The Authentic Letters of
H.P.B., As Edited by One
Of the Main Founders of the
Theosophical Movement
William Q. Judge
H.P.
Blavatsky and W.Q. Judge
Introduction to Chapter 6
of the Present Online Edition:
Lady Marie Caithness (1830-1895), the “Duchesse de
Pomar”, is mentioned in this chapter. Born
in Spain under the name of Maria de Mariátegui, Lady Caithness was a life-long
friend of H.P.B. and Henry Olcott. She tried to reconcile in her work the Catholic
faith with Spiritualism and Theosophy. She was an active member of the
theosophical movement and, in Paris, she founded the “Société Théosophique
d’Orient et d’Occident”.[1] Lady
Caithness was the author of various books, including “The Mystery of the Ages
Contained in the Secret Doctrine of All Religions” (London, 1887, 541 pp.). Referring
to this book, Boris de Zirkoff wrote:
“It has been said that much of what it contains is
the result of conversations and discussions with H.P.B. during her stay in
Paris”. [2]
In
one of her letters in this chapter, H.P.B. mentions “Lares and Penates”. In
ancient Rome, these were deities who protected each family and each city.
Count and Countess d’Adhemar both actively helped the theosophical
movement. In 1890, the Countess d’Adhemar was the manager of the French
magazine “Revue Théosophique”, which was edited by H.P.B.[3]
(Carlos Cardoso Aveline)
NOTES:
[1] “HPB - The
Extraordinary Life and Influence of Helena Blavatsky, Founder of the Modern
Theosophical Movement”, by Sylvia Cranston, G.P. Putnam’s Sons, New York, 1994,
648 pp., p. 246.
[2] On Lady Caithness,
“Collected Writings of H.P. Blavatsky”, TPH, volume VII, pp. 361-363. Also
volume XV, p. 96, for references.
[3] “Collected Writings
of H.P. Blavatsky”, TPH, volume XII, pp. 300.
See volume XV, p. 8, for other
references. Countess d’Adhemar is also mentioned and quoted at “HPB - The Extraordinary Life and Influence
of Helena Blavatsky, Founder of the
Modern Theosophical Movement”, Sylvia Cranston, pp. 250.
Letters of H.P. Blavatsky [1]
Chapter VI
[THE PATH, Volume X, New York, May 1895, pp. 33-37.]
By the end of 1883 H.P.B. had resolved to go to Europe.
Just about this time the members of her family in Odessa were in great trouble.
General R. A. Fadeef, the brother of H.P.B.’s mother, was dying. They were all
of them so overcome by sorrow and by continual watching over him, whilst on the
other hand they knew of H.P.B.’s intention to start for Europe, that for a long
time not one of them wrote to her. Only a few days after the funeral they
thought of informing her about their common misfortune. But their letters
reached Madras when H. P. B. had already left that city, and were sent back to
Europe after her departure. Meanwhile she spent some time in Bombay and let her
family know that on the 7th of February, 1884, she had arranged to embark on
board the ‘Chundernagore’. She wrote:
“I am starting depressed by a terrible
foreboding. Either uncle is dead or I am off my head. The night before our
leaving Adyar I dreamed of a scene which happened exactly twenty years ago in
Tiflis, in 1864, when I was so ill, as you remember. I was lying on a sofa in
the hall dozing, and on opening my eyes I saw Uncle bending over me with so
much sadness and pity in his face that I jumped to my feet and actually burst
into tears, just as I have done when this scene repeated itself all over again
in dream. And about five days ago, in a railway carriage, I was alone in the
compartment at about two o’clock a.m. I was lying down but not sleeping, when
suddenly between me and the window through which the moon shone very brightly,
I saw someone standing. The lamp was covered, but all the same I recognized him
at once. It was Uncle, pale, thin, dishevelled. Lord, how I started forward,
and then heard in answer to my cry his voice as if vanishing in the air, ‘Farewell
to you, Helena Petrovna’ - and then everything disappeared. I refused to
believe myself. My heart was breaking: I felt I was to believe, but tried not to
do so. And then a third time, again when awake: I was not asleep, having great
pain in my leg, but shut my eyes in the effort to doze. Half-lying in an
arm-chair, I saw him once more before me. But this time as he formerly used to
be, twenty years ago. He was looking at me with an amused twinkle in his eyes
as he used to do. ‘Well’, he says, ‘and so we have met once more.’ ‘Uncle’, I cried, ‘Uncle, for goodness sake
tell me you are alive!’ ‘I am alive’, he
answered, ‘more than at any other time before, and I am shielded from
suffering. Do not give way to sadness, but write to them not
to make themselves wretched. I have seen father and all of them, all of them.’ The last words sounded as if going away,
becoming less and less audible, and his very outline became more transparent
and at last disappeared altogether. Then I knew for certain he was no more in
this world. I knew he was ill all this time, but it is so long since I heard
from you. But then he chose to come personally and say good-bye to me. Not a
single tear in my eyes, but a heavy stone in my heart. The worst of it is that
I do not know anything for certain.”
