{During January and February H.P.B. lay at the point of death and was given up by all the doctors. (See ODL vol. 3, chaps. 15-16.) Hodgson was frequently among those at her bedside. She rallied in the early part of March, but, towards the 20th, her condition again became so precarious that, March 31, much against her will but utterly helpless to resist, she was carried on board the SS Tibre and, accompanied by Dr. Mary Scharlieb, Mary Flynn a maid, and Babajee, left Madras for Naples which she reached early in May.}
Adyar. 27.{March 1885}
My dear Mr. Sinnett,
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 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 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.
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