made her understand the truth and assured her of my still greater respect for her now—for no one can help being tempted who crosses the threshold. There are more chances for her now than ever—as I explained. But I tremble lest vanity and womanly pride should prove stronger in her than devotion to the Society and Cause. She will not mind me knowing—but if she ever suspected that you know it she would throw overboard all—and turn perhaps a bitter enemy.

We cannot afford to lose her especially now it would be the Society’s death.

Tell me please have you a copy of the Defence Committee or shall I have to send you the only one I have with notes. But except notes for the first pages of the Coulomb pamphlet, I do not see what I can do? Why it’s lies from beginning to end.
                                                                                                                                                        H P. B.





Yours just received. It is not of my personal vindication you have to think, but of that of the cause, of our Holy Mahatmas, reduced by the moutons de Panurge of Mr. Myers into soap-bubbles and creations of my over-heated fancy. Had the outside public one atom of sound, fair judgment in their brains—and this can be only made to be by such theosophists as yourself—there are two or three points that would kill them outright. One of these is—Hodgson said that he could not forgive me, for sacrilegiously debasing some of the highest truths of human nature to serve the political interests of Russia!!! The brass-clad donkey! Now you know if there is one sane man in India who, with the exception of padris and the Coulombs; could find one item of truth in this stupid accusation—I, who for five years kept harping on the same phrase before every dissatisfied Hindu: “Better put a millstone on your necks and drown yourselves all you Hindus, and Mussulmans, before the crazy notion of a change for the better if ever the Russians got hold of you—could ever enter your heads.” This sentence was written by me even so long ago as from New York to Hurrychund Chintamon to Bombay and his answer was seen by Hodgson, for Olcott found several of his replies to me and he could infer my statement by the answer made by Chintamon.


—•—   129    A  DOUBLE  UNTRUTH  ABOUT  H. P. B.  —•—

“If Russia is all you say then Heaven save and preserve us from such a Government!” Hodgson saw it, I say, and therefore he lies when he still persists in seeing in me a Russian spy or even a well-wisher of the Russian Govt. But that is a personal matter, now, between himself and his conscience—if he has any. Myers has done great harm in Paris last week, and he boasted of it in his letter to Solovioff. “I have seen your friend Doctor Richet and some other theosophists and made them to accept my views,” he says.

It is not to Leadbeter, dear Mr. Sinnett, that you ought to have written about the suppression of everything in the Theosophist relating to me and my defence, but to the Executive Council at Adyar. Why they act so, is because Col. Olcott made them believe (under influence only not of a very occult character) all, that the L. L. found me guilty, that all the European theosophists had given me up and had turned away from me, that in a word I had become a pariah in your eyes—while Europ. theosophists were told that it is the Hindu who had lost confidence in me. Could the double untruth be cleared up, could you only write to the Executive Council an official letter denying the statement, then would you do the Cause a favour as well as to myself.

Yes; many are the things we shall have to talk over and foremost of all the Mahatma’s desire that the Branches of the T.S. especially the L.L. and the European, should be made all autonomous under one President. A sudden and efficient stop must be made to “President’s Camps,” Poona, and “President’s Camp, Lahore” and “Special orders” and all that sort of thing. Ah well, who loves the Cause—has to sacrifice himself, and I am ever ready.
Au revoir.

Yours ever faulty,
                               H. P. B




I have just read Mohini’s arguments against answering anything of a serious detailed kind to the S.P.R. I think he is right. Since no human power—can prove to me that I wrote the Coulomb letter, and no amount of denying shall ever prove to them that I have not written them—all the rest became useless. The new trick of Hodgson about some diagrams being traced by Coulomb—is splendid! Of course some were, and by Wimbridge


—•—  130  THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

too, and Olcott who tried and failed. I have a number of diagrams with reference to the evolution of the septenary globes and Cosmogony of Esoteric Buddhism, made by Djual Khool and Sarma for me to explain to you, and Hume during the first year of the Simla teaching; and several of them I had copied by a Parsee, a good draughtsman of the School of Arts at Bombay, who could not do them well—and then, I copied them from D. Kh.’s with Tibetan signs and names, translating them and doing it the best I could—since I did not want to give the originals out to a stranger and you could not have understood them—and gave them to Olcott to be copied and one of them—the one I sent to Hume I believe—was copied by Coulomb who is a very good draughtsman—too good unfortunately. I remember how well he copied the few lines in English, a remark by D. K. on the cosmogony—in a way that I was astonished: it was a perfect copy of D. K.’s writing, grammatical mistakes, and all. Neither Olcott, nor I, nor Damodar, ever made a secret of such copies. Olcott nearly lost his head over rings and rounds and kept Coulomb days at trying, and so the wretch, if he has preserved such bits and scraps may well bamboozle the S.P.R. donkeys into making them believe it was he who evoluted the whole theory out of his French head. That’s splendid! I wish I could get at my papers at Adyar to find some of D. K.’s originals, then you would see that it is the same, only with Tibetan names. But I shall do nothing of the kind to oblige the S.P.R. I shall not move one finger in the matter any more. If on the lines of exact science, exact (?) experts, and the asinine world’s judgment I am a FRAUD—let it stand. I begin to feel rather proud of such capacities, than otherwise. I ask you, as a friend not to satisfy the S.P.R. in one single thing more, not to allow their profane hands to touch one scrap of paper coming from Mahatma K. H. or my Master, NOTHING, NOTHING. Unless you do so, I shall never be able to give you anything more and I was preparing to resume the teachings under Master’s guidance. Poor, poor Padshah—he is lost! There’s a trial for him! What next? Why if those are their proofs, then they are worthy indeed of being noticed!

Finally the diagram sent to you by Mahatma K. H. cannot be an original copy by C. from mine made after D. K.’s, though to Hume I know I sent one of such copies or I am greatly mistaken. Yours must be (and if I see it I can tell so to a certainty) a precipitation done from the clean one brought by Olcott from downstairs for I see the scene now before me. No one except me could make head or tail of some diagrams sent by D. K.; then Mah. K. H. said—“You copy it and translate the terms.” I did. Then I gave it to Olcott to give to the School of Arts—after that


—•— 131  MISSIONARIES  SWEAR  TO  RUIN  THE  T. S.   —•—

I do not remember, all is hazy. But then either a day or two after I had two of such diagrams made between Olcott and Coulomb, and he brought them to me (Olcott) and then they were precipitated not in my room or Bombay but taken away and brought back in the evening.

I write all these particulars that you should not deny any such charge. Simply say—you know how it was done, without lowering yourself to an explanation, to give them the satisfaction of finding fault with your evidence and contradictions between “15 and 40 seconds”. Only write to poor Padshah a kind letter. Tell him he is ruining all his prospects—his young life for ever; by not withstanding and having the best of his probationary trial. He has cut his hair and now he is cutting the last blade of grass under his feet. I do feel such a pity for the poor good boy. He is so honest—so earnest!

And now, dear Mr. Sinnett, my last decision. I shall have no more to do with anything coming from the S.P.R. I shall stoop to no explanations except to you and a few friends. I have with Masters’ help even—but a short time to live and the work I have on hand is enormous. I have to save the Theosophist, to write and finish the Secret Doctrine. What good shall I do the cause and any of you who believe in me, by convincing at the cost of superhuman efforts a dozen or two, and having the outsiders disbelieving in me as they ever have. The Coulombs and Missionaries have sworn to ruin the Society: they have failed to do so by ruining me—why should I to save my reputation with the few—help myself to ruin the Society by depriving it of the S.D. and its members of what I can teach them? And I will be doing so if I lose my time over the filthy lies, intrigues and ever and daily arising new complications. Those who believe in me, let them remain quiet, oppose a passive and negative resistance to the enemy and no more. The others if we pay no attention to them shall soon tire out, for it takes two to quarrel. Write in this spirit simply and tell them in your cultured quiet and clear English to go to their grandfather—Old Nick. I told you I had become callous—so do not mind me. If you believe, if a few dozen devoted students believe in the Masters and that I am only their humble factotum—and ALL India does—then what does it matter. If nothing can take out of their heads the expert’s opinion that the letters are genuine—let them go. Master said last night only—“By showing them that you are as firm as a rock; by showing contempt or even indifference to their opinions—proceeding with your work and duty harder than before—you shall kill and silence them more surely than anything you may say and do to disabuse their minds. The cycle is not over yet – the



Karma not expended—“. And I shall do so. I am forwarding you back the vile pamphlet explaining but the first few pages, I shall no more keep it in the house; it burns my hands, and sickens me and fills the house with the atmosphere of that female fiend. I SHALL HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. Mohini was right, I—wrong. He has intuitions I have not. Dear Mr. Sinnett you can turn the laugh on them—do so. But do not touch occult things thinking you can explain them on a physical or even psychological plane—if it is of the Spiritualistic domain. LET THEM GO. As for Mr. Hodgson he may yet write one day with his own hand the following, now precipitated by me as far as I can put myself in rapport with him.

In India I was a fool—in the West I have become a donkey. Theosophy is alone true—and S.P.R. is an old monkey. 1

Now this is a first attempt. But I swear had I dugpa proclivities I could forge by precipitation a letter which declared by experts as his own hand writing would lead him to the gallows. And I have spoilt it by passing the pencil over it. I had some respect for them for their earnestness, truthfulness, and honesty at first; I have now nothing but contempt for their asinine wickedness and conceit.

Goodbye, my only friend in England—the “only” for you have those qualities in you that none else has. I shall yet prove grateful. 2

With kindest remembrances to you both from—D.N. 3




I protest and refuse most emphatically any such thing as subscription or purses made up in my favour, and the reasons for it are several, which I am sure you must appreciate.

(1) I do not want to sell for a consideration any occult work; S. D. least of all.

(2) I cannot engage or bind myself. Once I accept money for it, that work must be done well and satisfy the subscribers (of the fund or pension I mean). Suppose it does not? Then to all my crimes—dishonesty in money matters shall be added.

1  An imitation of Hodgson’s writing precipitated in blue pencil by H. P. B.—ED.
  The whole of this letter is in H. P. B.’s—writing, but it is unsigned.—ED.
3  This note is in Babajee’s writing.—ED.
The remainder of this letter is missing.—ED.


—•— 133  D. N.’s  RELUCTANCE  TO  MEET  H.  P.  B.   —•—

(3) I cannot bind myself to a promise of working only on the S. D.—or working on it at all to its end. I may be sick, I may die—I may have the blues, and once I am hired I should feel like a thief had I to give up my work for any of the reasons above named.

Finally it is not the “British” only, who shall never be slaves. My father’s daughter is against the Biblical institution and I—DECLINE with thanks.

Besides all this, if Hodgson’s new calumny, if his villainous lie is not shown up and disproved publicly (I mean the “spy” business which is a melody from quite a different opera) I shall never publish the S. D. What I said to you I would do, I will do it—I shall leave Europe and India.



Yesterday I sent a letter to Mrs. Sinnett meant for you also—that will explain many a thing. I beg to refute the new accusation—of my having been “the unintentional cause of D. N.’s reluctance” to meet you. I had myself at one time the idea that my remark, a casual one and which was never repeated—that if he went on before you using his arms a la Napolitaine and like a wind mill, you would feel very shocked—had something to do with his extraordinary reluctance, but I have dropped the idea since. The ease with which all those ladies and gentlemen (chelas included) in cases they are unwilling, or forbidden, or simply unable to explain—solve the difficulty by corking it with my much ill-used self, is simply delightful. Now in this case it can be proved in two lines. When I had passed the above remark—there was no Miss Arundale or Mohini on the horizon yet to carry Babajee away. My remark had so little impressed him, that had these two never come, he would have quietly stopped at Wurzburg and met you. But you had to be given some explanation, and the L.L. fellows had to be offered one—earlier as to his extraordinary reluctance—what easier than to stop the hole through which the truth leaked by using me as a plug. I say again—my remark was perhaps 5 per cent; another remark at Paris of which I knew through somebody else and he confessed, another 5 per cent—total 10 p.c. and the 90 parts of the mystery are still in his pocket; and if Mohini may suspect—Miss A. on the other hand has not the slightest conception of it. I show Dharbagiri my letter, let him decide and say whether it is so, or not.

Yes—I had so many visitors, had to talk so much, got so tired out and completely exhausted that the result was—a doctor needed


—•— 134    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

at 11 o’clock at night, yesterday. Such palpitations and cramps in the heart that I thought they were the last! I am now ordered to hold my tongue, hence I have more time to hold my pen—sans vil calembourg.

I shall try to make the annotations but it makes me sick to touch the woman’s pamphlet.

Love to all—Mrs. Sinnett representing the sum total with yourself and Dennie.

I manage to-day to send you 20 f. or £1. 10 francs of what I owe you from Tedesco and the rest for things I want—or one thing rather—“Five years of Theosophy,” something proposed by Mrs. L. C. H. for the benefit of the Society, made up by her and Mohini, published and copyrighted by herself; and now if “the Society” needs it it can either whistle, or do as I do—pay for it, i.e. pay for what was taken bodily from my own journal and is composed of a number of my own articles! Lovely. Please send me a copy of it. Mohini won’t—forgetting all I ask him to do.

Of course got the £3. 16. 0.—but also got unexpectedly £40 from Adyar for two months and another £20 for a third month. So that now we are square. I have no claim on them—except for the future—and about the matter of the Theosophist. I do not care to have my name paraded—I rather it would be Subba Row’s if a name at all. But if I see on the cover Oakley’s name replacing mine—I shall kick, and hard—you may bet.

Hubbe Schleiden here; stopped for a week longer to Hartmann’s great disgust—and told him of it only when the other had to catch the train. He is a dear man; good, spiritual, nice all round, morally and mentally. He sends his regards.
                                                                                                                                                                         H. P. B.


1st January, 1886.



Last evening as we were at tea Professor Selin made his appearance with the famous and long expected report of S.P.R. under his arm. I read it, accepting the whole as my Karmic New Year’s present—or perhaps as the coup de grace of 1885 -- the most delightful year of the short Theosophical Society’s life.

Well—I found positively nothing new as concerns my humble self. A good deal concerning yourself and others. More than ever I have recognised the hand—that guides the whole thing;


—•— 135  A  LIST  OF  CALUMNIES   —•—

that hand which, having grasped the learned members of Cambridge tightly by their noses leads them on—where? Were you Americans, Germans, Italians, Russians—anything but what you are, reserved, haughty, Society fearing Englishmen—would have surely led Mr. Hodgson, for one, the expert Detective and Agent of the Indian padris, right to the Bow Street Court of Law, and after that beyond—DAHIN. Now please do not imagine for one moment, that I am approaching anything like a question of any of you, or all of you defending me. Les beaux jours d’Aranjues sont passes. I am an old, squeezed-out lemon, physically and morally, good only for cleaning old Nick’s nails with, and perhaps to be made to write 12 or 13 hours a day the Secret Doctrine under dictation, to be fathered, when (if) published, with its authorship and ideas in which my literary style and gallicisms will be detected. That I am called in it “publicly and in print” forger about 25 times, trickster, fraud etc. and a Russian spy to boot—all this, c’est de l’histoire ancienne. But there are quite new features in it. Allow me to enumerate.

          Babula is quite the hero in this voluminous Report.
          (1) All my Master’s letters have been written by him—Babula, a boy who does not know one single English letter.
          (2) I am accused of having worked for five years on the feelings of the Hindus to incite them to, and develop in them intense hatred for you English. T
          (3) Mr. Hume believes in Mahatma K. H.’s existence, (how kind!) only he is an adept “of limited powers.”
          (4) After the lapse of five years our Joot-Sing found out from his Mahomedan servants that the packet from Government House (in which was the Mahatma’s letter) had been, thanks to the same precious Babula, tampered with by me.
          (5) Mrs. Sidgwick has succeeded in some work of Penelope on a stitched letter—ergo I must have done the same with Smith’s letter (that flapdoodle, however).
          (6) Mohini, Bowajee, Bawani Row, Damodar, etc. etc., are all liars and confederates.
          (7) Pardon me—but it appears that you also are a semi-confederate if not a whole one. What is it about 60 alterations you have made in Mah. K. H.’s letters, after having said that you had not changed one word? Is he going to incriminate you too? Well it seems so. There are dozens of phenomena that cannot be explained. Some of the most important have taken place in your house when I was not there. They were very awkward, and so long as your trustworthiness could not be impeached no great triumph could be achieved by Myers, Hodgson & Co. It was absolutely necessary that you should be shown untrustworthy. You


—•—  136    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

are in, and they got you. They never could, had you refused point blank to let them have the Mahatma’s letters. Your Karma, dear friend.

