Below is the first installment of selected letters fron Savitri Devi to Matt Koehl, then of the National Socialist White People's Party [NSWPP] now called the NEW ORDER. Savitri and Koehl began their correspondence in 1963 and continued it until her death in 1982.
We wish to thank Matt Koehl for preserving these letters, photocopying them for the Archive, and giving us permission to publish them.
—R. G. Fowler
Alix, par Lozanne
20 April 1982
Dear Commander and Comrades:
On this, our Führer’s 93rd birthday, I am glad my right hand (a year ago totally paralyzed) can now write—with difficulty, but I hope clearly enough for people to read.
Let my first words be a renewed expression of devotion to Him, the One who, in the depth of today’s universal decay of this “civilization” of quantity at the expense of quality, of exaltation of the lowest and ugliest types of the two-legged mammal and the sickly, physically and mentally decadent (alas) among the noblest race, at the expense of the healthy, beautiful, and innocent creatures of Mother Nature—forests and animals (aristocrats of the land and seas) and of the dwindling number of those human beings worthy of the name anthropos, which in Greek means “the one who looks above (anô + thrôpei) and not below”—the only leader also, who based His teaching, not upon any “necessities” of the moment alone (as the Communists do), not upon any real or supposed requirements of “man” alone (as the two “universal” religions rooted in Jewish history and tradition—Christianity and Islam—do), but upon the divine, eternal laws of LIFE itself—the same on this Earth, our Planet, and on every planet in cosmic Space (one, perhaps, in a million) where life exists. (For example, the mixture of races is catastrophic as much on any life-bearing planet whirling around one of the “suns” [i.e., stars] of the Milky Way, as here on our Earth.)
Our Führer grossly underestimated the wickedness and the influence over the British people of those two warmongers: Halifax—more unforgivable than anyone, being an Earl, i.e., an Aryan of noble descent—and Winston Churchill the Jew (son of an Englishman, Randolph Churchill and a full-blooded Jewess, Jeanette Jerome, daughter of a Jewish stock broker from New York; and according to Jewish law, anyone born of a Jewish mother is a Jew). Adolf Hitler spared the retreating British army at Dunkirk, and held out his hand over and over again to the “sister” nation hoping she would be wise enough to choose peace.
Maybe some future writers of history of this speck of mud and water—our Earth—will criticize him as not being enough of a “politician” on account of that. But “Starry space, fathomless and without end or beginning, proclaims Him to be the divine mouthpiece of Its own eternal wisdom.”—Chapter 5 of my only (yet unprinted) book in German, Hart wie Kruppstahl [Hard as Krupp Steel] (written in the early sixties) is called “Die Weisheit des sternhellen Weltraumes” [“The Wisdom of the Starry Heavens”]. This is probably the best—the truest—sentence I ever wrote. (Also read the last pages of my “cat book” Long-Whiskers and the Two-Legged Goddess, being the True Story of a “Most Objectionable Nazi” and . . . half a Dozen Cats. (I sent a copy of that book to Opal Soltau once. I lost her address. If you can give it to me—and ask her to lend you the book.)
I am very unhappy here. Was from 4 October 1981 in Germany. (A German friend had paid my passage but the German authorities expelled me: they don’t like “objectionable Nazis,” and here, as I have nowhere to live, they sent me against my will, first to a hospital and then to this old people’s home. I refused any kind of treatment and had none (Gott sei dank). But I want my freedom back—an independent room, alone, cook my own food, not be “served” (I hate it).
I can speak. A young French comrade came today to interview me, with his recorder.
Could I—if on a holiday in the USA—bring money to the Movement by my speeches? I would gladly do so. (I am easy to feed, strictly vegetarian and next to nothing in quantity.) Only hate neon lights (hurts my poor eyes) and radios, transistors, TV and all such noises. Modern music gets on my nerves.
My friends are trying to find an independent room for me. I don’t want an “institution” with rules and regulations. I hate people serving me, pouring my coffee or giving me my food. I want to serve myself.
If I can’t find a room, then back to India is the second best. I curse the day I left my freedom and dear little room in New Delhi.
Thanks for the White Power issues.
I wish I could do something for the NSWPP.
With the best of greetings
Savitri Devi Mukherji