{Wurzburg, January 25, 1886}
Dear Mr. Sinnett,
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, 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.
Good-bye,
H.P.B.
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