Letters and Manuscripts — Volume 10

152/284

Lt 123a, 1895

White, J. E.

Hobart, Tasmania

December 9, 1895

This letter is published in entirety in FBS 54-55.

Dear Son Edson White:

I have been sorely tried for the past year with my workers. Fannie Bolton is disconnected with me entirely. I would not think of employing her any longer. She has misrepresented me and hurt me terribly. Only in connection with my work has she hurt me. She has reported to others that she has the same as made over my articles, that she has put her whole soul into them, and I had the credit of the ability she had given to these writings. Well, this is the fifth time this breaking out has come. It is something similar to the outbreak of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, only she has not those to unite with her because they know me and my work. She goes not only to those who believe and know me to tell her story, but she goes to those newly come to the faith and tells her imaginative story. The same sentiment is expressed as in Numbers 16:3. 10LtMs, Lt 123a, 1895, par. 1

The very mischief of Satan comes now and then into her, controlling her imagination. She appears in great distress and grief, weeping. Sister Prescott, while in Cooranbong, asked her what was the matter. She held back, apparently reluctant to speak, and finally she did just exactly that which she calculated to do—made her statement and complained of the little attention “poor little Marian” and she received “for all the talent they gave to Sister White’s work.” These my workers were set down in a corner and hid. Well, Sister Prescott met her decidedly, also Brother Prescott. They told her this was all the work of the devil. They knew Sister White’s work and writings before she touched it, and they received letters from her just as they came from her pen, and that the very words she claimed to put into the writings were her own imagination. All the ideas, all the material, was furnished her to prepare into articles, etc., etc. 10LtMs, Lt 123a, 1895, par. 2

When I called back all the writings placed in her hands, then she began to think I was in earnest. I told her decidedly she must have no connection with me and my work. She could represent me and my work as her originating—that this “beautiful expression” was hers—and that was hers, and make of none effect the testimony of the Spirit of God. Well, I cannot write all the suffering of mind I endured. I could not possibly relate the suffering of mind while attending the camp meeting at Melbourne. I told Fannie I could not connect her with the work. No one could determine when the demon would take possession of her and cost me my life. I told her she never loved the work, and her moods, her fickle temperament, had been to me the greatest grief of my life. I was as a cart pressed beneath sheaves, and no longer would I venture this. 10LtMs, Lt 123a, 1895, par. 3

But oh, the heartache, for other things were developing and being made manifest which had been a fearful strain on me. It was the intimacy between Caldwell and her. I had presented before them all the dangers, but they denied it. But at the meeting at Melbourne Fannie acknowledged she loved Caldwell and he loved her. I tried to present the matter before them in its true bearing. Caldwell had a wife living. Recently she obtained a divorce. He had left her and been gone three years. But Fannie told me she had been praying that if it was right she should marry Caldwell that his wife might obtain a divorce. What blindness will come to those who begin to depart from a straightforward course! These two had thought they could unite in marriage and they could both unite in carrying on my work. The management of all my business would be, [it was] supposed, in his hands. Not much, I told them. Such a step would cut them off from me forever, both of them, because Caldwell had no moral right to [marry]. [Remainder missing.] 10LtMs, Lt 123a, 1895, par. 4