Ooty,
August 23.{1883}
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 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 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 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. Blavatsky.
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