Now will you take once in your life the advice of a fool. Do not say one word in my defence, with regard to phenomena. Try to become a Frenchman . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kill them with ridicule and show them . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ; have so richly illuminated  1. . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
truth “an accomplished forger,” “a Russian spy,” they make of me a criminal before Anglo-Indian Govt. they ruin me to the end of my days—morally and materially, and ruin the Society; they throw mud at you, at Olcott, at every one who is not against me—and shall none of you lift a finger not in my defence—you can never wash away the dirt I am covered with before those who do not know me—but in your own defence, in protection of the whole body of gentlemen and ladies in it—if not of the Cause?  



THE long threatened report by Hodgson—the agent sent in 1884 by the S.P.R. to India to investigate certain phenomena alleged by the Coulombs to have been fraudulently produced by them at the instigation of the undersigned, who was directly and indirectly connected with such occult occurrences—has come out.

The undersigned denies most solemnly the charges brought forward in the said Report against her, in addition to which—an implied fraud throughout—she is called in it more than once “forger” and a “Russian Spy.”

There is not in that voluminous report one single charge that could stand a legal investigation and be shown correct. All in it is personal inference, hypothesis and unwarranted assumptions and conclusions. Every sentence in it is arbitrary and libellous in the extreme, according to law—brutal and calumniating, in the sight of every unprejudiced witness acquainted with the facts that preceded the investigation and led to the Report. Only a few of the phenomena, those with which the Coulombs were well acquainted—are given in it in a distorted way, so as to meet the theory of Deception. The two thirds of the phenomena

 1   There is a portion of the original missing at this point.—ED.
The remainder of the letter is missing.—ED.


—•—  137    THE  TREACHERY  OF  HODGSON   —•—

brought forward by the Theosophists, the most important as the most unanswerable are silently skipped over. Only, and in case they should be some day placed before the public as a counter-proof—the witnesses to such are pelted with mud before hand, and an attempt is made to show them untrustworthy.

The said Hodgson had come to India as a friend; he was received as one, lived in the greatest intimacy with those he now accuses of confederacy and lying. None, during the time he lived at Adyar regarded by all as a perfectly honourable man, had the remotest conception that much that was said by him in private conversations, every idle word that no one thought at the time of weighing, would be later on made public, another sense given to it, and that his words would be made use of against the Society. Every facility was given to him for investigation—nothing concealed from him, as everyone felt and knew himself quite innocent of the absurd charges made. All this is now taken advantage of, and presented in an unfavourable light before the public.

CONSIDERING ALL THIS, and that the said Hodgson and whoever may have sanctioned his indelicate proceedings and urged, or helped him on, has—

(1) Given out in his Report nought but the evidence of malevolently disposed witnesses—bitter enemies for years; gossips, and long standing falsehoods invented by the Coulombs and his own personal inferences and made up theories; and that on the other hand he has unjustly suppressed every tittle of evidence in my favour and where he could not make away with such testimony he has invariably tried to represent my witnesses and defenders as either dupes or confederates.

(2) That besides the Coulomb letters, the full authorship of which I deny as I did on the day of their appearance, not one of which, moreover, was I permitted to see in the original; that besides these I say -- (a) a number of private letters or passages therefrom, isolated, and therefore liable to any construction—are published, such publication being actionable by law;

(3) That a slip from a MS page, confessedly stolen, by the woman Coulomb from my writing desk years ago; evidently the translation from some passage in a Russian Daily, a number of articles from which I have been translating for the Pioneer, asked to do so by Mr. Sinnett in 1881-2-3. That again, that isolated fragment (not my composition evidently, as the quotation mark at the end of it happily left—shows) is reproduced with the manifest intention of throwing a vile suspicion upon me as being a “Russian Spy.”

(4) That the said Hodgson and his employers know the position I am in, (having been repeatedly told the reasons why I could not


—•— 138    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

prosecute the Coulombs, reasons known as well to every theosophist and that I am not ashamed to confess); and that knowing this—i.e. that I am utterly helpless and defenceless in England and India as a hated Russian and as a hated theosophist—they did not hesitate to take advantage of their position to dishonour with the utmost impunity a woman by branding her as a spy and a forger.

(5) Considering also, that if I am unable to prove the reality of the phenomena produced in any Court of law, no more can Hodgson & Co. prove their unreality otherwise than on circumstantial evidence and their own pre-judged ideas; but that the charge of my ever being a Spy could, on the other hand, be easily shown groundless, false and libellous; they still support their malicious allegations—just because they can do so with perfect impunity and that it suits them at the present moment, when all England rises against and suspects Russia—as nothing can ruin me more efficiently in public opinion; this special charge, moreover, being the only one that could prove an anchor of salvation for their Report, as a motive had to be given for a series of frauds and deception covering ten years of incessant labour, poverty, struggles at the expense of health and the last money we had. Considering all this, and much more, what is the conclusion an honest man can arrive at, who, acquainted with the real facts reads their Report? Assuredly the following: the accusations, all Mr. Hodgson’s cleverness notwithstanding, could not stand unless a logical motive could be found for such disgusting dishonourable course as the one I am charged with. The true motive—publicly and openly professed gave the lie to all such accusations; it weakened thoroughly if it did not destroy utterly the filthy charges. Why not present those charges in a light the best calculated to have them accepted without one word of protest by the public in general? This could be perpetrated with impunity and it only ruins me for life alone. It only shuts the doors before me, back to my home where I thought of dying in peace knowing I had done my duty the best I could. What does it matter to the Honourable professors at Cambridge that an old Russian woman has now but one course opened to her: to die a disgraced beggar, far from all she loves and cares for in this life, so long as they can satisfy their spite and punish those who refused to recognise in Mr. Hodgson an infallible expert and in themselves as infallible leaders in things psychic and phenomenal. Well they have probably done all this: let them triumph in their iniquity.

This is an action that every honest man or woman must and will regard as simply infamous.

Thus, considering finally, that if the Report is an alleged expression of the writer’s great integrity, of his mistaken, yet sincere


—•— 139    THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  HODGSON  AND  S. P. R.    —•—

and honest views (which I now deny), that it might have been published in toto in order to set off his extraordinary acuteness and still lose nothing in strength of deduction and inferences if the direct charge of forgery and spying -- (the terms “forger” and “spy”) had been even laid aside; but that it was not done for reasons above given, and the libellous and incriminating terms are there published for the whole world to see and accept; considering all this I, the undersigned, now call upon every truth and justice loving Englishman and Englishwoman in the United Kingdom of Great Britain—whose righteous laws command to regard as innocent even a criminal before he is found by that law “guilty”—to show to me reasons why the said Hodgson and his employers should not be proclaimed publicly and in print by me as having been guilty of a mean, cowardly, base and a brutal action; one to stoop to which no gentleman, no honest man of even an average honourability would ever stoop to, in view of the existing circumstances.

In view of all the above I pray the London Lodge Theosophical Society to permit the undersigned, putting the present in a more grammatical and documentary form, to print and publish it and send it to every theosophist throughout the world; also to have the same published in the Theosophist.

So long as I have not broken altogether from the Theosophical Society and am connected with it; so long as any of my actions can by reacting upon it hurt the Cause or one of the Societies, I shall take no action that is not sanctioned by all the Councils. But if this is refused to me and I have to go about to the end of my life with the triple brand of Fraud, Forger and Spy upon me like a female Cain, helpless and powerless to even prove that the latter accusation is an infamous, uncalled for lie and a calumny, then it will remain for me but to take another course from which there will be no more return possible.
                                                                                                                                                 H. P. B



9th January.

THE Countess has returned and among her news is one that shows on what hang the accusations of Hodgson. For instance the German Theosophists cannot understand or justify the phenomenon with the Japanese vases received by Olcott. “How can Mahatmas (exalted beings) condescend to present Olcott with vases bought previously at a shop and by placing there vases from a shop,” etc. etc. This is the hypothesis, the following—the facts.

Colonel Olcott had just returned home from some journey.


—•— 140    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

He was upstairs in my “occult” room also my writing room. We had been talking and he examined a new cupboard for books with a mirror door to it on a wall in front of my writing table, whereas the shrine was on the wall on the right side of the table. It had been just built in the wall and could have no traps or holes in the wall at the back of it, for that wall gives on the passage from the staircase. The cupboard had one plain board at its back. Who wanted the phenomenon, what was said, I do not remember. But Olcott after examining some books in the cupboard received a letter from the Mahatma and was going away when I recognised that there was something else going on in the cupboard. So I said—“stop, let us see what it is.” Mme. Coulomb was in the room. Then he opened the cupboard door and found two vases there with flowers in them. He made a great fuss over it. When I saw the vases I said, or thought at the time, they are very much like those that I had just bought for the drawing room. It is Mme. Coulomb who bought them in one of her journeys to town after furniture and provisions. But these vases were a great deal larger and mine stood where they were in the adjoining room on a corner table. It appeared to me at the time that Mme. Coulomb looked very embarrassed. Now I know why. She had brought me two vases, and now there are found marked in the entries of the book where they had been bought. My opinion is that she bought these additional two, with the intention of sending them as a present to one of her Bombay friends, as she traded with Mrs. Dudley, buying things at Madras and sending them to Mr. D. Dudley who sold them to sea captains and on the steamers and shared with Mme. C. the profits. These two (Olcott’s) vases were evidently in Mme. C.’s rooms in another house and were brought from their hiding place. Otherwise, why would she have kept back from me the knowledge that she had bought four and not two vases only for myself as I thought? Anyhow, this is what I have to say to the phenomenon of the vases: --

(1) It is not on the vases that it rested. Every apport whether performed through the will of an adept, or mediumship and “Spirits” is supposed to have pre-existed as an object. Such things as big vases that can be bought by the dozen, that are known to stand in various shops—are not to be materialised. Generally an object to be brought phenomenally is bought by the one who wants to perform it, or is chosen in the house of another person, and then made to pass either through closed doors, or a closed lid, or something of the sort. Therefore, --

(2) The “phenomenon of the vases” rests on the fact of their being brought from wherever they were into a closed cupboard,


—•— 141    THE  “VASE”  PHENOMENON   —•—

that Olcott had locked himself and before which he stood waiting for what would come next. If the wall at the back of the cupboard was solid—it was a phenomenon. If there was some trap or hole in it, some contrivance which would make it possible to pass an object from behind it, then it was fraud, by whomsoever perpetrated. The question then lies: was or was there not at that time a false or a double back to the cupboard? I say there was not. It was later I suppose that Monsieur Coulomb fabricated it for his special plans. It is sufficiently proved in Dr. Hartmann’s pamphlet.

Now, it was not the Mahatmas who performed it. Colonel Olcott had enough phenomena and daily during ten years and believed enough without phenomena that one should go to the trouble of buying vases and preparing tricks for him. It was done by a chela and for a certain reason I need not explain. I told Hodgson that I had two vases (which disappeared as well as Colonel Olcott’s) and all that I say here. Let Mr. and Mrs. Sinnett be asked how a doll or a toy was brought to their child at Simla. Had Mr. Hodgson gone to a certain toy-shop at Simla he would have learned by the entry books that a doll of that description had been bought by a young man on that same night and paid for it. And no doubt he would have placed the trick in his Report as an evidence against me. And Mr. Sinnett might have answered that the fact was known to him too on that same night, for I had explained to them then and there how it was done. No doubt phenomena-hunters would have preferred that the toy and vases should have disappeared from a shop or a private house without having been paid for, or that every nonsensical apport should be materialised like the Universe—ex-nihil?

Even the Coulombs knew this well. They had lived enough with us and heard of phenomenal apports to understand that the phenomenon rested on the appearance of objects within closed doors and recesses, hence the very easy task to show to a scientific man—that it was a trick because the vases had been bought at a certain shop and were marked on the sale books! And the scientific Mr. Hodgson swallowed the new proof and published it. To close: An undergarment was shown to Hodgson (a chemise in plain words) with stains from metal on its right side. The dobi (washer) can testify and Babula and perhaps Miss Arundale, and I can show all my old chemises so stained and eaten by the rust to holes. In India where I wore no dresses with pockets, but light muslin wrappers, I used to stick my keys on the right side between my chemise and petticoat. Many a time Mme. Coulomb, who had charge of my linen told me I was ruining my clothes with that habit. But I went on and now she shows to Mr. Hodgson an “undergarment” with such stains and explains to him the stains


—•—  142    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

as having been caused by a metallic musical-box which rung when pressed with the elbow producing the “astral bells.” And Mr. Hodgson, the scientific expert, swallows it and publishes it!!
MEN.                                                                                    H. P. BLAVATSKY.

P.S. I made Subba Row’s acquaintance on the day I first arrived to Madras, May, 1882. Saw him for a week and then when we left Bombay for Madras to live, in January, 1883 had exchanged with him a few letters till then. How could I write Isis with his help, I in New York, he at Madras and perfect strangers to each other? (Query)



I will try to do what I can to enliven the narrative in the Memoirs, because I promised I would, and mean to keep to my promise, however disagreeable it may be for me personally. I will not disappoint you; I mean to ransack my brain in the pigeon-holes of the past and make it at least interesting in its Russian character of occult reminiscences—since it is in no way interesting now, as the Countess and Hartmann both tell me. Of course, as they now stand—those unfortunate Memoirs do remind one of a Harlequin’s costume sown out of different patches. This is not your fault for you have done the best you could under the circumstances. Yet, on the whole as Illarion well expressed it, it does leave one the impression of a timid, scared beggar, determined to shove herself amid a fine Society of ladies and gentlemen and putting on the outside all her poor little finery, trying to conceal with it her inward nakedness. “Look at me gents—I too, I have interesting things to brag of, and show to you. Only don’t look under—pray.” This is the real impression it leaves. Something, broken, unfinished, chaotic and not even romantic. LYING—brilliant lively fiction would answer better than such bits and snaps from one’s long, miserable, eventful and ever slandered life, as mine was.

Now you labour under the impression that only such Memoirs of “Mme. B.’s” life, could, at this juncture produce a reaction—one of thrilling interest, if not of vindication and full justification. I make bold to say that nothing of the kind can or will. One thing in the whole world could do it if I ever could consent to it; and it is the truth and nothing but the truth—the WHOLE of it. This would, indeed, make all Europe jump from its seat and produce a revolution. But you see, I am an Occultist; a pucka not a sham one, in truth. I am one at heart, whatever I may



seem else in the eyes of even the inner group, the “O. G.” I will not give back in the same coin as I receive, however much mine may differ from theirs—as the latter is false and mine is true. I look at all those people barking and spitting venom around me now, as a disembodied spirit may at the dogs baying at his shadow. I have suffered out the whole material of suffering I had in my earthly nature and there’s no more fuel. I will struggle and fight on so long as I last; and then one fine day, the fatal puncture in the heart will make itself felt and I will be a “lovely corpse” five or six minutes after that, if not earlier. This is the programme. Until then—well, let things go.

Therefore, since there is a very serious proposition made in your last letter to me, one that necessitates this long answer, I have to tell you my determination for the last time and at the same time to give you reasons for it, as I have too much esteem and affection for you to let you labour under the false impression that “it is one more whim of the ‘O. L.’ “ It is not; and you have to be assured of, and made to see it. Hence—this preliminary and my asking you to forgive the necessity of the long epistle. I do not know English enough to be brief.

