2,000 Greater & Lesser Mysteries/2,000 Greater and Lesser Mysteries.iso/equinox/mys00576.txt

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THE EQUINOX  Vol. I.   No. I   2nd half

July 13, 1989 e.v. key entry and October 1, 1989 e.v. first proof reading
against the 1st edition
--- done by Bill Heidrick, T.G. of O.T.O.
(further proof reading desirable)
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                      THE HERB DANGEROUS

   I. The Pharmacy of Hashish.  By E. WHINERAY, M. P. S.

  II. The Psychology of Hashish.  With an attempt at a new
        classification of the mystic states of mind known to me,
        with a plea for Scientific Illuminism.  By OLIVER
        HADDO.

 III. The Poem of Hashish.  By CHARLES BAUDELAIRE.
        (Translated.)

  IV. Selections illustrating the Psychology of Hashish, from
        "The Hashish-Eater."  By H. S. LUDLOW.


{231}







                      A PHARMACEUTICAL STUDY
                        OF CANNABIS SATIVA
               (BEING A COLLATION OF FACTS AS KNOWN
                       AT THE PRESENT DATE)


CANNABIS INDICA was introduced into England by O'Shaughnessy, and the first
extract was made by the late Mr. Peter Squire, the well-known pharmacist of
Oxford Street.  According to the "British Pharmacopeia" the official
variety may consist of the flowering or fruiting tops; and is frequently of
inferior quality, seeing that the fruiting tops yield less resin.
     According to the "Journal" of the Chemical Society's Transactions, the
important constituent is a resin.  The active principle is stated to be a
red oil, Cannabinol, which is liable to be come oxidised and inert.
     Its medicinal properties are sedative, anodyne, hypnotic and
antispasmodic.  It has been used with success in migraine and delirium,
neuralgia, pain of the last stages of phthisis and in acute mania, also in
menorrhagia and dysmenorrhoea.  ("Squire's Companion," Page 167, 1904
edition.)
     It does not produce constipation or loss of appetite; on the contrary
it restores the appetite which had been lost by chronic opium or chloral
drinking.  (1889, "Lancet," vol. 1. page 65.) {233}
     Dr. Martindale remarks that recently the Cannabis imported had more
toxic effects than formerly (this in spite of the fact that a high export
duty has been placed upon the drug); it has indeed been stated that toxic
symptoms have been produced by doses of the extract within the official
limits.  According to the "British Pharmacopeia" the dose is 1/4 to 1
grain.  The "Lancet" vol. i, page 1042 (1908), records two interesting cases
of toxic symptoms caused by taking overdoses of the tincture.
     Antidotes for Cannabis poisoning are the stomach-pump or emetics
followed by stimulating draughts of brandy and water or strong coffee,
vegetable acids, such as lemon juice or vinegar.
     Dr. Robert Hooper in his "Lexicon Medicum" (page 315), published in
1848, says: "Cannabis Indica is a variety of hemp much used in the East as
an excitant.  The Hindoos call it "Bangue," the Arabs "Hasheesh," the Turks
"Malach."
     "The leaves are chewed or smoked like those of tobacco and an
intoxicating liquor is prepared from them.  This plant is also used by the
Hottentots who call it "Dacha."
     The following article by Mr. David Hooper, F.C.S., F.L.S. (Curator of
the Botanical Gardens at Calcutta) read at the last meeting of the British
Pharmaceutical Conference at Aberdeen, throws a certain amount of light on
to the commercial side of the question.  At the close of the discussion Mr.
D. B. Dott, an eminent Scottish Pharmacist, remarked that Professor
Stockman had refuse to investigate the drug, as it was useless.  Mr. Edmund
White, Ph.C., considered that the deterioration of the drug was due to
enzymes, and suggested careful storage to preclude enzymic activity. {234}


                      CHARAS OF INDIAN HEMP

                  BY DAVID HOOPER, F.C.S., F.L.S.

     Although "charas" has been properly described as "a foul and crude
drug, the use of which is properly excluded from civilised medicine," it is
imported into British India to the value of £120,000 per annum, a total
exceeding the combined value of all the other medicinal imports, so that it
is an article which deserves more than passing notice.  Indian hemp
(Cannabis Sativa), when grown in the East, secretes an intoxicating
resinous matter on the upper leaves and flowering spikes, the exudation
being marked in plants growing throughout the Western Himalayas and
Turkestan, where charas is prepared as a commercial article.  Formerly it
was cultivated in fields in Turkestan, but now it is grown as a border
around other crops (such as maize), the seeds of both being sown at the
same time.  A sticky exudation (white when damp and greyish when dry) is
found on the upper parts of the plant before the flowers show, and in April
and May, when the plants attain a height of 4 or 5 ft. and the seeds ripen,
the Cannabis is gathered, after reaping the crops, and stored in a cool,
dry place.  When  dry the powdery resinous substance can be detached by
even slight shaking, the dust being collected on a cloth.  In some
districts the plants are cut close to the roots, suspended head downwards,
and the dust or "gard" shaken from them and collected on sheets placed on the
floor.  The leaves, seeds, etc., are picked out, and sand, etc., separated
by passing through a fine sieve, the powder being collected and stored in
cloth or skin bags, when it is ready for export.  In some villages the
charas or {235} extract is made up into small balls, which are collected by
the middleman.
     On reaching British territory all charas is weighed before the nearest
magistrate, by whom it is sealed, a certificate of weight signed by the
Deputy Commissioner being given to the owner.  The trader, before leaving
the district, obtains a permit allowing him to take the drug to a special
market.  The zamindars of Chinese Turkestan are the vendors of the drug,
the importers being Yarkhandis or Ladakhis, who dispose of it at Hoshiapur
and Amritsar principally, returning with piece-goods, or Amritsar merchants
who trade with Ladakh.  The drug in this way reaches the chief cities of
Punjab during September and October.  Thence it is distributed over the
Central and United Provinces as far as Bombay and Calcutta, and is used
everywhere for smoking.  Charas, though a drug, plays the part of money to
a great extent in the trade that is carried on at Ladakh, the price of the
drug depending on the state of the market, and any fluctuations causing a
corresponding increase or decrease in the value of the goods for which it
is bartered.  The exchange price of charas thus gives rise to much
gambling.  A pony-load (two pais or three maunds) sells for Rs. 40 or Rs.
50, the cost of transport to Hoshiapur (the chief Punjab depot) is Rs. 100,
and there it fetches from Rs. 30 to Rs. 100 per maund.  Retail dealers sell
small quantities at a price that works out at Rs. 200 to Rs. 500 per maund.
Five years ago the Kashgar growers, encouraged by the high prices, sowed a
large crop and reaped a bumper harvest, only to find the market already
overstocked and prices on the Leh Exchange fallen from Rs. 60 to RS. 30 per
maund.  The following are {236} the imports of charas from Ladakh and
Kashmir between 1904 and 1907:

               1904-5            1905-6            1906-7
Cwt.  .  .      2818     ...      2446     ...      2883
Value .  . Rs. 12,13,860 ... Rs. 18,39,960 ... Rs. 22,90,560

     Small quantities of charas are made, chiefly for local consumption, in
the Himalayan districts of Nepal, Kumaon, and Garhwal, and in Baluchistan.
Samples of Baluchistan charas made in the Sarawan division of the Kalat
State have been sent to the Indian Museum by Mr. Hughes-Buller.
     The following is the mode of preparation.
     "The female 'bhang' plants are reaped when they are waist high and
charged with seed.  The leaves and seeds are separated and half dried.
They are then spread on a carpet made of goat's hair, another carpet is
spread over them and slightly rubbed.  The dust containing the narcotic
principle falls off, and the leaves, etc., are removed to another carpet
and again rubbed.  The first dust is the best quality, and is known as "nup;"
the dust from the second shaking is called "tahgalim," and is of inferior
quality.  A third shaking gives "gania," of still lower quality.  Each kind
of dust is made unto small balls called "gabza," and kept in cloth bags.  The
first quality is recognised by the ease with which it melts."
     The local rates per tola are: for first quality 2a.5p., second quality
1a.7p., and third quality 11p.  Small quantities of charas find their way
from Thibet into British and Native Garhwal, and a little is prepared in
Simla and Kashmir; while other sources are Nepal and the hill districts of
Almora and Garhwal.  In preparing Nepal charas, the ganja-plant is squeezed
between the palms of the hands, and the sticky {237} resinous substance
scraped off.  "Momea," black wax-like cakes, valued at Rs. 10 per seer, and
"Shahjehani," sticks containing portions of leaf, valued at Rs. 3 per seer,
are the two kinds of Nepal charas, a few maunds being exported annually to
Lucknow and Cawnpore.  No charas is made in the plains of India, except a
small quantity in Gwalior, the Bengal ganja yielding no charas in all the
handling it undergoes in the process of perparation --- thus emphasising
the fact that the intoxicating secretion is developed in plants growing
where the altitude and climate are suitable, as in the Himalayas and
Turkestan.
     "Adulterations." --- Aitchison in 1874 stated that no charas of really
good quality ever came to Leh, the best charas in the original balls being
sent to Bokhara and Kokan.  He said the chief adulterant is the mealy
covering of the fruits of the wild and cultivated Trebizond date ("Eloeagnus"
"hortensis").  The impression in the United Provinces and the Punjab is that
the Yarkhand drug is sophisticated, and a preference is given in some
quarters to the Nepal and other Himalayan forms, which command a higher
price.  The Special Assistant in Kashgar declares there is no advantage in
increasing the weight, as when dealers in India buy the drug they test it,
otherwise they would pay a heavy duty on the adulterant as well as on the
charas itself; so no exporter at present would spoil his charas by adding
extraneous substances.
     Mr. Hooper added descriptions of samples, namely: Kashgar charas,
Yarkhand charas, Baluchistan charas, Gwalior charas, Kumaon charas, Garhwal
charas, Nepal charas and Momea charas, from Simla.
     "Chemical Examination." --- The table of analyses appended is taken from
the author's report to the Indian Hemp Drug {238} Commission of 1893-4, but
a few recent analyses have been added:

┌____________________________┬_________┬_________┬_______┬______┬________┐
│  Description of Charas     │ Extract,│Vegetable│  Ash, │ Sand │Volatile│
│                            │Alcoholic│ Matter  │Soluble│      │ Matter │
├____________________________┼_________┼_________┼_______┼______┼________┤
│Yarkhand  .    .    .    .  │  40.0   │  18.2   │ 23.9  │ 11.4 │   6.5  │
│Amballa "Mashak"    .    .  │  42.7   │  12.9   │ 12.4  │ 28.2 │   5.8  │
│Amritsar "Bhara"    .    .  │  38.1   │  14.9   │ 10.8  │ 29.8 │   6.4  │
│   "     "Mashak"   .    .  │  46.5   │  12.6   │ 10.0  │ 27.3 │   3.6  │
│Delhi Dust, 12a.    .    .  │  42.4   │  17.9   │  9.8  │ 25.9 │   4.0  │
│    "       1r. 1a. .    .  │  42.6   │  18.8   │ 11.1  │ 23.2 │   4.3  │
│    "       "Mashak"     .  │  41.1   │  11.3   │ 10.7  │ 29.5 │   7.4  │
│                     1r. 9a │         │         │       │      │        │
│Bombay    .    .    .    .  │  36.1   │  20.2   │ 11.8  │ 27.3 │   4.6  │
│Gwalior   .    .    .    .  │  43.3   │  27.7   │  8.2  │ 17.7 │   3.1  │
│Kumaon (wild)  .    .    .  │  22.2   │  52.0   │  9.2  │  7.4 │   9.1  │
│   "   (cult.) .    .    .  │  34.2   │  46.3   │  9.0  │  3.0 │   7.5  │
│Garhwal   .    .    .    .  │  41.9   │  37.0   │  7.9  │  5.5 │   7.7  │
│Almora    .    .    .    .  │  36.9   │  40.5   │ 10.5  │  4.6 │   7.5  │
│Nepal     .    .    .    .  │  44.6   │  35.1   │  8.2  │  6.5 │   5.6  │
│  "   "Shahjehani"  .    .  │  44.4   │  37.7   │  9.6  │  4.1 │   4.2  │
│Simla "Momea"  .    .    .  │  37.0   │  32.0   │ 12.3  │  9.3 │   9.4  │
│Baluchistan (1) 1903     .  │  22.4   │  19.9   │ 14.8  │ 38.6 │   4.3  │
│    "       (2)  "  .    .  │  22.0   │  35.2   │ 20.8  │ 15.1 │   6.9  │
│    "       (3) 1905     .  │  24.2   │  16.0   │ 13.3  │ 39.3 │   7.2  │
│    "       (4)  "  .    .  │  26.0   │  24.1   │  9.6  │ 31.0 │   9.3  │
│    "       (5)  "  .    .  │  24.9   │  27.3   │ 11.5  │ 25.8 │  10.5  │
│Kashgar (1)    .    .    .  │  40.2   │  21.1   │  9.2  │ 16.8 │  12.7  │
│   "    (2)    .    .    .  │  40.9   │  16.3   │  9.9  │ 20.5 │  12.4  │
│   "    (3)    .    .    .  │  48.1   │  15.6   │  8.2  │ 16.1 │  12.0  │
└____________________________┴_________┴_________┴_______┴______┴________┘

     According to Fluckiger and Hanbury, charas yields one-fourth to one-
third of its weight of amorphous resin, and it has been stated that good
samples yield 78 per cent. of resin.  It will be seen above that the
average yield in the North Indian samples is 40 per cent., the highest
being from Kashgar and the lowest from Baluchistan and from Kumaon wild
plants, the last-named corresponding to a good sample of ganja. {239}

     "Physiological Values." --- Captain J. F. Evans. I.M.S., Chemical
Examiner to the Government of Bengal, also gave results of his
physiological tests in the Indian Hemp Drug Commission's Proceedings for
1893-4.  His experiments were made with alcoholic extracts, and only one
sample --- Amritsar best charas --- approached in definite physiological
effects the extract, taken as a standard, prepared from Bengal ganja.  The
following are the values compared with that of Amritsar mashak, designated
as 32:

     Amritsar Mashak   .   32  │    Bombay  .    .    .    4
     Delhi Mashak .    .   24  │    Amballa Mashak    .    2
     Amballa Mashak    .   23  │    Delhi dust   .    .    2
     Garhwal      .    .   21  │    Kumaon wild  .    .    1
     Delhi dust (2nd)  .   20  │    Kumaon cultivated .    1
     Amritsar Bhara    .   19  │    Gwalior .    .    .    1

so that the best Amritsar charas is thirty-two times as potent as the
Gwalior product, the latter from plants grown in the plains, while the
amount of alcoholic extract bears no relation to the physiological activity
of the drug.
     Professor Greenish in his well-known work on "Materia Medica" says the
Cannabis Indica is an annual dioecious herb indigenous to Central and
Western Asia, but largely cultivated in temperate countries for its strong
fibres (hemp) and its oily seed (hemp-seed) and in tropical countries also
for the resinous secretions which it there produces.  The secretion
possesses very valuable and powerful medicinal properties; but it is not
produced in the plant when grown in temperate climates; on the other hand
the fibre of the plant under the latter condition is much stronger than
that of the tropical plant.
     The hemp plant grown in India differs, however, in certain {240}
particulars from that grown in Europe; and the plant was formerly
considered a distinct species and named Cannabis Indica, but this opinion
is now abandoned.
     The cultivation of hemp for its seed and fibre dates from very remote
periods.  It was used as an intoxicant by the Persians and Arabians in the
eleventh and twelfth centuries and probably much earlier, but was not
introduced into European medicine until the year 1838.  For medicinal use
it is grown in the districts of Bogra and Rajshaki to the North of Calcutta
and westward, thence through central India to Gujerat.  Very good qualities
of the drug are purchased in Madras, but the European market is chiefly
supplied with inferior grades from Ghalapur.
     The pistillate plants by which alone the resin is secreted in any
quantity are pruned to produce flowering branches, the tops of these
flowering branches are collected, allowed to wilt, and then pressed by
treading them under the feet into more or less compact masses.  This forms
the drug known as "ganjah," or (on the London market) Guaza.
    The larger leaves are collected separately; when dried they are known
as "bhang."
     During the manipulations to which the plant is subjected in preparing
the drug, a certain quantity of the resin is separated; it is collected and
forms the drug known as "charas" (Churrus).  Charas is also prepared by
rubbing ganjah between the hands or by men in leather garments brushing
against the growing plants, in any case separating part of the active
adhesive resin; hence the official description limits the drug to that from
which the resin has not been removed. {241}
     All these forms of the drug are largely used in India for producing an
agreeable form of intoxication; ganjah and charas are smoked, while bhang
is used to prepare a drink or sweetmeat.
     The drug has a powerful odour, but is almost devoid of taste.
     Numerous attempts have been made to isolate the active constituent of
Indian hemp; it is not possible here to do more than allude to the chief
late ones.
     In 1881 Siebold and Bradbury isolated a thick yellowish oily liquid
which they termed "Cannabinine" and their results were confirmed in 1884 by
Warden and Waddell.
     In 1894 Robert separated a dark red syrupy mass possessing
intoxicating properties and in 1896 Wood, Spivey, and Easterfield obtained
from charas under reduced pressure certain inactive terpenes and a viscous
resin "Cannabinol" which when warmed melts to an oily liquid.  Cannabinol
when taken internally induces delirium and sleep, and, as far as at present
known, is the intoxicating constituent of Indian hemp.
     In addition to this principle Matthew Hay in 1883 obtained colourless
crystals of an alkaloid "tetano-cannabine" which in physiological action
resembled strychnine.
     Cannabis Indica was formerly used as a hypnotic and anodyne but is
uncertain in its action.
     It is administered in mania and hysteria as an anodyne and
antispasmodic.
     Mr. E. M. Holmes, F.L.S., Curator of the Pharmaceutical Society's
Museum, writing on the subject of Cannabis Indica says "The Dervishes make
a preparation by macerating the resinous type in almond oil and give a
small quantity of it in soup to produced prolonged sleep." {242}
     A strong dose of Cannabis produces curious hallucinations abolishing
temporarily the ideas of time and distance; but the ordinary drug as
imported is never the current crop, which the Hindoos keep for their own
use.  The active principle Cannabinol (as far as is known) rapidly oxidises
and loses its properties so that if a really active preparation is
required, it is best to get it made in India, using absolute alcohol and
the fresh tops, or recently made charas, which, being a solid mass, does
not readily oxidise.
     Before closing it might be well to notice in detail the final
investigations made by Messrs. Wood, Spivey, and Easterfield.
     The following is re-printed from the "Proceedings of the Chemical
Society" for 1897-8, and is to be found on page 66.


                           CANNABINOL

     "The Authors have continued their examination of Cannabinol, the toxic
resinous constituent of Indian Hemp (Trans. 1896, "69", 539).
     "The substance boils with slight decomposition at about 400° its
absorption spectrum shows no characteristic bands, its vapour-density at
the temperature of boiling Sulphur corresponds with the formula C18H24O2
already assigned to the compound.
     "An account is given of the reaction of Cannabinol with Acetic
Anhydride, benzoyl Chloride and phosphoric Anhydride; the results indicate
that one hydroxyl group is present.  In the case of Acetic Anhydride or
Acetyl chloride, however, a crystalline compound melting at 75° is one of
the products of the {243} reaction.  The Authors assign the formula
C15H18O2 to this compound.  The same compound has recently been described
by Dunstan and Henry (Proc. 1898, 14, 44, Feb. 17), who ascribe the formula
C18H22OAc to it, fuming hydriodic Acid gives no methyl or ethyl iodide when
boiled with Cannabinol.  Reduction with hydrodic Acid in sealed tubes
produces a hydro-carbon, C10H20.
     "By long boiling with or without dehydrating agents a hydro-carbon
C10H16 is formed.
     "Oxidation with aqueous chromic acid, alkaline or acid permanganate or
dilute nitric acid is accompanied by the production of a caproic acid,
lower fatty acids being probably produced at the same time.  The action of
fuming nitric acid upon cannabinol dissolved in cold glacial acetic acid
removes one carbon atom as carbonic anhydride, and produces a red amorphous
substance which gives numbers on analysis agreeing with the formula
C17H20N2O6.
     "This substance when boiled with nitric acid yields a light-red
substance C17H20N2O8 which upon further oxidation yields among other
substances a yellow acid crystalline compound C13H15N2O5, which forms
sparingly soluble crystalline sodium, ammonium and silver salts and is
probably a dinitrophenol, and a compound C11H11NO4, the properties of which
agree closely with those of the oxycannabin of Bolas and Francis ("Chemical"
"News" 1871, 24, 77).
     "This compound has the properties of a nitro-lactone, as has already
been shown by Dunstan and Henry.
     "Corresponding crystalline potassium and silver Salts have been
prepared and analysed.  The name Cannabinic Acid is proposed for the
unnitrated parent oxy-acid. {244}
     "Amido-Cannabinolactone, C11H11O2NH2 is obtained in colourless
crystals melting at 119° when the nitro-lactone is reduced either by
hydriodic acid, or by tin and hydrochloric acid.
     "The base is readily re-crystallised from hot water, its salts cannot
be recrystalised from water without decomposition; the hydriodide and the
platinochloride have been analysed."
     In a later paper read before the Chemical Society Messrs. Wood,
Spivey, and Easterfield (Proc. Chem. Soc. 1897-8, page 184) say:
     "The oily lactone prepared from nitrocannabinolactone (oxycannabin) is
shown to be a metatolybutyrlactone, oxycannabin being the corresponding
nitroderivative.
     "By the oxidation of Cannabinolactone a lactonic acid is produced
which on fusion with potash yields isophthalic acid.
Nitrocannabinolactonic acid is obtained by oxidising oxycannabin either by
nitric acid in sealed tubes or by potassium permanganate.  The volatile
fatty acids produced on oxidising Cannabinol by nitric acid are shown to be
normal butyric (Dunstan and Henry, Proc. Chem. Soc. 1898, "14", 44) normal
valeric and normal caproic acids, Valeric acid being formed in largest
amount."
     Through the courtesy of Messrs. Parke, Davis and Co., manufacturing
chemists of London and Detroit, Michigan, U.S.A., we are enabled to
reproduce a clear pharmacological study of the drug by E. M. Houghton,
Ph.C., M.D.; and H. C. Hamilton, M.S.  (Excerpt from an article in the
"American Journal of Pharmacy" for January 1908.)
     From several samples of Cannabis Americana fluid {245} extracts and
solid extracts were prepared according to the U.S.P., and were tested upon
animals for physiological activity.
     The method of assay, which has previously been called to the attention
of this Society, is that which one of us (Houghton) devised and has
employed for the past twelve years.  This method consists essentially in
the careful observation of the physiological effects produced upon dogs
from the internal administration of the preparation of the drug under test.
It is necessary in selecting the test animals to pick out those that are
easily susceptible to the action of the Cannabis, since dogs as well as
human beings vary considerably in their reaction to the drug.  Also,
preliminary tests should be made upon the animals before they are finally
selected for test purposes, in order that we may know exactly how they
behave under given conditions.  After the animals have been finally
selected and found to respond to the standard test dose, 0.01 Gm. per kilo,
they are set aside for this particular work, care being taken to have them
well fed, well housed, and in every way kept under the best sanitary
conditions.  Usually we have found it desirable to keep two or more of the
approved animals on hand at all times, so there may not be delay in testing
samples as they come in.
     In applying the test, the standard dose (in form of solid extract for
convenience) is administered internally in a small capsule.  The dog's
tongue is drawn forward between the teeth with the left hand and the
capsule placed on the back part of the tongue with the right hand.  The
tongue is then quickly released and the capsule is swallowed with ease.  In
order that the drug may be rapidly absorbed, food should be {246} withheld
for twenty-four hours before the test and an efficient cathartic given if
needed.
     Within a comparatively short time the dog begins to show the
characteristic action of the drug.  There are three typical effects to be
noticed from active extracts on susceptible animals: first a stage
excitability, then a stage of inco-ordination, followed by a period of
drowsiness.  The first of these is so dependent on the characteristics of
the dog used that it is of little value for judging the activity of the
drug, while with only a few exceptions the second, or the stage of inco-
ordination, invariably follows in one or two hours; the dog loses control
of its legs and of the muscles supporting its head, so that when nothing
occurs to attract its attention its head will droop, its body sway, and,
when severely affected, the animal will stagger and fall, the intoxication
being peculiarly suggestive and striking.
     Experience is necessary on the part of the observer to determine just
when the physiological effects of the drug begin to manifest themselves,
since there is always, as in the case of many chemical tests, a personal
factor to be guarded against.  When an active extract is given to a
susceptible animal, in the smallest dose that will produce any perceptible
effect, one must watch closely for the slightest trace of incoordination,
lack of attention, or drowsiness.  It is particularly necessary for the
animals to be confined in a room there nothing will excite them, since when
their attention is drawn to anything of interest the typical effect of the
drug may disappear.
     The influence of the test dose of the unknown drug is carefully
compared with that of the same dose of the standard {247} preparation
administered to another test dog at the same time and under the same
conditions.
     Finally, when the animals become drowsy, the observations are recorded
and the animals are returned to their quarters.
     The second day following, the observations upon the two dogs are
reversed, "i.e.", the animal receiving the test dose of the unknown receives
a test dose of the known, and "vice versâ", and a second observation is made.
If one desires to make a very accurate quantitative determination, it is
advisable to use, not two dogs, but four or five, and to study the effects
of the test dose of the unknown specimen in comparison with the test dose
of the known, making several observations on alternate days.  If the
unknown is below standard activity, the amount should be increased until
the effect produced is the same as for the test dose of the standard.  If
the unknown is above strength, the test dose is diminished accordingly.
From the dose of the unknown selected as producing the same action as the
test dose of the standard, the amount of dilution or concentration
necessary is determined.  The degree of accuracy with which the test is
carried out will depend largely upon the experience of the observer and the
care he exercises.
     Another point to be noted in the use of dogs for standardising
Cannabis is that, although they never appear to lose their susceptibility,
the same dogs cannot be used indefinitely for accurate testing.  After a
time they become so accustomed to the effects of the drug they refuse to
stand on their feet, and so do not show the typical inco-ordination which
is its most characteristic and constant action.
     Previous to the adoption of the physiological test over twelve years
ago, we were often annoyed by complaints of {248} physicians that certain
lots of drugs were inert; in fact some hospitals, before accepting their
supplies of hemp preparations, asked for samples in order to make rough
tests upon their patients before ordering.  Since the adoption of the test
we have not had a well-authenticated report of inactivity, although many
tons of the various preparations of Cannabis Indica have been tested and
supplied for medicinal purposes.
     At the beginning of our observations careful search of the literature
on the subject was made to determine the toxicity of the hemp.  Not a
single case of fatal poisoning have we been able to find reported, although
often alarming symptoms may occur.  A dog weighting 25 pounds received an
injection of two ounces of an active U.S.P. fluid extract in the jugular
vein with the expectation that it would certainly be sufficient to produce
death.  To our surprise the animal, after being unconscious for about a day
and a half, recovered completely.  This dog received, not alone the active
constituents of the drug, but also the amount of alcohol contained in the
fluid extract.  Another dog received about 7 grammes of Solid Extract
Cannabis with the same result.  We have never been able to give an animal a
sufficient quantity of a U.S.P. or other preparation of the Cannabis
(Indica Americana) to produce death.
     There is some variation in the amount of extractive obtained, as would
be expected from the varying amount of stems, seeds, etc., in the different
samples.  Likewise there is a certain amount of variation in the
physiological action, but in every case the administration of 0.01 gramme
of the extract per kilo body weight, has elicited the characteristic
symptoms in properly selected animals. {249}
     The repeated tests we have made convince us that Cannabis Americana
properly grown and cured is fully as active as the best Indian drug.
     Furthermore, we have placed our quantities of fluid extract and solid
extract of Cannabis Americana in the hands of experienced clinicians, and
from eight of these men, who are all large users of the drug, we have
received reports which state that they are unable to determine any
therapeutic difference between the Cannabis Americana and the Cannabis
Indica.