H.P.B. got her mail at Suez, and only then
learned from the newspapers and her relations’ letters that she had been
perfectly right.
H.P.B. stayed in Nice with the Countess of
Caithness before going on to London. Whilst there, she received numerous
invitations to stop with people in England, and replied to these letters in a
sort of circular. It reads as follows (translated from the Russian):
“Having received the cordial invitations of . .
. . . . . and others, I am deeply touched with this proof of the desire to see
and to make the acquaintance of my unworthy self on the part of both new and
old friends in England. But I do not foresee for myself any possibility of
struggling with my fate. I am ill, and feel myself to be much worse than in
Bombay and even more so than in the open sea. In Marseilles I spent a whole day
in bed, and am still in bed, feeling as if I were on the point of breaking into
pieces like an old sea-biscuit. All that I hope to be able to do is to mend my
weighty person with medicines and will-power, and then drag this ruin overland
to Paris. And what would be the use of my going to London? What good could I do
to you in the midst of your fogs mixed up with the poisonous evaporations of
the ‘higher civilization’? I have left Madras a mon corps defendant;
I should not have gone at all if I had not been compelled to make up my mind on
account of my illness and the orders of the Master. . . . . . I feel sick and
cross and wretched, and gladly would I return to Adyar if I could. . . . . . Lady
Caithness is an incarnation of all that is good: she does everything possible
to rest me and to make me comfortable. I must wait here till the weather is
more settled. When the March winds are over I shall go to Paris to meet the
delegates of the European Branches of the T.S., but I very much fear it will be
torture for me. Am I fit for such civilized people as you all are? But in seven
minutes and a quarter I should become perfectly unbearable to you English
people if I were to transport to London my huge, ugly person. I assure you that
distance adds to my beauty, which I should soon lose if near at hand. Do you
think I could listen with equanimity to discussions about Sankaracharya being a
Theist, and that Subba Row does not know what he is talking about; or to still
more striking statements about Raj Yogis, to the crippling of the Buddhist and
Adwaita teachings even in their exoteric interpretations? No doubt as a result
of all these trials I should burst a blood-vessel. Let me die in peace if it is
not given to me to go back to my familiar Lares and Penates in my dear Adyar!”
H.P.B. dispatched letters daily to Odessa,
where at that time both her aunts and her sister lived, imploring them not to
deprive her of a last meeting with them on this earth, with all the passion she
always felt in regard to her family. It was like the affection of a child.
“My dear, my sweet one, don't you bother about
money. What is money? Let it be switched! Katkoff is bombarding me with
telegrams. One of them was sent to me here by post from Madras. Twenty-nine
words! I expect it cost him at least 500 francs, and when I wrote to him from
here he sent another asking for my articles. He must be wanting them badly if
he asks for them at such cost. So we shall have money. I expect you must have
been greatly impressed with all the flatteringly magnificent articles about me
in the newspapers, in the Pall Mall and others. They praise me
entirely out of all proportion. In spite of all my uncouth and far from
presentable figure with my swollen legs, I am getting to be a la
mode! Reporters from all parts simply give me no rest.”