You say, “Thus, for example, we must bring in the whole of that Metrovitch incident.” I say we must not. These Memoirs will not bring my vindication. This I know as well as I knew that The Times would not notice my letter against Hodgson’s Report. Not only will they fail to do so, “if they are made sufficiently complete,” but if they appeared in six volumes and ten times as interesting—they will never vindicate me; simply because “Metrovitch” is only one of the many incidents that the enemy throws at my head. If I touch this “incident” and vindicate myself fully, a Solovioff, or some other blackguard will bring out the Meyendorf and “the three children incident.” And if I were to publish his letters (in Olcott’s possession) addressed to his “darling Nathalie” in which he speaks of her raven black hair “Longs comme un beau manteau de roi,”—as de Musset expresses it of his Marquesa d’Arnedi’s hair—then I would be simply dealing a slap on the face of a dead martyr, and call forth the convenient shadow of someone else from the long gallery of my supposed lovers. Now why should I bring out Metrovitch? Suppose I said the whole truth about him? What is it? Well, I knew the man in 1850, over whose apparently dead corpse I stumbled over in Pera, at Constantinople, as I was returning home one night from Bougakdira to Missire’s hotel. He had received three good stabs in his back from one, or two, or more Maltese ruffians, and a Corsican, who were paid for it by the Jesuits. I had him picked up, after standing over his still breathing corpse


—•— 144    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

for about four hours, before my guide could get mouches to pick him up. The only Turkish policeman meanwhile who chanced to come up asking for a baksheesh and offering to roll the supposed corpse into a neighbouring ditch, then showing a decided attraction to my own rings and bolting only when he saw my revolver pointing at him. Remember, it was in 1850, and in Turkey. Then I had the man carried to a Greek hotel over the way, where he was recognised and taken sufficiently care of, to come back to life. On the next day he asked me to write to his wife and Sophie Cruvelli (the Duchess’s dear friend now Vicomtesse de Vigier at Nice and Paris, and at the time his mistress; No. 1 scandal). I wrote to his wife and did not to the Cruvelli. The former arrived from Smyrna where she was, and we became friends. I lost sight of them after that for several years and met him again at Florence, where he was singing at the Pergola, with his wife. He was a Carbonaro, a revolutionist of the worst kind, a fanatical rebel, a Hungarian, from Metrovitz, the name of which town he took as a nom de guerre. He was the natural son of the Duke of Lucea, as I believe, who brought him up. He hated the priests, fought in all the rebellions, and escaped hanging by the Austrians, only because—well, it’s something I need not be talking about. Then I found him again in Tiflis in 1861, again with his wife, who died after I had left in 1865 I believe; then my relatives knew him well and he was friends with my cousins Witte. Then, when I took the poor child to Bologna to see if I could save him I met him again in Italy and he did all he could for me, more than a brother. Then the child died; and as it had no papers, nor documents and I did not care to give my name in food to the kind gossips, it was he, Metrovitch who undertook all the job, who buried the aristocratic Baron’s child—under his, Metrovitch’s name saying “he did not care,” in a small town of Southern Russia in 1867. After this, without notifying my relatives of my having returned to Russia to bring back the unfortunate little boy whom I did not succeed to bring back alive to the governess chosen for him by the Baron, I simply wrote to the child’s father to notify him of this pleasant occurrence for him and returned to Italy with the same passport. Then comes Venice, Florence, Mentana. The Garibaldis (the sons) are alone to know the whole truth; and a few more Garibaldians with them. What I did, you know partially; you do not know all. My relatives do, my sister does not, and therefore and very luckily Solovioff does not.

Now, shall I, in the illusive hope of justifying myself, begin by exhuming these several corpses—the child’s mother, Metrovitch, his wife, the poor child himself, and all the rest? NEVER. It would be as mean, and sacrilegious as it would be useless. Let


—•— 145    THE PRIVATE  PART  OF  H. P. B.’s  LIFE   —•—

the dead sleep, I say. We have enough avenging shadows around us—Walter Gebhard, the last. Touch them not, for you would only make them share the slaps in the face and the insults I am receiving, but you would not succeed to screen me in any way. I do not want to lie, and I am not permitted to tell the truth. What shall we, what can we, do? The whole of my life except the weeks and months I passed with the Masters, in Egypt or in Tibet, is so inextricably full of events with whose secrets and real actuality the dead and the living are concerned, and I made only responsible for their outward appearance, that to vindicate myself, I would have to step on a hecatomb of the dead and cover with dirt the living. I will not do so. For, firstly, it will do me no good except adding to other epithets I am graced with, that of a slanderer of post mortem reputation, and accused, perhaps, of chantage and blackmail; and secondly I am an Occultist, as I told you. You speak of my “susceptibilities” with regard to my relatives, I say it is occultism, not susceptibilities. I KNOW the effect it would have on the dead, and want to forget the living. This is my last and final decision: I WILL NOT TOUCH THEM.

And now, to another aspect of the thing.

I am repeatedly reminded of the fact, that, as a public character, a woman, who, instead of pursuing her womanly duties, sleeping with her husband, breeding children, wiping their noses, minding her kitchen and consoling herself with matrimonial assistants on the sly and behind her husband’s back, I have chosen a path that has led me to notoriety and fame; and that therefore I had to expect all that befell me. Very well, I admit it, and agree. But I say at the same time to the world: “Ladies and gentlemen, I am in your hands and subject and subordinate to the world’s jury, only since I founded the T.S. Between H. P. Blavatsky from 1875 and H. P. B. from 1830 to that date, is a veil drawn and you are in no way concerned with what took place behind it, before I appeared as a public character. It was my PRIVATE LIFE holy and sacred, to all but the slanderous and venomous mad-dogs who poke their noses under cover of the night into every family’s and every individual’s private lives. To those hyenas who will unearth every tomb by night to get at the corpses and devour them, I owe no explanations. If I am prevented by circumstances from killing them, I have to suffer, but no one can expect me to stand on Trafalgar Square and to be taking into my confidence all the city roughs and cabmen that pass. And even these, have more my respect and confidence than your reading and literary public, your “drawing room” and Parliament ladies and gentlemen. I would rather trust an honest, half drunk cabman than I would the former. I have lived little in the world even in my own country,


—•— 146    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

but I know it—especially for the last decade—better than you know them perhaps, though you have been moving in the midst of that cultured and refined lot for the last 25 years of your life. Well, humbled down as I am, slandered, vilified and covered with mud, I say that it would be beneath my dignity to throw myself on their mercy and judgement. Had I even been all they accuse me of; had I had lovers and children by the bushels; who among all that lot is pure enough to throw at me openly and publicly the first stone? A Bibiche who was caught, is in company with hundreds of others who have not been so exposed, but—they are no better than she is. The higher spheres of Society, from Grand Duchesses and Princesses of blood down to their cameristes—are all honey combed with secret sensuality, licentiousness and prostitution. Out of ten women married and unmarried if you find one who is pure—I am ready to proclaim the present world comparatively holy, yet, with very few exceptions all the women are liars to themselves as to others. Men are all no better than animals and brutes in their lower natures. And it is they, such a lot, that I am going to ask to sit in judgement over me; to address them tacitly and virtually, by describing certain events in my life in the Memoirs to “please give me the benefit of the doubt.” “Dear ladies and gentlemen, you, who have never failed to sin behind a shut door, you, who are all tainted with the embraces of other women’s husbands and other men’s wives, you, not one of whom is exempt from the pleasure of keeping a skeleton or two in your family closets—please take my defence.” No Sir, I die rather than do it! As Hartmann truly remarked, it is far more important what I myself think of me, than what the world does. It is that which I know of myself that will be my judge hereafter, not what a reader who buys for a few shillings my life, “a made up one” as he will always think—believes of me. If I had daughters whose reputations I might damage by failing to justify my behaviour I would perhaps resort to such an indignity. As I have none and that three days after my death all the world save a few theosophists and friends will have forgotten my name—let all go, I say.

The moral of the above and conclusion: you are welcome to stun the public with the recital of my life day after day ever since the T. S. was founded, and the public is entitled to it. I dare say you could do hundred times more good by laying it bare before the readers, than by initiating them into the life of a Russian, one of thousands and with whom they are by no means concerned, (at any rate I am not concerned with them). Then you have fourteen or fifteen volumes of Scrap Books, to furnish you with material enough for 100 volumes—“The History of the Theos.


—•— 147    H. P. B.  NEVER  MME.  METROVITCH   —•—

Soc. and its Fellows, of Their Tribulations and Triumphs, their ups and Downs.” This would be legitimate work every word of which could be verified and this not easily gainsaid by the enemy. The Memoirs have just arrived at that point (in the proofs I have). Show systematically the unheard of persecutions, conspiracies, even the mistakes made and that will be our justification. “We hate and persecute only that which we fear.” You might make the movement immortal if you would undertake to describe it. Leave Part I as it is, with many additions I have made and will make. Do not hurry with the publication and leave me time to see you personally at Ostende. Believe me it will be better. Write to Olcott to ask him to copy for you some portions of Prince Emil Wittgenstein’s letter to him about me; and from others who knew and met me at various times. Hartmann seems to have plenty of material he has collected from letters received by him and he seems willing to give them up. Anything from others, however erroneous for which neither you or I will stand responsible. What I add is not mine but from several letters I received from my aunt. I deliver myself into your hands and ask you only to remember that the Memoirs are sure to throw out like a volcano some fresh mud and flames. Do not awake the sleeping dogs more than necessary. That I never was Mme. Metrovitch or even Mme. Blavatsky is something, the proofs of which I will carry to my grave—and its no one’s business. If I had a husband to screen and protect me I might have been a Messalina to my heart’s pleasure and no one would dare, save in under breath, to say a word against me. When I think that I stand open to prosecution for defamation because I wrote in a private letter that a woman who wrote such a letter to Mohini must be a Potiphar; and that every one in England seems to have a legal right to accuse me openly and publicly of bigamy, trigamy and prostitution without my being able to say one word in my defence in a Court of Law—I am inclined to send for a dose of peppermint—I feel sick with disgust. The contempt and scorn I feel for your free country with its boasted justice and equity, is unutterable and beyond words. I feel like asking the Russian Govt. to permit me to return to die in some corner where I will be left quiet. The sense of my duty to the Masters is the only thing that prevents me from doing it. He who does not meddle with politics is safe in Russia and libel is severely punished there. What is my future? What have I before me thanks to your missionaries, to the English fiend called Coulomb, to the Bibiche tongues that soil one as soon as they touch one, to the Hindus made Gods in Europe and kicked in their own country, to all the ding and clash around me? I cannot return to India, so long as


—•— 148    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

the Coulomb is at Bombay and the Padris around us, I would only ruin the Society. No sooner will I have landed than some one of them will find some pretext to bring me into Court and then—goodbye Society. Your Cambridge Dons have ruined me, thanks to the handles they got in the shape of Olcott’s idiotic braying, people’s cowardice and various other things. I am a thing of the Past—and a sorry looking thing, dirtied beyond words. There is no help and no salvation for me. Try to screen yourselves, and leave me to my present fate. And thus—

I WILL NOT WRITE ANYTHING about the “Metiovitch incident” nor any other incident of the sort, where politics and secrets of dead people are mixed up. This is my last and final determination. If you can make the Memoirs interesting in some other way, do so, and I will help you. Anything you like after 1875. My life was a public and an opened life since then, and except during my hours of sleep I was never alone. I defy the whole world to Prove any of the accusations brought against me during that time. As for phenomena—had I been the immaculate Virgin Mary to that day—it would have been the same thing. This is all our fault. Mine, Olcott’s, yours, Damodar’s, everyone, even the Masters who looked on and—permitted it. We cannot expect to be ever waving a scarlet rag before the bull and then complain of his goading us. And, as in this case it is the worst kind of a bull—your “John Bull.” Of course we came out of it second best.

Pray excuse my frankness and the long letter.
                                                                          Yours faithfully,
                                                                                           H. P. B



Last night received your letter to which I answered and sent, moreover, a telegram to you giving you carte blanche for anything you may do. But now to your questions I am compelled to say much. Even in this my vindication, and a full one it could be, Myers & Co. have built a wall between me and this last possibility at any rate as regards my aunt.

Last year from Elberfeld she sent the preface to these Memoirs signed with her name to Myers. In it, she put a distinct condition that her full name should never be published but only her initials. It was said in it as far as I remember, “this (the name) is for Mr. Myers only who is expected as a gentleman never to use it,” or something like this. Now the “gentleman,” the first thing


—•— 149    MYERS  OF  THE  S. P. R.   —•—

he does is to permit Hodgson to connect my aunt’s full name in print with my fraud and political motive. There is a full note in the Report I read it—where it is said that Madame Fadeef being an aunt of mine and a Russian, no reliance can be placed on what she says. K. H.’s letter to her was forged by me, the wise detective says, etc. How it is I do not know. But my aunt seems to have learnt it earlier than I did. Whether it is through Solovioff the infernal gossip, or someone else, but last night I had a letter from her reproaching me mildly but firmly and as I see in great agony, (I will tell you why). “I told you,” she says, “at Elberfeld not to give my name and you answered that Myers was a theosophist and a gentleman, a man of honour, and now I hear that I am also mixed in the phenomena business—phenomena that were your curse during your childhood and youth and which have now led you to public dishonour.” And she goes on saying that it was and is all from the devil, and asks me not to be angry with her but that my Masters do seem to be uncanny, so uncanny that she as a Christian dare not even think of them! This is what Myers has done, and this, after talking with Miss Arundale and Mohini who remember what she wrote (perhaps it is still there on the MSS but she wrote in French on a slip of paper to Mr. Myers independently); this dishonourable action you ought to bring to light. You ought to expose him before every honourable man, and this action he will not be able to deny, and will stand as a blackguard before many. If you do not do this, then you shall have lost the best opportunity of showing the Cambridge clique in its true light.

Well, I will send her your letter. I added to it four pages of supplications, and saying why it was so necessary now she should help me. I am sure that ready as she is to do anything for me, she will refuse permission to publish her name after it has been so disgraced by Hodgson, the more so as no one will believe her after this. Of this I feel sure. Remains my sister, she is in Petersburg. She has four big daughters to marry. She may send you what she has written. “The truth about Mme. Blavatsky,” and add a few things. Though now, owing again to Solovioff’s gossip her daughters, my nieces—are furious against me for some remarks I have made as to their desinvolture—and my sister is her daughter’s humble tool and victim. My aunt adored and reverenced her only brother, my uncle who died lately, General Fadeyeff. Had she been married she would have given her name and not cared for it; but she told me that to see his name in print, his name in the mouth of sceptics laughing at and desecrating it as she thinks—is more [than] she could bear. That’s one. Let us wait for her reply.

Now your questions:

1. My childhood? Spoilt and petted on one side, punished


—•— 150    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

and hardened on the other. Sick and ever dying till seven or eight, sleep-walker; possessed by the devil. Governesses two—Mme. Peigneux, a French woman and Miss Augusta Sophia Jeffries a Yorkshire spinster. Nurses—any number. No Kurd nurse. One was half a Tartar. Father’s soldiers taking care of me. Mother died when I was a baby. Born at Ekaterinoslow. Travelled with Father from place to place with his artillery regiment till eight or nine, taken occasionally to visit grandparents. When 11 my grandmother took me to live with her altogether. Lived in Saratow when Grandfather was civil Governor, before that in Astrachan, where he had many thousands (some 80, or 100,000) Kalmuck Buddhists under him.

2. Visit to London? I was in London and France with Father in ‘44 not 1851. This latter year I was alone and lived in Cecil St. in furnished rooms at one time, then at Mivart’s Hotel, but as I was with old Countess Bagration, and when she went away remained with her Jezebel demoiselle de compagnie, no one knows my name there. Lived also in a big hotel somewhere between City and Strand or in the Strand, but as to names or numbers you might just as well ask me to tell you what was the number of the house you lived in during your last incarnation. In 1845 father brought me to London to take a few lessons of music. Took a few later also—from old Moscheles. Lived with him somewhere near Pimlico—but even to this I would not swear. Went to Bath with him, remained a whole week, heard nothing but bell-ringing in the churches all day. Wanted to go on horseback astride in my Cossack way; he would not let me and I made a row I remember and got sick with a fit of hysterics. He blessed his stars when we went home; travelled two or three months through France, Germany and Russia. In Russia our own carriage and horses making 25 miles a day. To tell you about America! Why goodness me I may as well try to tell you about a series of dreams I had in my childhood. Ask me to tell you now, under danger and peril of being immediately hung if I gave incorrect information—what I was doing and where I went from 1873 July when I arrived to America, to the moment we formed T.S., and I am sure to forget the half and tell you wrong the other half. What’s the use asking or expecting anything like that from a brain like mine! Everything is hazy, everything confused and mixed. I can hardly remember where I have been or where I have not been in India since 1880. I saw Master in my visions ever since my childhood. In the year of the first Nepaul Embassy (when?) saw and recognised him. Saw him twice. Once he came out of the crowd, then He ordered me to meet Him in Hyde Park. I cannot, I must not speak of this. I would not publish it for the


—•— 151    H. P. B.  TRAVELS  WITH  THE  MASTER   —•—

world. See the harm the Occult World has done to me with all your kind, good intention. Had you not named my relatives, my inner life, my visit to Tibet, no one would have believed me more of a fraud than they do now. So you see. Let us leave my poor aunts and my relatives names out of the book, I implore you. Enough dirt accumulated on one of the family, do let us not drag holy names and names I respect into the book and thus sentence them beforehand to mangling.