                            CONCLUSIONS

     1.  The method, outlined in the paper, for determining the
physiological activity of Cannabis Sativa by internal administration to
especially selected dogs, has been found reliable when the standard dose of
extract 0.01 gramme per kilo body weight, is tested on animals, the effects
being noted by an experienced observe in comparison with the effects of the
same quantity of a standard preparation.
     2.  Cannabis Sativa, when grown in various localities of the United
States and Mexico, is found to be fully as active as the best imported
Indian-grown Cannabis Sativa, as shown by laboratory and clinical tests.
    Much has been written relative to the comparative activity of Cannabis
Sativa grown in different climates (Cannabis Indica, Mexicana and
Americana).  It has been generally assumed that the American-grown drug was
practically worthless therapeutically, and that Cannabis Sativa grown in
India must be used if one would obtain physiologically active preparations.
{250}
     Furthermore, it has been claimed that the best Indian drug is that
grown especially for medicinal purposes, the part used consisting of the
flowering tops of the unfertilised female plants, care being taken during
the growing of the drug to weed out the male plants.  According to our
experience, this is an erroneous notion, as we have repeatedly found that
the Indian drug which contains large quantities of seed is fully as active
as the drug which consists of the flowering tops only, provided the seed be
removed before percolation.
     Several years ago we began a systematic investigation of American-
grown Cannabis Sativa.  Samples from a number of localities were obtained
and carefully investigated.  From these samples fluid and solid extracts
were prepared according to the Pharmacopoeial method, and carefully tested
upon animals for physiological activity, and eventually they were
standardised by physiological methods.  Repeated tests have convinced us
that Cannabis Americana properly grown and cured is fully as active as the
best Indian drug, while on the other hand we have frequently found Indian
Cannabis to be practically inert.
     Before marketing preparations of Cannabis Americana, however, we
placed specimens of the fluid and solid extracts in the hands of
experienced clinicians for practical test; and from these men, all of whom
had used large quantities of Cannabis Indica in practice, we have received
reports which affirm that they have been unable to determine any
therapeutic difference between Cannabis Americana and Cannabis Indica.  We
are, therefore, of the opinion that Cannabis Americana, will be found
equally as efficient as, and perhaps more uniformly reliable than Cannabis
Indica obtained from abroad, {251} since it is evident that with a source
of supply at our very doors proper precautions can be taken to obtain crude
drug of the best quality.
     The proper botanical name of the drug under consideration is Cannabis
Sativa.  The Indian plant was formerly supposed to be a distinct species
"per se," but botanists now consider the two plants to be identical.  The old
name of Cannabis Indica, however, has been retained in medicine.  Cannabis
Indica simply means Cannabis Sativa grown in the Indies, and Cannabis
Americana means Cannabis Sativa grown in America.  Its introduction into
Western medicine dates from the beginning of the last century, but it has
been used as an intoxicant in Asiatic countries from time immemorial, and
under the name of "hashish," "bhang," "ganja," or "charas," is habitually
consumed by upwards of two hundred millions of human beings.
     The physiological action of Cannabis Americana is precisely the same
as that of Cannabis Inidca.  The effects of this drug are said to be due
chiefly to its action upon the central nervous system.  It first produces a
state of excitement similar to that of the initial stage of acute
alcoholism.  This excitement of the motor areas and other lower centres in
the brain, according to W. E. Dixon, of the University of Cambridge, "is
not the result of direct stimulation of these, but is due to depression of
the highest and controlling centres.  At all events there is a depression
of the highest centres, and this is shown by diminished efficiency in the
performance of mental work, by inability to concentrate attention, and by
feeble judgment."  In lower animals the effects of Cannabis Indica resemble
those in man, and present the {252} same variations.  A stage of exaltation
with increased movements is sometimes present, and is followed by
depression, lassitude and sleep.  Reflex excitability is first increased
and then diminished.  Cannabis Indica differs from opium in producing no
disturbance of digestion and no constipation.  The heart is generally
accelerated in man when the drug is smoked.  Its intravenous injection into
animals slows the pulse, partly through inhibitory stimulation and partly
through direct action upon the heart muscle.  The pupil is generally
somewhat dilated.  Death from acute poisoning is extremely rare, and
recovery has occurred after enormous doses.  The continued abuse of hashish
by natives of the East sometimes leads to mania and dementia, but does not
cause the same disturbance of nutrition that opium does; and the habitual
use of small quantities, which is almost universal in some Eastern
countries, does not appear to be detrimental to health.
     Cannabis Americana is employed for the same medicinal purposes as
Cannabis Indica, which is frequently used as a hypnotic in cases of
sleeplessness, in nervous exhaustion, and as a sedative in patients
suffering from pain.  Its greatest use has perhaps been in the treatment of
various nervous and mental diseases, although it is found as an ingredient
in many cough mixtures.  In general, Cannabis Americana can be used when a
mild hypnotic or sedative is indicated, as it is said not to disturb
digestion, and it produces no subsequent nausea and depression.  It is of
use in cases of migraine, particularly when opium in contra-indicated.  It
is recommended in paralysis agitans to quiet the tremors, in spasm of the
bladder, and in sexual impotence not the result of organic disease,
especially in combination with nux vomica and ergot. {253}
     The ordinary dosage is:
     Extractum Cannabis Americanae, 0.01 gramme (1.5 grain).
     Fluidextractum Cannabis Americanae, 0.05 cc. (1 minim).
     The dosage of Cannabis Americana is the same as that of Cannabis
Indica, as from our experiments we find that there is no therapeutic
difference in the physiological action of the two drugs.
     Cannabis Sativa, when grown in the United States (Cannabis Americana)
under careful precautions, is found to be fully as active as the best
imported Indian-grown Cannabis Sativa, as shown by the laboratory and
clinical tests.  The advantages of using carefully prepared solid and fluid
extracts of the home-grown drug are apparent when it is considered that
every step of the process, from planting of the drug to the final marketing
of the finished product, is under the supervision of experts.  The imported
drug varies extremely in activity and much of it is practically inert or
flagrantly adulterated.

     The writer desires to acknowledge the able assistance given him in
preparing the above notes by Mr. E. M. Holmes, F.L.S., and Mr. S. Jamieson,
M.P.S. (Messrs. Parke, Davis and Co.)  Readers acquiring further
information on the subject are referred to the British Pharmaceutical Codex
(1907) and Squire's "Companion to the British Pharmacopoeia," recently
published. {254}


                           REFERENCES

Marshall, London "Lancet," 1897, i. p. 235.
Dixon, "British Medical Journal," 1899, ii p. 136.
Fraenkel, "Arch. f. exp. Path. u. Pharm." xlix, p. 266.
Cushny, "Textbook of Pharmacology," 1906, p. 232.
Houghton and Hamilton, "Am. Jour. Pharm.," January 1908.
"Transactions Chem. Society," 1896, "69", 539.
"Proceedings Chem. Soc." 1898, "14", 44, Feb. 17; "Ibid." 1898, p. 184.
Squires, "Companion to British Pharmacopoeia," 1908.
Martindale's "Extra Pharmacopeia," 1908.
Hooper's "Medical Dictionary."
"Chemist and Druggist."
                                E. WHINERAY, M.P.S., ETC.

{WEH note: presentation continues in no. 2}

{255}

                                                  "SPECIAL SUPPLEMENT"








                           JOHN ST. JOHN

               THE RECORD OF THE MAGICAL RETIREMENT OF
                        G. H. FRATER, O.'. M.'.



{1 --- WEH note:  The supplement has its own pagination.}






{Illustration:  BW halftone:  In a black border, this is a photograph of a
person, presumably Crowley, in a violet (assumed from text) robe.  The
figure is shown in right profile, inclined forward to the right about
thirty degrees off the vertical.  The feet are bare and visible, with left
foot flat and toes pointed directly right, as is the orientation of the
figure.  The right foot is also bare, but pointed at right angles to the
body and directly forward, as a support at the extreme left of the figure.
Only the ball of the right foot meets the floor.  The left hand and arm are
not visible.  The right hand and arm to mid forearm are extended directly
horizontal at shoulder height and pointing forward to the right.  The right
forefinger is extended, and a simple cylindrical stick of a thickness of
the finger is gripped in such fashion that one end of the stick (wand)
emerges directly at and beneath the extended forefinger.  There may be a
design on the finger end of this wand, but that cannot be clearly
distinguished.  The wand angles down slightly under the right hand and
terminates about a foot from its beginning in direct contact with the
under-forearm.  The wand is gripped by all but the forefinger of the right
hand.  No ring is worn.  The Head is completely covered by a crumpled and
tailed hood, apparently of a material like silk or satin.  Draped over the
back and about the neck of the figure is an untrimmed leopard skin.  The
tail and limbs hang to the floor in back, and are taken about the neck at
top, with one bit visible behind the figure at the front at about the
height of the diaphragm.  Although not captioned in situ, the illustration
is identified as "Blind Force" in the list of illustrations.  Some nameless
wag is reported to have uttered the following characterization during a
lecture, when confronted by a slide of this illustration: "And this is a
shot of Crowley with a dead cat around his neck".}

{2}





                            PREFACE


NOBODY is better aware than myself that this account of my Retirement
labours under most serious disadvantages.
     The scene should have been laid in an inaccessible lamaserai in Tibet,
perched on stupendous crags; and my familiarity with Central Asia would
have enabled me to do it quite nicely.
     One should really have had an attendant Sylph; and one's Guru, a man
of incredible age and ferocity, should have frequently appeared at the
dramatic moment.
     A gigantic magician on a coal-black steed would have added to the
effect: strange voices, uttering formidable things, should have issued from
unfathomable caverns.  A mountain shaped like a Svastika with a Pillar of
Flame would have been rather taking; herds of impossible yaks, ghost-dogs,
gryphons. ...
     But my good, friends, this is not the way things happen.  Paris is as
wonderful as Lhassa, and there are just as many miracles in London as in
Luang Prabang.
     I did not even think it necessary to go into the Bois de Boulogne and
meet those Three Adepts who cause bleeding at the nose, familiar to us from
the writings of Macgregor Mathers. {3}
     The Universe of Magic is in the mind of a man: the setting is but
Illusion even to the thinker.
     Humanity is progressing; formerly men dwelt habitually in the exterior
world; nothing less than giants and Paynim and men-at-arms and distressed
ladies, vampires and succubi, could amuse them.  Their magicians brought
demons from the smoke of blood, and made gold from baser metals.
     In this they succeeded; the intelligent perceived that the gold and
the lead were but shadows of thought.  It became probable that the elements
were but isomers of one element; matter was seen to be but a modification
of mind, or (at least) that the two things matter and mind must be joined
before either could be perceived.  All knowledge comes through the senses,
on the one hand; on the other, it is only through the senses that knowledge
comes.
     We then continue our conquest of matter; and we are getting pretty
expert.  It took much longer to perfect the telescope than the motor-car.
And though, of course, there are limitations, we know enough to be able to
predict them.
     We know in what progression the Power to Speed coefficient of a
steamboat rises --- and so on.
     But in our conquest of Nature, which we are making principally by the
use of the rational intelligence of the mind, we have become aware of that
world itself, so much so that educated men spend nine-tenths of their
waking lives in that world, only descending to feed and dress and so on at
the imperative summons of their physical constitution.
     Now to us who thus live the world of mind seems almost as savage and
unexplored as the world of Nature seemed to the Greeks. {4}
     There are countless worlds of wonder unpath'd and uncomprehended ---
and even unguessed, we doubt not.
     Therefore we set out diligently to explore and map these

                      untrodden regions of the mind.

Surely our adventures may be as exciting as those of Cortes or Cook!
     It is for this reason that I invite with confidence the attention of
humanity to this record of my journey.
     But another set of people will find another disappointment.  I am
hardly an heroic figure.  I am not The Good Young Man That Died.  I do not
remain in holy meditation, balanced on my left eyelash, for forty years,
restoring exhausted nature by a single grain of rice at intervals of
several months.
     You will perceive in these pages a man with all his imperfections
thick upon him trying blindly, yet with all his force, to control the
thoughts of his mind, so that he shall be able to say "I will think this
thought and not that thought" at any moment, as easily as (having conquered
Nature) we are all able to say "I will drink this wine, and not that wine."
     For, as we have now learnt, our happiness does not at all depend upon
our possessions or our power.  We would all rather be dead than be a
millionaire who lives in daily dread of murder or blackmail.
     Our happiness depends upon our state of mind.  It is the mastery of
these things that the Magicians of to-day have set out to obtain for
humanity; they will not turn back, or turn aside. {5}
     It is with the object of giving the reins into the hands of others
that I have written this record, not without pain.
     Others, reading it, will see the sort of way one sets to work; they
will imitate and improve upon it; they will attain to the Magistry; they
will prepare the Red Tincture and the Elixir of Life -- for they will
discover what Life means.

{6}







                             PROLOGUE


IT hath appeared unto me fitting to make a careful and even an elaborate
record of this Great Magical Retirement, for that in the first place I am
now certain of obtaining some Result therefrom, as I was never previously
certain.
     Previous records of mine have therefore seemed vague and obscure, even
unto the wisest of the scribes; and I am myself afraid that even here all
my skill of speech and study may avail me little, so that the most
important part of the record will be blank.
     Now I cannot tell whether it is a part of my personal Kamma, or
whether the Influence of the Equinox of Autumn should be the exciting
cause; but it has usually been at this part of the year that my best
Results have occurred.  It may be that the physical health induced by the
summer in me, who dislike damp and chill, may being forth as it were a
flower the particular kind of Energy --- Sammaváyamo --- which gives alike
the desire to perform more definitely and exclusively the Great Work, and
the capacity to achieve success.
     It is in any case remarkable that I was born in October (18-);
suffered the terrible mystic trance which turned me toward the Path in
October (18-); applied for admission to G.'. D.'. in October (18-);
opened my temple at B---e in {7} October (18-); received the mysteries of
L.I.L. in October (19-); and obtained the grade of 6° = 5°; obtained
the first true mystic results in October (19-); first landed in Egypt in
October (19-); landed again in Egypt in October (19-); first parted from
... in October (19-); wrote the B.-i-M. in October (19-), and obtained the
grade of 7° = 4°; received the great Initiation in October 19-; and,
continuing, received ........ in October 19-.
     So then in the last days of September 19- do I begin to collect and
direct my thoughts; gently, subtly, persistently turning them one and all
to the question of retreat and communion with that which I have agreed to
call the Holy Guardian Angel, whose Knowledge and Conversation I have
willed, and in greater or less measure enjoyed, since Ten Years.
     Terrible have been the ordeals of the Path; I have lost all that I
possessed, and all that I love, even as at the Beginning I offered All for
Nothing, unwitting as I was of the meaning of those words.  I have suffered
many and grievous things at the hands of the elements, and of the planets;
hunger, thirst, fatigue, disease, anxiety, bereavement, all those woes and
others have laid heavy hand upon me, and behold! as I look back upon these
years, I declare that all hath been very well.  For so great is the Reward
which I (unworthy) have attained that the Ordeals seem but incidents hardly
worthy to mention, save in so far as they are the Levers by which I moved
the World.  Even those dreadful periods of "dryness" and of despair seem
but the necessary lying fallow of the Earth.  All those "false paths" of
Magic and Meditation and of Reason were not false paths, but steps upon the
{8} true Path; even a a tree must shoot downwards its roots into the Earth
in order that it may flower, and bring forth fruit in its season.
     So also now I know that even in my months of absorption in worldly
pleasure and business, I am not really there, but stand behind, preparing
the Event.
     Imagine me, therefore, if you will, in Paris on the last day of
September.  How surprised was I --- though, had I thought, I should have
remembered that it was so --- to find all my necessary magical apparatus to
my hand!  Months before, for quite other reasons, I had moved most of my
portable property to Paris; now I go to Paris, not thinking of a
Retirement, for I now know enough to trust my destiny to bring all things
to pass without anxious forethought on my part --- and suddenly, therefore,
here do I find myself --- and nothing is lacking.
     I determined therefore to begin steadily and quietly, allowing the
Magical Will to come slowly forth, daily stronger, in contrast to my old
plan, desperation kindling a store of fuel dried by long neglect, despair
inflaming a mad energy that would blaze with violence for a few hours and
then go out --- and nothing done.  "Not hurling, according to the oracle, a
transcendent foot towards Piety."
     Quite slowly and simply therefore did I wash myself and robe myself as
laid down in the Goetia, taking the Violet Robe of an Exempt Adept (being a
single Garment), wearing the Ring of an Exempt Adept, and that Secret Ring
which hath been entrusted to my keeping by the Masters.  Also I took the
Almond Wand of Abramelin and the Secret Tibetan Bell, made of Electrum
Magicum with its striker of human {9} bone.  I took also the magical knife,
and the holy Anointing Oil of Abramelin the Mage.
     I began then quite casually by performing the Lesser Banishing Ritual
of the Pentagram, finding to my great joy and some surprise that the
Pentagrams instantly formulated themselves, visible to the material eye as
it were bars of shining blackness deeper than the night.
     I then consecrated myself to the Operation; cutting the Tonsure upon
my head, a circle, as it were to admit the light of infinity: and cutting
the cross of blood upon my breast, thus symbolising the equilibration of
and the slaying of the body, while loosing the blood, the first projection
in matter of the universal Fluid.
     The whole formulating the Ankh --- the Key of Life!
     I gave moreover the signs of the grades from 0° = 0° to 7°
4°.
     Then did I take upon myself the Great Obligation as follows:
             I. I, O.M. &c., a member of the Body of God,
                hereby bind myself on behalf of the whole
                Universe, even as we are now physically bound
                unto the cross of suffering:
            II. that I will lead a pure life, as a devoted servant
                of the Order:
           III. that I will understand all things:
            IV. that I will love all things:
             V. that I will perform all things and endure all
                things:
            VI. that I will continue in the Knowledge and
                Conversation of My Holy Guardian Angel:
           VII. that I will work without attachment:  {10}
          VIII. that I will work in truth:
            IX. that I will rely only upon myself:
             X. that I will interpret every phenomenon as a
                particular dealing of God with my soul.
     And if I fail herein, may my pyramid be profaned, and the Eye be
closed upon me!

     All this did I swear and seal with a stroke upon the Bell.
     Then I steadily sat down in my Asana (or sacred Posture), having my
left heel beneath my body pressing into the anus, my right sole closely
covering the phallus, the right leg vertical; my head, neck, and spine in
one straight vertical line; my arms stretched out resting on their
respective knees; my thumbs joined each to the fourth finger of the proper
hand.  All my muscles were tightly held; my breath came steady, slow and
even through both nostrils; my eyes were turned back, in, up to the Third
Eye; my tongue was rolled back in my mouth; and my thoughts, radiating from
that Third Eye, I strove to shut in unto an ever narrowing sphere by
concentrating my will upon the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy
Guardian Angel.
     Then I struck Twelve times upon the Bell; with the new month the
Operation was duly begun.

Oct. I.                 "The First Day"
          At Eight o'clock I rose from sleep and putting on my Robe, began
          a little to meditate.  For several reasons --- the journey and
          business of the day before, etc., etc., I did not feel fresh.
          But forcing myself a little I rose {11} and went out to the Café
          du Dôme where I took coffee and a biroche, after buying an
          exercise book in which to write this record.
          This was about 8.45; and now (10.10) I have written thus far.
          [Including the Prologue, but not the Preface. --- ED.]

10.45.    I have driven over to the Hammam through the beautiful sunshine,
          meditating upon the discipline of the Operation.
          It seems only necessary to cut off definitely dispersive things,
          aimless chatter and such; for the Operation itself will guide
          one, leading to disgust for too much food and so on.  It there by
          upon my limbs any chain that requires a definite effort to break
          it, perhaps sleep is that chain.  But we shall see --- "solvitur"
          "ambulando."  If any asceticism be desirable later on, true
          wariness will soon detect any danger, and devise a means to meet
          it and overcome it.

12.0.     Have finished bath and massage, during which I continued steadily
          but quite gently, "not by a strain laborious and hurtful but with
          stability void of movement," willing the Presence of Adonai.

12.5.     I ordered a dozen oysters and a beefsteak, and now (12.10) find
          myself wishing for an apple chewed and swallowed by deglutition,
          as the Hatha Yogis do.  The distaste for food has already begun.

12.12.    Impressions already "failing to connect."
          I was getting into Asana and thinking "I record this fact," when
          I saw a jockey being weighed. {12}

12.12.    I thought of recording "my own" weight which I had not taken.
          Good!
12.13.    Pranayama [10 seconds to breath in, 20 seconds to
12.24.    breathe out, 30 seconds to hold in the breath.]  Fairly good;
          made me sweat again thoroughly.  Stopped not from fatigue but
          from lunch.
          [Odd memoranda during lunch.
          Insist on pupils writing down their whole day; the play as well
          as the work.  "By this means they will become ashamed, and prate
          no longer of 'beasts.'"]
          I am now well away on the ascetic current, devising all sorts of
          privations and thoroughly enjoying the idea.

12.55.    Having finished a most enjoyable lunch, will drink coffee and
          smoke, and try and get a little sleep.  Thus to break up sleep
          into two shifts.

2.18.     A nice sleep.  Woke refreshed.

3.15.     Am arrived home, having performed a little business and driven
          back.
          Will sit down and do Asana, etc.

3.20.     Have started.

3.28.     7 Pranayama cycles enough.  Doubtless the big lunch is a
          nuisance.
          I continue meditating simply.

3.36.     Asana hurts badly, and I can no longer concentrate at all.  Must
          take 5 minutes' rest and then persevere. {13}

3.41.     Began again.  I shall take "Hua allalu alazi lailaha illa hua"
          for mantra [any sacred sentence, whose constant repetition
          produces many strange effects upon the mind. --- ED.] if I want
          one, or: may Adonai reveal unto me a special mantra to invoke
          Him!

3.51.     Broke down again, mantra and all.

3.52-     Went on meditating in "Hanged Man posture" [Legs
4.14.     crossed, arms below head, like the figure of the Hanged Man in
          the Tarot Cards. --- ED.] to formulate sacrifice and pain self-
          inflicted; for I feel such a worm, able only to remain a few
          minutes at a time in a position long since "conquered."  For this
          reason too I cut again the Cross of Blood; and now a third time
          will I do it.  And I will take out the Magical Knife and sharpen
          it yet more, so that this body may fear me; for that I am Horus
          the terrible, the Avenger, the Lord of the Gate of the West.

4.15-     Read Ritual DCLXXI.  [The nature of this Ritual is
4.30.     explained later. --- ED.]

5.10.     I have returned from my shopping.  Strange how solemn and
          dignified so trivial a thing becomes, once one has begun to
          concentrate!
          I bought two pears, half a pound of Garibaldi biscuits, and a
          packet of Gaufrettes.  I had a citron pressé, too, at the Dôme.
          At the risk of violating the precepts of Zoroaster 170 and 144 I
          propose to do a Tarot divination for this Operation. {14}

5.10.     I should explain first that I write this record for other eyes
          than mine, since I am now sufficiently sure of myself to attain
          something or other; but I cannot foretell exactly what form the
          attainment may take.  Just so, if one goes to call upon a friend,
          he may be walking or riding or sleeping.
          Thus, then, is Adonai hidden from me.  I know where He lives; I
          know I shall be welcome if I call; but I do not know whether He
          will invite me to a banquet or ask me to go out with him for a
          long journey.
          It may be that the Rota will give me some hint.
          [We have omitted the details of this divination. --- ED.]
          I am never content with such divinations; trustworthy enough in
          material concerns, in the things of the Spirit one rarely obtains
          good results.
          The first operation was rather meaningless; but one must allow
          ("a") that it was a new way of dealing those cards for the opening
          of an operation; ("b") that I had had two false starts.
          The final operation is certainly most favourable; we shall see if
          it comes true.  I can hardly believe it possible.

6.10.     Will now go for a stroll, get some milk, and settle down for the
          evening.

10.50.    I regret to have to announce that on going across to the Dôme
          with this laudable intention, Nina brought up that red-headed
          bundle of mischief, Maryt Waska.  This being in a way a
          "bandobast" (and so inviolable), I took her to dinner, eating an
          omelette, and {15} some bread and Camembert, and a little milk.
          Afterwards a cup of coffee, and then two hours of the Vajroli
          Mudra badly performed.
          All this I did with reluctance, I did with reluctance, as an act
          of self-denial or asceticism, lest my desire to concentrate on
          the mystic path should run away with me.
          Therefore I think it may fairly be counted unto me for
          righteousness.
          I now drink a final coffee and retire, to do I hope a more
          straightforward type of meditation.
          So mote it be.
          Naked, Maryt looks like Corregio's Antiope.  Her eyes are a
          strange grey, and her hair a very wonderful reddish gold --- a
          colour I have never seen before and cannot properly describe.
          She has Jewish blood in her, I fancy; this, and her method of
          illustrating the axiom "Post coitum animal triste" made me think
          of Baudelaire's "Une nuit que j'etais près d'une affreuse Juive":
          and the last line
                   Obscurcir la splendeur des tres froides prunelles.
          and Barbey d'Aurevilly's "Rideau Cramoisi" suggested to me the
          following poem.  [We omit this poem. --- ED.]
11.30.    Done! i' th' rough! i' th' rought!  Now let me go back to my
          room, and Work!

(11.47.)  Home --- undressed --- robed --- attended to toilet -- cut cross
          of Blood once more to affirm mastery of Body --- sat down at
          11.49 and ended the day with 10 Pranayamas, which caused me to
          perspire freely, but were not altogether easy or satisfactory.
          {16}

                              "The Second Day"
          The Stroke of Twelve found me duly in my Asana, practising
          Pranayama.
          Let me continue this work; for it is written that unto the
          persevering mortal the Blessed Immortals are swift ...
          What they should happen to a persevering Immortal like myself?

12.7.     Trying meditation and mantra.

12.18.    I find thoughts impossible to concentrate; and my Asana, despite
          various cowardly attempts to "fudge" it, is frightfully painful.

12.20.    In the Hanged Man posture, meditating and willing the Presence of
          Adonai by the Ritual "Thee I invoke, the Bornless One" and mental
          formulae.

12.28.    I'm hopelessly sleepy!  Invocation as bad as bad could be ---
          attention all over the place.  Irrational hallucinations, such as
          a vision of either Eliphaz Levi or my father (I can't swear
          which!) at the most solemn moment!
          But the irrational character of said visions is not bad.  They
          come from nowhere; it is much worse when your own controlled
          brain breaks loose.

12.33.    I will therefore compose myself to sleep: is it not written that
          He giveth unto His beloved even in sleep?  "Others, even in
          sleep, He makes fruitful from His own strength." {17}

7.29.     Woke and forced myself to rise.  I had a number of rather
          pleasing dreams, as I seem to remember.  But their content is
          gone from me; and, in the absence of the prophet Daniel, I shall
          let the matter slide.

7.44.     Pranayama.  13 cycles.  Very tiring; I began to sweat.  A
          mediocre performance.

8.0-      Breakfast.  Hatha Yogi --- a pear and two gaufrettes.
8.20

8.53.     Have been meditating in Hanged Man position.  Thought dull and
          wandering; yet once "the conception of the Glowing Fire" seen as
          a planet (perhaps Mars).  Just enough to destroy the
          concentration; then it went out, dammit!

10.40.    Have attended to correspondence and other business and drunk a
          citron pressé.
          The Voice of the Nadi began to resound.

10.50.    Have done "Bornless One" in Asana.  Good; yet I am filled with
          utter despair at the hopelessness of the Task.  Especially do I
          get the Buddhist feeling, not only that Asana is intensely
          painful, but that all conceivable positions of the body are so.

11.0.     Still sitting; quite sceptical; sticking to it just because I am
          a man, and have decided to go through with it.

11.13.    Have done 10 P.Y. cycles.  A bit better,and a slight hint of the
          Bhuchari Siddhi foreshadowed.  Have been saying mantra; the
          question arises in my mind: {18}
11.13.    Am I mixing my drinks unduly?  I think not; if one didn't change
          to another mystic process, one would have to read the newspaper.

11.20.    This completes my half-hour of Asana.  Legs very painful; yet
          again I find myself wishing for Kandy (not sugar candy, but the
          place where I did my first Hindu practices and got my first
          Results) and a life devoted entirely to meditation.  But not for
          me!  I'm no Pratyeka-Buddha; a Dhamma-Buddha every inch of me!
          [A Pratyeka-Buddha attains the Supreme Reward for himself alone;
          a Dhamma-Buddha renounces it and returns to hell (earth) to teach
          others the Way. --- ED.]
          I now take a few minutes "off" to make "considerations."
          I firmly believe that the minutest dose of the Elixir would
          operate as a "detonator."  I seem to be perfectly ready for
          illumination, if only because I am so perfectly dark.  Yet my
          power to create magical images is still with me.

