Below is the first installment of selected correspondence between Savitri Devi and George Lincoln Rockwell (1918-1967). Savitri and Rockwell began their correspondence in 1960 and probably continued it regularly until his assassination in 1967, but not all of their letters have come to light, and two of the letters that have come to light have missing pages.
We wish to thank Matt Koehl of the NEW ORDER for preserving these letters, photocopying them for the Archive, and giving us permission to publish them.
—R. G. Fowler
18 September 1960
In a letter which I have just now received, our comrade and friend Walter Grün (from Sweden) has asked me to get in touch with you. It is a pleasure—and an honor—for me to do so, after what I have learnt (through him) of your ceaseless struggle in defense of our common Aryan race.
I am half English—of Viking descent—and partly Greek and North Italian, so that, above all artificial state boundaries, the glorious name of “Aryan” is really the only one by which I can describe myself. My Indian name Savitri Devi was at first merely a pen name; in 1939, just after the outbreak of the war, however, a very selfless and generous Brahmin from Bengal (also a fighter for Aryan humanity at the time: he was the editor of the only NS magazine in India) gave me his name and protection—without any personal obligation on my part and any kind of link other than ideological between us—and I became S.D. Mukherji. (Circumstances seemed to make that step advisable at the time. One day I might tell you why.)
I was extremely pleased to hear of you and of your American co-fighters. The only thing I wish, for the good of our common race, is that as soon as possible people such as yourself and your companions in faith and action, should (thanks to I do not know, and do not care, what yet unforeseen crisis) seize power in the USA. In his report on the USA, Mr. Walter Grün [speaks of] the extraordinary malleability of the bulk of American citizens in the hands of whoever is master of the radio, television, cinema, and newspaper industries. This trait has, of course, the most disastrous consequences, now that the bosses of the above concerns are mostly if not all Jews, or men soaked in Jewish ideas. But it could be, and doubtless would be, turned into a blessing from the day a healthy, pure-blooded, racially-conscious, proud, and ruthless Aryan minority would become the sole ruling power in America. May you and your friends be among the first ones to rise and rule! That is my sincerest wish as far as the USA are concerned!
I am sending you (by registered post) two of my books: The Lightning and the Sun and Pilgrimage. I hope you will not be shocked by the out-and-out anything but Christian scale of values that is visible in both—especially in Pilgrimage. (I became conscious of my being at heart a disciple of Adolf Hitler in 1929 . . . in . . . Palestine of all places!!!) [The rest of the letter is not extant.]
6 October 1960
Dear Mrs. Mukherji:
Thank you for your letter and the books.
I have not yet been able to read all of the volumes, but I already know they are something far above anything else I have ever read. The one about the pilgrimage [Pilgrimage] brought tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat.
They have also forced me to revise my opinion of lady philosophers. In all my experience of the world, and all my studies and reading, I have never found a feminine writer who could reach the profoundest depths and heights of thought with powerful and penetrating original ideas—without being obnoxiously masculine. You have done this thing, and, were you the rankest Communist, which, thank God you are not, I would still salute you for the masterful performance.
I have only started the other book [The Lightning and the Sun], but I already know it is one of those rare jewels of knowledge and understanding, like Mein Kampf, The Crowd (by Le Bon), etc.—which have served me as the foundation for all thinking, and the source of endless inspiration. Your phrase, for instance, “cruelty—the violence of cowards” is worth a ton of the “literature” being turned out today by our Jew-promoted “geniuses.”
As I write, I can hardly see. I was brutally beaten by four men when I tried to get a little time off at a German picnic here Sunday. I have lost my dear wife and family, all comfort and everything most people consider the “essence” of life. But in some measure, these things were made up to me as I read passages of your Pilgrimage. I do not know you and may never meet you—but I have shared with you an Olympian experience worth all the petty affairs of the world a thousand times over, and denied to all but dedicated NAZIS and those who know the soul of the Great Man.
[Signature not preserved]