3. Went to India in 1856 -- just because I was longing for Master. Travelled from place to place, never said I was Russian, people taking me for what I liked. Met Kulwein and his friend at Lahore somewhere. Were I to describe my visit to India only in that year that would make a whole book, but how can I NOW say the truth. Suppose I were to tell that I was in man’s clothes (for I was very thin then) which is solemn truth, what would people say? So I was in Egypt with the old Countess who liked to see me dressed as a man student, “gentleman student” she said. Now you understand my difficulties? That which would pass with any other as eccentricity, oddity, would serve now only to incriminate me in the eyes of the world. Went with Dutch vessel because there was no other, I think. Master ordered [me] to go to Java for a certain business. There were two whom I suspected always of being chelas there. I saw one of them in 1869 at the Mahatma’s house, and recognised him, but he denied.

4. “The incident of the adoption of the child!” I better be hung than mention it. Do you know if even withholding names what it would lead to? To a hurricane of dirt thrown at me. When I told you that even my own father suspected me, and had it not been for the doctor’s certificate would have never forgiven me, perhaps. After, he pitied and loved that poor cripple child. On reading this book Home, the medium, would be the first one to gather the remnant of his strength and denounce me, giving out names and things and what not. Well my dear Mr. Sinnett if you would ruin me (though it is hardly possible now) we shall mention this “incident.” Do not mention any, this is my advice and prayer. I have done too much toward proving and swearing it was mine—and have overdone the thing. The doctor’s certificate will go for nothing. People will say we bought or bribed the doctor that’s all.

5. Yes, returned to relations in Jan. 1860.

6. Yes, about ‘62 went with my sister to Tiflis, left it about ‘64 and went to Servia, travelled about in Karpat all as I explain in my story about the Double. The Hospodar was killed in the beginning of 1868 I think (see Encylopaedia), when I was in Florence after Mentana and on my way to India with Master


—•— 152    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

from Constantinople. If you take as your ground to stand upon, my novel the “Double murder” then you are wrong. I knew the Gospoja and Frosya and the Princess Katinka and even the Gospoda Michel Obrenovitz far earlier. The paragraph in some Temeswar paper was given to me n 1872 (I believe) when I went from Odessa to Bukharest to visit my friend Mme. Popesco, and what had happened in Vienna was told to me after my incident with Gospoja using Frosya for it. Why every detail is true—so far as I am concerned and the actors in it. But I told you at Simla yet that though the details were true, I had made up these details and true personages into a story for the Sun (N. Y.) under the nom de plume of “Hadji Mora.” Every day people write really fictitious stories, beginning with “In 1800 so and so I was there or at another place” and invent the whole. I simply wrote facts, about personages known to me personally, and only instead of Frosya Popesco (another Frosya) who told me what had happened after I had seen the evocation, I put the author in her place and now Sellin comes out and cross examines me; and I tell him that I know the story to be true, he asks me—were you there? I say no, for I was on my way to India, but it was told to me and I made a story out of it. And now Sellin comes out and says “if you invented the story about ‘Double murder’ then you may have invented the Mahatmas.” I never gave my series of sensational stories in the N. Y. Sun—for infallible and Gospel truths. I wrote stories, on facts that happened hither and thither, with living persons, only changing names (not in the “Double Murder” though where I was fool enough to put real personages); and this was put up for me and arranged by Illarion and he says, and said again only that day I quarrelled with Sellin—“As every word of the evocation of Frosya by Gospoja is true, so the scenes in Vienna and double murder are true, as Madame Popesco told you.” I thought you knew it? Why you knew from the first that Mentana was Oct. 1867. I was in Florence about Christmas, perhaps a month before, when the poor Michael Obrenovitch was killed. Then I went from Florence to Antemari and toward Belgrad where in the mountains I had to wait (as ordered by Master) -- to Constantinople passing through Serbia and the Karpat mountains waiting for a certain he sent after me; and it is there that I met the Gospoja with Frosya about a month or two after the murder, I believe. All is true, except that I read the account of the “double murder” four years later from Madame Popesco, and in the story for sensation sake I put it a few days later at Temesvar—that’s all. And now Olcott pitches into me because he says “Oxley exposed the whole story as untrue, he applied to some British ambassador at Vienna, etc.” Well I wish both Olcott and Oxley


—•— 153    MENTANA   —•—

joy. The story is true. Only I was not going to publish the name of Madame Popesco who gave to me the last act and who had read it in some Vienna number immediately suppressed—and the name of Karageorgevitch’s relative whose attendants those two men were, to have a law suit on my back. That’s why I said I read it in a Temeswar coffee house, and even that was dangerous as I had named Karageorgevitch, whose son is now married to Zorka the Montenegrian Princess. Was I writing my diary or confessions, to be honour-bound to give the facts as they happened, years and names? Funny pretensions. It is like my Russian Letters from India, where while describing a fictitious journey or tour through India with Thornton’s Gazeteer as my guide, I yet give there true facts and true personages only bringing in together within three or four months time, facts and events scattered all throughout years as some of Master’s phenomena. Is it a crime that? Because Scott thought so. Why, if having been in Calcutta and Allahabad I have to write upon their antiquities—which I have seen myself—why shouldn’t I resort to Asiatic Researches and even Thornton’s Gazeteer for historical facts and details I could never remember myself. Is it considered a literary theft to refer to Encyclopaedias and guide books? I do not copy or plagiarise, I simply take them as my guides, safer than my memory. Please tell me also in the case of that “Double Murder” story of mine, am I a criminal for writing under “Hadji-Mora’s” name—a story, and then adding the only fictitious particular—namely that I read the paper myself, instead of what was true that Mad. Popesco gave it me to read in her diary into which she had copied that event, which putting dates together I considered as having happened on that same night? What do you think? It must be the Elementaries of Obrenovitch and Princess Katinka who bring me this trouble for using their names in such a story at all. Karma again. But I digress from your questions.

Please do not speak of Mentana and do not speak of MASTER I implore you. I did come back from India in one of early steamers. But I first went to Greece and saw Illarion, in what place I cannot and must not say. Then to Pirree and from that port to Speggia in view of which we were blown up. Then I went to Egypt, first to Alexandria, where I had no money and won a few thousand francs on the No. 27 -- (don’t put this) and—then went to Cairo where I stopped from Oct. or Nov. 1871 to April 1872, only four or five months, and returned to Odessa in July as I went to Syria and Constantinople first and some other places. I had sent Mad. Sebin with the monkeys before hand, for Odessa is only four or five days from Alexandria.

Went March 1873 from Odessa to Paris—stopped with my


—•— 154    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

cousin Nicolas Hahn (son of my uncle Gustave Hahn, father’s brother and the Countess Adlerberg his mother) at Rue de L’Universite 11, I believe; then in July the same year went as ordered to New York. From that time let the public know all. It’s all opened.

Oh—the Countess Kisseleff? Thanks. She is dead as a door nail for over 20 years I believe. Died at Rome with the Pope’s pardon and remittance of sins, for a pillow. Left millions and all her medium apparatuses, writing tables and tarots to the Church of Rome.

Well that’s all. Resumons.

It is simply impossible that the plain undisguised truth should be said about my life. Impossible to even touch upon the child. There’s the Baron Meyendorffs and all Russian aristocracy that would rise against me if in the course of contradictions (which are sure to follow) the Baron’s name should be mentioned. I gave my word of honour and shall not break it—TO THE DEAD.

Then from 17 to 40 I took care during my travels to sweep away all traces of myself wherever I went. When I was at Barri in Italy studying with a local witch—I sent my letters to Paris to post them from there to my relatives. The only letter they received from me from India was when I was leaving it, the first time. Then from Madras in 1857; -- when I was in South America I wrote to them through, and posted in London. I never allowed people to know where I was and what I was doing. Had I been a common p----- they would have preferred it to my studying occultism. It is only when I returned home that I told my aunt that the letter received from K. H. by her was no letter from a Spirit as she thought. When she got the proofs that they were living men she regarded them as devils or sold to Satan. Now you have seen her. She is the shyest, the kindest, the meekest individual. All her life her money and all is for others. Touch her religion and she becomes like a fury. I never speak with her about Masters.

Now they want to make out I never was in India even before 1879. In a work published some time ago—my sister’s Memoirs, in which every word is a fact she says on pp. 41-42: (I translate verbatim from the book before me) -- “The following autumn I returned with two baby sons (in 1859 to Russia) from Caucasus . . . I went to Pskoff. That winter I became witness to many most marvellous facts of a spiritualistic nature; but I shall not mention these since they are all given in the Rebus in my articles ‘Truth about H. P. Blavatsky.’ In those pages the author had forgotten to add, that though everyone considered the manifestations taking place in my sister’s presence as caused by the


—•—  155    H. P. B.  NEVER  A  MEDIUM   —•—

Spirits and through her mediumistic power, she herself has constantly denied it. My sister, H. P. Blavatsky, had passed most of her ten years of travelling (from 1850 to 1860) and absence from Russia in India, where, as it seems, spiritual theories are in great contempt; and the mediumistic manifestations, so called by us, are explained in that country as proceeding from a source, to drink from (or feed at which) my sister regards as lowering her human dignity, hence does not wish to recognise her powers as coming from such a source. 1 However it may be, and whatever the nature of that force which helps her to produce her manifestations, only during her stay with me at the T---- (Tahontoff) these phenomena took place constantly under the eyes of all, of those who believed and who disbelieved in them, leaving all and every one in the greatest amazement.”

Now this short para. and foot-note prove two things; that I was in India at some time between 1850 and 1860; and that even so far back as in 1860 and 1864 -- I had always maintained that it was no spirit power that moved and helped me, but our Masters and their chelas. This is shown from the conversations quoted in her “Truth” about me which you have, and what I now give is called “The Inexplicable and the Unexplained” from the personal and family Reminiscences by V. Jelihovsky. Now suppose I send you this little pamphlet, and that you should take it to Mme. Novikoff and kindly ask her to translate for you the marked paras. on pp. 41 and 42 with the foot-note. And having done so, that you should write to my sister in English a long letter (she speaks English better than I do), explaining to her the awful disgusting Hodgson’s pamphlet telling her how absolutely necessary it is that there should come out a defence. Mind you, you have (if you do write) [to] tell her how completely Hodgson denies all powers in me—and that he attributes as my motive for the vile ten-year long travesty and deception to political motives, my being a Russian spy. If you do write to her she can give you far more than my poor aunt who hates writing and feels sick at the whole thing already. But my sister is very combative, and fearless. If you tell her that Hodgson seeks to ruin my honour and reputation, etc. etc. she is capable of finding for you a whole array of eye witnesses of the highest names in Petersburg and

1  My sister, H. P. Blavatsky, as I see from letters received from her is very dissatisfied with me for not having explained in the “Truth about Mme. Blavatsky” the whole truth. She asserts now as then that quite another power influenced her then as it does now, namely the power acquired by the Hindu sages—the Raj-Yogis. She assures me that even the shadows, she used to see and saw during her whole life, were no ghosts or spirits of deceased persons but simply the astral bodies of her all-powerful Hindu friends.—V. JELIHOVSKY.


—•—  156    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

Pskoff, who will testify to the phenomena they have seen between 1860 and ‘62. This would be something. Ask her what she knows or heard of my powers when I was in Imeretia and Mingrelia in the virgin forests of Abhasia and the Black Sea Coast—whether people, independent princes and archbishops and nobility, did not flock from every where to ask me to heal and protect them, do this and the other. Only you must show her plainly that you of the L. L. the English Theosophists are and mean to remain true to me and defend me, but that she must help you by furnishing you with materials against the enemy. I can assure you she can. She is very vain and conceited and the opposite of me as Mohini can tell you. But she is very proud and if you only show her in what horrible position I am and appeal to her family pride and honour she will do anything. Otherwise, they (in Russia) are as bitter against you English as you are against them—now.

That’s all I can say. She was very angry with my aunt for giving out that letter of Mahatama K. H. and was furious with me for telling that story about the ancestor which she says is a family secret, “a skeleton in the family cupboard” or how is it, the expression? So you are warned. Simply tell her, that I have pointed out to you the passage from her latest pamphlet and that you would like her to tell you all she knows about me. She won’t make many compliments to me, I can assure you—unless your letter finds her in one of her gushing fits. If you want the pamphlet I will send it to you and you send it back, unless Mme. Novikoff (you could do it through Schmiechen or Mohini) could translate for you some of the wonderful occurrences in our family that I will mark. The Countess just returned from Munich. Goodbye. Answer,
                                                                                                                                                  Yours ever,
                                                                                                                                                                  H. P. B
                     My sincerest love to Mrs. Sinnett.



I send you the translation of these few pages from my sister’s pamphlet or book—as described on the pages that follow. Whether they will be of any use or not, they are still an addition to what you have. You will see there that (a) as early as 1860 I maintained that the shadows (or astral bodies) that came daily and constantly and walked about the house so unceremoniously as to be seen by every one (my father, whoever knew him—at any rate—cannot be taken for a credulous fool, and this is why I


—•—  157    THE COUNTESS  SEES  M.   —•—

translated that portion of her work that relates to him) -- were not sweet “spirits” but astral forms; (b) that it was no mediumship; (c) that I could have no confederates in my father’s house, where there was no one to help me, except my sister a bigot now with her St. Nicholas, her two babies, the governess of our younger sister, the latter, a child of ten years and myself. The rest—all serfs, trembling before my father who was very strict, and who certainly would not have consented to deceive and bamboozle their master. And there, no “Russian spy” theory, no motive can be found to explain facts at that time. There are hundreds of witnesses to these facts yet living—in Petersburg and Pskoff. I tell you, write to my sister and ask her to give some details as far as she remembers about my childhood.

Details about my marriage? Well now they say that I wanted to marry the old whistlebreeches myself. Let it be. My father was 4,000 miles off. My grandmother was too ill. It was as I told you. I had engaged myself to spite the governess never thinking I could no longer disengage myself. Well—Karma followed my sin. It is impossible to say the truth without incriminating people that I would not accuse for the world now that they are dead and gone. Rest it all on my back. There was a row already between my sister and aunt—the former accusing me of having slandered my dead relatives in the question of my marriage and that my aunt had signed their and her own condemnation. Let this alone. I know one thing: I cannot write the Secret Doctrine with all ------- I  constant agony about me. I know Hubbe, psychologised by Sel . . .I  is shaky. He is an unfortunate little nervous, weak man. Sellin made him believe that it was Olcott who cheated him with Mahatma’s letter in the railway carriage!! Unfortunate Olcott. Where’s the line of demarcation between his being a credulous fool and a knave! I saw Damodar last night, and the Countess sees constantly Master. Whenever I see him or listen to what He says—she asks, with her eyes staring at Him “What does He say?” She is a terrible clairvoyante. She tells me (this in strict confidence) that during her stay at the Gebhard’s last year and this one, they had a number of phenomena and saw Master. But that they had kept it back from yourself and the L.L. not to create gossip and in some cases envy. I did not thank her for such discretion. There’s something wrong going on at the Gebhards, I feel it. D. N. is terribly mad and quite likely, in order to screen his Master and the Matham in Tibet, to deny things and leave the same impression on them as he did on Hodgson, mixing up the dates purposely and refusing to give him correct information. It is this perpetual balancing

I  The original is damaged here.—ED.


—•—  158    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

on a tight rope between the abyss of divuldging that which is not lawful, and either telling what people call lies or being accused of having things to conceal—that has ruined the whole situation, and given a handle to the enemy. Ah, dear Mr. Sinnett, how well it would have been had we all never pronounced Masters’ names except in rooms with closed doors and doing as the Brahmin chelas do. You will read Hartmann’s “Theosophical Fable” and our answer to it sent to you with a few more explanations.

I hope this heart will last until I finish the Secret Doctrine. Have you thought well over the problem of sending my protest to the Times. Dangerous thing! Are the papers talking of it? There’s the whole danger. What can be done?

                                                                                            Yours, in blank idiotcy.
                                                                                                                                                                  H. P. B.