11.40-    Hanged Man posture.  Will invoke Adonai once more
12.0.     by pure thought.  Got into a very curious state indeed; part of
          me being quite perfectly asleep, and part quite perfectly awake.
2.10.     Have slept, and that soundly, though with many dreams.  Awaking
          with the utmost horror and loathing of the Path of the Wise ---
          it seemed somehow like a vast dragon-demon with bronze green
          wings iridescent that rose up startled and angry.  And I saw that
          {19}
2.10.     the littlest courage is enough to rise and throw off sleep, like
          a small soldier in complete armour of silver advancing with sword
          and shield --- at whose sight that dragon, not daring to abide
          the shock, flees utterly away.
2.15.     Lunch, 3 Garibaldis and 3 Gaufrettes.  Wrote two letters.
2.50.     Going out walk with mantra.
8.3.      This walk was in a way rather a success.  I got the good mantra
          effects, "e.g.," the brain taking it up of its own accord; also the
          distaste for everything but Adonai became stronger and stronger.
          But when I returned from a visit to B---e on an errand of
          comradeship --- 1 1/2 hours' talk to cut out of this mantra-yoga
          --- I found all sorts of people at the Dôme, where I drank a
          citron pressé: they detained me in talk, and at 6.30 Maryt turned
          up and I had to chew a sandwich and drink coffee while she dined.
          I feel a little headache; it will pass.
          She is up here now with me, but I shall try to meditate.
          Charming as she is, I don't want to make love to her.
8.40.     Mixed mantra and caresses rather a success.  (At her request I
          gave M. a minimum dose of X.)
9.15.     Asana and Meditation with mantra since 8.40.  The blackness seems
          breaking.  For a moment I got a vague glimpse of one's spine (or
          rather one's Sushumna) as a galaxy of stars, thus suggesting the
          stars as the ganglia of the Universe.
9.18      To continue.
10.18.    Not very satisfactory.  Asana got painful; like a {20} worm I
          gave up, and tried playing the fool; got amused by the New
          Monster, but did not perform the "Vajroli Mudra."  [For this see
          the Shiva Sanhita, and other of the Holy Sanskrit Tantras. ---
          ED.]
          However, having got rid of her for the moment, one may continue.
10.24-    P.Y. [Prana Yama. --- ED.] 14 cycles.  Some effort required;
10.39.    sweating appears to have stopped and Bhuchari hardly begun.
          My head really aches a good deal.
          I must add one or two remarks.  In my walk I discovered that my
          mantra Hua allahu, etc., really belongs to the Visuddhi Cakkrâm;
          so I allowed the thought to concentrate itself there.  [The
          Visuddhi-Cakkrâm: the "nerve centre," in Hindu mystic physiology,
          opposite the larynx. --- ED.]
          Also, since others are to read this, one must mention that almost
          from the beginning of this Working of Magick Art the changed
          aspect of the world whose culmination is the keeping of the oath
          "I will interpret every phenomenon as a particular dealing of God
          with my soul" was present with me.  This aspect is difficult to
          describe; one is indifferent to everything and yet interested in
          it.  The meaning of things is lost, pending the inception of
          their Spiritual Meaning; just as, on putting one's eye to the
          microscope, the drop of water on the slide is gone, and a world
          of life discovered, though the real import of that world is not
          apprehended, until one's knowledge becomes far greater than a
          single glance can make it. {21}

10.55.    Having written the above, I shall rest for a few moments to try
          and get rid of my headache.
          A good simile (by the way) for the Yogi is to say that he watches
          his thought like a cat watching a mouse.  The paw ready to strike
          the instant Mr. Mouse stir.
          I have chewed a Gaufrette and drunk a little water, in case the
          headache is from hunger.  (P.S. --- It was so; the food cured it
          at once.)

11.2.     I now lie down as Hanged Man and say mantra in Visuddhi.

11.10.    I must really note the curious confusion in my mind between the
          Visuddhi Cakkrâm and that part of the Boulevard Edgar Quinet
          which opens on to the cemetery.  It seems an identity.
          In trying to look "at" the Cakkrâm, I saw that.
          Query: What is the connection, which appeared absolute and
          essential?  I had been specially impressed by that gate two days
          ago, with its knot of mourners.  Could the scene have been
          recorded in a brain-cell adjoining that which records the
          Visuddhi-idea?  Or did I at that time unconsciously think of my
          throat for some other reason?  Bother!  These things are all dog-
          faced demons!  To work!

11.17.    Work: Meditation an Mantra.

11.35.    No good.  Went off into a reverie about a castle and men-at-arms.
          This had all the qualities of a true dream, yet I was not in any
          other sense asleep.  I soon will be, though.  It seems foolish to
          persist. {22}

11.35.    And indeed, though I tried to continue the mantra with its high
          aspiration to know Adonai, I must have slept almost at once.


                                 "The Third Day"

6.55.     Now the day being gloriously broken, I awoke with some weariness,
          not feeling clean and happy, not burning with love unto my Lord
          Adonai, though ashamed indeed for that thrice of four times in
          the night I had been awakened by this loyal body, urging me to
          rise and meditate --- and my weak will bade it be at ease and
          take its rest --- oh, wretched man! slave of the hour and of the
          worm!
7.0-      Fifteen cycles of Prana Yama put me right mentally
7.16.     and physically: otherwise they had little apparent success.

7.30.     Have breakfasted --- a pear and two Garibaldis.  (These by the
          way are the small size, half the big squares.)

7.50.     Have smoked a pipe to show that I'm not in a hurry.

8.5.      Hanged Man with mantra in Visuddhi.  Thought I had been much
          longer.  At one point the Spirit began to move --- how the devil
          else can I express it?  The consciousness seemed to flow, instead
          of pattering.  Is "that" clear?
          One should here note that there may perhaps be some essential
          difference in the operation of the Moslem and Hindu mantrams.
          The latter boom; the former ripple.  I have never tried the
          former at all seriously until now. {23}

8.10-     "Même jeu" --- no good at all.  Think I'll get up and have
8.32.     a Turker.

9.0.      Am up, having read my letters.  Continuing mantra all the time in
          a more or less conscious way.

9.25.     Wrote my letters and started out.

10.38.    Have reached the Café de la Paix, walking slowly with my mantra.
          I am beginning to forget it occasionally, mispronouncing some of
          the words.  A good sign!  Now and then I tried sending it up and
          down my spine, with good effect.

10.40.    I will drink a cup of coffee and then proceed to the Hammam.
          This may ease my limbs, and afford an opportunity for a real go-
          for-the-gloves effort to concentrate.
          It cannot be too clearly understood that nearly all the work
          hitherto has been preliminary; the intention is to get the
          Chittam (thought-stuff) flowing evenly in one direction.  Also
          one practises detaching it from the Virttis (impressions).  One
          looks at everything without seeing it.
          O coffee!  By the mighty Name of Power do I invoke thee,
          consecrating thee to the Service of the Magic of Light.  Let the
          pulsations of my heart be strong and regular and slow!  Let my
          brain be wakeful and active in its supreme task of self-control!
          That my desired end may be effected through Thy strength, Adonai,
          unto Whom be the Glory for ever!  Amen without lie, and Amen, and
          Amen of Amen.

11.0.     I now proceed to the Hammam. {24}

12.0.     The Bath is over.  I continued the mantra throughout, which much
          alleviated the torture of massage.  But I could not get steady
          and easy in my Asana or even in the Hanged Man or Shavasana, the
          "corpse-position."  I think the heat is exciting, and makes me
          restless.  I continue in the cooling-room lying down.

12.10.    I have ordered 12 oysters and coffee and bread and butter.
          O oysters! be ye unto me strength that I formulate the 12 rays of
          the Crown of HVA!  I conjure ye, and very potently command.
          Even by Him who ruleth Life from the Throne of Tahuti unto the
          Abyss of Amennti, even by Ptah the swathed one, that unwrappeth
          the mortal from the immortal, even by Amoun the giver of Life,
          and by Khem the mighty, whose Phallus is like the Pillar in
          Karnak!  Even by myself and my male power do I conjure ye.  Amen.

12.20     I was getting sleepy when the oysters came.
          I now eat them in a Yogin and ceremonial manner.

12.45.    I have eaten my oysters, chewing them every one; also some bread
          and butter in the same manner, giving praise to Priapus the Lord
          of the oyster, to Demeter the Lady of corn, and to Isis the Queen
          of the Cow.  Further, I pray symbolically in this meal for
          Virtue, and Strength, and Gladness; as is appropriate to these
          symbols.  But I find it very difficult to keep the mantra going,
          even in tune with the jaws; perhaps it is that this peculiar
          method of eating (25 minutes {25} for what could be done normally
          in 3) demands the whole attention.

1.30.     Drifted into a nap.  Well! we shall try what Brother Body really
          wants.

1.35.     My attempt to go to sleep has made me supernaturally wakeful.
          I am --- as often before --- in the state described by Paul (not
          my masseur; the other Paul!) in his Epistle to the Romans, cap.
          vii. v. 19.
          I shall rise and go forth.

1.55.     I have a good mind to try violent excitement of the Muladhara
          Cakkrâm; for the whole Sushumna seems dead.  This at the risk of
          being labelled a Black Magician --- by clergymen, Christian
          Scientists, and the "self-reliant" classes in general.

2.15.     Arrived (partly by cab) at the Place.  Certain curious phenomena
          which I have noticed at odd times --- "e.g.", on Thursday night ---
          but did not think proper to record must be investigated.  It
          seems quite certain that meditation-practices profoundly affect
          the sexual process: how and why I do not yet certainly know.

2.45.     Rubbish! everything perfectly normal.
          Difficult, though, to keep mantram going.

3.0.      Am sitting on the brink of the big fountain in the Luxembourg.
          This deadness of the whole system continues.
          To explain.  Normally, if the thought be energetically directed
          to almost any point in the body, that point is {26}
          felt to pulse and even to ache.  Especially this is the case if
          one vibrates a mantra or Magical name in a nerve-centre.  At
          present I cannot do this at all.  The Prana seems equilibrated in
          the whole organism: I am very peaceful --- just as a corpse is.
          It is terribly annoying, in a sense, because this condition is
          just the opposite of Dharana; yet one knows that it is a stage on
          the way to Samadhi.
          So I rise and give confidently the Sign of Apophis and Typhon,
          and will then regard the reflection of the sweet October Sun in
          the kissing waters of the fountain.  (P.S. --- I now remember
          that I forgot to rise and give the Sign.)

3.15.     In vain do I regard the Sun, broken up by the lips of the water
          into countless glittering stars --- abounding, revolving,
          whirling forth, crying aloud --- for He whom my soul seeketh is
          not in these.  Nor is He in the fountain, eternally as it jets
          and falls in brilliance of dew; for I desire the Dew Supernal.
          Nor is He in the still depths of the water; their lips do not
          meet His.  Nor --- O my soul! --- is He anywhere to be found in
          thy secret caverns, unluminous, formless, and void, where I
          wander seeking Him --- or seeking rest from that Search!  O my
          soul! --- lift thyself up; play the man, be strong; harden
          thyself against thy bitter Fate; for at the End thou shalt find
          Him; and ye shall enter in together into the Secret Palace of the
          King; even unto the Garden of Lilies; and ye shall be One for
          evermore.  So mote it be!  {27}
          Yet now --- ah now! --- I am but a dead man.  Within me and
          without still stirs that life of sense that is not life, but is
          as the worms that feast upon my corpse.  ... Adonai!  Adonai!  my
          Lord Adonai! indeed, Thou hast forsaken me.  Nay! thou liest, O
          weak soul!  Abide in the meditation; unite all thy symbols into
          the form of a Lion, and be lord of thy jungle, travelling through
          the servile Universe even as Mau the Lion very lordly, the Sun in
          His strength that travelleth over the heaven of Nu in His bark in
          the mid-career of Day.
          For all these thoughts are vain; there is but One thought, though
          that thought be not yet born --- He only is God, and there is
          none other God than He!

3.30.     Walking home with mantra; suddenly a spasm of weeping took me as
          I cried through the mantra --- "My God, my God, why hast Thou
          forsaken me?" --- and I have to stop and put it down!
          A good thing; for it calms me.

3.45.     At the Dôme, master of myself.  The Mantra goes just 30 times a
          minute, 1800 times an hour, 43,200 times a day.  To say it a
          million times would take longer than Mrs. Glyn's heroine did to
          conceive.  Yet I will get the result if I have to say it a
          hundred and eleven million times.  But oh! fertilise my Akasic
          egg today!
          This remark, one should notice, is truly characteristic of the
          man John St. John.  I see how funny it is; but I'm quite serious
          withal.  Ye dull dogs! {28}
          [The "Akasic Egg" is the sphere of the personality of man.  A
          theosophic term. --- ED.]

3.55.     N.B. --- Mantras might with advantage be palindromes.

3.56.     I try to construct a magic square from the mantra.  No good.  But
          the mantra is going much better, quite mechanically and "without
          attachment" ("i.e.", without conscious ulterior design.  "Art for
          Art's sake" as it were).

4.10.     I drink a "citron pressé."

4.25.     Alas! here comes Maryt (with a sad tale of X.  It appears that
          she fainted and spent some hours at the hospital.  I should have
          insisted on her stying with me; the symptoms began immediately on
          her drinking some coffee.  I have noticed with myself, that
          eating has started the action).

5.30.     An hour of mingled nap and mantra.
          I now feel alive again.  It was very strange how calm and
          balanced I was: yet now I am again energised; may it be to the
          point of Enthusiasm!
          People will most assuredly smile at this exalted mystic; his life
          seems made up of sleep and love-making.  Indeed, to-day I have
          been shockingly under the power of Tamas, the dark sphere.  But
          that is clearly a fatigue-effect from having worked so hard.
          Oh Lord, how long?

5.50.     The Mantra still ripples on.  I am so far from the Path that I
          have a real good mind to get Maryt to let me perform the Black
          Mass on her at midnight.  I would {29}
          just love to bring up Typhon, and curse Osiris and burn his bones
          and his blood!
          At least, I now solemnly express a pious wish that the Crocodile
          of the West may eat up the Sun once and for all, that Set may
          defile the Holy Place, that the supreme Blasphemy may be spoken
          by Python in the ears of Isis.
          I want trouble.  I want to say Indra's mantram till his throne
          gets red-hot and burns his lotus-buttocks; I want to pinch little
          Harpocrates till he fairly yells ... and I will too!  Somehow!

6.15.     I have now got into a sort of smug content, grinning all over
          like some sleepy Chinese god.  No reason for it, Lord knows!
          I can't make up my mind whether to starve or sandwich or gorge
          the beast St. John.  He's not the least bit hungry, though he's
          had nothing to call a Meal since Thursday lunch.  The Hatha-Yoga
          feeding game is certainly marvellous.
          I should like to work marching and breathing with this mantra as
          I did of old with Aum Tat Sat Aum.  Perhaps two steps to a
          mantra, and 4-8-16 steps to a breath-cycle?  This would mean 28
          seconds for a breath-cycle; quite enough for a marching man.  We
          might try 4-8-8 to start; or even 8-8-8 (for the Chariot, wherein
          the Geburah of me rises to Binah --- Strength winning the Wings
          of Understanding).  [These symbols, allusions, and references
          will all be found in 777, just published by "The Equinox" --- see
          advt. --- ED.] {30}

6.55.     I shall now ceremonially defile the Beyt Allah with Pig, to
          express in some small measure my utter disgust and indignation
          with Allah for not doing His job properly.  I say in vain
          "Labbaik!" [I am here. --- ED.]  He answers, "But I'm "not" here,
          old boy --- another leg-pull!"  He little knows His man, though,
          if He thinks He can insult me with impunity.  André, un sandwich!
          [Beyt Allah, the Mosque at Mecca, means "House of God" --- ED.]

7.5.      I shall stop mantra while I eat, so as to concentrate ("a") on the
          chewing, ("b") on defiling the House of God.  Not so easy! the
          damned thing runs on like a prairie fire.  Important then to stop
          it absolutely at will: even the Work itself may become an
          obsession.
          11 hours with no real break --- no bad.
          The bad part of to-day seems the Asana, and the deadness.  Or,
          perhaps worse, I fail to apprehend the true magical purport of my
          work: hence all sort of aimless formulae, leading --- naturally
          enough --- to no result.
          It just strikes me --- it may be this Isis Apophis Osiris IAO
          formula that I have preached so often.  Certainly the first two
          days were Isis --- natural, pleasant, easy events.  Most
          certainly too to-day has been Apophis!  Think of the wild cursing
          and black magic, etc. ...  we must hope for the Osiris section
          to-morrow or next day.  Birth, death, resurrection!  IAO!

7.35.     The Sandwich duly chewed, and two Coffees drunk, I resume the
          mystic Mantra.  Why?  Because I dam well choose to. {31}

7.50.     'Tis a rash thing to say, and I burn incense to the Infernal Gods
          that the Omen may be averted; but I seem to have conquered the
          real Dweller of the Threshold once and for all.  For nowadays my
          blackest despair is tempered by the certainty of coming through
          it sooner or later, and that with flying colours.

9.30.     The last 3/4 hour I wasted talking to Dr. R---, that most
          interesting man.  I don't mean talking; I mean listening.  You
          are a bad, idle good-for-nothing fellow, O.M.!  Why not stick to
          that mantra?

10.40.   Have drunk two citrons pressés and gone to my room to work a
          mighty spell of magick Art.

11.0.     Having got rid of Maryt (who, by the way, is Quite mad), and
          thereby (one might hope) of Apophis and Typhon, I perform the
          Great Ritual DCLXXI with good results magically; "i.e.", I
          formulated things very easily and forcibly; even at one time I
          got a hint of the Glory of Adonai.  But I made the absurd mistake
          of going through the Ritual as if I was rehearsing it, instead of
          staying at the Reception of the Candidate and insisting upon
          being "really" received.
          I will therefore now (11.50) sit down again and invoke really
          hard on these same lines, while the Perfume and the Vision are
          yet formulated, though insensibly, about me.  And thus shall end
          the Third day of my retirement.


                              "The Fourth Day"

12.15.    So therefore begins the fourth day of this my great magical
          retirement; I bleed from the slashes of the {32}
          magick knife; I smart from the heat of the Holy Oil; I am bruised
          by the scourge of Osiris that hath so cruelly smitten me; the
          perfume yet fills the chamber of Art; --- and I?
          Oh Adonai my Lord, surely I did invoke Thee with fervour; yet
          Thou camest not utterly to the tryst.  And yet I know that Thou
          wast there; and it may be that the morning may being rememberance
          of Thee which this consciousness does not now contain.
          But I swear by Thine own glory that I will not be satisfied with
          this, that I will go on even unto madness and death if it be Thy
          will --- but I will know Thee as Thou art.
          It is strange how my cries died down; how I found myself quite
          involuntarily swinging back to the old mantra that I worked all
          yesterday.
          However, I shall try a little longer in the Position of the
          Hanged Man, although sleep is again attacking me.  I am weary,
          yet content, as if some great thing had indeed happened.  But if
          I lost consciousness --- a thing no man can be positive about
          from the nature of things --- it must have happened so quietly
          that I never knew.  Certainly I should not have thought that I
          had gone on for 25 minutes, as I did.
          But I do indeed ask for a Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy
          Guardian Angel which is not left so much to be inferred from the
          good results in my life and work; I want the Perfume and the the
          Vision. ...
          Why am I so materially wallowing in grossness?  It matters
          little; the fact remains that I do wallow. {33}
          I want that definite experience in the very same sense as
          Abramelin had it; and what's more, I mean to go on till I get it.

12.34.    I begin, therefore, in Hanged Man posture, to invoke the Angel,
          within the Pyramid already duly prepared by DCLXXI.

12.57.    Alas! in vain have I tried even the supreme ritual of Awaiting
          the Beloved, although once I thought --- Ah! give unto Thy
          beloved in sleep!
          How ashamed I should be, though!  For an earthly lover one would
          be on tiptoe of excitement, trembling at every sound, eager,
          afraid ...
          I will, however, rise and open (as for a symbol) the door and the
          window.  Oh that the door of my heart were ever open!  For He is
          always there, and always eager to come in.

1.0.      I rise and open unto my Beloved.
          ... May it be granted unto me in the daylight of this day to
          construct from DCLXXI a perfect ritual of self-initiation, so as
          to avoid the constant difficulty of assuming various God-forms.
          Then let that ritual be a constant and perfect link between Us
          ... so that at all times I may be perfect in Thy Knowledge and
          Conversation, O mine Holy Guardian Angel! to whom I have aspired
          these ten years past.

1.5.      And though as it may seem I now compose myself to sleep, I await
          Thee ... I await Thee!

7.35.     I arise from sleep, mine eyes a little weary, my soul fresh, my
          heart restored. {34}

8.0.      Accordingly, I continue in gentle and easy meditation on my Lord
          Adonai, without fear or violence, quite directly and naturally.
          One of the matters that came up last night with Dr. R---d was
          that of writing rubbish for magazines.  He thought that one could
          do it in the intervals of serious work; but I do not think that
          one should take the risk.  I have spent these many years training
          my mind to think cleanly and express beautifully.  Am I to
          prostitute myself for a handful of bread?
          I swear by Thyself, O Thou who art myself, that I will not write
          save to glorify Thee, that I will write only in beauty and
          melody, that I will give unto the world as Thou givest unto me,
          whether it be a consuming fire, or a cup of the wine of Iacchus,
          or a glittering dagger, or a disk brighter than the sun.  I will
          starve in the street before I pander to the vileness of the men
          among whom I live --- oh my Lord Adonai, be with me, give me the
          purest poesy, keep me to this vow!  And if I turn aside, even for
          a moment, I pray Thee, warn me by some signal chastisement, that
          Thou art a jealous god, and that Thou wilt keep me veiled,
          cherished, guarded in Thine harem a pure and perfect spouse, like
          a slender fountain playing in Thy courts of marble and of
          malachite, of jasper, of topaz, and of lapis lazuli.
          And by my magick power I summon all the inhabitants of the ten
          thousand worlds to witness this mine oath.
8.15.     I will rise, and break my fast.  I think it as well to go on with
          the mantra, as it started of its own accord. {35}

9.0.      Arrived at Panthéon, to breakfast on coffee and biroche and a
          peach.
          I shall try and describe Ritual DCLXXI; since its nature is
          important to this great ceremony of initiation.  Those who
          understand a little about the Path of the Wise may receive some
          hint of the method of operation of the L.V.X.
          And I think that a description will help me to collect myself for
          the proper adaptation of this Ritual to the purpose of Self-
          initiation.
          Oh, how soft is the air, and how serene the sky, to one who has
          passed through the black rule of Apophis!  How infinitely musical
          are the voices of Nature, those that are heard and those that are
          not heard!  What Understanding of the Universe, what Love is the
          prize of him that hath performed all things and endured all
          things!
          The first operation of Ritual DCLXXI is the preparation of the
          Place.
          There are two forces; that of Death and that of Natural Life.
          Death begins the Operation by a knock, to which Life answers.
          Then Death, banishing all forces external to the operation,
          declares the Speech in the Silence.
          Both officers go from their thrones and form the base of a
          triangle whose apex is the East.  They invoke the Divine Word,
          and then Death slays with the knife, and embalms with the oil,
          his sister Life.
          Life, thus prepared, invokes, at the summons of Death, {36}
          the forces necessary to the Operation.  The Word takes its
          station in the East and the officers salute it both by speech and
          silence in their signs; and they pronounce the secret Word of
          power that riseth from the Silence and returneth thereunto.
          All this they affirm; and in affirming the triangular base of the
          Pyramid, find that they have mysteriously affirmed the Apex
          thereof whose name is Ecstasy.
          This also is sealed by that secret word; for that Word containeth
          All.
          Into this prepared Pyramid of divine Light there cometh a certain
          darkling wight, who knoweth not either his own nature, or his
          origin or destiny, or even the name of that which he desireth.
          Before he can enter the Pyramid, therefore, four ordeals are
          required of him.
          So, bound and blinded, he stumbles forward, and passes through
          the wrath of the Four Great Princes of the Evil of the World,
          whose Terror is about him on every side.  Yet since he has
          followed the voice of the Officer who has prepared him, in this
          part of the Ritual no longer merely Nature, the great Mother, but
          Neschamah (his aspiration) and the representative of Adonai, he
          may pass through all.  Yea, in spite of the menace of the
          Hiereus, whose function is now that of his fear and of his
          courage, he goes on and enters the Pyramid.  But there he is
          seized and thrown down by both officers as one unworthy to enter.
          His aspiration purifies him with steel and fire; and there as he
          lies shattered by the force of the ritual, he hears --- even as
          {37}
          a corpse that hears the voice of Israfel --- the Hegemon that
          chants a solemn hymn of praise to that glory which is at the
          Apex, and who invisibly rules and governs the whole Pyramid.
          Now then that darkling wight is lifted by the officers and
          brought to the altar in the centre; and there the Hiereus accuses
          him of the two and twenty Basenesses, while the Hegemon lifting
          up his chained arms cries again and again against his enemy that
          he is under the Shadow of the Eternal Wings of the Holy One.  Yet
          at the end, at the supreme accusation, the Hiereus smites him
          into death.  The same answer avails him, and in its strength he
          is uplifted by his aspiration --- and now he stands upright.
          Now then he makes a journey in his new house, and perceives at
          stated times, each time preceded by a new ordeal and
          equilibration, the forces that surround him.  Death he sees, and
          the Life of Nature whose name is Sorrow, and the Word that
          quickeneth these, and his own self --- and when he hath
          recognised these four in their true nature he passes to the altar
          once more and as the apex of a descending triangle is admitted to
          the lordship of the Double Kingdom.  Thus is he a member of the
          visible triad that is crossed with the invisible --- behold the
          hexagram of Solomon the King!  All this the Hiereus seals with a
          knock and at the Hegemon's new summons he --- to his surprise ---
          finds himself as the Hanged Man of the Tarot.
          Each point of the figure thus formed they crown with light, until
          he glitters with the Flame of the Spirit. {38}
          Thus and not otherwise is he made a partaker of the Mysteries,
          and the Lightning Flash strikes him.  The Lord hath descended
          from heaven with a shout and with the Voice of the Archangel, and
          the trump of God.
          He is installed in the Throne of the Double Kingdom, and he
          wields the Wand of Double Power by the sings of the grade.
          He is recognized an initiate, and the word of Secret Power, and
          the silent administration of the Sacrament of Sword and Flame,
          acknowledge him.
          Then, the words being duly spoken and the deeds duly done, all is
          symbolically sealed by the Thirty Voices, and the Word that
          vibrateth from the Silence to the Speech, and from the Speech
          again unto the Silence.  Then the Pyramid is sealed up, even as
          it was opened; yet in the sealing thereof the three men partake
          in a certain mystical manner of the Eucharist of the Four
          Elements that are consumed for the Perfection of the Oil.
          Knox Om Pax.  [With these mystic words the Mysteries Eleusinian
          were sealed. --- ED.]

10.0.     Having written out this explanation, I will read it through and
          meditate solemnly thereupon.  All this I wrote in the Might of
          the Secret Ring committed unto me by the Masters; so that all
          might be absolutely correct.
          One thing strikes me as worthy of mention.  Last night when I
          went into the restaurant to speak to {39}
          R---d, my distaste for food was so intense that the smell of it
          caused real nausea.  To-day, I am perfectly balanced, neither
          hungry nor nauseated.  This is indeed more important than it
          seems; it is a sure sign when one sees a person take up fads that
          he is under the black rule of Apophis.  In the Kingdom of Osiris
          there is freedom and light.  To-day I shall eat neither with the
          frank gluttony of Isis nor with the severe asceticism of Apophis.
          I shall eat as much and as little as I fancy; these violent means
          are no longer necessary.  Like Count Fosco, I shall "go on my way
          sustained by my sublime confidence, self-balanced by my
          impenetrable calm."

10.50.    I have spent half an hour wandering in the Musée du Luxembourg.
          I now sit down to meditate on this new ritual.
          The following, so it appears, should be the outlines --- damn it,
          I've a good mind to write it straight off --- no!  I'll be
          patient and tease the Spirit a little.  I will be coquettish as a
          Spanish catamite.

