Masonic, Occult and Esoteric Online Library
The Letters of H. P. Blavatsky to A. P. Sinnett - 1925
By A. T. Barker
Letter No. 29
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 day. He hates us bitterly.
Adyar Madras,
Nov. 17, 1883.
My dear Boss,
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 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 . . . . [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.]
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 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 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. Blavatsky.