I send you a funny thing. Read the 3rd, 4th, & 5th & 6th lines. This is undeniably my handwriting. Kandhalavala copied it from my letter to him. When I received and saw it I was positively startled. Let me write it “staunch fearless friends whose devotion to Master and yourself has not wavered one hair’s breath”—I wrote it without looking at it, so as not to be impeded by the desire of copying it. Now I ask you, were such a letter a whole letter written in the same handwriting as these two ½ lines wouldn’t [you] swear it was my handwriting? Please put it carefully away and keep it. Why Kandhalavala should have copied that sentence in my handwriting I do not know. Once he had written three letters copied from my own and brought them to me and I swore to them myself, not knowing what he meant. I wish you would write to him and ask him if he could send you a whole letter if you think that those two lines would not be sufficient to submit to an expert. I am determined to collect about half a dozen of forged and as many letters written by myself, and submit them to the same experts. We will see whether they are not caught. For after all the only damaging really damning proof against me for the world lies in those letters. Judge will write a few letters in my handwriting and Judge Kandhalavala the other. I tell them these lines are in my handwriting and I, the first, would swear to them in any Court.

D. N. has gone mad. Another piece of news. Wrote two three crazy letters to the Countess, finally wrote one in which he calls me a traitor to the Masters, says “what Sellin is to Theosophy


—•— 159   D.  N.  NEARLY  MAD   —•—

that I am to Occultism,” that “H. P. B. is a dangerous woman,” he won’t trust me, and that if I come to him to Elberfeld he “will run away.” Wants the Countess, implores her to rush to Elberfeld by the next train—that the “Dweller on the Threshold” has come—that he is mad, dying, and will commit suicide etc. etc. The Countess of course rushed to Elberfeld and here I am once more alone! And she telegraphs to me “Arrived safely—Bowajee well!!!!! Now what’s this? The boy is a fanatic and driven to madness by what he calls the desecration of the Mahatmas. To save Their names he is ready to do anything—even to repudiating Them publicly I verily believe. Well, here we are and nothing to be done. Another calamity, Hartmann is writing my defence! He tells me he was ordered to defend me and now writes what I enclose. “You are perfectly innocent of any wilful imposture.” Is he going to make of me an irresponsible medium? That would be a last stroke to my reputation. What has he said to you? A third calamity. A letter from Buck, Cincinnati. Writes a few lines that I copy. “Can you tell me anything about the Society known as ‘H.B. of L.’ For the sake of the cause of the T.S. in this country send me anything you can on the subject. You can put it in two or three hasty lines, and I particularly desire to know whether Mrs. Kingsford is ‘officially or otherwise connected with it.’ P. Davidson is its outside figurehead. Is the Society he represents old or new? false or true? etc.”
                                                                            Yours sincerely,
                                                                                                     J. D. B
                                                                                                               136, W. EIGHTH STREET,
                                                                                                                                         CINCINNATI, O.,
                                                                                                                                                      U.S. AMERICA.

Now what do I know! Do you? It is evident there’s some new treachery emanating from the fair Anna. For mercy sake get information and write him through Mohini if you do not wish to do so yourself. It is very important.

What next? Yes Times—I KNEW they would not publish my letter and really it is for the best. If they did or do, you will see what new vituperation it will bring. Outside of the Psychists, Theosophists and Spiritualists, no one will read the Report and the Times is universal. However, I have placed myself in your hands entirely.

1. My own sister is three years younger than I am (Mdme. Jelihovsky).

2. Sister Lisa is by father’s second wife, he married in 1850 I believe a Baroness von Lange. She died two years after. Lisa was born I believe in 1852 -- am not sure, but think I am right. My Mother died when my brother was born 6 months after in


—•— 160    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

1840 or 1839 -- and this I can’t tell. For mercy sake do not name her—what have the poor dead to do with all this vile thing called phenomena and H. P. B.!

3. Writing in French we Russians sign de before our names if noblemen of the “Velvet Book”. In Russian—unless the name is German when they put von—the de is dropped. We were Mademoiselles de Hahn and von Hahn now—I would not put the de and never did to my Blavatsky name, though the old man was of a high noble family of the Ukraine—from the Hetmann Blavatko, becoming later Blavatsky in Russia and in Poland Count Blavatsky. What more? Father was a Captain of Horse Artillery when he married my mother. Left service after her death, a Colonel. Was in the 6th Brigade and came out a Sous Capitaine already from the Corps des Pages Imperiaux. Uncle Ivan Aleksievitch von Hahn was Director of the Ports of Russia in St. Petersburg. Married first to the demoiselle d’honneur—Countess Kontouzoff, and then en secondes noces another old maid of honour (a very stale one) Mdle. Chatoff. Uncle Gustave married first Countess Adlerberg—then the daughter of General Bronevsky etc. etc. I need not be ashamed of my family, but am of being “Mdme. Blavatsky,” and if you can make me naturalised in Great Britain and become Mrs. Snookes or Tufmutton I will “kiss hands” as they say here. I do not joke. Otherwise I cannot return to India.

I am hard on S. D. What will come out of it I do not know but facts, facts and facts are heaped in it all relating to Christian robbery and theft.                                                              Yours alone and shivering,
                                                                                                               H. P. B.
            Love to Mrs. Sinnett and yourself.


              See my writing on the                                                                                                                                       POONA,
              3, 4, and 5 lines.
2                                                                                                                                     29th December, 1885.


Yours of the 19th October reached me duly. We are all very glad indeed to hear that you have found in Europe “what you vainly searched for in India”—“staunch, fearless friends—whose devotion to Master and yourself has not wavered one hair’s breath. 3 It seems that we poor Indians in the eyes of yourself and the Masters, have lost all the little merit we ever possessed

The letter of Kandhalavala mentioned by H. P. B. in the previous letter—ED.
2 This sentence is in H. P. B.’s handwriting.—
3   This is apparently a perfect replica of H. P. B.’s own writing.—


—•— 161    THE OPINION  OF  A  HINDU   —•—

and yet I believe your friends in India are the better gold for all the fault that you may find with them. It is one thing for those to profess implicit belief in you who have not to face a dire scandal, and quite a different thing to live in the midst of daily calumny and unflinchingly do our duty towards those we love without making a fuss or writing about our inner convictions to a prejudiced public, particularly when we cannot muster sufficient facts to give the lie to a scandal which only the Mahatmas could refute.

You are scarcely aware what a difficult task we had when the alleged letters appeared. Poor Sassoon wavering and ready to side with the public. Ezekiel’s brother impatient to rush into print with a lot of matter collected haphazard from the conversation they had with you and scarcely knowing whether he was going to do you or Sassoon harm. Ezekiel scarcely remembering all the details and I knowing nothing as to what actually happened during your two visits. In spite of all that, I made the best of the situation and sent two letters signed by Ezekiel to The Times of India which greatly restored the peace of mind of our fellows and sympathisers. It was the Poona Branch that did the most to restore confidence and at best a hundred members if not more have been kept perfectly steady by me. Last year at the convention they were just about to make a mess by rushing into the arms of the law. I had intuitively grasped the real danger that lay before us from the very first day of the publication of those blessed letters and in spite of all difficulties I came to Adyar and helped along with others to avoid a course which would have sealed the fate of the Society and overwhelmed us with eternal ruin and shame. Whatever the truth—it was not in a Court of Justice that you were to have it.

If you want to know the plain truth it is this, that belief in you has not been altogether shaken but the . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1



There’s the copy of Moorad Ali—who died raving mad, of Bishen-lal and other vain, weak, and selfish characters—who end at the first temptation as raving madmen or commit suicide. The three charges brought by Bowajee are infamous lies. What I wrote to the Hindu or some Hindu was that Col. O. did not know Master as well as I did; that he had never seen him as I have,

1  The remainder of the letter is missing.—ED.


—•— 162    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY  —•—

in body once and the rest of the time in astral or maya shape therefore—etc. that’s all. This is now disfigured. Charge (2). Never have I nor poor Col. done such an infamy. Bowajee says that what even Hodgson did not dare to say—namely that I had used Masters’ names for filthy money-matters. I shall write to Hurrissingjee and ask him to send me a certificate to the effect.

On the contrary when he wanted to spend Rs. 10,000 on a shrine, and give some thousands to the Society and that stupid Temple of Religions or something, I told him in Master’s name not to do it; and I know Mahatma K. H. wrote to him not to spend his money on such things; that if he wanted to do anything let him bring his son to Adyar. He did not bring him—and the child died. Now this madman knows it all and yet disfigures facts, has dishonoured O. and me before the Gebhards far worse than Hodgson ever could. Well, it is all my fault again. I ought to have said to you, at least, the truth that he had been repudiated and sent away by the Master for something I cannot tell. But, as Master in His extreme kindness told me to be kind to him, I was, and loved him as I love Mohini. The boy turns to be a wild beast, an unprincipled liar, and if he comes to London I will keep no longer silent screening a chela as I have—though a fallen chela. 3rd charge. My heart felt it; what, is it the few lines that Master wrote on a letter to you? I knew nothing of it and did not want to know and this is brought against me as a new charge.

My dear Mr. Sinnett, the Society is as good as dead. It is he, who psychologised the Arundales and all in London, and it is he who, to get his revenge will turn them all back and ruin it. IT IS DEAD now in Europe and no mistake. I do not care for my reputation, I cared for the Cause and Masters. They remain with me, and Their Cause and Society he buried under a heap of dirt. Franz has found a fetish, and worships it. Well, LIAR FOR LIAR, if I am to be taken for one; impostor for impostor, he is the biggest of the two. But behold—the Occult laws—behold Karma and the result of desecrating the mysteries, of desecrating holy names. I have explained in my letter to the Gebhards and Countess the injustice of their suspicions—I have shown it—and can do no more. I am lost for ever for the Society, and the Society is dead in Europe: I have resigned every connection with the European Societies and say good-bye to you all.
                                               Leave me to my fate.
                                                                                                                           H. P. B.


—•— 163    COL.  OLCOTTS  “TEMPLE  OF  HUMANITY”   —•—




When the first letters had gone to you the Countess who had told me that D. N. boasted of having in his possession a document to prove our criminal forgery of a letter of Mah. K. H. asking for money and promising to cure a son of Hurrissingjee, 1 I sat thinking what could be his foundation for such a horrid lie. Then the idea flashed upon me that about 3 months ago, when I received a letter from Hurrissingjee (the copy of which I now enclose for you to keep safely till need comes to use it  2 )-- D. N. who read all my letters was furious. He then raved against Olcott and I was mad too. For it was his fault, his eternal American flapdoodle and idiotic plans and schemes for Adyar. This is what took place: --

You have perhaps heard, that Hurrissingjee (Thakur of Baunagar’s cousin) took it into his head to build a shrine for the portraits of the two Masters and meant to spend over it 10,000 rupees. He several times asked Master; He would not answer. Then he asked Olcott, who bothered Mah. K. H. through Damodar, as I had refused point blank to put such questions to Masters. Then the Mahatma answered “Let him talk with the chelas about it I do not care” or something to that effect. Well Damodar and Chundra Coosho I think and others went to work to make a plan of the shrine. Even the dirty Coulomb, was called in for his draughtsman’s capacities. We were in Europe then. But as soon as we were gone came the Coulomb row. When we returned, Hurrissingjee, to show that the exposure had no effect on him, wanted to sell a village and build the shrine quand meme. The day after my return Mahatma told me to write to Hurrissingjee that He expressly forbid spending such amount of money. That it was useless and foolish. So I wrote. Then came the anniversary and Hurrissingjee sent a delegate for himself as he was sick. When the superlatively idiotic idea of a Temple of Humanity or Universal Brotherhood came into Olcott’s pumpkin, the delegate, when the others were subscribing, was asked by Olcott and he said (in full convention in the Pandala before hundreds of people, “I believe His Highness wants to subscribe Rs. 1,000 --“ I said to Olcott “too much—it’s a shame”—but he pitched into me for my trouble and as I was then sitting there in the light of a prisoner in dock—I shut up. Well; Olcott came

1 “Unfortunately he said to the Countess that he had left it at Wurzburg, and asked her not to tell me as I would hunt for and destroy it!”
2   see Letter No. LXVa.—ED.


—•— 164    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

one day and said, “Do ask Master to permit me to have money (generally) subscribed for the Temple.” So I sent his temple and himself to a hot place and said I would not. Then he went to Damodar, and D.—asked I think, for two or three days after I heard through Damodar that the prohibition to Hurrissingjee of spending money on such flapdoodles had been removed and that Hurrissingjee had a letter to that effect. I remember as though it was to day Dj. Khool’s voice laughing and saying “He will catch it with his temple, the gallant Colonel.” Next time D. K. I asked why was the prohibition removed when the very idea of the temple was stupid, and some people went against it. He said—“Well you ought to know that when there is a strong desire on both sides Masters never interfere. They cannot prevent people from hanging themselves.” I paid no great attention to these words then, I thought they referred to the foolishness of the “temple.” I understand them now.

Three or four months ago I received from Hurrissingjee the letter the copy of which is enclosed. This is the great document and proof of our joint crime. Mr. D. N. said on reading it that Col. Olcott alone desecrated Master’s name by mixing them with money matters and I agreed with him. Now he comes out, and says that I must have precipitated that letter since the Master (he KNOWS it!!) could never condescend to mix his name with such a disgusting money-matter, “sons” and other things. Now I ask you what is there of so incriminating in the words of Master as quoted by Hurrissingjee? He had foolishly attributed the birth of his son to the Master’s “blessings.” He had bothered Master to permit him to subscribe at least for a bit of the “Temple” if not for a whole shrine and received these words in answer. “If you so rejoice over the birth of a son—then you may, if you choose subscribe, and then one day you may be able to bring to us also your son.” What have I to do with this? -- Does Master guarantee his life in them? Master ordered him to come to Adyar and bring his newly born son there foreseeing that the malaria in Bhownuggar would kill the baby if he remained. This was said beforehand. Hurrissingjee never brought his son, never gave anything towards the temple (very luckily) -- and wrote me this desperate and foolish letter. But now, when according to D. N.’s theory Hurrissingjee was terribly mad with us for it—this same mad prince, was at the Anniversary and subscribed 2,000 rupees toward expenses at Adyar, and see how reverentially he writes to me. Well keep this “damaging” document if you please, in case of my death, or to confound Mr. D. N. He has made a horrible cruel mischief but I pity him. I had no answer yet from him to my threats to expose him. Very likely he will



give me back “cheek” and impudence. I am prepared for all. I have indeed become a corpse inside and now come what may.
                                                                                                                                                           H. P. B.

Please do not lose “letter” and keep it, I found it in a drawer where all my letters are kept by D. N. and this copy was taken by him at my desire for I sent the original to Olcott to blow his American brains with.
                                                                                                                                                      Yours again,
                                                                                                                                                                  H. P. B.


                                                                                                                                                               31st July, ‘85.


We have to thank you very much for the Samovar which you were kind enough to bring for us from Europe. Our Respected President has already forwarded it to us and we have kept it as a table ornament thinking it too sacred for use.

Of course you must have heard through the Hdqrs., about the deaths of Mirzan Moorad Ally and our brother Daji Raj, the Thakore Saheb of Wadhinan. We all are sorry for the latter, as he was too young to die and though perverse at times was yet a Theosophist. Our revered Madame, you also know that through the blessings of Those whom we revere and worship my wife got a son on the 27th of last November. We all rejoiced at the event but when Guru Deva K. H. wrote to me the following lines about him—“Since you rejoice so over the birth of a son of your hopes that is sent to you, you may on his behalf if you choose subscribe towards a temple of Universal Brotherhood,” x x and again “One day you may be able to bring to us also your son”—our joy was really boundless. We imagined he was in his former birth some great personage and looked upon him with great concern mingled no doubt with respect. We had no idea that his life was to be so short and would thereby my wife’s life be rendered more wretched than ever; as before the birth of our son she was at ease, happy and contented with her lot. Would it that he was not sent to us. We who have not attained the heights of Aparokshagnamam cannot in this Ashram understand the intricate webs woven by the laws of inexorable Karma.

Somehow or other our Branch seems very unlucky in its Presidents. The first died in insanity, the second by consumption, whilst I myself the third am now suffering the loss of an only son.

We, who are staunchly devoted to Them, had no idea that


—•— 166    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

such a calamity was in our lot. We thought we all were under Their protection. He was sure to die sooner or later. But we feel that we have not yet been fully worthy of Their protection. Our Karma!