               1. Death summons Life and clears away all other
                     forces.
               2. The Invocation of the Word.  Death consecrates
                     Life, who in her whirling dance invokes that
                     Word.
               3. They salute the Word.  The Signs and
                     M---M1 must be a Chorus, if anything.
               4. The Miraculous appearance of Iacchus,
                     uninvoked.   {40}

10.50          1. The 3 Questions.
               2. The 4 ordeals.  Warning and comfort as an
                     appeal to the Officers.
               3. The Threshold.
        1  WEH Note: "M---M" refers to the secret Neophyte word of the
          A.'. A.'..
                  The Chorus of Purification.
                  The Hymn "My heart, my mother!" as already
                     written, years ago.
               4. At the altar.  The accusation and defence as
                     antiphonies.
               5. The journey.  Bar and pass, and the 4 visions
                     even as a mighty music.
               6. The Hanged Man --- the descent of Adonai.
               7. The installation --- signs, etc.

                  Sealing as for opening; but insert Sacrament.

1.15.     During a lunch of 12 oysters, Cêpes Bordelaise, Tarte aux
          Cérises, Café Noir, dispatched without Yoga or ceremonial, I
          wrote the Ritual in verse, in the Egyptian Language.  I don't
          think very well.  Time must show: also experience.  I'd recite
          Tennyson if I thought it would give Samadhi!
          Now more mantra, though by the Lord I'm getting sick of it.

1.40.     It occurs to me, now that I am seeing my way in the Operation a
          little more clearly, that one might consider the First Day as
          Osiris Slain +, the Second as that of the Mourning of Isis
          , the third as that of the Triumph of Apophis V, and to-day
          that of Osiris Risen X; these four days being perfect in
          themselves as a 5° = 6° operation (or possibly with one or
          two more {41} to recapitulate L.V.X. Lux, the Light of the
          Cross).  Thence one might proceed to some symbolic passage
          through the 6° = 5° grade --- though of course that grade
          is really symbolic of this soul-journey, not "vice versâ" --- and
          through 7° = 4°; so perhaps --- if one could only dare to
          hope it! --- to the 8° = 3° attainment.  Certainly what
          little I have done so far pertains no higher than Minor adeptship
          though I have used higher formulae in the course of my working.

1.55.     My Prana is acting in a feverish manner; a mixture of fatigue and
          energy.  This is not good: it probably comes from bolting that
          big lunch, and may mean that I must sleep to recover equilibrium.
          I will, however, use the Pentagram ritual on my Anahata Cakkrâm
          [the heart; a nerve-centre in Hindu mystical physiology. --- ED.]
          and see if that steadies me.  (P.S. --- Yes: instantly).  Notice,
          please, how in this condition of intense magical strain the most
          trifling things have a great influence.  Normally, I can eat
          anything in any quantity without the slightest effect of any
          sort; witness my expeditions and debauches; nothing upsets me.
          P.S. --- But notice, please!  Normally half a bottle of Burgundy
          excites me notably; while doing this magic is like so much water.
          A "transvaluation of all values!"

3.55.     Over a citron pressé I have revised the new Ritual.  Also I have
          bought suitable materials for copying it fair; and this I did
          without solemnity or ceremonial, {42} but quite simply, just as
          anybody else might buy them.  In short, I bought them in a truly
          Rosicrucian manner, according to the custom of the country.
          I add a few considerations on the grade of Adeptus Major 6° =
          5°.
          (P.S. --- Distinction is to be made between attainment of this
          grade in the natural and in the spiritual world.  The former I
          long since possessed.)

             1. It may perhaps mean severe asceticism.  In case I should be
                    going out on that path I will try and get a real good
                    dinner to fortify myself.
             2. The paths leading to Geburah are from Hod, that of the
                    Hanged Man, and from Tiphereth, that of Justice, both
                    equilibrated aspects of Severity, the one implying
                    Self-Sacrifice, the other involuntary suffering.  One
                    is Freewill, the other Karma; and that in a wider sense
                    than that of Suffering.
                    The Ritual DCLXXI will still be applicable: indeed, it
                    may be considered sufficient; but of course it must be
                    lived as well as performed.

          (I must here complain of serious trouble with fountain pens, and
          the waste of priceless time fixing them up.  They have been wrong
          throughout the whole operation, a thing that has not happened to
          me for near eight years.  I hope I've got a good one at last ---
          yes, thank God! this one writes decently.) {43}

4.15.     Somehow or other I have got off the track; have been fooling
          about with too many odd things, necessary as they may have been.
          I had better take a solid hour willing the Tryst with Adonai.

5.40.     Have done all this, and a Work of Kindness.  I will again revise
          the new ritual, dine, return and copy it fair for use.
          Let Adonai the Lord oversee the Work, that it be perfect, a sure
          link with Him, a certain and infallible Conjuration, and Spell,
          and Working of true Magick Art, that I may invoke Him with
          success whenever seemeth good unto Him.
          Unto Him; not unto Me!  Is it not written that Except Adonai
          build the House, they labour in vain that build it?

6.15.     Chez Lavenue.  Not feeling like revision, will read through this
          record.
          My dinner is to be Bisque d'Ecrevisses, Tournedos Rossini, a
          Coupe Jack, half a bottle of Meursault, and Coffee.  All should
          now acquit adepts of the charge of not knowing how to do
          themselves well.

7.20.     Dinner over, I return the Mantra-Yoga.  One may note that I
          expected the wine to have an excessive effect on me; on the
          contrary, it has much less effect than usual.
          This is rather important.  I have purposely abstained from
          anything that might be called a drug, until now, for fear of
          confusing the effects.
          With my knowledge of hashish-effects, I could very {44}
          likely have broken up the Apophis-kingdom of yesterday in a
          moment, and the truth of it would have been 5 per cent. drug and
          95 per cent. magic; but nobody would have believed me.  Remember
          that this record is for the British Public, "who may like me
          yet."  God forbid! for I cannot echo Browning's hope.  Their
          greasiness, hypocrisy, and meanness are such that their
          appreciation could only mean my vileness, not their redemption.
          Sorry if I seem pessimistic about them!  A nasty one for me, by
          the way, if they suddenly started buying me!  I should have, in
          mere consistency, to cut my throat!
          Calm yourself, my friend!  There is no danger.

7.40.     At home again and robed.  Am both tired and oppressed, even in my
          peace; for the day has been, and the evening is, close and hot,
          with a little fog, and, one may suspect, the air is overcharged
          with electricity.  I will rest quietly with my mantra as Hanged
          Man, and perhaps sleep for a little.

8.10.     No sleep --- no rest for the wicked!  'Tis curious how totally
          independent is mantra-yoga of reverie.  I can say my mantra
          vigorously while my thought wanders all over the world; yet I
          cannot write the simplest sentence without stopping it, unless
          with a very great effort, and then it is not satisfactory to
          either party!
          Meditation --- of the "rational' sort --- on this leads me to
          suggest that active "radiant" thought may be incompatible with
          the mantra, itself being (?) active.  One can {45}
          read and understand quite easily with the mantra going; one can
          remember things.
          For example, I see my watch chain; I think.  "Gold.  Au, 196
          atomic weight.  AuCl3, £3 10s. 0"d". an ounce" and so on "ad"
          "infinitum;" but the act of writing down these things stops the
          mantra.  This may be (partly) because I always say under my
          breath each word as I write it.  [P.S. --- But I do so, though
          less possibly, as I read.]
8.22.     As I am really awake, I may as well do a little Pranayama.
8.40.     How little I know of magic and the conditions of success!  My 17
          cycles of breath were not absolutely easy; yet I did them.  After
          a big dinner!!!  The sweating was quite suppressed, in spite of
          the heat of the night and the exercise; and the first symptoms of
          the Bhuchari-Siddhi --- the "jumping about like a frog" --- were
          well marked.  I am encouraged to spend a few minutes (still in
          Asana) reading the Shiva Sanhita.
9.0.      Asana very painful again.  True, I was doing it very strictly.
          I notice they give a second stage --- trembling of the body ---
          as preliminary to the jumping about like a frog --- I had omitted
          this, as one is so obviously the germ of the other.
          The Hindus seem to lack a sense of proportion.  When the Yogi, by
          turning his tongue back for one half-minute, has conquered old
          age, disease and death; then instead of having  good time he
          patiently (and rather pathetically, I think!) devotes his
          youthful {46} immortality to trying to "drink the air through the
          crow-bill" .   .   .   .   .   .   .   . in the hope of curing a
          consumption of the lungs which he probably never had and which
          was in any case cured by his former effort!
9.40.     Have been practising a number of these mudras and asanas.
          Concerning the Visuddi Cakkrâm which is "of brilliant gold or
          smoke colour and has sixteen petals corresponding to the sixteen
          vowel sounds," one might make a good mantra of the English vowel
          sounds, or the Hebrew.
          "Curiouser and curiouser!"  The Yogis identify the Varana
          (Ganges) with the Ida-Nadi, the Asi (?) with the Pingala-Nadi,
          and Benares with the space between them.  Like my identification
          of my throat with the Gate of the cimetière du Montparnasse.
          Well, it requires very considerable discrimination and a good
          sound foundation of knowledge, if one means to get any sense at
          all out of these Hindu books.

10.20.    A little Pranayama, I think.

10.22.    Can't get steady and easy at all!  Will try Hanged Man again.

10.42.    Not much good.  The mantra goes on, but without getting hold of
          the Chakkrâm.
          'Tis difficult to explain; the best simile I can get is that of a
          motor running with the clutch out; or of a man cycling on a
          suspended machine.
          There's no grip to it. {47}
          The fact of the matter is, I am quite unconcentrated.  Evidently
          the Osiris Risen stage is over; and I think it is a case for
          violent measures.
          If one were to slack off now and hope for the morning, like a
          shipwrecked Paul, one would probably wake up a mere man of the
          world.
          The Question then arises: What shall I do to be saved?
          The only answer --- and one which is quite unconnected with the
          question -- is that a Ritual of Adeptus Major should display the
          Birth of Horus and Slaying of Typhon.  Here again Horus and
          Harpocrates --- the twins of the twin signs of 0° = 0°
          ritual --- are the slayers of Typhon.  So all the rituals get
          mixed: the symbols recur, though in a different aspect.  Anyway,
          one wants something a deal better than the path of Pé in 4° =
          7° ritual.
          I think the postulant should be actually scourged, tortured,
          branded by fire for his equilibrations at the various "Stations
          of the Cross" or points upon his mystic journey.  He must
          assuredly drink blood for the sacrament --- ah! now I see it all
          so well!  The Initiator must kill him, Osiris; he must rise again
          as Horus and kill the Initiator, taking his place in the ceremony
          thence to the end.  A bit awkward technically, but 'twill yield
          to science.  They did it of old by a certain lake in Italy!
          Well, all this is dog-faced demon, ever seducing me from the
          Sacred Mysteries.  I can't go out and kill anybody at this time
          o'night!  We might make a start, {48} though, with a little
          scourging, torturing, and branding by fire. ...
          Anything for a quiet life!

11.0.     But scourging oneself is not easy with a robe on; and though one
          could take it off, there is this point to be considered: that one
          can never (except by a regrettable accident) hurt oneself more
          than one wants to.  In other words, it is impossible thus to
          inflict pain, and so flagellants have been rightly condemned as
          mere voluptuaries.  The only way to do so would be to inflict
          some torture whose severity one could not gauge at the time:
"          "e.g.", one might dip oneself in petroleum and set light to it, as
          the young lady mystic did --- I suppose in Brittany!  --- the
          other day.  It's not the act that hurts, but the consequences;
          so, although one knows only roughly what will happen, one can
          force oneself to the act.
          This, then, is a possible form of self-martyrdom.  Similarly,
          mutilations; though it is perhaps just to observe that all these
          people are mad when they do these things, and their standard of
          pleasure and pain consequently so different from the sane man's
          as to be incomprehensible.
          Look at my Uncle Tom! who goes about the world bragging of his
          chastity.  The maniac is probably happy --- a peacock who is all
          tail!  And squawk.  Look at the Vegetarians and Wallaceites and
          all that crew of lunatics.  They are paid in the coin of self-
          conceit.  I shall waste no pity on them! {49}
11.3.     Rather pity myself, who cannot even make sensible
          "considerations" for a Ritual of Adeptus Major.
          The only thing to do in short is to go steadily on, with a little
          extra courage and energy --- no harm in that! --- on the same old
          lines.  The Winding of the Way must necessarily lead me just
          where it may happen to go.  Why deliberately go off to Geburah?
          Why not aspire direct by the Path of the Moon-Ray unto the
          Ineffable Crown?  Modesty is misplaced here!
          Very good.  Then how aspire?  Who is it that standeth in the
          Moon-Ray?  The Holy Guardian Angel.  Aye!  O my Lord Adonai, Thou
          art the Beginning and the End of the Path.  For as Thou
          HB:Heh HB:Taw HB:Aleph  thou art also 406 = HB:Vau HB:Taw  Tau the material
          world, the Omega.  And as He HB:Aleph HB:Vau HB:Heh  Thou art 12, the rays
          of the Ineffable Crown.
          (A disaster has occurred; viz., a sudden and violent attack of
          that which demands a tabloid of Pepsin, Bismuth, and Charcoal ---
          and gets it.  On my return, 11.34, I continue.)
          And as HB:Yod HB:Nun HB:Aleph  Ani "I" thou art also HB:Nun HB:Yod HB:Aleph 2 the
          Negative, that is beyond these on either side!
          But this illness is a nuisance.  I must have got a little chill
          somehow.  Its imminence would account for my lack of
          concentration.  And I could doubtless go on gloriously, but that
          another disaster has occurred!
          Enter Maryt, sitting and clothed and in her right mind --- or
          comparatively so!
11.38.    I suppose, then, I must quit the game for a minute or two. {50}
11.56.    Got rid of her, thank God.  I may say in self-defence that I
          would never have let her in but for the accident of my being
          outside the room and the door left open, so that she was inside
          on my return.
          Let me get into Asana.


                            "The Fifth Day"

12.26.    So beginneth the Fifth Day of this great Magical Retirement.
          With two and twenty breath-cycles did I begin.  This practice was
          a little easier; but not much better.  It ought to become quite
          simple and natural before one devotes the half-minute of
          Kambhakam (breath held-in), when one is rigid to a strong
          projection of Will toward Adonai, as has been my custom.  I hope
          to-day will be more hard definite magical Work, less discourse,
          less beatific state of mind --- which is the very devil! the real
          Calypso, none the less temptress because her name happens to be
          Penelope.  Ah Lord Adonai, my Lord!  Grant unto me the Perfume
          and the Vision; let me attain the desirable harbour; for my
          little ship is tossed by divers tempests, even by Euroclydon, in
          the Place where Four Winds meet.

12.35.    Therefore I shall go to rest, letting my mind rest ever in the
          Will toward Adonai.  Let my sleep be toward Him, or annihilation;
          let my waking be to the music of His name; let the day be full to
          the uttermost of Him only.

2.18.     My good friend the body woke me at this hour by means of
          disturbed dreams about a quite imaginary {51} relative of whom
          nobody for years had ever seen anything but his head, which he
          would poke out of a waterproof sheet.  He was supposed to be an
          invalid.  I am glad to say that I woke properly and got quite
          automatically on to the mantra.
          My Prana, however, seems feverish and unbalanced.  So I eat a
          biscuit or two and drink some water and will put it right with
          the Pentagram Ritual.
        2   WEH Note: This is a correction from HB:Vau HB:Yod HB:Aleph , an evident
          typo in the original printing.
          Done, but oh! how hard.  Sleep fights me as Apollyon fought
          Christian! but I will up and take him by the throat.
          (See; 'tis 2.30.  Twelve minutes to do that little in!)
          And look at the handwriting!

3.6.      How excellent is Prana Yama, a comfort to the soul!  I did
          thirty-two cycles, easy and pleasant; could have gone on
          indefinitely.  The muscles went rigid, practically of their own
          accord; so light did I feel that I almost thought myself to be
          "that wise one" who "can balance himself on his thumb."  Sleep is
          conquered right away from the word "jump."  Indeed, if

                    Satan trembles when he sees
                    The weakest saint upon his knees;

          then surely:

                    Satan flees, exclaiming "Damn!"
                    When any saint starts Pranayam!

          So happy, indeed, was I in the practice that I devoted myself by
          the Waiting formula to Adonai; and that I got to "neighbourhood-
          concentration" is shewn by the fact that I several times forgot
          altogether about Adonai, and found myself saying the silly old
          Mantram. {52}
          I despair of asking my readers to distinguish between the common
          phenomenon of wandering thought and this phenomenon which is at
          the very portal of true and perfect concentration; yet it is most
          important that the distinction should be seized.  The further
          difficulty will occur --- I hope! --- of distinguishing between
          the vacancy of the idiot, and that destruction of thought which
          we call Shivadarshana, or Nirvikalpa-samadhi.  [We must again
          refer the reader to the Hindu classics. --- ED.]
          The only diagnostic I can think of is this; that there is (I
          can't be sure about it) no rational connection between the
          thought one left behind one and the new thought. In a simple
          wandering during the practice of concentration one can very
          nearly always (especially with a little experience) trace the
          chain.  With neighbourhood-concentration this is not so.  Perhaps
          there is a chain, but so great already is the power of preventing
          the impressions from rising into consciousness that one has no
          knowledge of the links, each one having been automatically
          slaughtered on the threshold of the consciousness.
          Of course, the honest and wary practitioner will have no
          difficulty in recognising the right kind of wandering; with this
          explanation there is no excuse for him if he does.
          I have another theory, though.  Perhaps this is not a wandering
          at all, but a complete annihilation of all thought.  Affirming
          Adonai, I lop off the heads of all others; and Adonai's own head
          falls.  But in the {53}
          momentary pause which this causes, some old habitual thought (to-
          night my mantra) rises up.  A case of the Closure followed by the
          Moving of the Previous Question.
          Oh Lord! when wilt Thou carry a Motion to Adjourn, nay, to
          Prorogue, nay! to Dissolve this Parliament?

3.32.     I am not sleepy;  yet will I again compose myself, devoting
          myself to Adonai.

7.7.      Again woke and continued mantra.

8.10.     I ought to have made more of it at 7.7; I went off again to
          sleep; the result is that I am rather difficult to wake again.
          However, let me be vigilant now.

8.45.     I have dressed and from 8.35-8.45 performed the Ritual of the
          Bornless One.
          Though I performed it none too well (failing, "e.g.", to make use
          of the Geometric Progression on the Mahalingam formula in the
          Ieou section [We cannot understand this passage.  It presumably
          refers to the "Preliminary Invocation" in the "Goetia" of King
          Solomon, published S.P.R.T., Boleskine Foyers, N.B., 1904. ---
          ED], and not troubling even to formulate carefully the Elemental
          Hosts, or to marshal them about the circle) I yet, by the favour
          of IAO, obtained a really good effect, losing all sense of
          personality and being exalted in the Pillar.  Peace and ecstasy
          enfolded me.  It is well.

8.50      But as I was ill last night, and as the morning has broken chill
          and damp, I will go to the Café du Dôme {54} and break my fast
          humbly with Coffee and Sandwich.  May it strengthen me in my
          search for the Quintessece, the Stone of the Wise, the Summum
          Bonum, True Wisdom and Perfect Happiness!

9.0.      I hope (by the way) that I have made it quite clear that all this
          time even a momentary cessation of active thought has been
          accompanied by the rising-up of the mantra.  The rhythm, in
          short, perpetually dominates the brain; and becomes active on
          every opportunity.  The liquid Moslem mantra is much easier to
          get on to than is the usual Hindu type with its "m" and "n" sounds
          predominating: but it does not shake the brain up so forcibly.
          Perhaps 'tis none the worse for that.  I think the unconscious
          training of the brain to an even rhythm better than startling it
          into the same by a series of shocks.
          I should like, to to remark that the suggestions in the "Herb
          Dangerous" [We hope to publish this essay in No. 2 of "The
          Equinox" --- ED.] for a ritual seem the wrong way round.  It
          seems to me that the Eastern methods are very arid, and chiefly
          valuable as a training of the Will, while the Ceremonies of the
          Magic of Light tune up the soul to that harmony when it is but
          one step to the Crown.
          The real plan is, then, to train the Will into as formidable an
          engine as possible, and then, at the moment in the Ritual when
          the real work should be done, to fling forth flying that
          concentrated Will "whirling forth with re-echoing Roar, so that
          it may comprehend with {55} invincible Will ideas omniform, which
          flying forth from that one Fountain issued: whose Foundation is
          One, One and Alone."
          As therefore Discipline of whatever kind is only one way of going
          into a wood at midnight on Easter Eve and cutting the magic wand
          with a single blow of the magic knife, etc. etc. etc., we can
          regard the Western system as the essential one.  Yet of course
          Pranayama, for one thing, has its own definite magical effect,
          apart from teaching the practitioner that he must last out those
          three seconds --- those deadly long last three seconds --- even
          if he burst in the process.
          All this I am writing during breakfast.
          My devotees may note, by the way, how the desire to sleep is
          breaking up.
          Night     I. 7 1/2 hours, unbroken from 12.30.
            "      II. 7 hours nearly, with dreams.
            "     III. 8 hours nearly; but woke three or four
                         times, and if I had not been a worm
                         would have scattered it like chaff!
            "      IV. 6 1/2 hours; and I wake fresh.
            "       V. 1 3/4 + 4 1/2 + 1 hour; and real good work done
                       in the intervals.
[P.S.       "      VI. Probably 4 hours.
            "     VII. 2 + 2 + 1/2 hours.
            "    VIII. 6 hours much broken.
            "      IX. 1 1/2 + 2 + 2 hours.
            "       X. 4 + 1 1/4 hours.
            "      XI. 1 3/4 + 4 1/2 hours.
            "     XII. Back to the normal --- 7 hours perfect sleep.]
          {56}
11.30.    Have been walks with the mantra arranging for and modelling a
          "saddle" whereby to get Asana really steady and easy; also for
          some photographs illustrating some of the more absurd positions,
          for the instruction of my devotees.
          I must now copy out the new Ritual.
          This, you will readily perceive, is all wrong.  Theoretically,
          everything should be ready by the beginning of the Operation; and
          one should simply do it and be done with it.
          But this is a very shallow view.  One never knows what may be
          required; "i.e.", a beginner like myself doesn't.  Further, one
          cannot write an effective Ritual till one is already in a fairly
          exalted state ... and so on.
          We must just do the best we can, now as always.

2.0.      I have been concentrating solely on the Revision and copying of
          the Ritual.  Therefore I now live just as I always live in order
          to get a definite piece of work done: concentrating as it were
"          "off" the Work.  As Levi also adjures us by the Holy Names.
          Coming back from lunch (a dozen Marennes Vertes and an
          Andouillette aux Pommes) I met Zelina Visconti, more lovely-ugly
          than ever in her wild way.  She says that she is favourably
          disposed towards me, on the recommendation of her concierge!!!
          "The tongue of good report hath already been heard in his favour.
          Advance, free and of good report!" {57}
4.45.     And only two pages done!  but the decorations "marvelious"!

5.15.     Another half-hour gone! in mere titivating the Opus! and now I'm
          too tired to as much as start Prana Yama.  I will go to the Dome
          and see what a citron pressé and a sandwich does for me, at the
          same time taking over the MS. of Liber DCCCCLXIII., which has
          been given me to correct, and doing it.
          Please the pigs, the Visconti will cheer me up in the evening;
          and I shall get a good day in to-morrow.

6.35.     Still at Liber DCCCCLXIII.  [To be published shortly by "The
          Equinox." --- ED.]  I should like to write mantrams for each
          chapter.

7.20.     Still at Liber DCCCCLXIII.  I need hardly say that I am perfectly
          aware that in one sense all this working and ritual making and
          copying and illuminating is but a crowd of dog-faced demons,
          since the One Thought of Unity with Adonai is absent.
          But I do it on purpose, making each thing I do into that Magic
          Will.
          So if you ask me "Are you correcting Liber DCCCCLXIII.?"  I
          reply, "No!  I am Adonai!"

7.50.     Arrival of the Visconti.

8.50.     Departure of the Visconti.  Really a necessary rest: for my head
          had begun to ache, and her kiss, half given and half taken, much
          refreshed me.

9.50.     Have done Liber DCCCCLXIII.  'Tis hardly thinkable that one could
          have read it (merely) in the {58} time.  Say three and a half
          hours!  Well, if it doesn't count as Tapas, and Jap, and Yama,
          and Niyama, and all the rest of it, all I can say is that I think
          They don't play fair.  I will now go and get something to eat,
          and (God willing) on my return settle down to real work, for I
          need daylight to copy my Ritual.

11.30.    A sandwich and two coffees at the Versailles and a citron pressé
          at the Dome, some little chatter with M---e, B---e, H---s, and
          others.  In fact, I'm a lazy unconcentrated hound.  I started
          Mantra again, though; of course it goes quite easily.

11.50.    Undressed, and the mantra going, and the Will toward Adonai less
          unapparent.
          To-day I began ill, full of spiritual pride --- look at the
          records of my early hours!  One might have thought me a great
          master of magic loftily condescending to explain a few elementary
          truths suited to the capacity of his disciples.
          The fact is that I am a toad, ugly and venomous, and if I do wear
          a precious jewel in my hand, that jewel is Adonai, and --- well,
          come to think of it, I am Adonai.  But St. John is not Adonai;
          and St. John had better do a little humiliation to-morrow.
          Nothing being more humiliating than Prana Yama, I will begin with
          that.


                                "The Sixth Day"

12.5.     Thus then --- oh ye great gods of Heaven! --- begins the Sixth
          Day of the Great Magical Retirement of that {59} Holy Illuminated
          Man of God our Greatly Honoured Frater, O.M., Adeptus Exemptus
          7° = 4° Brother-Elect of the Most Secret and Sublime Order
          A.'. A.'.
          He does with great difficulty (and no interior performance) just
          four breath-cycles.
          Somebody once remarked that it had taken a hundred million years
          to produce me; I may add that I hope it will be another hundred
          million before God makes such another cur.

12.15.    Have performed the Equilibrating Ritual of the Scourge, the
          Dagger, and the Chain; with the Holy Anointing Oil that bringeth
          the informing Fire into their Lustral Water.

12.35.    I am so sleepy that I cannot concentrate at all.  (I was trying
          the "Bornless One.")  The magic goes well; good images and
          powerful, but I slack right off into sleep.  It's the hour for
          heroic measures or else to say: A good night's rest, and start
          fresh in the morning!  I suppose, as usual, I shall say the first
          and do the second.