Next from Paris in 1884:
“If for no other reason, come for the sake of
the fun and see how I am worshipped as a kind of idol; how in spite of my
tearful protests all sorts of Duchesses, Countesses, and ‘Miladis’ of Albion
kiss my hands, calling me their ‘saviour’ - who has torn them from the abyss of
Materialism, unbelief and despair - sic! You will see for yourself
how they carry on about me. . . . . . . You will probably go to at least one of the
meetings, to one of the Seances Philosophiques de la Societe Theosophique
d’Orient et d’ Occident in the princely halls of the Duchesse de
Pomar. You shall see there the elite de la societe et de l’
intelligence de Paris. Renan, Flammarion, Madame Adam, and lots of the
aristocracy from the Faubourg St. Germain. . . . . . And besides, we really do
not want any of them at all, but for God’s sake do not always change your mind:
do not kill me. Give me this greatest and only happiness in the end of my life.
I am waiting and waiting and waiting for you, my own ones, with an impatience
of which you can have no idea. . . . . . . . I have run away from my
cosmopolitan friends and interviewers, and other prying torturers, leaving
Paris for a few days for Anghein, Villa Croisac, belonging to my dear friends
Count and Countess d’Adhemar. They are real friends, caring for me not only for
the sake of phenomena - which be bothered. Here I have a whole enfilade of
rooms at my own and at your service. But if you wish we can easily live in
Paris, coming here only for a few days. The Countess is a charming woman: she
has already prepared rooms for you, and insists upon your staying with her.
It's only a quarter of an hour from Paris, past St. Denis, and the station is
nearly at the entrance of the chateau. Don’t be afraid of being in their way.
Their house is a huge one. She is a very rich American, so nice and
unpretentious. Her husband also, though a great aristocrat and a crusted
legitimist, is very simple in his ways.”
In spite of this, Madame Fadeef and Madame
Jelihovsky preferred to stay with H.P.B. in Paris, where they spent six weeks
together. Many interesting things happened. Mr. W. Q. Judge was at that time
staying in the same house with them. When the time came for the party to break
up, H.P.B. started for London some two hours before her sister and aunt left
for Russia. The latter accordingly saw her off at the Gare du Nord, with a
large party of friends and acquaintances. To use Madame Jelihovsky’s own words:
“H.P.B. was very unwell, being hardly able to
move her swollen feet which gave her awful pain. Most probably I was not the
only one to nourish angry thoughts against her all-powerful Mahatmas - if they
actually were so kind as described - thinking that they might help her,
relieving her suffering, were it only in part, now that she had a long trip and
the sorrow of parting with us before her. As usual she stood up for them,
assuring us that though they do not think it a good thing to relieve people’s
suffering (the latter being the lawful reaction on each separate person), yet
her own particular Master had often helped her, saving her from mortal
illnesses. I walked, supporting her under the arm, to the platform, when
suddenly she drew herself up, and glancing over her shoulder exclaimed: ‘What
is that? Who touched me on the shoulder? Did you see a hand?’ No one had seen
any hand, and we all stared at each other in astonishment. But how great was
our surprise when Helena Petrovna smiled, and, pushing my arm aside, walked
ahead firmly and briskly as I had never lately seen her do. ‘So now’, she said,
‘this is an answer to you, Vera; you have been abusing them for their lack of
desire to help me, and this moment I saw the hand of the Master. Look how I
walk now.’ And in fact she walked all the time on the platform, quickly and
quite easily. Though she had to change the railway carriage twice, she got in
and got out each time without visible effort, assuring us that her pain had
entirely gone and that it was long since she had felt herself so well
physically.”
NOTE:
[1] Copyright 1895.
000
On the role of the esoteric movement in the
ethical awakening of mankind during the 21st century, see the book “The Fire
and Light of Theosophical Literature”, by Carlos Cardoso Aveline.
Published in 2013 by The Aquarian Theosophist, the volume has 255 pages and can be obtained
through Amazon Books.
000