We intend building a villa at Headquarters and passing the remainder of our lives in the service of the Theos. Society. Of course, we are not going to sell our villages at present. In this we follow the advice of our Blessed Master K. H. A word from you will be a great consolation to us both as it will afford soothing balm to our wounds.
                                                          Hoping you are in an excellent health,
                                                                                          I remain, Revered Madame
                                                                                                                Yours ever devotedly
                                                                                      (Signed)              H
                                                                                                                              (True Copy) B


Secret and Private.


I have humbled and brought him down—send you his letter to read and keep for me. He knows well that only through my efforts and prayers can he be forgiven by MY MASTER who will influence and ask Mahatma K. H. to forgive him what he has done four years ago and what he has done now. He is cured I believe. It cost me a terrible effort to health, my conscience and a new record on my Karma but I have SAVED THE SOCIETY. No matter, let me suffer torture and die a slow death—let only the T.S. be saved and Their names glorified later on, if not now. The little wretch would commit suicide if I were not to forgive him. He is really devoted to Masters and in terrible fear of Them now. And really I believe it was a remnant on him of his grandmother’s sorcery that comes occasionally upon him. Poor fellow. I now pity him, it is so hard to be on probation. The temptations are so terrible! But I beg of you to keep his secret—not to let him know that you are aware he is not the one that came to you the first time. Not to say one word if you would not raise the devil in him once more. Let us keep this letter of his as a threat never to be used I hope against the poor boy. You understand now why he so avoided you, was in such dread of meeting you. Please call Mohini and take his word of honour not to let Bowaji know that I sent you his letter. Let him read it, and ponder over. Too much adulation have spoiled both.


—•— 167    D.  N.  A  FANATIC   —•—

And my pitching into both as a contrast between me and the veneration of others has made D. N. hate me. But now he repents, I think sincerely, let us drop it, for even he may be very useful to the poor Society in its present troubles. But for all of you theosophists, it must be a new proof that though the Masters cannot interfere with regular Karma, They can and will interfere always at the last and supreme danger, and it was the greatest of all—on account of the personal influence of the boy as a supposed, personal, accepted, and regular chela of the Masters. In this I am not to be blamed. I only carried out the orders of silence and had he behaved discreetly he would be by this time a real regular chela, though certainly not as much so as the real Dharb. Nath.

                                                                                                                   Yours ever
                                                                                                                                 H. P. B.
                                                                                                                            with a lighter heart.

I still adhere to my first idea that he must be prevented from coming to London.


Private and Confidential.


There’s news for you enclosed. Please keep it quiet and do not mention it even to Mohini. Here is where danger lies, not in what Hodgson or Coulomb can say. Here’s a fanatic for you of the blackest dye. You do not know yet those Southern Brahmins. D. N. is capable of what he threatens at any moment. he is capable of taking upon himself murder, accuse himself of lying and having helped to INVENT the Masters, of anything. He is an occult Nero quite capable of burning Rome and burying himself under its remains. He says the attempt of this century is a dead failure and accuses ME of desecrating the Masters, and all Europeans of the same. In one sense he is not wrong. Only he miscalculates, inasmuch such an outbreak of fanaticism that sacrifices himself, country, friends all to save his MASTER’S name—is just that which proves the existence of the Master he tries to obliterate from people’s minds.

Well, there it is. I have suspected it for months. The fiend of fanaticism has possessed himself of the unfortunate boy and we are all hanging on a thread. What a triumph for Hodgson if he carries out his threats! Told you all this many a time. Said to you this even at Simla. And remember, things have come to that point that THE MASTERS are looking on and will not stir a


—•— 168    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

finger to prevent the smallest thing. Karma is raging and everyone has to work the best he can and knows how. But do not write to the Gebhards or any one I told you. Do not for mercy sake, as otherwise you will only precipitate matters. Leave the Countess and myself to act upon him soothingly.
                                                                                                                              H. P. B.



Enclosed two letters—one famous and phenomenally brought by the Countess. To make it short. What Babaji’s little game is:

(1) To make away with all phenomena.
(2) To show that the philosophy given out by you through Mah. K. H. is false, misunderstood, and that what he (Babaji) preaches now is the only true one.
(3) Having no other means to discredit the past he throws suspicions on all phenomena. Declares that: --
(a) No letters or notes could have ever been written by Masters.
(b) That They can never appear as you will find now the Gebhards believing.
(c) That what the Countess saw was not Master but an Elemental evoked by my powers—I—a sorceress.
(d) That Masters have not blamed him yet—therefore he is right etc. These are his chief points. Now—

Last night as I was answering the Gebhards (see letter opened by the Countess for you) and was at the end—the Countess sitting on the arm of the big arm chair and looking over. I had not come to the words about the phenomenon produced through D. N. Babaji at Torre del Greco before the Bergens and was thinking, trying to recollect the circumstances well, so that he could not get rid of the fact that hardly a few months since he was himself heart and soul in the phenomena line. I was doubtful describing the scene, whether the Gebhards so much under his influence would believe me. I felt depressed and miserable. When suddenly the Countess arose and went into the drawing room. A minute after she reenters and says, “Look here what I have found! Master’s voice told me go there (drawing room) open third drawer and you will find a letter beginning with ‘My dear Mohini’ written by Babaji.” It was a letter I had no idea of! A letter which will prove to the Gebhards that if he (D. N.) regarded the


—•— 169    INSTRUCTIONS  TO  SINNETT  RE  D. N.   —•—

Masters’ letters with such veneration then—then nothing had happened since that any one should regard Masters’ letters now as “Spook letters”—and that if I am to be considered a fraud then he must be my accomplice. How glad I was I can hardly tell you! I copied it for the Gebhards to send the original to you. Keep it, with care—it is the weightiest proof against D. N.’s changed feelings. He speaks in it even of Chunder Cushoo—of his receiving direct letters from Master etc. He says he was made many times by his Master (K. H.) to deliver letters to Olcott—never yet by my guru.—etc. Then came Master’s voice the words that will be copied for you by the Countess. He says: No—we do not approve (gave his real name and I replaced it by that of Babaji). Now, if you will follow a fool’s advice do the following. When you have read his letter (D. N.’s to Mohini, a friend to whom he was not likely to say lies, or deceive him, as proof of great weight) -- write to D. N. the following. Say that you know his little game—which is evident! to overthrow His Master’s philosophy and doctrines and to set up his Ethics in their place. (Ethics of which he knows still less!) That you know that he assumed the name of the real Dharb. Nath.—the latter only willing to go to Simla and he waiting at Darjeeling (his perfect picture!); that you know that he told you, and others  I  besides what he was ordered to say—a pack of lies, and is thus guilty of having acted under false pretences; that he acted again under false pretences at Bombay and everywhere else, and that unless he goes back to India immediately you shall use your influence as an Englishman to bring him before the law, which as he knows recognises no phenomena—frighten him. He will not be able to prove that it was he in Darjeeling and another at Simla. He will be frightened. This one was a chela only three months old when he came to live with us. I cannot tell you all now, but will as soon as we either fall and die as a Society or remain firm and unshaken. But what is needed is—the threat that you knowing his (supposed) imposture at Simla, and his real one at Madras and elsewhere are mistaken. Of course we can do nothing here without a scandal for ourselves—but in India he would find himself terribly frightened—if he thinks you will write about him to authorities in Madras and elsewhere. Frighten him, and make the thing easy for him to change and become harmless by adding that you promise him if he recants his evil lies never to open your mouth about him not even to the Gebhards. But that if he attempts to come to London, or Munich or remain long in Europe that you will expose him. This letter of his to Mohini I now send you that you may even show him and tell him what I advise you but do not tell I told you, because

I   I do not know whether he spoke with you at Madras?


—•— 170    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

he would repeat it to Babaji. Frighten, poor dear Mohini and make him see the horror of Babaji’s charges. Well, do the best you can.

                                                                                                                                                            H. P. B.


                                                                                                    POST OFFICE TELEGRAPHS.
Handed in at WURZBURG.                                                                                                                                                             Received Jan. 29.
INNETT, 7, Ladbroke Gardens Kensington London

Chela repents swears devotion do not write to him keep silent till letters explain. Upasika


Please keep this strictly private.


My telegram was fruitless then—so be it. You are on a false track and have committed un faux pas. You misunderstood me. He has as much right to call himself Dharbagiri Nath, as “Babaji.” There is—a true Dh. Nath, a chela, who is with Master K. H. for the last 13 or 14 years; who was at Darjeeling, and he is he of whom Mahatma K. H. wrote to you at Simla. For reasons I cannot explain he remained at Darjeeling. You heard him ONCE, you never saw him, but you saw his portrait his alter ego physically and his contrast diametrically opposite to him morally, intellectually and so on. Krishna Swami’s, or Babaji’s deception does not rest in his assuming the name, for it was the mystery name chosen by him when he became the Mahatma’s chela; but in his profiting of my lips being sealed; of people’s erroneous conceptions about him that he, this present Babaji was a HIGH chela whereas he was only a probationary one and now cast off (of which he knows nothing yet, as I am told, and ordered to tell you privately and confidentially, never to him, as he would either commit suicide, or RUIN THE SOCIETY IN HIS REVENGE). Now do not ask me anything more, for if I had to be hung, publicly whipped, tortured I would not, never would dare tell you anything more. You speak of “deceptions,” mysteries, and concealments in which I ought “never to be involved.” Very easily said by one, who is not under the obligation of any pledge or vow. I wish you, with your European notions of truthfulness and “code of honour” and this and that would try for one fort-


—•— 171    THE  LAWS  OF  OCCULTISM   —•—

night. Now choose: -- either to proclaim the little you do know, and that I was permitted to let you know for your own guidance—and thus throw one more shadow of opprobrium upon the blessed Masters—upon Mahatma K. H. who introduced to you and recommended His own chela—and will be regarded also as a deceiver, a liar, one who palmed off upon you a probationer of one year, making you believe he was a favourite chela of his having lived with him for ten years—or keep it secret, for people will never understand the whole truth, not even the Spiritualists. Tell a Spiritualist—that a Spirit, a “dear departed one” got into some medium who thus personated that “departed spirit” his very features assuming for the time being the exact likeness of that Spirit—and every Spir.ist will believe and support you. Tell them that one living D. N. came to you at Simla, and another living D. N. the prototype of the first remained at Darjeeling and still remains and lives now even to this day with the Masters—and people will call us all liars, deceivers, and humbugs.

Yet all this would be nothing—in comparison with the new sacrilege—with a loud or even implied inference that a MAHATMA whoever he may be had acted deceitfully in the matter. It is that ignorance of Occult transactions that gave such a hold to Hodgson and Massey and others. It is my obligatory absolute silence that now forces me to live under the shower of people’s contempt. It is to be or not to be: we Occultists devoted to Masters have either to put up with Their laws and orders, or part company with Them and Occultism. I know one thing, that if it came to the worst and Master’s truthfulness and notions of honour were to be impeached—then I would go to a desperate expedient. I would proclaim publicly that I alone was a liar, a forger, all that Hodgson wants me to appear that I had indeed INVENTED the Masters and thus would by that “myth” of Master K. H. and M. screen the real K. H. and M. from opprobrium. What saved the situation in the Report was that the Masters are absolutely denied. Had Hodgson attempted to throw deception and the idea that They were helping, or encouraging or even countenancing a deception by Their silence—I would have already come forward and proclaimed myself before the whole world all that was said of me and disappeared for ever. This I swear “BY MASTER’S BLESSING OR CURSE”—I will give a 1000 lives for Their honour in the people’s minds. I will not see THEM desecrated.

Now do as you please. I asked you by telegraph not to say or write anything to Bowaji. Now he has a hold on us not we on him by that accusation; for he is cunning enough to know that whatever you, and the Countess and I know to be the truth\


—•— 172    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

•          the world in general will not believe it, and that such theosophists as the Gebhards for instance would only have to choose between his word and mine. And he has so prejudiced them against Olcott and myself and the phenomena and even your Esoteric Buddhism doctrines, he has so psychologised them into the belief that I am psychologising the Countess and yourself—that it will be a terrible work to undo what he has done.

Mohini is sure to take his defence as a Hindu; and now that he is himself in trouble may side with him (Bowaji) though I do not know for certain, it all depends upon whether Mohini is guilty or not in the Leonard case. If he is—then he is a ruffian and a hypocrite capable of anything. If he is not then he is a martyr. You see I am kept entirely in the dark about him, Mohini. What do I know about him, his real inner life except what the Masters allow me, know and tell me? He may be the blackest villian and Masters have cast him off as a probationer long ago—for what I know. But I do hope he is innocent for I have a great affection for him more than he knows. I am so lonely, so miserable in my earthly human affections that having lost all those I love—through death and the T.S. associations (my sister, for one, who writes me a thundering letter calling me a renegade a “sacrilegious Julian the Apostate,” and a “Judas” to Christ) I love the two boys. Well I feel Mohini is all right morally, but oh God if he stops in London long he is lost.

Well, please a bit of business. I have absolute need of Mohini for S. D. and the glossary of Sanskrit words and other things unless he comes, or copies, all such words from MSS that I will send to you. I can never be ready by next autumn and this work is another kind of a “hairpin” than Isis. There are more secrets of initiation given out in the Introductory Chapt. than in all Isis. And what comes after is still more interesting. But I am utterly miserable about its mechanical arrangement. I have written and rewritten about twenty times this blessed Chapt. I have cut off and shifted the paras: and passages and sections and sub-sections until I am sick of it. Fancy Masters giving out the secret of the “Divine Hermaphrodite” even! and so on.

Please now keep Bowaji’s secret. I send you his letter of to-day—copies from yours to him and his to you. Please compare carefully his original and this copy, for I have reasons to believe that he has added something in the copy in which I find plenty of his fibs. But never mind—he is right to call the charge of the name D. N. being a false one “a fib—“ for it was never meant so. What I said and repeat is that he is not the real D. N., the Chela who lived with his Master for so many years. Yet he is a


—•— 173    D.  N.  A.  “CHELA “   —•—

Chela so long as Masters have not proclaimed publicly and through the Theosophist that he has failed—and, he is D. N. this being as he truly says—his “mystery name.”
                                                                                                                                                                                           H. P. B.

I have a letter from Russia, Moscow, offering me if I leave the Antichrist (!!) T.S. one thousand roubles in gold (5,000 francs) monthly and a contract for several years to write exclusively for two papers. I wish they may get it.



I told you not to say one word about D. N. I cannot say a little, without saying all to the world if you make it public. And if I do, then the L.L. will indeed be smashed if even Bowaji and I are smashed with it. Bowaji has a right according to Hindu custom to assume any “Mystery” name he chooses—even though there may be another man of the same name. You alone know a little, or may suspect, having heard it mentioned and rumoured in India that there are two D. N.’s. But I cannot prove it, without bringing out all I was ORDERED to keep silent upon. When (Oh Lord, when!) shall you realise that our laws and rules are not your (European) laws and rules! Now please do as I tell you in this case if you would not bring another and a worse scandal upon our heads.

I have received a letter from Miss Arundale who says that Bowaji is coming as their “private guest” on Sunday—today—now, when you are reading this letter. The only way to save the situation is for you to send for Miss Arundale and give her the enclosed letter for her and read it with her, and then show her the letter of the Countess to you, which she says she gave you permission to (have you not received her letter to this effect?). Let Miss Arundale, so devoted to the Cause and Masters know all you know under pledge of secrecy so far. Let her, if the little man is there already, tell him its all right and let him keep quiet, and then watch him and see what he says and does. If he keeps quiet, and does no harm why should we harm him? He is a chela, of whatever colour—and it is His Master’s look out, not our business to reject and spurn him. For mercy and pity sake do not drive me to a desperate act. I do not care any more for my reputation. I only care to have Their holy names unsullied in the hearts of the few Theosophists who know Them, believe in them, and honour Them, whatever my mistakes and faults and


—•—  174    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

the treacherous doings of other persons. But to keep them so unsullied, I shall have to resort to a desperate act now that the boy will be driven also to despair for an act that he has done, indeed, in a fit of madness. You are too “matter of fact” my dear Mr. Sinnett, and this is your mistake in all theosophical matters. Do consult with Miss A. and do remember that the things of our occult world are not to be measured by the standards of your world.
                 In haste,
                                                                                                                                                             H. P. B.