12.45.    Have risen, washed, performed the ritual "Thee I invoke, the
          Bornless One" physically.
          The result fair.  One gets better magical sight and feeling when
          one is performing a ritual in one's Astral Body, so called.  For
          one is on the same plane as the things one's dealing with.
          If, however, serious work is wanted, one must be all there.  To
          get "materialized" "spirits" --- pardon the absurd language! ---
          one should (nay, must!) work inside {60} one's body.  So, too, I
          think, for the highest spiritual work; for that Work extends from
          Malkuth to Kether.
          Here is the great value of the rationalistic Eastern systems.
          [P.S.  Of course scientifically worked with pencil, note-book,
          and stop-watch.  The Yogi is usually in practice just as vague a
          dreamer as the mystic.]  They keep one always balanced by common
          sense.  One might go off on lines of pleasing illusion for years,
          until one was lost on the "Astral Plane."
          All this, observe, is very meaningless, very vague at the best.
          What is the Astral Plane?  Is there such a thing?  How do its
          phantoms differ from those of absinthe, reverie, and love, and so
          on?
          We may admit their unsubstantiality without denying their power;
          the phantoms of absinthe and love are potent enough to drive a
          man to death or marriage; while reverie may end in anti-
          vivisectionism or nut-food-madness.
          On the whole, I prefer to explain the many terrible catastrophes
          I have seen caused by magic misunderstood by supposing that in
          magic one is working with some very subtle and essential function
          of the brain, whose disease may mean for one man paralysis, for
          another mania, for a third melancholia, for a fourth death.  It
          is not "à priori" absurd to suggest that there may be some one
          particular thought that would cause death.  In the man with heart
          disease, for instance, the thought "I will run quickly upstairs"
          might cause death quite as directly as "I will shoot myself."
          Yet of {61} course this thought acts through the will and the
          apparatus of nerves and muscles.  But might not a sudden fear
          cause the heart to stop?  I think cases are on record.
          But all this is unknown ground, or, as Frank Harris would say,
          Unpath'd Waters.  We are getting dangerously near "mental
          arsenic" and "all --- god --- good --- bones --- truth --- lights
          --- liver --- mind --- blessing --- heart --- one and not of a
          series --- ante and pass the buck."
          The common sense of the practical man of the world is good enough
          for me!
1.10.     Will G. R. S. Mead or somebody wise like that tell me why it is
          that if I get out of my body and face (say) East, I can turn (in
          the "astral body") as far as West-Sou'-West or thereabouts, but
          no further except with very great difficulty and after long
          practice?  In making the circle, just as I got to West, I would
          swing right back to West-Nor'-West: turn easily enough, in short,
          to any point but due West, within perhaps 5°, but never pass that
          point.  I have taught myself to do it, but always with an effort.
          Is this a common experience?
          I connect it with my faculty of knowing direction, which all
          mountaineers and travellers who have been with me admit to be
          quite exceptional.
          If I leave my tent or hut by a door facing, say, South-West,
          throughout that whole day, over all kinds of ground, through any
          imaginable jungle, in all kinds {62} of weather, fog, blizzard,
          blight, by night or day, I know within 5° (usually within 2°) the
          direction in which I faced when I left that tent or hut.  And if
          I happen to have observed its compass bearing, of course I can
          deduce North by mere judgment of angle, at which I am very
          accurate.
          Further, I keep a mental record, quite unconsciously, of the time
          occupied on a march; so that I can always tell the time within
          five minutes or so without consulting my watch.
          Further, I have another automatic recorder which maps out
          distance plus direction.  Suppose I were to start from Scott's
          and walk (or drive; it's all the same to me) to Haggerston Town
          Hall (wherever Haggerston may be; but say it's N.E.), thence to
          Maida Vale.  From Maida Vale I could take a true line for
          Piccadilly again and not go five minutes walk out of my way, bar
          blind alleys, etc., and I should know when I got close to Scott's
          again before I recognised any of the surroundings.
          It always seems to me that I get an intuition of the direction
          and length of line A (Scott's to Haggerston bee-line; in spite of
          any winding, it would make little odds if I went viâ Poplar),
          another intuition of line B (Haggerston to Maida Vale), and
          obtained my line C (back to Scott's) by "Subliminal
          trigonometry."
          In this example I am assuming that I had never been in London
          before.  I have done precisely similar work in dozens of strange
          cities, even a twisted warren like Tangier or Cairo.  I am worse
          in Paris than {63} anywhere else; I think because the main
          thoroughfares radiate from stars, and so the angles puzzle one.
          The power, too, suits ill with civilized life; it fades as I live
          in towns, revives as I get back to God's good earth.  A seven-
          foot tent and the starlight --- who wants more?

1.35.     Well, I've woke myself writing this.  The point that really
          struck me was this: what would happen if by severe training I
          forced my "astral body" --- damn it! isn't there a term for it
          free from L. ... -prostitution?  (One speaks of "les deux
          prostitutions"; so it's all right.)  My Scin-Laeca, then --- what
          would happen if I forced my Scin-Laeca to become a Whirling
          Dervish?  I couldn't get giddy, because my Semicircular canals
          would be at rest.
          I must really try the experiment.
          [Scin-Laeca.  See Lord Lytton's "Strange Story." --- ED.]

1.58.     I will now devote myself to sleep, willing Adonai.  Lord Adonai,
          give me deep rest like death, so that in very few hours I may be
          awake and active, full of lion-strength of purpose toward Thee!

7.35.     My heroic conduct was nearly worth a "Nuit Blanche."  For, being
          so thoroughly awake, I had all my Prana irritated, a feeling like
          the onset of a malarial attack, twelve hours before the
          temperature rises.  I dare say it was after 3 o'clock when I
          slept; I woke too, several times, and ought to have risen and
          done Prana Yama: but I did not.  O worm! the sleepiest bird can
          easily catch "thee!" ... I am not nicely awake, though it is to
          {64} my credit that I woke saying my mantra with vigour.  'Tis a
          bitter chill and damp the morn; yet must I rise and toil at my
          fair Ritual.

7.55.     Settling down to copy.

10.12.    Have completed my two prescribed pages of illumination.
          Will go and break my fast and do my business.

10.30.    After writing letters went out and had coffee and two brioches.

11.50.    At Louvre looking up some odd points in the lore of Khemi [Egypt.
          --- ED.] for my Ritual.

12.20.    I cannot understand it; but I feel faint for lack of food; I must
          get back to strict Hatha-Yoga feeding.

1.00.     Half-dozen oysters and an entrecôte aux pommes.

2.05.     Back to work.  I am in a very low physical condition; quite
          equilibrated, but exhausted.  I can hardly walk upright!
          Lord Adonai, how far I wander from the gardens of thy beauty,
          where play the fountains of the Elixir!

2.55.     Wrote two pages; the previous were not really dry; so I must wait
          a little before illuminating.
          I will rest --- if I can!  In the Hanged Man posture.

4.30.     I soon went to sleep and stayed there.
          It is useless to persist.  ... Yet I persist.

5.40.     I was so shockingly cold that I went to the Dôme and had milk,
          coffee, and sandwich, eaten in Yogin manner. {65}  But it has
          done no good as far as energy is concerned.  I'm just as bad or
          worse than I was on the day which I have called the day of
          Apophis (third day).  The only thing to my credit is the way I've
          kept the mantra going.

5.57.     One thing at least is good; if anything does come of this great
          magical retirement --- which I am beginning to doubt --- it will
          not be mixed up with any other enthusiasm, poetic, venereal, or
          bacchanalian.  It will be purely mystic.  But as it has not
          happened yet --- and just at present it seems incredible that it
          should happen --- I think we may change the subject.
          .... What a fool I am, by the way!  I say that "He is God, and
          that there is no other God than He" 1800 times an hour; but I
          don't "think" it even once a day.

6.30.     All my energy has suddenly come back.
          Was it that Hatha-Yoga sandwich?
          I go on copying the Ritual.

7.10.     Copying finished.  I will go and dine, and learn it by heart,
          humbly and thoughtfully.  The illumination of it can be finished,
          with a little luck, in two more days.
          I am disinclined to use the Ritual until it is beautifully
          coloured.  As Zoroaster saith: "God is never so much turned away
          from man, and never so much sendeth him new paths, as when he
          maketh ascent to divine speculations or works, in a confused or
          disordered manner, and (as the oracle adds) with unhallowed lips,
          or unwashed feet.  For of those who are thus {66} negligent the
          progress in imperfect, the impulses are vain, and the paths are
          dark."

7.40.     Chez Lavenue.  Bisque d'Ecrevisses, demi-perdreau à la Gelée,
          Cêpes Bordelaise, Coupe Jack.  Demi Clos du Roi.  I am sure I
          made a serious mistake in the beginning of this Operation of
          Magick Art.  I ought to have performed a true Equilibration by an
          hour's Prana Yama in Asana (even if I had to do it without
          Kambhakham) at midnight, dawn, noon, and sunset, and I should
          have allowed nothing in heaven above, or in earth beneath, or in
          the waters under the earth, to have interfered with its due
          performance.
          Instead I thought myself such a fine fellow that to get into
          Asana for a few minutes every midnight and the rest go-as-you-
          please would be enough.  I am well punished.

8.30.     This food, eaten in a Yogin and ceremonial manner, is doing me
          good.  I shall end, God willing, with coffee, cognac, and cigar.
          It is a fatal error to knock the body to pieces and leave the
          consciousness intact, as has been the case with me all day.  It
          is true that some people find that if they hurt the body, they
          make the mind unstable.  True; they predispose it to
          hallucination.
          One should use strictly corporeal methods to tame the body;
          strictly mental methods to control the mind.  This latter
          restriction is not so vitally important.  Any weapon is
          legitimate against a public enemy like the mind.  No truce nor
          quarter! {67}  On the contrary, to use the spiritual forces to
          secure health, as certain persons attempt to do to-day, is the
          vilest black magic.  This is one of the numerous reasons for
          supposing that Jesus Christ was a Brother of the Left-Hand Path.
          Now my body has been treating me well, waking nicely at
          convenient hours, sleeping at suitable times, keeping itself to
          itself ... an admirable body.  Then why shouldn't I take it out
          and give it the best dinner Lavenue can serve? ... Provided that
          it doesn't stop saying that mantra!
          It would be so easy to trick myself into the belief that I had
          attained!  It would be so easy to starve myself until there was
          "visions about"!  It would be so easy to write a sun-splendid
          tale of Adonai my Lord and my lover, so as to convince the world
          and myself that I had found Him!  With my poetic genius, could I
          not outwrite St. John (my namesake) and Mrs. Dr. Anna Bonus
          Kingsford?  Yea, I could deceive myself if I did not train and
          fortify my scepticism at every point.  That is the great
          usefulness of this record; one will be able to see afterwards
          whether there is any trace of poetic or other influence.  But
          this is my sheet-anchor: I cannot wrote a lie, either in poetry
          or about magic.  These are serious things that constitute my
          personality; and I could more easily blow out my brains that
          write a poem which I did not feel.  The apparent exception is in
          case of irony.
          [P.S.  I wonder whether it would be possible to draw up a
          mathematical table, showing curves of food (and {68} digestion),
          drink, other physical impulses, weather, and so on, and comparing
          them with the curve of mystic enthusiasm and attainment.
          Through it is perhaps true that perfect health and "bien-être" are
          the bases of any true trance or rapture, it seems unlikely that
          mere exuberance of the former can excite the latter.
          In other words there is probably some first matter of the work
          which is not anything we know of as bodily.  On my return to
          London, I must certainly put the matter before more experienced
          mathematicians, and if possible, get a graphic analysis of the
          kind indicated.]

9.20.     How difficult and expensive it is to get drunk, when one is doing
          magic!  Nothing exhilarates or otherwise affects one.  Oh, the
          pathos and tragedy of those lines:

                    Come where the booze is cheaper!
                       Come where the pots hold more!

          How I wish I had written them!

10.08.    Having drunk a citron pressé and watched the poker game at the
          Dôme for a little, I now return home.  I thought to myself, "Let
          me chuck the whole thing overboard and be sensible, and get a
          good night's rest" --- and perceived that it would be impossible.
          I am so far into this Operation that

                    pausing to cast one last glance back
                       O'er the safe road --- 'twas gone! {69}

          I must come out of it either an Adept or a maniac.  Thank the
          Lord for that!  It saves trouble.

10.20.    Undressed and robed.  Will do an Aspiration in the Hanged Man
          position, hoping to feel rested and fit by midnight.
          The Incense has arrived from London; and I feel its magical
          effects most favourable.
          O creature of Incense!  I conjure thee by Him that sitteth upon
          the Holy Throne and liveth and reigneth for ever as the Balance
          of Righteousness and Truth, that thou comfort and exalt my soul
          with Thy sweet perfume, that I may be utterly devoted to this
          Work of the Invocation of my Lord Adonai, that I may fully attain
          thereto, beholding Him face to face --- as it is written "Before
          there was Equilibrium, Countenance beheld not Countenance" ---
          yea, being utterly absorbed in His ineffable Glory --- yea, being
          That of which there is no Image either in speech or thought.

10.55.    What a weary world we live in!  No sooner am I betrayed into
          making a few flattering remarks about my body that I find
          everything wrong with it, and two grains of Cascara Sagrada
          necessary to its welfare!
          .... I wish I knew where I was!  I don't at all recognise what
          Path I am on; it doesn't seem like a Path at all.  As far as I
          can see, I am drifting rudderless and sailless on a sea of no
          shore --- the False Sea of the Qliphoth.  For in my stupidity I
          began to try a certain ritual of the Evil Magic, so called. ...
          Not {70} evil in truth, because only that is evil (in one sense)
          which does not lead to Adonai.  (In another sense, all is evil
          which is not Adonai.)  And of course I had the insane idea that
          this ritual would serve to stimulate my devotion.  For the
          information of the Z.A.M., I may explain that this ritual
          pertained to Saturn in Libra; and, though right enough in its own
          plane, is a dog-faced demon in this operation.  Is it, though?  I
          am so blind that I can no longer decide the simplest problems.
          Else, I see so well, and am so balanced, that I see both sides of
          every question.
          In chess-blindness one used to abjure the game.  I never tried to
          stick it through; I wish I had.  Anyhow, I have to stick this
          through!
          O Lord of the Eye, let thine Eye be ever open upon me!  For He
          that watcheth Israel doth not slumber nor sleep!
          Lord Shiva, open Thou the Eye upon me, and consume me altogether
          in its brilliance!
          Destroy this Universe!  Eat up thine hermit in thy terrible jaws!
          Dance Thou upon this prostrate saint of Thine!
          ... I suffer from thirst ... it is a thirst of the body ... yet
          the thirst of the soul is deeper, and impossible to quench.
          Lord Adonai!  Let the Powers of Geburah plunge me again and again
          into the Fires of Pain, so that my steel may be tempered to that
          Sword of Magic that invoketh Thy Knowledge and Thy Conversation.
          Hoor!  Elohim Gibor!  Kamael!  Seraphim!  Graphiel!  {71}
          Bartzabel!  Madim!  I conjure ye in the Number Five.
          By the Flaming Star of my Will!  By the Senses of my Body!  By
          the Five Elements of my Being!  Rise!  Move!  Appear!  Come ye
          forth unto me and torture me with your fierce pangs ... for why?
          because I am the Servant of the Same your God, the True
          Worshipper of the Highest.

          Ol sonuf vaoresaji, gono ladapiel, elonusaha caelazod.

          I rule above ye, said the Lord of Lords, exalted in power.
          [From Dr. Dee's MSS. --- ED.]

11.17.    Will now try the Hanged Man again.

11.30.    Very vigorous and good, my willing of Adonai. ... I should like
          to explain the difficulty.  It would be easy enough to form a
          magical Image of Adonai: and He would doubtless inform it.  But
          it would only be an Image.  This may be the meaning of the
          commandment "Thou shalt not make any graven image," etc., just as
          "Thou shalt not have any other Gods but me" implies single-minded
          devotion (Ekâgrata) to Adonai.  So any mental or magical Image
          must necessarily fall short of the Truth.  Consequently one has
          to will that which is formless; and this is very difficult.  To
          concentrate the mind upon a definite thing is hard enough; yet at
          least there is something to grasp, and some means of checking
          one's result.  But in this case, the moment one's will takes a
          magical shape -- and the will simply revels in creating shapes --
          at the moment one knows that one has gone off the track. {72}
          This is of course (nearly enough) another way of expressing the
          Hindu Meditation whose method is to kill all thoughts as they
          arise in the mind.  The difference is that I am aiming at a
          target, while they are preventing arrows from striking one.  In
          my aspiration to know Adonai, I resemble their Yogis who
          concentrate on their "personal Lord"; but at the same time it
          must be remembered that I am not going to be content with what
          would content them.  In other words, I am going to "define" "the
          Knowledge and Conversation of my Holy Guardian Angel" as equal to
          Neroda-Samapatti, the trance of Nibbana.
          I hope I shall be able to live up to this!

11.55.    Have been practising Asana, etc.  I forgot one thing in the last
          entry: I had been reproaching Adonai that for six days I had
          evoked Him in vain. ... I got the reply, "The Seventh Day shall
          be the Sabbath of the Lord thy God."
          So mote it be!


                                "The Seventh Day."

12.17.    I began this great day with Eight breath-cycles; was stopped by
          the indigestion trouble in its other form. (P.S. --- Evidently
          the introduction of the Cascara into my sensitive aura made its
          action instantaneous.)  My breathing passages were none too
          clear, either; I have evidently taken a chill.
          Now, O, my Lord Adonai, thou Self-Glittering One, wilt Thou not
          manifest unto Thy chosen one?  For see {73} me!  I am as a little
          white dove trembling upon thine altar, its throat stretched out
          to the knife.  I am as a young child bought in the slave market
          ... and night is fallen!  I await Thee, O my Lord, with a great
          longing, stronger than Life; yet am I as patient as Death.
          There was a certain Darwesh whose turban a thief stole.  But when
          they said to him, "See! he hath taken the road to Damascus!" that
          holy man answered, as he went quietly to the cemetery, "I will
          await him here!"
          So, therefore, there is one place, O thou thief of my heart's
          love, Adonai, to which thou must come at last; and that place is
          the tomb in which lie buried all my thoughts and emotions, all
          that which is "I, and Me, and Mine."  There will I lay myself and
          await thee, even as our Father Christian Rosenkreutz that laid
          himself in the Pastos in the Vault of the Mountain of the
          Caverns, Abiegnus, on whose portal did he cause to be written the
          words, "Post Lux Crucis Annos Patebo."  So Thou wilt enter in (as
          did Frater N. N. and his companions) and open the Pastos; and
          with thy Winged Globe thou wilt touch the Rosy Cross upon my
          breast, and I shall wake into life --- the true life that is
          Union with Thee.
          So therefore --- perinde ac cadaver --- I await Thee.

12.43.    I wrote, by the way, on some previous day (IV. 12.57 A.M.) that I
          used the Supreme formula of Awaiting. ... Ridiculous mouse! is it
          not written in the Book of the {74} Heart that is girt about with
          the Serpent that "To await Thee is the End, not the Beginning"?
          It is as silly as rising at midnight, and saying, "I will go out
          and sleep in the sun."
          But I am an Irishman, and if you offer me a donkey-ride at a
          shilling the first hour and sixpence the second, you must not be
          surprised at the shrewd silliness of my replying that I will take
          the second hour first.
          But that is always the way; the love of besting our dearest
          friends in a bargain is native to us: and so, even in religion,
          when we are dealing with our own souls, we try to cheat.  I go
          out to cut an almond rod at midnight, and, finding it
          inconvenient, I "magically affirm" that ash is almond and that
          seven o'clock is twelve.  It seems a pity to have become a
          magician, capable of forcing Nature to accommodate herself to
          your statements, for no better use to be made of the power than
          this!
          Miracles are only legitimate when there is no other issue
          possible.  It is waste of power (the most expensive kind of
          power) to "make the spirits bring us all kinds of food" when we
          live next door to the Savoy; that Yogi was a fool who spent forty
          years learning to walk across the Ganges when all his friends did
          it daily for two pice; and that man does ill when he invokes
          Tahuti to cure a cold in the head while Mr. Lowe's shop is so
          handy in Stafford Street.
          But miracles may be performed in an extremity; and are.
          This brings us round in a circle; the miracle of the {75}
          Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel is only to
          be performed when the magus has rowed himself completely out; in
          the language of the Tarot, when the Magus has become the Fool.
          But for my faith in the Ritual DCLXXI. I should be at the end of
          my spells.
          Well?  We shall see in the upshot.

1.25.     I really almost begin to believe IT will happen.
          For I lay down quite free of worry or anxiety (hugging myself, as
          it were), perfectly sure of Him in the simple non-assertive way
          that a child is sure of its mother, in a state of pleased
          expectancy, my thoughts quite suppressed in an intent listening,
          as it were for the noise of the wind of His chariot, as it were
          for the rustle of His wings.
          For lo! through the heaven of Nu He rideth in His chariot ---
          soon, soon He will be here!
          Into this state of listening come certain curious things ---
          formless flittings, I know not what.  Also, what I used to call
          "telephone-cross" voices --- voices of strange people saying
          quite absurd commonplace things --- "Here, let's feel it!"  "What
          about lunch?"  "So I said to him: Did you ..." and so on; just as
          if one were overhearing a conversation in a railway carriage.  I
          beheld also Kephra, the Beetle God, the Glory of Midnight.  But
          let me compose myself again to sleep, as did the child Samuel.
          If He should choose to come, He can easily awaken me. {76}

3.35.     I have been asleep a good deal --- one long dream in which P---t,
          Lord M---y of B---n and my wife are all staying with me in my
          mother's house.  My room the old room, with one page torn out ---
          for I conceived it as part of a book, somehow!  Oh such a lot of
          this dream!  Most of it clearly due to obvious sources --- I
          don't see where Lord M---y comes in.  Very likely he is dead.  I
          have had that happen now and again.  [P.S. --- this was not the
          case.]
          The dream changed, too, to a liner; where Japanese stole my pipe
          in a series of adventures of an annoying type --- every one acted
          as badly as he knew how, and as unexpectedly.
          Waking just now, and instantly concentrating on Adonai, I found
          my body seized with a little quivering, very curious and
          pleasant, like

                      trembling leaves in a continuous air.

          I think I have heard this state of Interior Trembling described
          in some mystic books.  I think the Shakers and Quakers had
          violent shudderings.  Abdullah Haji of Shiraz writes: ---

                     Just as the body shudders when the Soul
                     Gives up to Allah in its quick career
                     Itself. ...

          It is the tiniest, most intimate trembling, not unlike that of
          Kambhakham or "Vindu-siddhi" [see the Shiva Sanhita. --- ED.]
          properly performed; but of a female quality.  I feel as if I were
          being shaken; in {77} the other cases I recognize my own ardour
          as the cause.  It is very gentle and sweet.
          So now I may turn back to wait for Him.

3.50.     The Voice of the Nadi has changed to a music faint yet very full
          and very sweet, with a bell-like tone more insistent than the
          other notes at intervals.

5.45.     Again awake, and patient-eager.  The dreams flow through me
          ceaselessly.
          This time a house where I, like a new Bluebeard, have got to
          conceal my wives from each other.  But my foolish omission to
          knife them brings it about that I have thirty-nine secret
          chambers, and only one open one in each case.
          Oh, yards of it!  And all sorts of people come in to supper ---
          which there isn't any, and we have to do all sorts of shifts ---
          and all the wives think themselves neglected --- as they are
          bound to do, if one is insane enough to have forty --- and I
          loathed them all so! it was terrible having to fly round and
          comfort and explain; the difficulty increases (I should judge) as
          about the fifth power of the number of wives...
          I'm glad I'm awake!
          Yea, and how glad when I am indeed awake from this glamour life,
          awake to the love my Lord Adonai!
          It is bitter chill at dawn.  A consecrating cold it seems to me
          --- yet I will not confront it and rejoice in it --- I am already
          content, having ceased to strive.

7.15.     Again awake, deliciously rested and refreshed.

9.45.     Again awake, ditto. {78}

11.35.    I will now break my fast with a sandwich and coffee, eaten Yogin-
          wise.
          I seem like one convalescent after a fever; very calm, very
          clean, rather weak, too weak, indeed, to be actually happy: but
          content.
          I spent the morning posing for Michael Brenner, a sculptor who
          will one day be heard of.  Very young yet, but I think the best
          man of his generation --- of those whose work I have seen.
          By the way, I am suffering from a swollen finger, since yesterday
          morning or possibly earlier.  I have given it little attention,
          but it is painful.
          I want to explain why I have so carefully recorded the somewhat
          banal details of all I have eaten and drunk.

               1. All food is a species of intoxicant; hence a fruitful
                    source of error.  Should I obtain any good result, I
                    might say "You were starved" or "You were drunk."  It
                    is very easy to get visions of sorts by either process,
                    and to delude oneself into the idea that one has
                    attained, mistaking the Qliphoth for Kether.
               2. In keeping the vow "I will interpret every phenomenon as
                    a particular dealing of God with my soul" the mere
                    animal actions are the most resistant.  One cannot see
                    the nature of the phenomenon; it seems so unimportant;
                    one is inclined to despise it.  Hence I enter it in the
                    record as a corrective. {79}
               3. If others are to read this, I should like them to see
                    that elaborate codes of morality have nothing to do
                    with my system.  No question of sin and grace ever
                    enters it.
          If a chemist wants to prepare copper sulphate from its oxide, he
          does not hesitate on the ground that sulphuric acid, thrown in
          the eyes, hurts people.  So I use the moral drug which will
          produce the desired result, whether that drug be what people
          commonly call poison or no.  In short, I act like a sensible man;
          and I think I deserve every credit for introducing this
          completely new idea into religion.
12.25.    That function of my brain which says "You ought to be willing
          Adonai" sometimes acts.  But I am willing Him!  It is so active
          because all this week it has been working hard, and doesn't
          realise that its work is done.  Just as a retired grocer wakes up
          and thinks "I must go and open the shop."
          In Hindu phrase, the thought-stuff, painfully forced all these
          days into one channel, has acquired the habit ["i.e.", of flowing
          naturally in it. --- ED.]  I am Ekâgrata --- one-pointed.
          Just as if one arranges a siphon, one has to suck and suck for a
          while, and then when the balance in the two arms of the tube is
          attained, the fluid goes on softly and silently of its own act.
          Gravitation which was against us is now for us.
          So now the whole destiny of the Universe is by me overcome; I am
          impelled, with ever-gathering and irresistible force, toward
          Adonai. {80}
          Vi Veri Vniversvm Vivvs Vici!

12.57.    Back home to illuminate my beautiful Ritual.

3.30.     Two pages done and set aside to dry.  I think I will go for a
          little walk and enjoy the beautiful sun.
          Also to the chemist's to have my finger attended to.

4.05.     The chemist refused to do anything; and so I did it myself.  It
          is the romantic malady of ingrowing nail; a little abscess had
          formed.  Devilish painful after the clean-up.  Will go the walk
          aforesaid.

4.17.     I ought to note how on this day there is a complete absence of
          all one's magical apparatus.  The mantra has slowed down to (at a
          guess) a quarter of its old pace.  The rest in unison.  This is
          because the feeling of great power, etc. etc., is the mere
          evidence of conflict --- the thunder of the guns.  Now all is at
          peace; the power of the river, no more a torrent.
          The Concourse of the Forces has become the Harmony of the Forces;
          the word Tetragrammation is spoken and ended; the holy letter
          Shin is descended into it.  For the roaring God of Sinai we have
          the sleeping Babe of Bethlehem.  A fulfilment, not a destroying,
          of the Law.

4.45.     Am at home again.  I will lie down in the Position of the Hanged
          Man, and await the coming of my Lord.

6.00.     Arisen again to go out to diner.  I was half-asleep some of the
          time.

6.15.     Dinner --- Hors d'OEuvre --- Tripes à la Mode de Caen --- Filet
          de Porc --- Glace --- 1/2 Graves.  Oh, how the world {81} hath
          inflexible intellectual rulers!  I eat it in a semi-Yogin manner.

6.20.     I am wondering whether I have not made a mistake in allowing
          myself to sleep.
          It would be just like me, if there were only one possible mistake
          to make, to make it!  I was perfect, had I only watched.  But I
          let my faith run away with me. ... I wonder.

6.45.     Dinner over, I go on as I am in calm faith and love.  Why should
          I expect a catastrophic effect?  Why should not the circumstances
          of Union with God be compatible with the normal consciousness?
          Interpenetrating and illuminating it, if you like; but not
          destroying it.  Well, I don't know why it shouldn't be; but I bet
          it isn't!  All the spiritual experience I have had argues against
          such a theory.
          On the contrary, it will leave the reason quite intact, supreme
          Lord of its own plane.  Mixing up the planes is the sad fate of
          many a mystic.  How many do I know in my own experience who tell
          me that, obedient to the Heavenly Vision, they will shoot no more
          rabbits!  Thus they found a system on trifles, and their Lord and
          God is some trumpery little elemental masquerading as the
          Almighty.
          I remember my Uncle Tom telling me that he was sure God would be
          displeased to see me in a blue coat on Sunday.  And to-day he is
          surprised and grieved that I do not worship his god --- or even
          my own tailor, as would be surely more reasonable! {82}

7.32.     How is it that I expect the reward at once?  Surely I am
          presuming on my magical power, which is an active thing, and
          therefore my passivity is not perfect.  Of course, when IT
          happens, it happens out of time and space --- now or ten years
          hence it is all the same.  All the same to IT; not all the same
          to me, O.M.  So O.M. (the dog!) persists irrationally in wanting
          IT, here and now.  Surely, indeed, it is a lack of faith, a
          pandering to the time-illusion ... and so forth.  Yes, no doubt
          it is all magically wrong, even magically absurd; yet, though I
          see the snare, I deliberately walk into it.  I suppose I shall be
          punished somehow ... Good! there's the excuse I wanted.  Fear is
          failure: I must dare to do wrong.  Good!
7.50.     It has just occurred to me that this Waiting and Watching is the
          supreme Magical strain.  Every slight sound or other impression
          shocks one tremendously.  It is easy enough to shut out sounds
          and such when one is concentrating in active magic: I did all my
          early evocations in Chancery Lane.  But now one is deliberately
          opening all the avenues of sense to admit Adonai!  One has
          destroyed one's own Magic Circle.  The whole of that great
          Building is thrown down. ... Therefore I am in a worse hole that
          I ever was before --- and I've only just realized it.  A footfall
          on the pavement is most acute agony --- because it is not Adonai.
          My hearing, normally rather dull, is intensely sharpened; and I
          am thirty yards from the electric trams of the Boulevard
          Montparnasse at the busiest hour of the evening. ... {83}
          And the Visconti may turn up! ...
          Eli, Eli, lama sabacthani!

