Master M.'s Portrait in HPB's Writing Room
Sep 15, 2006 09:20 AM
Charles Johnston wrote:
I first met dear old "HPB," as she made all her friends call her, in
the spring of 1887. Some of her disciples had taken a pretty house
in Norwood, where the huge glass nave and twin towers of the Crystal
Palace glint about a labyrinth of streets and terraces. London was
at its grimy best.
HPB was just finishing her day's work, so I passed a half hour
upstairs with her volunteer secretary, a disciple who served her
with boundless devotion.
So the half hour passed, and I went downstairs to see the Old Lady.
She was in her writing room, just rising from her desk, and clad in
one of those dark blue dressing gowns she loved. My first impression
was of her rippled hair as she turned, then her marvelously potent
eyes, as she welcomed me: "My dear fellow! I am so glad to see you!
Come in and talk! You are just in time to have some tea!" And a
[After some conversation with Johnston on various subjects including
the controversial letters of the Masters, HPB said:]
"This is my Master," she said, "whom we call Mahatma Morya. I have
his picture here."
And she showed me a small panel in oils. If ever I saw genuine awe
and reverence in a human face, it was in hers, when she spoke of her
Master. He was a Rajput by birth, she said, one of the old warrior
race of the Indian desert, the finest and handsomest nation in the
world. Her Master was a giant, six feet eight, and splendidly built,
a superb type of manly beauty.
[See reproduction of portrait of Master M. at:
Even in the picture, there is a marvelous power and fascination; the
force, the fierceness even, of the face; the dark, glowing eyes,
which stare you out of countenance; the clear-cut features of
bronze, the raven hair and beard—all spoke of manhood strength. I
asked her something about his age. She answered:
"My dear, I cannot tell you exactly, for I do not know. But this I
will tell you. I met him first when I was twenty—in 1851. He was in
the very prime of manhood then. I am an old woman now, but he has
not aged a day. He is still in the prime of manhood. That is all I
can say. You may draw you own conclusions."
Then she told me something about other Masters and adepts she had
known. She had known adepts of many races, from Northern and
Southern India, Tibet, Persia, China, Egypt; of various European
nations, Greek, Hungarian, Italian, English; of certain races in
South America, where she said there was a Lodge of adepts.
"And now, my dear, it is getting late, and I am getting sleepy. So I
must bid you goodnight!" And the Old Lady dismissed me with that
grand air of hers which never left her, because it was a part of
herself. She was the most perfect aristocrat I have ever known.
Quoted from THE ESOTERIC WORLD OF MADAME BLAVATSKY
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