It is again my fault, my inaccuracy in expressing myself. I ought to have written “He assumed the attitude of the real D. Nath. Besides what he was ordered to say—a pack of lies (useless as an object); and if the whole truth were told, he would be (found) guilty (by the uninitiated world and every profane) of false pretences.” And so it would be. I do not make an immaculate being of him by far, even from the standpoint of the Occult World I am talking about, no more than I am immaculate. But I say that if he had the right to call himself Dharb. Nath he had no right to abuse of this position by assuming an attitude which only the real Dh. Nath would have the right to assume, and which he never would, however. He knows and realises it fully—that’s why I have subdued him. And it is just because he is also alive to the fact that “mixed up with a European movement, tanglements of this sort are (not only apt, but sure) to produce evil—that I could frighten him, and thus save the Esot: doctrine, our teachings and the whole from a new scandal and on false charges (in the occult) and quite correct ones in the worldly, deceptive light that represents everything upside down. The Countess knows all -- (excepting one thing she must not know); and she says that were even the whole truth to be known I would never be blamed because I only did my duty to Masters; and that he took advantage of the position assigned to him temporarily—to harm me and the Cause, and several Theosophists, who see in him the real, instead of the reflection of Dh. N. the high chela. I too was made a reflection several times and during months; but I never abused of it, to try and palm off my personal schemes on those who mistook H. P. B. of Russia, for the high Initiate of xxx whose telephone she was at times. And this why the MASTERS have never withdrawn Their confidence from me, if all others (saving a very few) have. My position is simply infernal,



HORRID—because I, as a European born and having been brought up as much as any one else in the worldly notions of truth and honour—have to put up with the full appearances of fraud and deception with regard to my best friends—to those I love and honour most. But such is the result of serving the Occult and having to live in the profane and public world. Solovioff has turned round against me like a mad dog—for reasons as mysterious as they can be for me. He pretends that I did pronounce the words I hear for the first time “Ah le coquin, c’est la seconde fois qu’il nous joue ce tour la,” etc. when I know that I could have never pronounced them, that they would be an infernal lie, if I had, for Mohini, to my knowledge, has never been untrue to his chelaship since he joined the Society—as to what he did before I care little and it is none of my business. He may have raped and seduced 20 virgins from 10 to 80 years respectively, including his own grandmother. There are no immaculates in our Society, and if we took in only such that there would remain in it—void and nihil, instead of living members. What I remember to have said to Solovioff—not on that day when I opened the letter but at some other time, is something I cannot repeat to poor Mohini. Speaking of the good the Society had done in the name of the Masters I told him what a profligate, sensualist and drunkard Mohini’s father was, and how he had now become a regular Yogi. Whether he misunderstood or disfigured this intentionally I do not know—but if the latter then coupling this with some dirty stories told of Mohini by Hodgson he must have mixed up all and brought it as an evidence against him to please Mme. de Morsier. I wish the Paris Society and a half of the German were smashed. And if it goes on—I will smash them myself, as ordered. Solovioff is mad with me for his unsuccess of what you know and what I told you. But I confide and trust in your honour not to repeat it, nor anything I tell you here. Mr. Sinnett—you are my last, real male friend in Europe. If you were to despise me—I would commit suicide I think. I have learnt to feel for you that which I thought I never would for an Englishman, or a Russian either. I forgive England—for your sake. And Masters honour you in Their hearts I KNOW.
                                                                                                                                                                    Yours ever,
                                                                                                                                                                                    H. P. B.



Your draft for Times is excellent. I was ready to copy and send it—when suddenly a horrible idea flashed through my mind. Now, however great the scandal—it does reach only those


—•— 176    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

interested in the phenomena. Suppose my letter is printed in The Times (why I doubt it I cannot say, but I do). Called in it base and accused of ungentlemanly behaviour, all the S.P.R. will pounce upon me and Replies with further slander and calumnies will pour upon me in The Times. Everyone will have a word to say. The Times are universally read—therefore the new slanders or maintaining of the old ones will be given still further publicity. What shall I do then? The Times will refuse printing lengthy replies to all and then I will be again worsted and then indeed publicly dishonoured. Think of it and telegraph Yes or No; or only in the case you do want me still to send it to The Times. My idea was to print the Protest and circulate it widely among Theosophists and Spiritualists and especially in India to make them feel how unfairly I have been dealt with. Please consult about it and reply. My heart turns against The Times as something very dangerous for me. Who am I, poor unfortunate old Russian—helpless and defenceless, and see the power they are. It is only you who can fight them with impunity. I care not for the world’s opinion in general. But I care a good deal about the opinion of those who know me. This protest might be even more strongly written, if it goes only in the Theosophist and is circulated among those who read the Report. Do as you like. You know best and I put myself entirely into your hands,
                                                                                                                                  Yours ever gratefully,
                                                                                                                                                              H. P. B


I think your letter an excellent one, but I tremble at the thought of putting it in The Times. In the first place it will circulate the existence of these slanders and calumnies all over the world and then will come virulent and bitter replies. Massey, Myers and all of them. However you are an Englishman and know the ways of the world well, so think it all calmly over in your own mind, weigh the results and then give your answer. Were only the spy business concerned it would be excellent. But think of the replies, how they will drag in forged letters etc., how they will call upon her to produce her innocence in a Court of Law—think it well over and then let us know. Madame leaves herself entirely in your hands.

Now about her Memoirs, three things should certainly be omitted in them, first the adopted child as there are many who can bring unpleasant family secrets to light on that point – again

I   This communication in the handwriting of Countess W. has been added to H. P. B.’s letter.—ED.


—•— 177    MEDICAL  EVIDENCE  ON  H. P. B.   —•—

Madame’s travelling about so much in men’s clothes. Is there not a law in England to punish women who do such things. At any rate it would shock English prudery—lastly no mention of the Mahatmas, their names have been already sufficiently desecrated. Let us keep them sacred for the future. The doctor has given me to understand that Madame is still a virgin.
                                                                                                                                            Yrs. truly,
                                                                                                                                                                      C. W.



I enclose the medical certificate of Prof. Oppenheimer who made a minute and exact examination “since my illness finds itself complicated now by some congenital crookedness of the uterus as he says—having it appears something to do with child-bearing (the uterus in general not mine or its crookedness) and which (though I had always had a dim conception that “uterus” was the same thing as “bladder”) -- which crookedness kills at once the missionaries and their hopes of proving me the mother of three or more children. He had written a long and complicated statement of the reason why I could never have not only children, but anything in the shape of an extra since unless an operation is now made—they can’t get at that blessed uterus to cure it. I thanked and declined. Better die than have an operation made. But knowing this (certificate) shall have probably to be read in my defence—I did not permit him to go into physiological particulars and asked him simply to certify the fact that I never had any child or children, nor could I have them.
            What next shall people say?
                                                    Yours dishonoured in my old age
                                                                                                     H. P. B

Franz Gebhard and Hubbe Schleiden translated the certificate for you. The Dr. (Oppenheimer) says that Gynaecological “illness” means “woman’s functions” and shows intactness (as Mme. Noury of Stead’s trial has it) Hubbe Schleiden explaining to me blushingly that “it is a delicate and scientific way of putting it, and very clear.” Don’t show this to anyone—I write it to you as a trusted friend—its real SHAME to speak of it—though I am decided that my friends and defenders should know it. Keep the certificate.


—•— 178    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—


Jan. 29, 1886.


Enclosed find the results of karma for defending an innocent though foolish man, and—for writing private and confidential letters to a woman of hysterical temperament.

Please tell me what I have to do? Countess says that I have either to go to London and appear; or that Germany will give me up to England; or that I will be made to pay £100 for default or perhaps be hung by the neck till I die passing through a preliminary torture somewhere.

It thus appears that a person who denies that another person was maliciously seduced—is liable or amenable to law in England. Writing private and confidential when the person “libelled” is not even named—constitutes a LIBEL?

Is it so? Then all I can say is, that I would prefer living under Chinese and even Russian laws. Please let me know at once what I am to do. You have my statement addressed to your Council to investigate Mohini’s Don Juanic crime.

The blows of karma are coming so quick in succession so rapid and unexpected that it reacted on my nerves—or our nerves rather—and that the Countess and I are sitting looking at each other and feel convulsed with laughter.

No answer from Bowaji; gloomy—uninterrupted silence. Poor Gebhards, they seem entirely in his hands. The karma of the Countess who insisted to send him to Elberfeld.

Well—keep courage and go on. If we remain ten persons in the Society united strongly—it cannot die and my Secret Doctrine is there. Only beware of Bowaji who is a complete lunatic at present.

Yours, at the foot of a karmic Vesuvius covering me with uninterrupted eruptions of mud.


Please answer these questions

            (1) Can they force me to go to London.
            (2) Can they call me into a Court of Law for supposed libel? And if so can they compel the German Govt. to give me up if I refuse—what is the fine? if there is one. Please consult a lawyer and I will pay, it’s only a trifle.


—•— 179    H. P. B.  LKE  A  BOAR  AT  BAY   —•—



As you are about the only man I now know of incapable of betraying the sacredness of a private letter by sending it over to an enemy—even to save your life—I write to tell you two things.

(1) Mohini sent such private letter of mine to Mme. de Morsier; the one I wrote to him last week with the news that had just reached me that Solovioff had stepped out as a witness against me in the Mohini business with L.—to show that I knew his supposed crime (for it is a crime if it has happened) all the time and endeavoured to cover it, i.e. to play a vile part of hypocrisy, sham and Pecksniffism. Mme. de M. showed it immediately to Solovioff. Result: a thundering, threatening, sickening letter from Solovioff in which all the thunder and lightning individual and collective as from Russia are gathered together and thrown at me. I will write no more to Mohini—nor to any one either since today.

(2) You better give up the “Madame Blavatsky” Memoirs. If they come out now—you will have all Russia, my relations and the public against you and me—you do not care—I do. Solovioff threatens me moreover that Mr. Blavatsky is not dead but is a “charming centenarian” who had found fit to conceal himself for years on his brother’s property—hence the false news of his death. Fancy the result if you publish the Memoirs and if he is indeed alive and I—no widow!! TABLEAU, and you will lose your reputation along with me. Please put the book by—at least its publication.

I have not decided yet what I will do. But do something I will. Please tell the part concerning him to Mohini but withhold the rest. I confide this to your honour. Did you ever picture to yourself an innocent, harmless boar who asked only to be left to live quietly in his forest, who had never hurt a man, and against whom a pack of hounds is let loose to get him out of that wood and tear him to pieces? For some time, of course, as long as he can and that there is hope for him to save his forest from desecration and himself as the guardian thereof. But when to those barking, howling, ferocious hounds, animals, hitherto friendly to the boar join themselves and pursue him for his life-blood then the boar comes to a dead stop and faces his enemies, ex-friends and all. And woe to the latter. The boar is sure to be murdered, overwhelmed by the number but there will be hundreds of dogs disemboweled and killed in the last and supreme smash. This is an allegory true to life. Make of it what you like.


—•— 180    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

I learn that Hodgson comes out as a witness of Mlle. L. against Mohini to the effect that he (Mohini) had another such seduction and love business, in India. Mr. S. has probably put my exclamation upon reading that first Mohini letter, “Its the second time such a thing (of chela seduction) happens in the Society” and putting the Hodgson evidence and gossip about Mohini—which he says is known to all in Paris and London—has made out of it “Le Coquin! c’est la seconde fois qu’il nous joue ce tour la. Il faut l’etouffer cette affaire!”—Clever. He threatens that if I bring his name into this dirty scandal, that all my devils (meaning MASTERS) will not save me from utter ruin. He speaks of Baron Meyendorff—of Blavatsky, and the reputation made for me by friends in Russia and elsewhere. The forest is surrounded and the boar is preparing to stop and face the enemy.
                                                                                                                                                                                    H. P. B.

Two words in PRIVATE. The Duchess is not such a friend of Mrs. K. and M. as you think. She has unbosomed herself to Olcott and me. She is their victim rather. She has paid for publishing their P. Way given them her ideas, and they never so much as thanked her or acknowledged it. They are ungrateful. Now she is our, not their friend. But she seems in awe of the divine Anna. One thing funny though. She tells me that though vegetarians they both drink wine at their meals—claret and liqueur fines—and James the butler adds even and told to the Duchess at dinner before us, that Mrs. K. “is very fond of champagne “!!! Now why does she then denounce you to K. H. as a wine bibber? Now I want to know whether Mrs. K. makes a secret of it, or does (drink wine) openly? It is very important I should know it. Olcott will tell you this. Goodbye—Love to dear Mrs. Sinnett. I wish I could see you but—impossible.
                                                                                                                                                                                     H. P. B.

P.S. With regard to Memoirs. May be what Solovioff tells me of old Blavatsky “whom you (I) have prematurely buried”—is a wicked fib of his, thinking the news would overwhelm me, and perhaps it is not. I never had an official notification of his death, only what I learned through my Aunt at New York and again here. “His country seat ruined” he “himself had left years ago” and news had come “he was dead.” I never bothered my brains about the old man: he never was anything to me, not even a legitimate, though hated husband. Yet if it turned out to be truth -- (his father died when 108 and my own grandmother at nearly 112) and we talking all the while of him as though he were


—•— 181    BOWAJI’S  DECEPTION   —•—

in Devachan or Avitchi—it would bring no end of trouble. If you think that the Memoirs would do good—then do so, only under your own responsibility and over your own name and giving only that which is printed in Russian. On either my Aunt or Sister do not rely. They will not hear of further “desecrations of the family secrets” as they call them. My Aunt may, perhaps, send two or three things. My sister is infatuated with Solovioff who set her against me and the society and poor Mohini—and now she writes to me letters in Mad. de Maintenon’s style—bigoted and as cold and haughty as ice on Mont Blanc. She may go to grass. My Aunt says that she gave away that portrait and has it no more. I leave thus the publishing of the Memoirs with you, but I really think it is dangerous now. Delay the publication for a few months. Do not give it up, but do delay, for I feel there will come some insulting letters in the papers to add to them so and so, some dirty scandal as to my supposed three children etc. and what can or shall I do then? My position is a helpless one. There is not in the whole world a woman situated more miserably than I am. I am absolutely helpless.

Our Occult friend, the author of the immortal Kiddle flapdoodle, and of the premature note from Master who wrote with his inner self in the future (for Him the present), and it came out five minutes too soon at Schmiechen’s—thinks you will appreciate better Bowaji’s position by an illustration of his. There’s a bootmaker at Torre del Greco named Jesus with the name on his sign board. Now he says no one can call him an “impostor” for calling himself Jesus; but if he allowed people to believe that he was Jesus Christ, and acted in this wise then he would be one unless he undeceived his public. Bowaji acts or acted as though he were the REAL chela, and this is where the deception begins. An ambassador representing his sovereign during the middle ages had every right and it was his duty to get married as a proxy for his King, and he had a right and it was his duty to shove his right leg into the bride’s bed in great ceremony and before a select court. But if that Ambassador went further and made a child to the Queen in his Master’s name—then he would find himself in a somewhat worse position than even our Mohini.

Sarma is a great friend of the Countess and says he is proud to call himself one. He talks for any length of time with her alone, and then will come sometimes and talk to us both; so that she and I hear him and see him at the same time. I care little for him but the Countess seems very fond of him—so much the better for Mr. Sarma. I send you Olcott’s letter and his suggestions. He seems very cool about the bare possibility of “an Eurasian” as a memorial of Mohini’s visit to London. It appears


—•— 182    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

I have just been honoured with an election as a C.S.y for life. Very kind of them, at Adyar. Is Mrs. Sinnett angry with me that she has ceased suddenly writing? Do tell. Is the “copy” in London or still at Elberfeld? Please let me know and do “know, dare and keep silent.”
                                                                                                                                                                                 H. P. B.


February 16th, 1886.


Read this with attention please; as I am DETERMINED to square my accounts wherever I have any, and put myself in a position for the few days I have to live—that would not be altogether that of the sick and old lion, made helpless, that every donkey can kick, that is hunted by all the hounds of hell and has the doors of every land and city shut before it or him.

My Karma—is my deserved Karma and I do not murmur or rebel against it. But, outside of Karma—and I know this for I was explained the difference—there is (a) duty and justice to myself as to any one else of my mankind; and (b) some means to be provided that I could finish or rather work on, until I finish the Secret Doctrine. Now in my present state it is thoroughly impossible.