8.45.     I went out to the Dôme to drink my final citron pressé and to
          avoid the Visconti.  Am returned, and in bed.  I shall try and
          sleep now, waking in time for midnight and the quiet hours.

8.53.     I have endured the supreme temptation and assault of the Enemy.
          In this wise.  First, I found that I did not want sleep --- I
          couldn't stop "Waiting."  Next, I said "Since last night that
          Black Ritual (see entry 10.55) did at least serve to turn all my
          thoughts to the One Thought, I will try it again ..."
          Then I said: "No; to do so is not pure 'waiting.'"
          And then --- as by a flash of lightning --- the Abyss of the Pit
          opened, and my whole position was turned.  I saw my life from the
          dawn of consciousness till now as a gigantic "pose"; my very love
          of truth assumed for the benefit of my biographer!  All these
          strange things suffered and enjoyed for no better purpose than to
          seem a great man.  One cannot express the horror of this thought;
          it is The thought that murders the soul --- and there is no
          answer to it.  So universal is it that it is impossible to prove
          the contrary.  So one must play the man, and master it and kill
          it utterly, burying it in that putrid hell from which it sprang.
          Luckily I have dealt with it before.  Once when I lived at
          Paddington J---s and F---r were with me taking, and, when they
          went, thoughtfully left this devil-thought behind --- the agony
          is with me yet. {84}  That, though, was only a young mild devil,
          though of the same bad brood.  It said: "Is there any Path or
          Attainment?  Have you been fooled all along?"
          But to-night's thought struck at my own integrity, at the inmost
          truth of the soul and of Adonai.
          As I said, there is no answer to it; and as these seven days have
          left me fairly master of the fortress, I caught him young, and
          assigned him promptly to the oubliette.
          I put down this --- not as a "pose" --- but because the business
          is so gigantic.  It encourages me immensely; for if my Dweller on
          the Threshold be that most formidable devil, how vast must be the
          Pylon that shelters him, and how glorious must be the Temple just
          beyond!
9.30.     It seems that there was one more mistake to make; for I've made
          it!
          I started to attempt to awaken the Kundalini --- the magical
          serpent that sleeps at the base of the spine; coiled in three
          coils and a half around the Sushumna; and instead of pumping the
          Prana up and down the Sushumna until Siva was united with Sakti
          in the Sahasrara-Cakkram, I tried --- God knows why; I'm stupider
          than an ass or H ... C .... --- to work the whole operation in
          Muladhara --- with the obvious result.
          There are only two more idiocies to perform --- one, to take a
          big dose of Hashish and record the ravings as if they were
          Samadhi; and two, to go to church.  I may as well give up. {85}
          Yet here answers me the everlasting Yea and Amen: Thou canst not
          give up, for I will bring thee through.  Yet here I lie, stripped
          of all magic force, doubting my own peace and faith, farther from
          Adonai than ever before --- and yet --- and yet ---
          Do I not know that every error is a necessary step in the Path?
          The longest way round is the shortest way home.  But it is
          disgusting!  There's a grim humour in it, too.  The real Devil of
          the Operation must be sitting with sardonic grin upon his face,
          enjoying my perplexity ---
          For that Dweller-of-the-Threshold-thought was not as dead as I
          supposed; as I write he comes again and again, urging me to quit
          the Path, to abandon the unequal contest.  Luckily, friend
          Dweller, you prove too much!  Your anxiety shows me that I am not
          as far from attainment as my own feelings would have me think.
          At least, though, I am thrown into the active again; I shall rise
          and chant the Enochian Calls and invoke the Bornless One, and
          clear a few of the devils away, and get an army of mighty angels
          around me --- in short, make another kind of fool of myself, I
          wonder?
          Anyway, I'll do it.  Not a bad idea to ask Thoth to send me
          Taphtatharath with a little information as to the route --- I do
          not know where I am at all.  This is a strange country, and I am
          very lonely.
          This shall be my ritual.
               1. Banishing Pentagram Ritual.
               2. Invoking ditto. [These will appear in No. 2,
                      "Liber O." --- ED.]  {86}
               3. "The Bornless One." [See the "Goetia." --- ED.]
               4. The Calls I --- VI with the rituals of the five
                      Grades.  [From Dr. Dee's and the G.'. D.'.
                      MSS. --- ED.]
               5. Invocation of Thoth.
               6. (No: I will "not" use the New Ritual, nor will I
                      discuss the matter.)  An impromptu invocation
                      of Adonai.
               7. Closing formulae.
          To work, then!

11.15.    The ceremony went well enough; the forces invoked came readily
          and visibly; Thoth in particular as friendly as ever --- I fancy
          He takes this record as a compliment to Him --- He's welcome to
          it, poor God!
          The L.V.X. came, too but not enough to pierce the awful shroud of
          darkness that by my folly I have woven for myself.
          So at the end I found myself on the floor, so like Rodin's Cruche
          Cassée Danaide Girl as never was ... As I ought to have been in
          the beginning!  Well, one thing I got (again!), that is, that
          when all is said and done, I am that I am, and all these thoughts
          of mine, angels and devils both, are only fleeting moods of me.
          The one true self of me is Adonai.  Simple!  Yet I cannot remain
          in that simplicity.
          I got this "revelation" through the Egyptian plane, a partial
          illumination of the reason.  It has cleared up the mind; but
          alas! the mind is still there.  This is the strength and weakness
          both of the Egyptian plane, {87} that it is so lucid and
          spiritual and yet so practical.  When I say weakness, I mean that
          it appeals to my weakness; I am easily content with the smaller
          results, so that they seduce me from going on to the really big
          ones.  I am quite happy as a result of my little ceremony ---
          whereas I ought to be taking new and terrible oaths!  Yet why
          should Tahuti be so kind to me, and Asar Un-nefer so unkind?
          The answer comes direct from Tahuti himself: Because you have
          learned to write perfectly, but have not yet taught yourself to
          suffer.
          True enough, the last part!
          Asar Un-nefer, thou perfected One, teach me Thy mysteries!  Let
          my members be torn by Set and devoured by Sebek and Typhon!  Let
          my blood be poured out upon Nile, and my flesh be given to Besz
          to devour!  Let my Phallus be concealed in the maw of Mati, and
          my Crown be divided among my brethren!  Let the jaws of Apep
          grind me into poison!  Let the sea of poison swallow me wholly
          up!
          Let Asi my mother rend her robes in anguish, and Nepti weep for
          me unavailing.
          Then shall Asi being forth Hoor, and Heru-pa-kraat shall leap
          glad from her womb.  The Lord of Vengeance shall awaken; Sekhet
          shall roar, and Pasht cry aloud.  Then shall my members be
          gathered together, and my bonds shall be unloosed; and my khu
          shall be mighty in Khem for ever and ever!
11.37.    I return to he place of the Evil Triad, of Ommo Satan, that is
          before the altar.  There to expiate my folly in {88} attaching
          myself to all this great concourse of ideas that I have here
          recorded, instead of remaining fixed in the single stronghold of
          Unity with Myself.

11.54.    And so this great day draws to its end.
          These are indeed the Qliphoth, the Qliphoth of Kether, the
          Thaumiel, twin giant heads that hate and tear each other.
          For the horror and darkness have been unbelievable; yet again,
          the light and brilliance have been almost insupportable.
          I was never so far, and never so near ... But the hour
          approaches.  Let me collect myself, and begin the new day in
          affirmation of my Unity with my Lord Adonai!


                               "The Eighth Day"

12.3.     Thus the Eighth day, the Second Week, begins.  I am in Asana.
          For some reason or other, Pranayama is quite easy.  Concentrating
          on Adonai, I was in Kambhakham for a whole minute without
          distress.
          It "is" true, by the way.  I was --- and am --- in some danger of
          looking on this Record as a Book; "i.e.", of emphasising things for
          their literary effect, and diminishing the importance of others
          which lend themselves less obviously.
          But the answer to this, friend Satan! is that the Canon of Art is
          Truth, and the Canon of Magic is Truth; my true record will make
          a good book, and my true book will make a good record. {89}
"          "Ekam evam advaitam!" friend Satan!  One and not two.  "Hua allahu"
          "alazi lailaha illa Hua!"
          But what shall by my "considerations" for this week?  I am so
          absolutely become as a pantomorphous Lynx that all things look
          alike to me; there are just as many pros and cons to Pranayama as
          to Ceremonial, etc. etc., --- and the pros and cons are so
          numerous and far reaching that I simply dare not start discussing
          even one.  I can see an endless avenue in every case.  In short,
          like the hashish-drunkard in full blast, I am overwhelmed by the
          multitude of my own magical Images.  I have become the great
          Magician --- Mayan, the Maker of Illusion --- the Lord of the
          Brethren of the Left-hand Path.
          I don't "wear my iniquity as an aureole, deathless in Spiritual
          Evil," as Mr. Waite thinks; but it's nearly as bad as that.
          There seems only one reply to this great question of the
          Hunchback (I like to symbolize the spirit of Questioning by "?"
          --- a little crooked thing that asks questions) and that is to
          keep on affirming Adonai, and refusing to be obsessed by any
          images of discipline or magic.
          Of course! but this is just the difficulty --- as it was in the
          Beginning, is now, and every shall be, world without end!  My
          beautiful answer to the question, How will you become a
          millionaire? is: I will possess a million pounds.  The "answer"
          is not an answer; it is a begging of the question.
          What a fool I am! and people think me clever.  "Ergo," perhaps!
          {90}
          Anyhow I will now (12.37) go quietly to sleep --- as I am always
          saying, and never do when I say it! --- in the hope that daylight
          may bring counsel.

7.40.     Woke fresh and comfortable.  Sleep filled with dreams and broken
          into short lengths.  I ought to observe that this is a very
          striking result of forging this magic chain; for in my normal
          life I am one of the soundest sleepers imaginable.  Nine solid
          hours without turning once is my irreducible minimum.

9.10.     Having done an hour's illumination of the New Ritual, will go and
          break my fast with coffee and a brioche, and thence proceed to
          Michael Brenner's studio.

12.15.    I have spent the morning in modelling Siddhasana --- a more
          difficult task than appeared.  Rather like THE task!
          But I went on with the mantra, and made some Reflections upon
          Kamma.
          I will now have a Yogin coffee and sandwich, and return to my
          illumination of the Ritual.
          In the desert of my soul, where no herb grows, there is yet one
          little spring.  I am still one-pointed, at least in the lower
          sense that I have no desire or ambition but this of accomplishing
          the Great Work.
          Barren is this soul of mine, in these 3 1/2 years of drought (the
          3 1/2 coils of the Kundalini are implied by this) and this
          Ekâgrata is the little cloud like a hand (Yod, the Lingam of
          great Shiva).  And, though I catch up my robe and run before the
          chariot of the King into Jezreel, it may be {91} that before I
          reach those gates the whole sky may be one black flame of
          thundercloud, and the violet swords of the lightning may split
          asunder its heavy womb, and the rain, laughing like a young
          child, may dance upon the desert!

12.58.    The Light beginneth to dawn upon the Path, so that I see a little
          better where I stand.  This whole journey seems under some other
          formula than IAO --- perhaps a Pentagram formula with which I am
          not clearly acquainted.  If I knew the Word of the Grade, I could
          foretell things: but I don't.
          I think I will read through the whole Record to date and see if I
          can find an Ariadne-clue.

1.15.     Back, and settled to Ritual-painting.

2.30.     Finished: bar frontispiece and colophon, which I can design and
          execute to-morrow.

3.0.      Took half an hour off, making a silly sketch of a sunset.  Will
          now read through the Record, and Reflect upon it.

4.15.     "Before I was blind; now I see!"  Yesterday I was right up to the
          Threshold, right enough; but got turned back by the Dweller.  I
          did not see the Dweller till afterwards (8.53 entry) for he was
          too subtle.  I will look carefully back to try and spot him; for
          if I "knew his Name" I could pass by --- "i.e.", next time I climb
          up to the Threshold of the Pylon.
          I think the entries 1.25 and 3.35 A.M. explain it.  "HUGGING
          MYSELF, AS IT WERE."  How fatally {92} accurate!  I wrote it and
          never saw the hellish snare!  I ought to have risen up and
          prepared myself ceremonially as a bride, and waited in the proper
          magical manner.   Also I was too pleased with the Heralds of my
          Lord's coming --- the vision of Khephra, etc.  It was perhaps
          this subtle self-satisfaction that lost me ... so I fell to the
          shocking abyss of last night!
          The Dweller of the Threshold is never visible until after one has
          fallen; he is a Veiled God and smites like the Evil Knight in
          Malory, riding and slaying --- and no man seeth him.
          But when you are tumbled headlong into Hell, where he lives, then
          he unveils his Face, and blasts you with its horror!
          Very good, John St. John, now you know!  You are plain John St.
          John and you have to climb right up again through the paths to
          the Threshold; and remember this time to mortify that self-
          satisfaction!  Go at it more reverently and humbly --- oh, you
          dog, how I loathe you for your Vileness!  To have risen so high,
          and --- now --- to be thus fallen!

4.40.     The question arises: how to mortify this self-satisfaction?
          Asceticism notoriously fosters egoism; how good am I to go
          without dinner!  Now noble!  What renunciation!
          On the other hand,the good wine in one says: "A fine fellow I
          have made my coffin of!"
          The answer is simple, the old answer: "think not of" {93} "St. John"
          "and his foolishness; think of Adonai!"  Exactly: the one
          difficulty!
          My best way out will be to concentrate on the New Ritual, learn
          it perfectly by heart, work it at the right moment. ...
          I will go, with this idea, to have a Citron pressé; thence to my
          Secret Restaurant, and dine, always learning the Ritual.
          I will leave off the mantra, though it is nearly as much part of
          me as my head by now; and instead repeat over and over again the
          words of the Ritual so that I can do it in the end with perfect
          fluency and comprehension.  And this time may Adonai build the
          House!

6.10.     Instead I met Dr. R---, who kindly offered to teach me how to
          obtain astral visions!  (P.S. --- The tone of this entry wrongs
          me.  I sat patiently and reverently, like a "chela" with his "guru,"
          hoping to hear the Word I needed.)  Thence I went my long and
          lonely walk to my Secret Restaurant, learning the Ritual as I
          went.

7.15.     Arrived at the Secret Restaurant.  Ordered 6 ousters, Râble de
          Lièvre poivrade purée de marrons, and Glace "Casserole" with a
          small bottle of Perrier Water.
          I know the New Ritual down to the end of the Confession.
          It was hard to stop the mantra --- the moment my thought
          wandered, up it popped!
8.3.      I shall add Café Cognac Cigare to this debauch.
          I continue learning the Ritual.
8.40.     I will return and humble myself before the Lord {94} Adonai.  It
          is near the night of the Full Moon; in my life the Full Moon hath
          ever been of great augury.  But to-night I am too poor in spirit
          to hope.
          Lo!  I was travelling on the paths of Lamed and of Mem, of
          Justice and the Hanged Man, and I fell into both the pitfalls
          thereof.  Instead of the Great Balance firmly held, I found only
          Libra, the house of Venus and of the exaltation of Saturn; and
          these evil planets, smiling and frowning, overcame me.  And so
          for the sublime Path of Man; instead of that symbol of the Adept,
          his foot set firmly upon heaven, his whole figure showing forth
          the Reconciler with the Invisible, I found but the stagnant and
          bitter water of selfishness, the Dead Sea of the Soul.  For all
          is Illusion.  Who saith "I" denieth Adonai, save only if he mean
          Adonai.  And Daleth the Door of the Pylon, is that Tree whereon
          the Adept of Man hangeth, and Daleth is Love Supernal, that if it
          be inserted in the word ANI, "I," giveth ADNI, Adonai.
          Subtle art thou and deadly, O Dweller of the Threshold (P.S. ---
          This name is a bad one.  "Dweller beside the Pylon" is a better
          term; for he is not in the straight path, which is simple and
          easy and open.  He is never "overcome"; to meet him is the proof
          of having strayed.  The Key fits the Door perfectly; but he who
          is drunken on the bad wine of Sense and Thought fumbles thereat.
          And of course there is a great deal of door, and very little key-
          hole), who dost use my very love of Adonai to destroy me!
          Yet how shall I approach Him, if not with reverent {95} joy, with
          a delicious awe?  I must wash His feet with my tears; I must die
          at His gateway; I must ... I know not what ...
          Adonai, be thou tender unto me Thy slave, and keep my footsteps
          in the Way of Truth! ... I will return and humble myself before
          the Lord Adonai.

10.18.    Home again; have done odd necessary things, and am ready to work.
          I feel slack; and I feel that I have been slack, though probably
          the Record shows a fair amount of work done.  But I am terribly
          bruised by the Great Fall; these big things leave the body and
          mind no worse, apparently; but they hurt the Self, and later that
          is reflected into the lower parts of the man as insanity or
          death.
          I must attain, or ... an end of John St. John.
          An end of him, one way or the other, then!
          Good-bye, John!

10.30.    Ten minutes wasted in sheer mooning!  I'm getting worse every
          minute.

10.40.    Fooled away ten minutes more!

10.57.    Humiliation enough!  For though I made the cross with Blood and
          Flame, I cannot even remain concentrated in humiliation, which
          yet I feel so acutely.  What a wormy worm I am!  I tried the new
          strict Siddhasana, only to find that I had hurt myself so this
          morning with it that I cannot bear it at all, even with the
          pillow to support the instep.
          I will just try and do a little Pranayama, to see if I can {96}
          stay doing any one simple thing for ten minutes at a stretch!

11.30.    Twenty-five Breath-Cycles ... But it nearly killed me.  I was
          saying over the Ritual, and did so want to get to the Formulation
          of the Hexagram at least, if not to the Reception.  As it was, I
          broke down during the Passage of the Pylons, luckily not till I
          had reached that of Tahuti.
          But it is a good rule; when in doubt play Pranayama.  For one can
          no longer worry about the Path: the Question is reduced to the
          simple problem: Am, I, or am I not, going to burst?
          I got all the sweating and trembling of the body that heart could
          desire; but no "jumping about like a frog" or levitation.  A
          pity!

11.45.    I shall read for a little in the Yoga-Shastra as a rest. Then for
          the end of the day and the Beginning of the Ninth Day.  Zoroaster
          (or Pythagoras?) informs us that the number Nine is sacred, and
          attains the summit of Philosophy.  I'm sure I hope so!

11.56.    I get into Asana ... and so endeth the Eighth Lesson.


                                 "The Ninth Day"

12.2.     Thus I began this great day, being in my Asana firm and easy, and
          holding in my breath for a full minute while I threw my will with
          all my might towards Adonai.

12.19.    Have settled myself for the night.  Will continue a little,
          learning the Ritual. {97}

12.37.    Having learnt a few passages of a suitable nature to go to sleep
          upon, I will do so.
          ... Now I hope that I shall; surely the Reaction of Nature
          against the Magical Will must be wearing down at last!

2.12.     I wake.  It takes me a little while to shake off the dominion of
          sleep, very intense and bitter.

3.4.      Thus John St. John --- for it is not convenient further to speak
          as "I" --- performed 45 Breath-cycles; for 20 minutes he had to
          struggle against the Root of the Powers of Sleep, and the
          obstruction of his left nostril.
          During his Kambhakham he willed Adonai with all his might.
          Let him sleep, invoking Adonai!

5.40.     Well hath he slept, and well awakened.
          The last entry should extend to 3.30 or thereabouts; probably
          later; for, invoking Adonai, he again got the beginnings of the
          Light, and the "telephone-cross" voices very strongly.  But this
          time he was fortunately able to concentrate on Adonai with some
          fervour, and these things ceased to trouble.  But the Perfume and
          the Vision came not, nor any full manifestation of the L.V.X.,
          the Secret Light, the light that shineth in darkness.
          John St. John is again very sleepy.  He will try and concentrate
          on Adonai without doing Pranayama --- much harder of course.  It
          is a supreme effort to keep both eyes open together. {98}
          He must do his best.  He does not wish to wake too thoroughly,
          either, lest afterward he oversleep himself, and miss his
          appointment with Michael Brenner to continue moulding Siddhasana.

7.45.     Again I awake. ... [O swine! thou hast felt in thyself "Good!
          Good! the night is broken up nicely; all goes very well" --- and
          thou hast written "I!" O swine, John St. John!  When wilt thou
          learn that the least stirring of thy smug content is the great
          Fall from the Path?]
          It will be best to get up and do some kind of work; for the beast
          would sleep.

8.25.     John St. John has arisen, after doing 20 breath-cycles, reciting
          internally the ritual, 70 per cent. of which he now knows by
          heart.

8.35.     To the Dôme --- a café-croissant.  Some proofs to correct during
          the meal.

10.25.    Having walked over to the studio reciting the Ritual (9.25-9.55
          approximately), John St. John got into his pose, and began going
          for the gloves.  The Interior Trembling began, and the room
          filled with the Subtle Light.  He was within an ace of
          Concentration; the Violet Lotus of Ajna appeared, flashing like
          some marvellous comet; the Dawn began to break, as he slew with
          the Lightning-Flash every thought that arose in him, especially
          this Vision of Ajna; but fear --- dread fear! --- gripped his
          heart.  Annihilation stood before him, annihilation of John St.
          John that he had {99} so long striven to obtain: yet he dared
          not.  He had the loaded pistol to his head; he could not pull the
          trigger.  This must have gone on for some time; his agony of
          failure was awful; for he knew that he was failing; but though he
          cried a thousand times unto Adonai with the Voice of Death, he
          could not --- he could not.  Again and again he stood at the
          gate, and could not enter.  And the Violet Flames of Ajna
          triumphed over him.
          Then Brenner said: "Let us take a little rest!" --- oh irony! ---
          and he came down from his throne, staggering with fatigue. ...
          If you can conceive all his anger and despair!  His pen, writing
          this, forms a letter badly, and through clenched teeth he utters
          a fierce curse.
          Oh Lord Adonai, look with favour upon him!

11.30.    After five minutes rest (to the body, that is), John St. John was
          too exhausted on resuming his pose, which, by the way, happens to
          be the Sign of the Grade 7° = 4°, to strive consciously.
          But his nature itself, forced through these days into the one
          channel of Will towards Adonai, went on struggling on its own
          account.  Later, the conscious man took heart and strove, though
          not so fiercely as before.  He passed through the Lightnings of
          Ajna, whose two petals now spread out like wings above his head,
          and the awful Corona of the Interior Sun with its flashing fires
          appeared, and declared itself to be his Self.  This he rejected;
          and the Formless Ocean of {100} White Brilliance absorbed him,
          overcame him; for he could not pass therethrough.  This went on
          repeating itself, the man transformed (as it were) into a mighty
          Battering Ram hurling itself again and again against the Walls of
          the City of God to breach them. --- And as yet he has failed.
          Failed.  Failed.  Physical and mental exhaustion are fairly
          complete.
          Adonai, look with favour upon Thy slave!

12.20.    He has walked, reciting the Ritual, to Dr. R--- and H--- for
          lunch.  They have forgotten the appointment, so he continues and
          reaches Lavenue's at 12.4 after reading his letters and doing one
          or two necessary things.  He orders Epinards, Tarte aux Fraises,
          Glace au Café, and 1/2 Evian.  The distaste for food is great;
          and for meat amounts to loathing.  The weather is exceedingly
          hot; it may be arranged thus by Adonai to enable John St. John to
          meditate in comfort.  For he is vowed solemnly "to interpret
          every phenomenon as a particular dealing of God with his soul."

12.50.    During lunch he will go on correcting his proofs.

1.35.     Lunch over, and the proofs read through.

1.45.     He will make a few decorations further in his Ritual, and perhaps
          design the Fontispiece and Colophon.  He is very weary, and may
          sleep.

2.25.     He has done the illumination, as far as may be.  He will now lie
          down as Hanged Man, and invoke Adonai.  {101}

4.45.     He was too tired to reach nearer than the neighbourhood of that
          tremendous Threshold; wherefore he fell from meditation into
          sleep, and there his Lord gave him sweet rest thereof.
          He will arise, and take a drink --- a citron pressé --- at the
          Dôme; for the day is yet exceeding hot, and he has had little.

4.53.     One ought to remark that all this sleep is full  extravagant
          dreams; rarely irrational and never (of course) unpleasant, or
          one would be up and working with a circle every night.  But O.M.
          thinks that they show an excited and unbalanced condition of John
          St. John's brain, though he is almost too cowed to express an
          opinion at all, even were the question, Is grass green?
          Every small snatch of sleep, without exception, in the last three
          or four days, has these images.
          The ideal condition seems likely to be perfect oblivion --- or
          (in the Adept) is the Tamo-Guna, the Power of elemental Darkness,
          broken once and for ever, so that His sleep is vivid and rational
          as another man's waking; His waking another man's Samadhi; His
          Samadhi --- to which He ever strives ---- ?????
          At least this later view is suggested by the Rosicrucian formula
          of Reception:

                    May thy mind be open unto the Higher!
                    May thy heart be the Centre of Light!
                    May thy body be the Temple of the Rosy Cross!

          and by the Hindu statement that in the attained Yogin {102} the
          Kundalini sleeps in the Svadistthana, no more in the Muladhara
          Cakkrâm.
          See also the Rosicrucian lecture on the Microcosmos, where this
          view is certainly upheld, the Qliphoth of an Adept being balanced
          and trained to fill his Malkuth, vacated by the purified Nephesch
          which has gone up to live in Tiphereth.
          Or so O.M. read it.
          The other idea of the Light descending and filling each principle
          with its glory is, it seems to him, less fertile, and less in
          accord with any idea of Evolution.
          (What would Judas McCabbage think?)
          And one can so readily understand how tremendous a task is that
          of the postulant, since he has to glorify and initiate all his
          principles and train them to their new and superior tasks.  This
          surely explains better the terrible dangers of the path. ...
          Some years back, on the Red River in China, John St. John saw at
          every corner of that swift and dangerous stream a heap of
          wreckage.
          ... He, himself in danger, thought of his magical career.
          Alcoholism, insanity, disease, faddism, death, knavery, prison
          --- every earthly hell, reflection of some spiritual blunder, had
          seized his companions.  By dozens had that band been swept away,
          dashed to pieces on one rock or another.  He, alone almost upon
          that angry stream, still held on, his life each moment the
          plaything of giant forces, so enormous as to be (once they were
          loose) quite out of proportion to all human wit or courage or
          address --- and he held on his course, humbly, {103} not
          hopelessly, not fearfully, but with an abiding certainty that he
          would endure unto the end.
          And now?
          In this great Magical Retirement he has struck many rocks, sprung
          many leaks; the waters of the False Sea foam over the bow, ride
          and carry the quarter --- is he perchance already wrecked, his
          hopeless plight concealed from him as yet by his own darkness?
          For, dazzled as he is by the blinding brilliance of this
          morning's Spiritual Sun, which yet he beheld but darkly, to him
          now even the light of earth seems dark.  Reason the rudder was
          long since unshipped; the power of his personality has broken
          down, yet under the tiny storm-sail of his Will to Adonai, the
          crazy bark holds way, steered by the oar of Discipline --- Yea,
          he holds his course.  Adonai!  Adonai! is not the harbour yet in
          sight?

6.7.      He has returned home and burnt (as every night since its arrival)
          the holy incense of Abramelin the Mage.
          The atmosphere is full of vitality, sweetened and strengthened;
          the soul naturally and simply turns to the holy task with vigour
          and confidence; the black demons of doubt and despair flee away;
          one respires already a foretaste of the Perfume, and obtains
          almost a premonition of the Vision.
          So, let the work go on.

6.23.     7 Breath-cycles, rather difficult.  Clothes are a nuisance, and
          make all the difference.

6.31.     John St. John is more broken up by this morning's {104} failure
          than he was ready to admit.  But the fact stands; he cannot
          concentrate his mind for three seconds together.  How utterly
          hopeless it makes one feel!  One thinks one is at least always
          good for a fair average performance --- and one is undeceived.
          This, by the way, is the supreme use of a record like this.  It
          makes it impossible to cheat oneself.
          Well, he has got to get up more steam somehow, though the boiler
          bursts.  Perhaps early dinner, with Ritual, may induce that
          Enthusiastic Energy of which the Gnostics write.
          This morning the whole Sankhara-dhatu (the tendency of the being
          John St. John) was operating aright.  Now by no effort of will
          can he flog his tired cattle along the trail.
          So poor a thing is he that he will even seek an Oracle from the
          book of Zoroaster.
          Done.  Zoroaster respectfully wishes to point out that "The most
          mystic of discourses informs us --- his wholeness is in the
          Supra-Mundane Order; for there a Solar World and Boundless light
          subsist, as the Oracles of the Chaldeans affirm."
          Not very helpful, is it?
          As if divination could ever help on such exalted planes!  As if
          the trumpery elementals that operate these things possessed the
          Secrets of the Destiny of an Adept, or could help him in his
          agony!
          For this reason, divination should be discarded from the start:
          it is only a "mere toy, the basis of mercenary fraud" as
          Zoroaster more practically assures us. {105}
          Yet one can get the right stuff out of the Tarot (or other
          inconvenient method) by spiritualising away all the meaning,
          until the intuition pierces that blank wall of ignorance.
          Let O.M. meditate upon this Oracle on his way to feed John St.
          John's body --- and thus feed his own!

6.52.     Out, out, to feed!

6.57.     Trimming his beard in preparation for going out, he reflects that
          the deplorable tone (as one's Dean would say) of the last entry
          is not the cry of the famished beast, but that of the over-driven
          slave.
          "Adonai, ply Thou thy scourge!  Adonai, load Thou the chain!"

7.25.     What the devil is the matter with the time?  The hours flit just
          like butterflies --- the moon, dead full, shines down the
          Boulevard.  My moon --- full moon of my desire!  (Ha, ha, thou
          beast! are "I and Me and Mine" not dead yet?)
          Yea, Lord Adonai! but the full moon means much to John St. John;
          he fears ("fears," O Lord of the Western Pylon!) lest, of once that
          full moon pass, he may not win through. ...
          "The harvest is over, the summer is ended, and we are not saved!"
          Yet hath not Abramelin lashed the folly of limiting the spiritual
          paths by the motions of the planets?  And Zoroaster, in that same
          oracle just quoted?

7.35.     Hors d'OEuvres, Bouillabaisse, contrefilet rôti, Glace.  1/2
          Graves. {106}

          The truth is that the Chittam is excited and racing, the control
          being impaired; and the Ego is springing up again.

7.50.     This racing of the Chittam is simply shocking.  John St. John
          must stop it somehow.  Hours and hours seem to have passed since
          the last entry.

7.57.     !!! He is in such a deuce of a hurry that (in a lucid moment) he
          finds himself trying to eat bread, radish, beef and potato at a
          mouthful.
          Worse, the beast is pleased and excited at the novelty of the
          sensation, and takes delight in recording it.
          Beast!  Beast!

8.3.      !!!! After myriads of aeons.  He has drunk only about one third
          of his half-bottle of light white wine; yet he's like a hashish-
          drunkard, only more so.  The loss of the time-sense which occurs
          with hashish he got during his experiments with that drug in
          1906, but in an unimportant way.  (Damn him! he is so glad.  He
          calls this a Result.  A result!  Damn him!)  O.M. who writes this
          is so angry with him that he wants to scrawl the page over with
          the most fearful curses! and John St. John has nearly thrown a
          bottle at the waiter for not bringing the next course.  He will
          not be allowed to finish his wine!  He orders cold water.

8.12.     Things a little better.  But he tries 100 small muscular
          movements, pressing on the table with his fingers in tune, and
          finds the tendency to hurry almost irresistible.  This record is
          here written at lightning speed. ... Attempt to write slowly is
          painful. {107}

8.20.     The thought too, is wandering all over the world.  Since the last
          entry, very likely, the beast has not thought even once of
          Adonai.

8.35.     The Reading of the Ritual has done much service, though things
          are still far from calm.  Yet the mighty flood of the Chittam is
          again rolling its tremendous tide toward the sea --- the Sea of
          annihilation.  Amen.

9.0.      Returning home, with his eyes fixed on the supreme glory of the
          Moon, in his heart and brain invoking Adonai, he hath now entered
          into his little chamber, and will prepare all things for the due
          performance of the New Ritual which he hath got by heart.

9.35.     Nearly ready.  In a state of very intense magical strain ---
          anything might happen.

9.48.     Washed, robed, temple in order.  Will wait until 10 o'clock and
          begin upon the stroke.  O.M. 7° = 4° will begin; and then
          solemnly renounce all his robes, weapons, dignities, etc.,
          renouncing his grades even by giving the Signs of them backwards
          and downwards toward the outer.  He will keep only one thing, the
          Secret Ring that hath been committed unto him by the Masters; for
          from that he cannot part, even if he would.  That is his Password
          into the Ritual itself; and on his finger it shall be put at the
          moment when all else is gone.

11.5.     Ceremony works admirably.  Magical Images strong.  At Reception
          behold! the Sigil of the Supreme Order itself in a blaze of glory
          not to be spoken of.  And the half-seen symbol of my Lord Adonai
          therewith as a mighty angel glittering with infinite light. {108}
          According the the Ritual, O.M. withdrew himself from the Vision;
          the Vision of the Universe, a whirling abyss of coruscating suns
          in all the colours, yet informed and dominated by that supernal
          brilliance.  Yet O. M. refused the Vision; and a conflict began
          and was waged through many ages --- so it seemed.  And now all
          the enemies of O. M. banded themselves against him.  The petty
          affairs of the day; even the irritations of his body, the
          emotions of him, the plans of him, worry about the Record and the
          Ritual and --- O! everything! --- then, too, the thoughts which
          are closer yet to the great Enemy, the sense of separateness;
          that sense itself at last --- so O. M. withdrew from the conflict
          for a moment so that the duty of this Record done might leave him
          free for the fight.
          It may have been a snare --- may the Lord Adonai keep him in the
          Path.
          Adonai!  Adonai!
          (P.S. --- Add that the "ultra-violet" or "astral" light in the
          room was such that it seemed bright as daylight.  He hath never
          seen the like, even in the ceremony which he performed in the
          Great Pyramid of Gizeh.)

11.14-    O. M. then passed from vision unto vision of unexampled
11.34.    splendour.  The infinite abyss of space, a rayless orb of liquid
          and colourless brilliance fading beyond the edges into a flame of
          white and gold. ... The Rosy Cross flashing with lustre
          ineffable. ... and more, much more which ten scribes could hardly
          catalogue in a century. {109}
          The Vision of the Holy Guardian Angel itself; yet was He seen as
          from afar, not intimately. ...
          Therefore is O. M. not content with all this wonder; but will now
          orderly close the temple, that at the Beginning of the Tenth Day
          --- and Ten are the Holy Sephiroth, the Emanations of the Crown;
          Blessed be He! ... He may make new considerations of this
          Operation whereby he may discover through what error he is thus
          betrayed again and again into failure.  Failure.  Failure.

11.49.    The Temple is closed.
          Now the, O Lord Adonai!  Let the Tenth Day be favourable unto O.
          M.  For in the struggle he is as nothing worth.  Nor valiant, nor
          fortunate, nor skilful --- except Thou fight by his side, cover
          his breast with Thy shield, second his blows with Thy spear and
          with Thy sword.
          Aye! let the Ninth Day close in silence and in darkness, and let
          O.M. be found watching and waiting and willing Thy Presence.
          Adonai!  Adonai!  O Lord Adonai!  Let Thy Light illumine the Path
          of that darkling wight John St. John, that being who, separate
          from Thee, is separate from all

                         Light, Life, Love.

          Adonai!  Adonai! let it be written of O. M. that "The Lord Adonai
          is about him like a thunderbolt and like a Pylon and like a
          Serpent and like a Phallus --- and in the midst thereof like the
          Woman that jetteth the Milk {110} of the Stars from Her paps;
          yea, the Milk of the Stars from Her paps."


                               "The Tenth Day"

12.17.    Now that the perfume of the incense is clearly away, one may most
          potently perceive the Invoked Perfume of the Ceremony Itself.
          And this mystical perfume of Adonai is like pure Musk, but
          infinitely subtilised --- far stronger, and at the same time far
          more delicate.
          (P.S. --- Doubt has arisen about this perfume, as to whether
          there was not a commonplace cause.  On the balance of the
          evidence, carefully considered, one would pronounce for the
          mystic theory.)
          One should add a curious omen.  On sitting down for the great
          struggle (11.14) John St. John found a nail upon the floor, at
          his feet.  Now a nail is Vau in Hebrew, and the Tarot Trump
          corresponding to Vau is the Hierophant or Initiator --- whereby
          is O. M. greatly comforted.
          So poor a thing hath he become!
          Even as a little child groping feebly for the breast of its
          mother, so gropeth Thy little child after Thee, O thou Self-
          Glittering One!

12.55.    He hath read through Days VIII. and IX.
          ... He is too tired to understand what he reads.  He will,
          despite of all, do a little Pranayama, and then sleep, ever
          willing Adonai.
          For Pranayama with its intense physical strain is a great
          medicine for the mind.  Even as the long trail of the desert and
          the life with the winds and the stars, {111} the daily march and
          its strife with heat, thirst, fatigue, cure all the ills of the
          soul, so does Pranayama clear away the phantoms that Mayan, dread
          maker of Illusion, hath cumbered it withal.

1.13.     10 Breath-Cycles; calm, perfect, without the least effort; enough
          to go to sleep upon.
          He will read through the Ritual once, and then sleep.  (The
          Pranayama precipitated a short attack of diarrhoea, started by
          the chill of the Ceremony.)

6.23.     He slept from 1.45 (approximately) till now.  The morn is cold
          and damp; rain has fallen.
          John St. John is horribly tired; the "control" is worn to a
          thread.  He takes five minutes to make up his mind to go through
          with it, five more to wash and write this up.  And he has a
          million excuses for not doing Pranayama.

6.51.     15 Breath-cycles, steady and easy enough.
          The brain is cool and lucid; but no energy is in it.  At least no
          Sammaváyamo.  And at present the Superscription on John St.
          John's Cross is

                             FAILURE.

          Marvellous and manifold as are his results, he hath renounced
          them and esteemeth them as dross. ... This is right, John St.
          John! yet how is it that there is place for the great hunchbacked
          devil to whisper in thine ear the doubt: Is there in truth any
          mystic path at all?  Is it all disappointment and illusion?
          And the "Poor Thing" John St. John moves off {112} shivering and
          sad, like a sot who has tried to get credit at a tavern and is
          turned away --- and that on Christmas Eve!
          There is no money in his purse, no steam in his boilers ---
          that's what's the matter with John St. John.
          It is clear enough, what happened yesterday.  He failed at the
          four Pylons in turn; in the morning Fear stopped him at that of
          Horus and so on; while in the evening he either failed at the
          Pylon of Thoth, "i.e.", was obsessed by the necessity (alleged) of
          recording his results, or failed to overcome the duality of
          Thoth.  Otherwise, even if he comprehended the base, he certainly
          failed at the apex of the Pyramid.
          In any case, he cannot blame the Ceremony, which is most potent;
          one or two small details may need correction, but no more.
          Here then he is down at the bottom of the hill again, a
          Rosicrucian Sisyphus with the Stone of the Philosophers!  An
          Ixion bound to the Wheel of Destiny and of the Samsara, unable to
          reach the centre, where is Rest.
          He must add to the entry 1.13 that the "telephone-cross" voices
          came as he composed himself to sleep, in the Will to Adonai.
          This time he detached a body of cavalry to chase them to
          oblivion.  Perhaps an unwise division of his forces; yet he was
          so justly indignant at the eternal illusions that he may be
          excused.
          Excused!  To whom?  Thou must succeed or fail!  O Batsman, with
          thy frail fortress of Three-in-One, the Umpire cries "Out"; and
          thou explainest to thy friends {113} in the pavilion.  But thy
          friends have heard that story before, and thy explanation will
          not appear in the score.  "Mr. J. St. John, b. Maya," 0, they will
          read in the local newspaper.  There is no getting away from that!
          Failure!  Failure!  Failure!
          Now then let me (7.35) take the position of the Hanged Man and
          invoke Adonai.

9.0.      Probably sleep returned shortly.  Not a good night, through
          dreamless, so far as memory serves.
          The rain comes wearily down, not chasing the dryness, but
          soddening the streets.
          The rain of autumn, not the rain of spring!
          So is it in this soul, Lord Adonai.  The thought of Thee is heavy
          and uneasy, flabby and loose, like an old fat woman stupid-drunk
          in her slum; which was as a young maiden in a field of lilies,
          arrow-straight, sun-strong, moon-pure, a form all litheness and
          eagerness, dancing, dancing for her own excess of life.
          Adonai!  Adonai!

9.17.     Rose, dressed, etc., reflecting on the Path.  Blinder than ever!
          The brain is in revolt; it has been compressed too long.  Yet it
          is impossible to rest.  It is too late.  The Irresistible God,
          whose name is Destiny, has been invoked, and He hath answered.
          The matter is in His hands; He must end it, either with that
          mighty spiritual Experience which I have sought, or else with
          black madness, or with death.  By the Body of God, swear thou
          that death would come --- welcome, welcome, welcome!  {114}
          And to Thee, and from Thee, O thou great god Destiny, there is no
          appeal.  Thou turnest not one hair's breadth from Thy path
          appointed.
          That which "John St. John" "means" (else is it a blank name) is
          that which he must be --- and what is that?  The issue is with
          Thee --- cannot one wait with fortitude, whether it be for the
          King's Banqueting-House or for the Headsman and the Block?

9.45.     Breakfast --- croissant, sandwich, 2 coffees.  Concentrating "off"
          the Work as well as possible.

10.10.    Arrived at Brenner's studio.  The rest has produced one luminous
          idea: why not end it all with destruction?  Say a great ritual of
          Geburah, curses, curses, curses!  John St. John ought not to have
          forgotten how to curse.  In his early days at Wastdale Head
          people would travel miles to hear him!
          Curse all the Gods and all the demons --- all those things in
          short which go to make up John St. John.  For "that" --- as he now
          knows --- is the Name of the great Enemy, the Dweller upon the
          Threshold.  It was that mighty spirit whose formless horror beat
          him back, for it was he!
          So now to return to concentration and the Will toward Adonai.

10.20.    One thing is well; the vow of "interpreting every phenomenon as a
          particular dealing of God with my soul" is keeping itself.
          Whatever impression reaches the consciousness is turned by it
          into a symbol or a simile of the Work. {115}

11.18.    The pose over; recited Ritual, now known by heart; then willed
          Adonai; hopelessly unconcentrated.
          ... To interpret this Record aright, it must, however, be
          understood that the "Standard of Living" goes up at an incredible
          rate.  The same achievement would, say five days ago, have been
          entered as "High degree of concentration; unhoped-for success."
          The phenomena which to-day one dismisses with annoyed contempt
          are the same which John St. John worked four years continuously
          to attain, and when attained seemed almost to outstrip the
          possible of glory.  The flood of the Chittam is again being
          heaped up by the dam of Discipline.  There is less headache, and
          more sense of being on the Path --- that is the only way one
          finds of expressing it.

11.45.    Worse and worse; though pose even better held.
          In despair returned to a simple practice, the holding of the mind
          to a single imagined object; in this case the Triangle surmounted
          by the Cross.  It seems quite easy to do nowadays; why shouldn't
          it lead to the Result?  It used to be supposed to do so.
          Might be worth trying anyway; things can hardly be worse than
          they are.
          Or, one might go over to the Hammam, and have a long bath and
          sleep --- but who can tell whether it would refresh, or merely
          destroy the whole edifice built up so laboriously in these ten
          days?

12.15.     At Panthéon.  1/2 dozen Marennes, Rognons Brochette, Lait chaud.
          {116}
          John St. John is aching all over, cannot get comfortable anyhow;
          is hungry, and has no appetite; thirsty, and loathes the thought
          of drinking!
          He must do something --- something pretty drastic, or he will
          find himself in serious trouble of body and mind, the shadows of
          his soul, that is sick unto death.  For "where are now their
          gods?"  Where is the Lord, the Lord Adonai?

12.35.    The beast feels decidedly better; but whether he is more
          concentrated one may doubt.  Honestly, he is now so blind that he
          cannot tell!
          Perhaps a "café, cognac, et cigare" may tune him up to the point
          of either going back to work, or across Paris to the Hammam.
          He will make the experiment, reading through his proofs the
          while.
          One good thing; the Chittam is moving slowly.  The waiters all
          hurry him --- what a contrast to last night!

1.15.     Proofs read through again.  John St. John feels far from well.

2.15.     A stroll down the Boul' Mich' and a visit to M---'s studio
          improve matters a good deal.

3.30.     The cure continued.  No worry about the Work, but an effort to
          put it altogether out of the mind.
          A café crême, forty minutes at the Academie Marcelle --- a
          gruelling bout without gloves --- and J. St. J. is at the
          Luxembourg to look at the pretty pictures.

3.40.     The proof of the pudding, observes the most mystic of discourses
          (surely!), is in the Eating.  {117}
          One might justly object to any Results of this Ten days' strain.
          But if abundant health and new capacity to do great work be the
          after-effect, who then will dare to cast a stone?
          Not that it matters a turnip-top to the Adept himself.  But
          others may be deterred from entering the Path by the foolish talk
          of the ignorant, and thus may flowers be lost that should go to
          make the fadeless wreath of Adonai.  Ah, Lord, pluck "me" up
          utterly by the root, and set that which Thou pluckest as a flower
          upon thy brow!

4.10.     Walked back to the Dôme to drink a citron pressé through the
          lovely gardens, sad with their fallen leaves.  Reflecting on what
          Dr. Henry Maudsley once wrote to him about mysticism "Like other
          bad habits (he might have said 'Like all living beings') it grows
          by what it fees on."  Most important, then, to use the constant
          critical check on all one's work.  The devotion to Adonai might
          itself fall under suspicion, where it not for the definition of
          Adonai.
          Adonai is that thought which informs and strengthens and
          purifies, supreme sanity in supreme genius.  Anything that is not
          that is not Adonai.
          Hence the refusal of all other Results, however glorious; for
          they are all relative, partial, impure.  Anicca, Dukkha, Anatta:
          Change, sorrow, Unsubstantiality; these are their
          characteristics, however much they may appear to be Atman, Sat,
          Chit, Ananda, Soul, Being, Knowledge, Bliss.
          But the main consideration was one of expediency. {118}  Has not
          John St. John possibly been stuffing himself both with Methods
          and Results?
          Certainly this morning was more like the engorgement of the
          stomach with too much food than like the headache after a bout of
          drunkenness.
          A less grave fault, by far; it is easy and absurd to get a kind
          of hysterical ecstasy over religion, love, or wine.  A German
          will take off his hat and dance and jodel to the sunrise --- and
          nothing comes of it!  Darwin studies Nature with more reverence
          and enthusiasm, but without antics --- and out comes the Law of
          Evolution.  So it is written "By their fruits ye shall know
          them."  But about this question of spiritual overfeeding --- what
          did Darwin do when he got to the stage (as he did, be sure! many
          a time) when he wished every pigeon in the world at the devil!
          Now this wish has never really arisen in John St. John; however
          bad he feels, he always feels that Attainment is the only
          possible way out of it.  This is the good Karma of his ten years'
          constant striving.
          Well, in the upshot, he will get back to Work at once, and hope
          that his few hours in the world may prove a true strategic
          movement to the rear, and not a euphemism for rout!
5.4.      There are further serious considerations to be made concerning
          Adonai.  This title for the Unknown Thought was adopted by O. M.
          in November, 19--, in Upper Burma, on the occasion of his passing
          through the ordeal and receiving the grade which should be really
          attributed to Daath (on account of its nature, the {119} Mastery
          of the Reason), though it is commonly called 7° = 4°.
          It appeared to him at that period that so much talk and time were
          wasted on discussing the nature of the Attainment --- a
          discussion foredoomed to failure, in the absence of all
          Knowledge, and in view of the Self-Contradictory Nature of the
          Reasoning Faculty, as applied to Metaphysics --- that it would be
          wiser to drop the whole question, and concentrate on a simple
          Magical Progress.
          The Next Step for humanity in general was then "the Knowledge and
          Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel."
          One thing at a time.
          But here he finds himself discussing and disputing with himself
          the nature of that Knowledge.
          Better far act as hitherto, and aspire simply and directly, as
          one person to another, careless of the critical objections (quite
          insuperable, of course) to this or any other conception.
          For as this experience transcends reason, it is fruitless to
          argue about it.
          Adonai, I invoke Thee!
          Simpler, then, to go back to the Egoistic diction, only
          remembering always that by "I" is meant John St. John, or O. M.,
          or Adonai according to the context.
5.30.     Having read some of THE Books to induct myself again into the
          Work.
          Therefore will I kindle the holy Incense, and turn myself again
          to the One Thought. {120}

6.27.     All this time in Hanged Man position, and thinking of everything
          else.
          As bad as it was on the very first day!

7.10.     More waste time aimlessly watching a poker game.  Walked down to
          Café de Versailles.  Dinner.  Hors d'OEuvre, Escargots, Cassoulet
          de Castelnaudry, Glace, 1/2 Evian.  Am quite washed-out.  I have
          not even the courage of despair.  There is not enough left in me
          to despair.
          I don't care.

7.35.     One gleam of light illumines the dark path --- I can't enjoy my
          dinner.  The snails, as I prong them forth, are such ugly, slimy,
          greasy black horrors --- oh! so like my soul! ... Ugh!
          I write a letter to F---r and sign myself with a broken
          pentagram.
          It makes me think of a "busted flush." ...
          But through all the sunlight peeps: "e.g.", These six snails were
          my six inferior souls; the seventh, the real soul, cannot be
          eaten by the devourer.
          How's that for high?

8.3.      Possibly a rousing mantra would fix things up; say the Old
          Favorite:

                              Aum Tat Sat Aum

          and give the Hindus a chance.
          We can but try.
          So I begin at once.

9.10.     This is past all bearing.  Another hour wasted chatting to Nina
          and H---.  The mantra hardly remembered {121} at all.  I have
          gone to bed, and shall take things in hand seriously, if it kills
          me.

9.53.     Since 9.17 have done Pranayama, though allowing myself some
          irregularities in the way of occasional omission of a Kambhakham.
          'Tis very hard to stick to it.  I find myself, at the end of
          above sentence, automatically crawling into bed.  No John!

10.14     Have been trying to extract some sense from that extraordinary
          treatise on mysticism, "Konx Om Pax."
          Another failure, but an excusable one.
          I will now beseech Adonai as best I may to give me back my lost
          powers.
          For I am no more even a magician!  So lost am I in the illusions
          that I have made in the Search for Adonai, that I am become the
          vilest of them all!

10.27.    A strange and unpleasant experience.  My thought suddenly
          transmuted itself into a muscular cry, so that my legs gave a
          violent jerk.  This I expect is at bottom the explanation of the
          Bhuchari-Siddhi.  A very bad form of uncontrolled thought.  I was
          on the edge of sleep; it woke me.
          The fact is, all is over!  I am done!  I have tried for the Great
          Initiation and I have failed: I am swept away into strange hells.
          Lord Adonai! let the fires be informing; let them "balance,
          assain assoil."
          I suppose this rash attempt will end in Locomotor Ataxia or G. P.
          I. {122}
          Let it!  I'm going on.

11.47.    The first power to return is the power to suffer.
          The shame of it!  The torture of it!
          I slept in patches as a man sleeps that is deadly ill.  I am only
          afraid of failing to wake for the End of the day.
          God! what a day!
          ...I dare not trust my will to keep me awake; so I rise, wash,
          and will walk about till time to get into my Asana.
          Thirst!  Oh how I thirst!
          I had not thought that there could be such suffering.


                                "The Eleventh Day"

12.19.    It seems a poor thing to be proud of, merely to be awake.  Yet I
          was flushed with triumph as a boy that wins his first race.
          The powers of Asana and Pranayama return.  I did 21 Breath-cycles
          without fatigue.
          Energy returns, and Keenness to pursue the Path --- all fruits of
          that one little victory over sleep.
          How delicate are these powers, so simple as they seem!  Let me be
          very humble, now and for every more!  Surely at least that lesson
          has been burnt into me.
          And how gladly I would give all these powers for the One Power!

12.33.    Another smart attack of diarrhoea.  I take 4 gr. Plumb c. Opio
          and alter my determination to stay out of bed all night, as chill
          is doubtless the chief cause.
          ... It is really extraordinary how the smallest success {123}
          awakes a monstrous horde of egoistic devils, vain, strutting
          peacocks, preening and screaming!
          This is simply damnable.  Egoism is the spur of all energy, in a
          way; and in this particular case it is the one thing that is not
          Adonai (whatever else may be) and so the antithesis of the Work.
          Bricks without straw, Indeed!  That's nothing to it.  This job is
          like being asked to judge a Band contest and being told that one
          may do anything but listen.  Only worse!  One could form some
          idea of how they were playing through other senses; in this case
"          "every" faculty is the enemy of the Work.  At first sight the
          problem seems insoluble.  It may be so, for me.  At least, I have
          not solved it.  Yet I have come very near it, many a time, of
          old; have solved it indeed, though in a less important sense than
          now I seek.  I am not to be content with little or with much; but
          only with the Ultimate Attainment.
          Apparently the method is just this; to store up --- no matter how
          --- great treasures of energy and purity, until they begin to do
          the work themselves (in the way that the Hindus call Sukshma).
          Just so the engineer --- five feet six in his boots --- and his
          men build the dam.  The snows melt on the mountains, the river
          rises, and the land is irrigated, in a way that is quite
          independent of the physical strength of that Five foot Six of
          engineer.  The engineer might even be swept away and drowned by
          the forces he had himself organized.  So also the Kingdom of
          Heaven.  {124}
          And now (12.57) John St. John will turn himself to sleep,
          invoking Adonai.

1.17.     Can neither sleep nor concentrate.
          Instead grotesque "astral" images of a quite base gargoylish
          type.
          I suppose I shall have to pentagram them off like a damned
          neophyte.
"          "Je m'emmerde!"

3.8.      Praise the Lord, I wake!  If that can be called waking which is a
          mere desperate struggle to keep the eyes open.

3.18.     Pranayama all wrong --- very difficult.  Rose, washed, drank a
          few drops of water.  (N.B. --- To-night have drunk several times,
          a mouthful at a time; other nights, and days, no.  All entries
          into body recorded duly.)

3.30.     Have done 10 Breath-Cycles; am quite awake.
          It will therefore now be lawful again to sleep.

8.12.     Awoke at 7.40, read a letter which arrived, and tried quite
          vainly to concentrate.

8.52.     Have risen, written a letter.  Will break my fast --- café
          croissant --- and go a walk with the New Mantra, using my
          recently invented method of doing Pranayama on the march.  The
          weather is again perfect.

9.14.     Breakfast --- eaten Yogin-wise --- at an end.  The walk begins.

11.15.    The walk over.  Kept mantra going well enough. {125}
          Made also considerations concerning the Nature of the Path.
          The upshot is that it does not matter.  Acquire full power of
          Concentration; the rest is only leather and prunella.
          Don't worry; work!
          I shall now make a pantacle to aid the said faculty of
          concentration.
          The Voice of the Nadi (by the way) is resounding well, and the
          Chittam is a little better under control.
1.5.      Have worked well on the Pantacle, thinking of Adonai.  Of course
          we are now reduced to a "low anthropomorphic conception" --- but
          what odds?  Once the Right Thought comes it will transcend any
          and all conceptions.  The objection is as silly as the objection
          to illustrating Geometry by Diagrams, on the ground that printed
          lines are thick --- and so on.
          This is the imbecility of the "Protestant" objection to images.
          What fools these mortals be!
          The Greeks, too, after exhausting all their sublimest thoughts of
          Zeus and Hades and Poseidon, found that they could not find a
          fitting image of the All, the supreme --- so they just carved a
          goat-man, saying: Let this represent Pan!
          Also in the holiest place of the most secret temple there is an
          empty shrine.
          But whoso goes there in the first instance thinks; There is no
          God.
          He who goes there at the End, when he has adored all the other
          deities, knoweth that No God. {126}
          So also I go through all the Ritual, and try all the Means; at
          the End it may be I shall find No rituals and No means, but an
          act or a silence so simple that it cannot be told or understood.
          Lord Adonai, bring me to the End!