The Countess is a witness to what I say. She wonders daily and hourly how a woman in my dilapidated and debilited state of health can bear all I do, daily and hourly too, and not either become insane or drop down dead of heart-rupture. I can bear and would bear anything that is the direct result of my own mistakes or sowing. I mean to kick against that which is entirely the result of human cowardice, selfishness, and injustice. I may have brought on myself Coulombs, Hodgsons, even Sellins—I have done nothing to deserve to lose my best friends and those most devoted to the Cause, through the intrigues of those who ought to be, if not quite ready to lay their life for Master and Cause, as I am—at any rate not to swell the ranks of those who keep on stoning me daily. Please put the question fairly and openly to Messrs. Bowaji and Mohini. Do they want me to live to finish my work, or do they, each for their own selfish ends, mean to finish me? For there is a limit when even one protected as I am, must give away in her human nature and either lay violent hands on herself, or on those who seek to kill her.

This will appear ridiculous and absurd to you. Perhaps you too fell a victim already to Tamil mantras and psychology as all the Gebhards have—especially Franz—as Miss A. has, and now


—•— 183    THE INFLUENCE  OF  BOWAJI   —•—

as I see—Mohini? I would not feel surprised in the least, knowing what I do.

Now let me speak plain and say at once that if you have not yet arrived at such a blessed state of a marionette in the hands of one superlatively clever at creating such—you are in eminent danger to fall into it, even though you never saw Bowaji—never spoke with him, simply by the force of circumstances that this little creature is determined to create, that you will end by yielding to, because—a man of the world, you judge by the appearances created. Now I do not mean to sit and wait till I lose you and Mrs. Sinnett as I have lost the Gebhards, and now Mohini entirely in the hands of one, who has nothing more to lose, and who therefore can care little for what may be the result for himself. I beg you not to laugh; I pray you not to think I am writing in a hot passion, or in one of my fits of rage and irrepressible impulse—for I do not. I know what I say and therefore I mean to act thereupon.

Three days ago I had a letter from Hubbe Schleiden giving me the startling news that Sellin had conquered him, that he came to an agreement with M. Gebhard that he (H. S.) would send him back his diploma and Presidentship, would open the Sphinx to Mr. Sellin’s vilifications against the Society, Olcott, myself (in the Hodgson style and worse) and remain only in his heart, a true and devoted theosophist working for the Society still, since by opening his columns to the enemy and resigning every connection with the T.S. he would thereby prevent Sellin from abusing and ruining the T.S. in all the German papers. In short he would sacrifice himself and his journal making of the latter a paratonnere—a lightning conductor. Now you may ask what has that to do with Bowaji? I say a good deal. It. M. Gebhard is in it, and was made to see things in this light. If asked, M. Gebhard will deny it very sincerely, he will explain it on other grounds. I maintain what I say. But that’s nothing—let it go. It is only one of the many cases I know. Let me come to the last one.

Nothing sincerer, more affectionate than Mohini’s letters to me to the day his friend B. (who hates him more bitterly now, than Coulomb ever hated me!) came to London. Result No. 1. A letter from Mohini, calm, moralising full of charges—every one of them utterly groundless and false—that he mentions in a highly dignified and forgiving tone. You may not see anything but very natural misconceptions generated through circumstances and Karma. I see things otherwise. Every charge in it, namely (1) that I had divulged a certain secret of Mohini’s to Mme. Coulomb who told it to Hodgson, (2) that I told the same to Damodar, while I wrote to him (Mohini) now that I had never


—•— 184    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

opened my mouth to any one upon the thing; (3) that I believed him guilty of ----- with Miss----- as soon as I had read her letter to him at Wurzburg and then told to Solovioff, who went and told to Mme. de Morsier; who thus finding that I believed in Mohini’s guilt believed it too, and then finding that I had turned front and said Mohini was not guilty, thought necessarily that I was lying and tried to cover him, and feeling indignant (as she well might, poor woman, if it were so) turned against me and Mohini and all; (4) that I had written to the Colonel a letter in which I had misrepresented, or told him about Mohini something dreadful etc. etc. etc. Enough we have to analyse now these charges.

Every one of them proceeds through Bowaji and his instrumentality. The charges and explanations with regard to Mme. de M. have been disentangled via Al. Gebhard, who went to Paris and is, at any rate, in daily correspondence with Mme. de M. I alone know how much there is in it of Mr. B.’s influence. He told all this to Mohini, at all events and thus poisoned his mind against me.

You know, for you were here at Wurzburg, at the time—whether I believed Mohini guilty; what I had said to you I had said to Solovioff regarding him the friend he was then—and NO MORE. I was mad to think that any woman would dare write to Mohini such letters and saw plainly that he was guilty not of sexual intercourse, but of yielding to an adoration that tickled his vanity, of corresponding with a woman in love with him. And you know that had I even believed in my heart that he was guilty I would screen him, a chela, one connected with Masters—with my own body, not for his own sake for I would have done everything secretly and underhand to rid the Society of such a hypocritical monster—but I would have cut off my tongue before saying or confessing it to any one. It would have been suicidal for the Society, myself, and thrown a new slur on the Masters. Therefore, I have never said such a thing to Solovioff. He LIED most positively. He gossiped, first out of pure love for mischief—as he gossiped to me about Mohini being this and that, having had intrigue in Paris with such and such a one, about Miss A. being madly in love with Mohini; about Mme.—herself, who, in one of her fits (magnetic trance) made love to him—Solovioff, and wanted TO RAVISH HIM (sic). He is a dirty unscrupulous liar and gossip. He did it at first without any evil intention against me, then was caught and forced to repeat his lies on official documents brought by Meltzer or—to proclaim himself a liar. He preferred sacrificing Mohini and me, that’s all; I see it—Mohini does not, for he is deep under B.’s influence.

I never said, what he charges me with, either to the Coulomb


—•—  185    MOHINI’S  INDISCRETIONS   —•—

or Damodar. Both were told by a party wronged by Mohini of that affair, one that happened before Mohini had even heard of the Theos. Soc. But, as Coulomb will swear to anything against me, and that Damodar is not there to answer it—hence Mr. Bowaji’s safe charges against me, whom HE HATES—well in a way he did not conceal before the Countess.

I never wrote one word about Mohini to Olcott. I avoided and delayed it. It is only when the affair became serious, that I told it to him in a general way, asking him not to believe all that would be told to him about poor Mohini, who had been foolish but was innocent of the crime imputed to him. You have a letter from the Colonel, I sent you, in which he tells me “I knew all about Mohini”—to my great astonishment. Now I know how he learnt it. It was through Mrs. C. Oakley who wrote to her husband the gossip and scandal about town from our enemies. Hence Col.’s letter to which Mohini alludes, and of which I know nothing. Please show to Mohini Col.’s letter. It is the last one, I think I sent you.

Such are the facts. Judge of my position and try to realise that I, taking my theosophical vows in dead earnest, cannot act otherwise than I mean to with regard even to a woman that I fully despise. I do not believe Mohini guilty—never did of the consummation of the last criminal act. But if he has indeed written letters to Miss ----- “nearly 100 in number” and “couched in the most extraordinary terms,” I will retract the words “Potiphar” and other “libellous” terms and write to her through her lawyers the enclosed, I  which please correct and suggest anything else you think proper. I do not wish to incriminate Mohini, thereby, for I would be throwing slur on the Masters by it—if even it were the truth which I do not, cannot believe. But I wish it to be known plainly that it is the writing of even such letters that I do not approve of; and that if he gave her a certain right by flirting and flapdoodling with her in a way little behooving in a chela, I, had I known it at the time—would have never called her a “Potiphar” in writing, whatever my own personal opinion of her. I am perfectly aware that the threats of the lawyer are ridiculous; but I also know that though they cannot reach me here, they can create scandals and throw dirt at me in a hundred ways that no one would think of but unscrupulous lawyers; and I have had enough of dirt and scandals. Besides so long as I am not clean out of this whole affair I cannot even go to London where I HAVE to go absolutely, and whether I see you or not.

Thus if you are a friend, you will please employ a good lawyer (I have a few pounds from my aunt I can spend) to go to those

I     see Letter No. LXXVIIa.—ED


—•— 186    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

wretches and have a good talk, and to tell them, that if they have indeed letters from Mohini to her “more than a hundred in number” and that if they can show the lawyer one endearing term showing love familiarity—then it is enough for me. As I had written letters to Mme. de M. under the impression that it was her who pursued him, and not he who answered or seemed to answer and countenance, if not encourage her love—and that Bowaji told me quite a different story, in which Mohini was made out the victim of more than one she-woman—with details; if now it is shown to me that it was not so, and that there is six of one and half a dozen of the other I am ready to acknowledge my mistake publicly. She is not a Potiphar—and he is not the Joseph—morally (if he is physically) that I took him for.

Now do not try and dissuade me from this. Show this letter to Mohini and let him ponder over it well and show it even to his friend B. if he likes it. I am determined, to square all my accounts. I have suffered that which none in the whole Society, and perhaps the world over, would be willing to suffer if he could help it—and to suffer any longer now would not injure me only but the Society, the Cause, the MASTERS’ names. I know that, which you do not, cannot know, for you had no such personal experience as I have. I KNOW that I have to deal no more with the Bowaji D. N. who left me to go to Elberfeld but that I have to fight alone, and single handed a POWER—that acts through him; and which, if I do not conquer, will conquer (ruin) the whole Society, yourself, and ALL through me, though personally myself IT cannot harm. What occultist would be blind enough if he were a genuine occultist, not to perceive the impossibility, the utter unnaturalness that a boy (or man) so utterly devoted to the CAUSE, the Masters, and myself to a degree as I believe—should suddenly, without the least provocation, cause, or reason, develop such a HATRED, such a fierce, savage, fiendish thirst of revenge and desire to ruin one who, except kindness had done him nothing? His letter of contrition to me, which I sent you, was a sham, (or a temporary relief from the POWER in him.) No sooner written he went on the same, only more cautiously. He set the Gebhards dead against me, and Franz and his wife against the Countess too. He meddled in everything, led the whole affairs at Elberfeld. He was the guiding and evil genius of the family as they will find out and he will be that of the A.’s, and any one whom he now approaches. He wrote to me since, two most impudent, impertinent letters which are not his (Bowaji’s) but written in that crafty, cunning, jesuitical dugpa style I am so well acquainted with. It is Moorad Ali resurrected! I tell you all, and Mohini the first one, to beware. He speaks graciously of seeing me once


—•— 187    THE DWELLER  ON  THE  THRESHOLD   —•—

more before he returns to India or goes to America. I will not see him, for I could not bear the horror—and if he does not change and the POWER does not leave him I will not permit him to cross the threshold. How can I doubt—if all of you are foolish enough to—when, no sooner had we left Ceylon, this last March or April—that I saw the well known FORM (I had already seen near him in Darjeeling, but this did not dare approach him then) ten yards off us four -- (Hartm., Flynn, Bowaji and myself) -- on deck shaking its fist at me, and saying: “You are four now, you will soon be three, then two—then you will remain alone, alone, ALONE!” The prophecy has come out pretty fully. Mary Flynn, losing suddenly without any cause or reason, her devotion—did not give a sign of life since she left, turned round. Then Bowaji went away to Elberfeld—and there foaming at the mouth screamed before the Countess “She will be left alone, I will prevent every one, Mohini and every one in India, to go to her. I hate, I HATE her—I would like to draw her heart’s blood,” etc. Yes I am left ALONE—the very words of the FORM. When the Countess leaves me in three weeks or so, I will be as alone as in a prison cell solitary confinement. I may fall paralysed, die any day, with that poor fool around me alone who could not even notify any one of my relations or yourself of the fact. My papers, MASTERS’ papers all to the mercy of any one. You may laugh—at the idea of the FORM. I do not nor does the Countess—who read his letter to her. . . . “The Dweller of the Threshold is here, he is coming, coming. . . . Come and save me etc.” We know what it all means if you do not.

Well, remember. It is not myself but all of you and the L.L.—as also the T.S. in general I want to save. After what was said by Hodgson—nothing in the world can throw an additional strain on me. But the L.L. can break up and theosophy in England go to pot. Choose—between your own worldly wisdom, Mohini’s sweet philosophical indifference, Miss A.’s blindness—and my THIRTY years EXPERIENCE. I have seen the FORM last night again, not in the house for there was Master’s INFLULENCE in it—but across the garden through the walls, and the Countess has seen and felt it several times also though here she will not be hurt by it. And as I have seen it and received this morning the lawyer’s letter and threats, I am determined. If, to save the Society and rid it from that POWER—that can approach and theosophist and chela even, if he is not as staunch and true to the Masters as I am—I had to go to London with the next train and make friends with Miss L. and common cause with her, any Hodgson and all—I would do it without hesitation. Remember, then, my dear, faithful friend, who alone has remained such in


—•— 188    THE LETTERS OF H. P. BLAVATSKY   —•—

all Europe. I will accuse myself, deliver myself to the jailor, to the Missionaries, accept the propositions made by the Jesuits anything. I have arrived to that point of indifference to moral personal suicide that I am ready for all. It is Mohini’s last letter that showing me the terrific danger to which you are all blind that determined me. My love to dear Mrs. Sinnett—St. PATIENCE—truly!

Yours to the consummation of the theosophical pralaya—ever
                                                                                         H. P. B



Having received your letter of the 16th current I beg to inform you, that if you can show to my lawyer who will deliver you the present:

(1) Any letter of mine—from those I have written privately and confidentially to Mme. de Morsier without the remotest idea of publicity and delivered by her to you—in which letter I connect your client’s name with any libellous epithet or sentence, or in which Miss ----‘s name is mentioned by me;

(2) If out of the “hundred letters” from Mr. Mohini to Mdle. ---- you claim to have in your possession, one single endearing sentence to her address is shown by you to the gentleman who will call on you, a sentence clear enough to lead to the conjecture and conclusion that he was or desired to be on such terms as are generally regarded by every honest person as improper and dishonourable between a married man and an unmarried female—in such case I shall acknowledge that I have been entirely misinformed as to the true state of the case, and will make Miss ---- a full apology for any libellous term I have used. I believe Mr. Mohini innocent so far. Let it be shown to me that he is not—and I will be ready to acknowledge publicly my mistake.


To the lawyer. Now correct, remodel, and see how I can write it.


Saturday 13th/86.


Here’s a new letter with black-mail and bullying in it, this once. It proceeds direct via Bibiche from Coulomb with whom your lovely ex-walz-partner is in direct communication.



What the black-guardly clique means, I do not know, but what the Coulomb means I see clear in it for it is an old, old story. But whatever it may be I am determined to throw it back into the Remnant’s face. I do not suppose that in England a lawyer is less liable to be prosecuted for libel and defamation than any other mortal is? Now this address:

“Mme. Metrovitch otherwise
Mad. Blavatsky.”

is a written libel and a bullying bit of chantage, blackmail or whatever you call it. People with a mouth and a tongue cannot be stopped from saying that every man whoever approached me, from Meyendorff down to Olcott, was my LOVER (though it is just as much of a libel I believe, as any of us saying that the ------ is a Potiphar, or had crim. con. with Mohini, isn’t it?). But I do believe that when a lawyer or lawyers on the authority of Mme. Coulomb’s infernal gossip writes such an insult implying not only prostitution but bigamy and aliases—it is a defamation. If you please show this to the lawyer (ours) and do make him stop it at once by saying that unless they and Bibiche write an excuse I will prosecute them and bring them in for libel. Now I have a right to, and if I have not and if you do not profit or take advantage of this—then all I have to say is that you deserve being bullied by the Bibiche. I tell you that were we in Russia or in any other civilised or half civilised country—this letter would be a libel. If it is not so in England then the further one keeps away from your country of freedom and JUSTICE the better for him. Now listen to the story. Agardi Metrovitch was my most faithful devoted friend ever since 1850. With the help of Ct Kisseleff I had saved him from the gallows in Austria. He was a Mazzinist, had insulted the Pope, was exiled from Rome in 1863 -- he came with his wife to Tiflis, my relatives knew him well and when his wife died a friend of mine too—he came to Odessa in 1870. There my aunt, miserable beyond words, as she told me, at not knowing what had become of me begged of him to go to Cairo as he had business in Alexandria and to try and bring me home. He did so. There some Maltese instructed by the Roman Catholic monks prepared to lay a trap for him and to kill him. I was warned by Illarion, then bodily in Egypt—and made Agardi Metrovitch come direct to me and never leave the house for ten days. He was a brave and daring man and could not bear it, so he went to Alexandria quand meme and I went after him with my monkeys, doing as Illarion told me, who said he saw death for him and that he had to die on April 19t