1.25.     After writing above, and adding a few touches to the Pantacle, am
          ready to go to lunch.

1.45.     Arrived at Panthéon, with mantra.
          Rumpsteak aux pommes soufflées, poire, 1/2 Evian, and the three
          Cs.
          Was meditating on asceticism.  John Tweed once told me that Swami
          Vivekananda, towards the end of his life, wrote a most pathetic
          letter deploring that his sanctity forbad his "going on the
          bust."
          What a farce is such sanctity!  How much wiser for the man to
          behave as a man, the God as a God!
          This is my real bed-rock objection to the Eastern systems.  They
          decry all manly virtue as dangerous and wicked; and they look
          upon Nature as evil.  True enough, everything is evil relatively
          to Adonai; for all stain is impurity.  A bee's swarm is evil ---
          inside one's clothes.  "Dirt is matter in the wrong place."  It
          is dirt to connect sex with statuary, morals with art.
          Only Adonai, who is in a sense the True Meaning of everything,
          cannot defile any idea.  This is a hard saying, though true, for
          nothing of course is dirtier than to try and use Adonai as a fig-
          leaf for one's shame.
          To seduce women under pretence of religion is unutterable {127}
          foulness; though both adultery and religion are themselves clean.
          To mix jam and mustard is a messy mistake.

2.5.      It also struck me that this Operation is (among other things) an
          attempt to prove the proposition:
          Reward is the direct and immediate consequence of Work.
          Of all the holy illuminated Men of God of my acquaintance, I am
          the only one that holds this opinion.
          But I think that this Record, when I have time to go through it,
          and stand at some distance, to get the perspective, will be
          proved a conclusive proof of my thesis.  I think that every
          failure will be certainly traceable to my own dam foolishness;
          every little success to courage, skill, wit, tenacity.
          If I had but a little more of these!

2.22.     I further take this opportunity of asserting my Atheism.  I
          believe that all these phenomena are as explicable as the
          formation of hoar-frost or of glacier tables.
          I believe "Attainment" to be a simple supreme sane state of the
          human brain.  I do not believe in miracles; I do not think that
          God could cause a monkey, clergyman, or rationalist to attain.
          I am taking all this trouble of the Record principally in hope
          that it will show exactly what mental and physical conditions
          precede, accompany, and follow "attainment" so that others may
          reproduce, through those conditions, that Result {128}
          I believe in the Law of Cause and Effect --- and I loathe the
          cant alike of the Superstitionist and the Rationalist.

                   "The Confession of St. Judas McCabbage"
          I believe in Charles Darwin Almighty, maker of Evolution; and in
          Ernst Haeckel, his only son our Lord Who for us men and for our
          salvation came down from Germany: who was conceived of Weissmann,
          born of Büchner, suffered under du Bois-Raymond, was printed,
          bound, and shelved: who was raised again into English (of sorts),
          ascended into the Pantheon of the Literary Guide and sitteth on
          the right hand of Edward Clodd: whence he shall come to judge the
          thick in the head.
          I believe in Charles Watts; the Rationalist Press Association;
          the annual dinner at the Trocadero Restaurant; the regularity of
          subscriptions, the resurrection in a sixpenny edition, and the
          Book-stall everlasting.
          AMEN.

3.0.      Arrived at Brenner's studio, and went on with the "moulage" of my
          Asana.

4.20.     Left the Studio; walk with mantra.

4.55.     Mantra-march.  Pranayama; quick-time.  Very bracing and
          fatiguing, both.
          At Dôme to drink a citron pressé.
          Reflections have been in my mind upon the grossness of the
          Theistic conception, as shewn even in such pictures as Raphael's
          and Fra Angelico's. {129}
          How infinitely subtler and nobler is the contemplation of

                                             The Utmost God
                         Hid i' th' middle o'matter,

          the inscrutable mystery of the nature of common things.  With
          what awe does the wise man approach a speck of dust!
          And it is this Mystery that I approach!
          For Thou, Adonai, art the immanent and essential Soul of Things;
          not separate from them, or from me; but That which is behind the
          shadow-show, the Cause of all, the Quintessence of all, the
          Transcender of all.
          And Thee I seek insistently; though Thou hide Thyself in the
          Heaven, there will I seek Thee out; though Thou wrap Thyself in
          the Flames of the Abyss, even there will I pursue Thee; Though
          Thou make Thee a secret place in the Heart of the Rose or at the
          Arms of the Cross that spanneth all-embracing Space; though Thou
          be in the inmost part of matter, or behind the Veil of mind; Thee
          will I follow; Thee will I overtake; Thee will I gather into my
          being.
          So thus as I chase Thee from fastness to fastness of my brain, as
          Thou throwest out against me Veil after Magic Veil of glory, or
          of fear, or of despair, or of desire; it matters nothing; at the
          End I shall attain to Thee --- oh my Lord Adonai!
          And even as the Capture is delight, is not the Chase also
          delight?  For we are lovers from the Beginning, though it
          pleasure Thee to play the Syrinx to my Pan. {130}  Is it not the
          springtide, and are these not the Arcadian groves?

5.31.     At home; settling to strictest meditation upon Adonai my Lord;
          willing His presence, the Perfume and the Vision, even as it is
          written in the Book of the Sacred Magick of Abramelin the Mage.

8.6.      Soon this became a sleep, though the will was eager and
          concentrated.
          The sleep, too, was deep and refreshing.  I will go to dinner.

8.22.     Arrived, with mantra, at the Café de Versailles.

9.10.     1/2 doz. Marennes, Râble de Lièvre, citron pressé.
          I am now able to concentrate OFF the Path for a little.
          Whether this means that I am simply slipping back into the world,
          or that I am more balanced on, and master of, the Path, I cannot
          say.

10.4.     Have walked home, drunk a citron pressé at the Dôme, and prepare
          for the night.
          As I crossed the boulevard, I looked to the bright moon, high and
          stately in the east, for a message.  And there came to me this
          passage from the Book of Abramelin:
          "And thou wilt begin to inflame thyself in praying" ...
          It is the sentence which goes on to declare the Result.  (P.S.
          --- With this rose that curious feeling of confidence, sure
          premonition of success, that one gets in most physical tasks, but
          especially when one is going to get {131} down a long putt or a
          tricky one.  Whether it means more than that perception and
          execution have got into unison (for once) and know it, I cannot
          say.)
          It is well that thus should close this eleventh day of my
          Retirement, and the thirty-third year of my life.
          Thirty and three years was this temple in building. ... It has
          always been my custom on this night to look back over the year,
          and to ask: What have I done?
          The answer is invariably "Nothing."
          Yet of what men count deeds I have done no small share.  I have
          travelled a bit, written a bit ... I seem to have been hard at it
          all the time --- and to have got nothing finished or successful.
          One Tragedy --- one little comedy --- two essays --- a dozen
          poems or so --- two or three short stories --- odds and ends of
          one sort and another: it's a miserable record, though the Tragedy
          is good enough to last a life.  It marks an epoch in literature,
          though nobody else will guess it for fifty years yet.
          The travel, too, has been rubbish.  It's been a petty, peddling
          year.
          The one absolute indication is: on no account live otherwise than
          alone.
          But it is 10.35; these considerations, though in a way pertaining
          to the Work, are not the Work itself.
          Let me "begin to inflame myself in praying!"


                             "The Twelfth Day"

12.17.    When therefore I had made ready the chamber, so that all was
          dark, save for the Lamp upon the Altar, I {132} began as recorded
          above, to inflame myself in praying, calling upon  my Lord; and I
          burned in the Lamp that Pantacle which I had made of Him,
          renouncing the Images, destroying the Images, that Himself might
          arise in me.
          And the Chamber was filled with that wondrous glow of ultra-
          violet light self-luminous, without a source, that hath no
          counterpart in Nature unless it be in that Dawn of the North. ...
          And there were reveled unto me certain Words of Power...
          And I invoked my Lord and recited the Book Ararita at the Altar
          ...
          This holy inspired book (delivered unto me in the winter of last
          year) was now at last understanded of me; for it is, though I
          knew it not, a complete scheme of this Operation.
          For this cause I will add this book Ararita at the end of the
          Manuscript.  [This has not been permitted.  The Book Ararita will
          be issued by the A.'. A.'. in due course. --- ED.]  I also
          demanded of mine Angel the Writing upon the Lamen of Silver; a
          Writing of the veritable Elixir and supernal Dew.  And it was
          granted unto me.
          Then subtly, easily, simply, imperceptibly gliding, I passed away
          into nothing.  And I was wrapped in the black brilliance of my
          Lord, that interpenetrated me in every part, fusing its light
          with my darkness, and leaving there no darkness, but pure light.
          Also I beheld my Lord in a figure and I felt the interior {133}
          trembling kindle itself into a Kiss --- and I perceived the true
          Sacraments --- and I beheld in one moment all the mystic visions
          in one; and the Holy Graal appeared unto me, and many other
          inexpressible things were know of me.
          Also I was given to enjoy the subtle Presence of my Lord
          interiorly during the whole of this twelfth day.
          Then I besought the Lord that He would take me into His presence
          eternally even now.
          But He withdrew Himself, for that I must do that which I was sent
          hither to do; namely, to rule the earth.
          Therefore with sweetness ineffable He parted from me; yet leaving
          a comfort not to be told, a Peace ... the Peace.  And the Light
          and the Perfume do certainly yet remain with me in the little
          Chamber, and I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall
          stand at the latter day upon the earth.
          For I am He that liveth, and was dead; and behold!  I am alive
          for evermore, and have the Keys of Hell and of Death.  I am Amoun
          the Sun in His rising; I have passed from darkness into Light.  I
          am Asar Un-nefer the Perfected One.  I am the Lord of Life,
          triumphant over death. ...
          There is no part of me that is not of the Gods. ...

                    The dead man Ankh-af-na-khonsu
                       Saith with his voice of truth and calm:
                    Oh Thou that has a single arm!
                       O Thou that glitterest in the moon!
                    I weave Thee in the spinning charm;
                       I lure thee with the billowy tune.     {134}

                    The dead man Ankh-af-na-khonsu
                       Hath parted from the darkling crowds,
                    Hath joined the dwellers of the light,
                       Opening Duant, the star-abodes;
                          Their keys receiving.
                    The dead man Ankh-af-na-khonsu
                       Hath made his passage into night,
                    His pleasure on the earth to do
                       Among the living.

                                   Amen
                              Amen without lie
                           Amen, and Amen of Amen.

12.40.    I shall lie down to sleep in my robes, still wearing the Ring of
          the Masters, and bearing my wand in my hand.
          For to me now sleep is the same as waking, and life the same as
          death.
          In Thy L.V.X. are not light and darkness but twin children that
          chase each other in their play?
7.55.     Awoke from long sweet dreamless sleep, like a young eagle that
          soars to greet the dawn.
9.20.     After breakfast, have strolled, on my way to the studio, through
          the garden of the Luxembourg to my favourite fountain.  It is
          useless to attempt to write of the dew and the flowers in the
          clear October sunlight.
          Yet the light which I behold is still more than sunlight.  My
          eyes too are quite weak from the Vision; I cannot bear the
          brilliance of things.
          The clock of the Senate strikes; and my ears are ravished with
          its mysterious melody.  It is the infinite interior movement of
          things, secured by the co-extension {135} of their sum with the
          all, that transcends the deadly opposites; change which implies
          decay, stability which spells monotony.
          I understand all the Psalms of Benediction; there is spontaneous
          praise, a fountain in my heart.  The authors of the Psalms must
          have known something of this Illumination when they wrote them.

9.30.     It seems, too, that this Operation is transformed.  I suppose it
          must read as a patchwork of most inharmonious colour, a thing
          without continuity or cohesion.  To me, now, it appears from the
          very start a simple direct progress in one straight line.  I can
          hardly remember that there were checks.
          Of course my rational memory picking out details finds otherwise.
          But I seem to have two memories almost as if belonging to two
          strata of being.  In Qabalastic language, my native consciousness
          is now Neschamah, not Ruach or Nephesch.
          ... I really cannot write more.  This writing is a descent into
          Ruach, and I want to abide where I am.

11.17.    At 10.0 arrived at Brenner's studio, and took the pose.  At once,
          automatically, the interior trembling began again, and again the
          subtle brilliance flowed through me.
          The consciousness again died and was reborn as the divine, always
          without shock or stress.
          How easy is magic, once the way is found!
          How still is the soul!  The turbid spate of emotion has ceased;
          the heavy particles of thought have sunk {136} to the bottom; how
          limpid, how lucid is its glimmer Only from above, from the
          overshadowing Tree of Life, whose leaves glisten and quiver in
          the shining wind of the Spirit, drops ever and anon, self-
          luminous, the Dew of Immortality.
          Many and wonderful also were the Visions and powers offered unto
          me in this hour; but I refused them all; for being in my Lord and
          He in me, there is no need of these toys.

12.0.     The pose over.  On this second sitting, practically no thoughts
          arose at all to cloud the Sun; but a curious feeling that there
          was something more to come.
          Possibly the Proof, that I had demanded, the Writing on the Lamen
          ...

12.40.    Chez Lavenue.  Certain practical considerations suggest
          themselves.
          One would have been much better off with a proper Magical
          Cabinet, a disciple to look after things, proper magical food
          ceremonially prepared, a private garden to walk in ... and so on.
          But at least it is useful and important to know that things can
          be done at a pinch in a great city and a small room.

1.14.     The lunch is good; the kidneys were well cooked; the tarte aux
          fraises was excellent; the Burgundy came straight from the Vat of
          Bacchus.  The Coffee and Cognac are beyond all praise; the cigar
          is the best Cabaña I ever smoked. {137}
          I read through this volume of the Record; and I dissolve my being
          into quintessential laughter.
          The entries are some of them so funny! ... Previously, this had
          escaped me.

1.32.     And now the Rapture of it takes me!

1.25.     The exquisite beauty of the women in the Restaurant ... what John
          St. John would have called old hags!

1.27.     My soul is singing ... my soul is singing!

1.30.     It matters nothing what I do ... everything goes infinitely,
          incredibly right!
          "The Lord Adonai is about me as a Thunderbolt and as a Pylon and
          as a Serpent and as a Phallus." ...

3.17.     Have had a long talk of Art with B---.
          "The master considers himself always a student."
          So, therefore, whatever one may have attained, in this as in Art,
          there is always so much more possible that one can never be
          satisfied.
          Much less, then, satiated.

11.15.    Having gone back into the life of the world --- yet a world
          transfigured! -- I did all my little work, my little amusements,
          all the things that one does, very quietly and beatifically.
          About 10.30 the rapture began to carry me away; yet I withstood
          it and went on with my game of Billiards, for politeness' sake.
          And even there in the Café du Dôme was the glory within me, and I
          therein; so that every time that I failed at a stroke and stood
          up and drank in that {138} ambrosial air, I was night falling for
          that intense sweetness that dissolved away the soul.  Even as a
          lover that swoons with excess of pleasure at the first kiss of
          the belovéd, even so was I, oh my Lord Adonai!
          Wherefore I am come hither to my chamber to enflame myself in
          praying at the Altar that I have set up.
          And I am ready, robed, armed, anointed. ...

11.35.    Ardesco! ....................


                       "The Thirteenth Day."

          It is Eight o'clock in the morning.
          Being entered into the Silence, let me abide in the Silence!

                             AMEN


          {139}
















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                              AMPHORA
              "Blue Cloth, Gold Design, 80 pp.  price "2s. 6d."
            Published by BURNS & OATES, 28 Orchard St., W.
    This wonderful collection of Hymns to the Blessed Virgin Mary
      is the work (so it is said) of a Leading London Actress.
   Father Kent writes in "The Tablet": "Among the many books which
benevolent publishers are preparing as appropriate Christmas presents we
notice many new editions of favourite poetic classics.  But few, we fancy,
can be more appropriate for the purpose than a little volume of original
verses, entitled 'Amphora,' which Messrs. Burns and Oates are on the point
of publishing.  The following stanzas from a poem on the Nativity will
surely be a better recommendation of the book than any words of critical
appreciation.
"The Virgin lies at Bethlehem.
   (Bring gold and frankincense and myrrh!)
 The root of David shoots a stem.
   (O Holy Spirit, shadow her!)

 She lies alone amid the kine.
   (Bring gold and frankincense and Myrrh!)
 The straw is fragrant as with wine.
   (O Holy Spirit shadow her!)"

   Lieut.-Col. Gormley writes: "The hymns ordinarily used in churches for
devotional purposes are 'no doubt excellent in their way, but it can
scarcely be said, in the case of many of them, that they are of much
literary merit, and some of them indeed are little above the familiar
nursery rhymes of our childhood; it is therefore somewhat of a relief and a
pleasure to read the volume of hymns to the Virgin Mary which has just been
published by Messrs. Burns and Oats.  These hymns to the Virgin Mary are in
the best style, they are devotional in the highest degree, and to Roman
Catholics, for whom devotion to the Virgin Mary forms so important part of
their religious belief, these poems should indeed be welcome; personally I
have found them just what I desired, and I have no doubt other Catholics
will be equally pleased with them."
   "Vanity Fair" says: "To the ordinary mind passion has no relation to
penitence, and carnal desire is the very antithesis of spiritual fervour.
But close observers of human nature are accustomed to discover an intimate
connection between the forces of the body and the soul; and the student of
psychology is continually being reminded of the kinship between saint and
sinner.  Now and then we find the extremes of self and selflessness in the
same soul.  Dante tells us how the lover kissed the trembling mouth, and
with the same thrill describes his own passionate abandonment before the
mystic Rose.  In our own day, the greatest of French lyric poets, Verlaine,
has given us volumes of the most passionate love songs, and side by side
with them a book of religious poetry more sublimely credulous and ecstatic
than anything that has come down to us from the Ages of Faith.  We are all,
as Sainte-Beuve said, 'children of a sensual literature,' and perhaps for
that reason we should expect from our singers fervent religious hymns.
   "There is one of London's favourites almost unrivalled to express by her
art the delights of the body with a pagan simplicity and directness.  Now
she sends us a book, 'Amphora,' a volume of religious verse: it contains
song after song in praise of Mary," etc. etc. etc.
   The "Scotsman" says: "Outside the Latin Church conflicting views are
held about the worship of the Virgin, but there can be no doubt that this
motive of religion has given birth to many beautiful pieces of literature,
and the poets have never tired of singing variations on the theme of 'Hail,
Mary.'  This little book is best described here as a collection of such
variations.  They are written with an engaging simplicity and fervour of
feeling, and with a graceful, refined literary art that cannot but interest
and attract many readers beyond the circles of such as must feel it
religiously impossible not to admire them."
   The "Daily Telegraph" says:  "In this slight volume we have the
utterances of a devout anonymous Roman Catholic singer, in a number of
songs or hymns addressed to the Virgin Mary.  The author, who has evidently
a decided gift for sacred verse and has mastered varied metres suitable to
her high themes, divides her poems into four series of thirteen each ---
thus providing a song for each week of the year.  The songs are all of
praise or prayer addressed to the Virgin, and, through many have a touch of
mysticism, most have a simplicity of expression and earnestness of devotion
that will commend them to the author's co-religionists."

                         A GREEN GARLAND
                        By V. B. NEUBURG
                  Green paper cover. 1s. 6d. net
                     _____________________
      "As far as the verse is concerned there is in this volume something
more than mere promise; the performance is at times remarkable; there is
beauty not only of thought and invention --- and the invention is of a
positive kind --- but also of expression and rhythm.  There is a lilt in
Mr. Neuburg's poems; he has the impulse to sing, and makes his readers feel
that impulse." --- "The Morning Post, May 21, 1908"
      "There is a certain given power in some of the imaginings concerning
death, as 'The Dream' and 'the Recall,' and any reader with a liking for
verse of an unconventional character will find several pieces after his
taste." --- "The Daily Telegraph, May 29, 1908."
      "Here is a poet of promise." --- "The Daily Chronicle, May 13, 1908."
      "It is not often that energy and poetic feeling are united so happily
as in this little book." --- "The Morning Leader, July 10, 1908."
     There is promise and some fine lines in these verses." --- "The Times,"
"July 11, 1908."
                      ______________________
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         London: PROBSTHAIN & CO.       And all Booksellers.


                             KONX OM PAX
     THE MOST REMARKABLE TREATISE ON THE MYSTIC PATH EVER WRITTEN

 Contains an Introduction and Four Essays; the first an account of the
progress of the soul to perfect illumination, under the guise of a charming
fairy tale;
      The second, an Essay on Truth, under the guise of a Christmas
pantomime;
      The third, an Essay on Magical Ethics, under the guise of the story
of a Chinese philosopher;
      The fourth, a Treatise on many Magical Subjects of the profoundest
importance, under the guise of a symposium, interspersed with beautiful
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      No serious student can afford to be without this delightful volume.
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                             Some Press Opinions

 "Dr. M. D. EDER in "The New Age"
     "Yours also is the Reincarnation and the Life, O laughing lion that is
to be!
      "Here you have distilled for our delight the inner spirit of the
Tulip's form, the sweet secret mystery of the Rose's perfume: you have set
them free from all that is material whilst preserving all that is sensual.
'So also the old mystics were right who saw in every phenomenon a dog-faced
demon apt only to seduce the soul from the sacred mystery.'  Yes, but the
phenomenon shall it be as another sacred mystery; the force of attraction
still to be interpreted in terms of God and the Psyche?  We shall reward
you by befoulment, by cant, by misunderstanding, and by understanding.
This to you who wear the Phrygian cap, not as symbol of Liberty, O ribald
ones, but of sacrifice and victory, of Inmost Enlightenment, of the soul's
deliverance from the fetters of the very soul itself ---- fear not; you are
not 'replacing truth of thought by mere expertness of mechanical skill.'
     "You who hold more skill and more power than your great English
predecessor, Robertus de Fluctibus, you have not feared to reveal 'the
Arcana which are in the Adytum of God-nourished Silence' to those who,
abandoning nothing, will sail in the company of the Brethren of the Rosy
Cross towards the Limbus, that outer, unknown world encircling so many a
universe."
 "John Bull," in the course of a long review by Mr. HERBERT VIVIAN"
     "The author is evidently that rare combination of genius, a humorist
and a philosopher.  For pages he will bewilder the mind with abstruse
esoteric pronouncements, and then, all of a sudden, he will reduce his
readers to hysterics with some surprisingly quaint conceit.  I was  unlucky
to begin reading him at breakfast and I was moved to so much laughter that
I watered my bread with my tears and barely escaped a convulsion."
 "The Times"
     "The Light wherein he writes is the L.V.X. of that, which first
mastering and then transcending the reason, illumines all the darkness
caused by the interference of the opposite waves of thought. ... It is one
of the most suggestive definitions of KONX --- the LVX of the Brethren of
the Rosy Cross --- that it transcends all the possible pairs of opposites.
Nor does this sound nonsensical to those who are acquainted with that LVX.
But to those who do not it must remain as obscure and ridiculous as
spherical trigonometry to the inhabitants of Flatland."
 "The Literary Guide"
     "He is a lofty idealist.  He sings like a lark at the gates of heaven.
'Konx Om Pax' is the apotheosis of extravagance, the last word in
eccentricity.  A prettily-told fairy-story 'for babes and sucklings' has
'explanatory notes in Hebrew and Latin for the wise and prudent' --- which
notes, as far as we can see, explain nothing --- together with a weird
preface in scraps of twelve or fifteen languages.  The best poetry in the
book is contained in the last section --- 'The Stone of the Philosophers.'
Here is some fine work."

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                             BOOK
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THIS book contains in concise tabulated form a comparative view of all the
symbols of the great religions of the world; the perfect attributions of
the Taro, so long kept secret by the Rosicrucians, are now for the first
time published; also the complete secret magical correspondences of the
G.'. D.'. and R. R. et A. C.  It forms, in short, a complete magical and
philosophical dictionary; a key to all religions and to all practical
occult working.
    For the first time Western and Qabalistic symbols have been harmonized
with those of Hinduism, Buddhism, Mohammedanism, Taoism, &c.  By a glance
at Tables, anybody conversant with any one system can understand perfectly
all others.



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                    With Preface by FRANK HARRIS.




          THE great English Society Weekley, "Vanity Fair,"
          is known throughout the world, and the
          publishers of VAIN TALES FROM "VANITY
          FAIR" are therefore naturally pleased to be selected
          for the publication of the above work.  The Messrs.
          Ouseley recommend the book with every confidence,
          not only for its literary merit, but also because it will be
          in demand on account of its close associations with
          "Vanity Fair."

               15 & 16 FARRINGDON STREET, LONDON, E.C.
                             2C




                          "The Bomb"
                       By FRANK HARRIS
                      (Jonn Long. 6/=.)
  This sensational novel, by the Well-known Editor of "Vanity Fair, has
evoked a chorus of praise from the reviewers, and has been one of the
talked-of books of the season.  We append a few criticisms: ---
 MR. ALEISTER CROWLEY:
     "This book is, in truth, a masterpiece; so intense is the impression
that one almost asks, 'Is this a novel or a confession?  Did not Frank
Harris perhaps throw the bomb?'  At least he has thrown one now ... This is
the best novel I have ever read."

 "The Times:"
     "'The Bomb' is highly charged with an explosive bent of Socialistic
and Anarchistic matter, wrapped in a gruesome coating of 'exciting' fiction
... Mr. Harris has a real power of realistic narrative.  He is at his best
in mid-stream.  The tense directness of his style, never deviating into
verbiage, undoubtedly keeps the reader at grips with the story and the
characters."

 "Morning Post:"
     "Mr. Frank Harris's first long novel is an extremely interesting and
able piece of work.  Mr. Harris has certainly one supreme literary gift,
that of vision.  He sees clearly and definitely everything he describes,
and consequently ... is absolutely convincing.  Never for a moment do we
feel as we read the book that the story is not one of absolute fact, and so
convincing in its simplicity and matter-of-factness is Mr. Harris's style
that we often accept his psychology before we realize ... on how few
grounds it is based.  Some of the aspects of modern democracy are treated
with astonishing insight and ability, and 'The Bomb' is distinctly not a
book to be overlooked."

 JACOB TONSON in the "New Age:"
     "The illusion of reality is more than staggering; it is haunting ...
Many passages are on the very highest level of realistic art ... Lingg's
suicide and death are Titanic ... In pure realism nothing better has been
done, and I do not forget Tolstoy's 'The Death of Ivan Illytch!'  It is a
book very courageous, impulsively generous, and of a shining distinction
..."

 "Saturday Review:"
     "He (Mr. Harris) is a born writer of fiction. ... Those two books of
his, 'Elder Conklin' and 'Montes, the Matador,' contained the best short
stories that have been written. ... Mr. Harris touches a high level of
tragic intensity.  And the scene of the actual throwing, and then the
description of Schnaubelt's flight to New York in a state of mental and
physical collapse, are marvels of tense narration.  Altogether, the book is
a thoroughly fine piece of work, worthy of the creator of Conklin.  We hope
it is the precursor of many other books from Mr. Harris."

 "The Nation:"
     "Mr. Harris has a born writer's eloquence, he has knowledge of his
subject, and he often expresses himself with a distinction of phrasing and
a precision of thought which give real value to his work."

 "Daily Telegraph:"
     "A good book ... this story reads like a page of real life written
down by a man who actually did take part in the scenes described so
vividly. ... We follow their fortunes breathlessly. ... Descriptions as
vivid as any Mr. Upton Sinclair ever painted, and they are never tedious
nor overdone. ... We must not leave the tale without mentioning the
wonderful love story of Rudoplh and Elsie, a fine piece of psychology, as
true as it is moving, and of a quality rarely to be found in fiction."



                       The Star in the West

                               BY

                     CAPTAIN J. F. C. FULLER

            "FOURTH LARGE EDITION NOW IN PREPARATION"

                     THROUGH ALL BOOKSELLERS

                        SIX SHILLINGS NET

              -------------------------------------

              A highly original study of morals and
              religion by a new writer, who is as
              entertaining as the average novelist is
              dull.  Nowadays human thought has
              taken a brighter place in the creation:
              our emotions are weary of bad baronets
              and stolen wills; they are now only
              excited by spiritual crises, catastrophes of
              the reason, triumphs of the intelligence.
              In these fields Captain Fuller is a master
              dramatist.

              -------------------------------------




                         Mr. W. NORTHAM

                    "Robe Maker and Tailor"

                9 HENRIETTA ST., COVENT GARDEN, W.C.

                Begs to inform those concerned that he
                has been entrusted by the A.'. A.'.
                with the manufacture of the necessary
                robes and other appurtenances of
                       members of the Society.


                              THE
                     LESSER KEY OF SOLOMON
                           (GOETIA)


            "With full Instructions and Illustrations"

      Price £1 1s.                      Through the "Equinox"

               Only a few copies remain for sale