THE EQUINOX Vol. I. No. I 1st half
June 18, 1989 e.v. key entry and September 27, 1989 e.v. first proof
reading against the 1st edition
--- done by Bill Heidrick, T.G. of O.T.O.
(further proof reading desirable)
(c) O.T.O. disk 1
O.T.O.
P.O.Box 430
Fairfax, CA 94930
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(415) 454-5176 ---- Messages only.
Pages in the original are marked thus at the bottom: {page number}
Comments and descriptions are also set off by curly brackets {}
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(Addresses and invitations below are not current but coppied from the
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************************************************************************
THE EQUINOX
" "The Editor will be glad to consider"
"contributions and to return such as"
"are unacceptable if stamps are enclosed"
" for the purpose"
THE EQUINOX
THE OFFICIAL ORGAN OF THE A.'. A.'.
THE REVIEW OF SCIENTIFIC ILLUMINISM
An V Vol. I. No. I Sun in Aries
MARCH MCMIX
O.S.
"THE METHOD OF SCIENCE --- THE AIM OF RELIGION"
LONDON
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO. LTD.
C O N T E N T S
PAGE
EDITORIAL 1
AN ACCOUNT OF A.'. A.'.
7
LIBER LIBRAE 17
LIBER EXERCITIORUM 25
THE WIZARD WAY. By Aleister Crowley 37
THE MAGIC GLASSES. By Frank Harris 49
THE CHYMICAL JOUSTING OF BROTHER PERARDUA 89
THE LONELY BRIDE. By Victor B. Neuburg 95
AT THE FORK OF THE ROADS 101
THE MAGICIAN 109
THE SOLDIER AND THE HUNCHBACK: ! AND ? By Aleister Crowley 113
THE HERMIT 137
THE TEMPLE OF SOLOMON THE KING (Book I) 141
THE HERB DANGEROUS --- (Part I) A Pharmaceutical Study. By E.
Whineray, M.P.S. 233
"SPECIAL SUPPLEMENT"
JOHN ST. JOHN --- The Record of the Magical Retirement of G. H. 17
Frater O.'. M.'.
I L L U S T R A T I O N S
THE SILENT WATCHER Facing page 6
THE FOUR POSITIONS: THE IBIS, THE GOD, THE
THUNDERBOLT, THE DRAGON " 29
THE REGIMEN OF THE SEVEN " 89
BLIND FORCE (Supplement) " 2
{Illustrations are not available in this electronic edition.}
EDITORIAL
WITH the publication of this REVIEW begins a completely new adventure in
the history of mankind. Whatever knowledge may previously have been
imputed to men, it has always been fenced in with conditions and
restrictions. The time has come to speak plainly, and so far as may be in
the language of the multitude.
Thus, the Brothers of the A.'. A.'. announce themselves without
miracle or mystery. It is easy for every charlatan to perform wonders, to
bewilder and even to deceive not only fools but all persons, however
shrewd, untrained in observation; nor does the trained observed always
succeed instantly in detecting the fraud. Again, what the A.'. A.'.
propose to do is to enable such men as are capable of advancement to a
higher interpretation of manhood to do so; and the proof of their ability
lies in their success, and not in any other irrelevant phenomenon. "The"
"argument from miracles is a" non sequitur.
Nor is there anything mysterious in the A.'. A.'.; one must not
confuse the mysterious with the unknown. Some of the contents of this
REVIEW may be difficult or impossible to understand at first, but only in
the sense that Homer is unintelligible to a person ignorant of Greek. {1}
But the Brothers of the A.'. A.'. make no mystery; They give you
not only the Text, but the Comment; not only the Comment, but the
Dictionary, the Grammar, and the Alphabet. It is necessary to be
thoroughly grounded in the language before you can appreciate its
masterpieces; and if while totally ignorant of the former you despise the
latter, you will forgive the more frivolous onlookers if their amusement
matches your indignation.
The Brothers of the A.'. A.'. have set their faces against all
charlatanism, whether of miracle-mongering or obscurantism; and all those
persons who have sought reputation or wealth by such means may expect
ruthless exposure, whether of their vanity or their dishonesty; for by no
gentler means can they be taught.
The Brothers of the A.'. A.'. will advise simple experiments, and
will describe them, by the pens of their chosen delegates, in the simplest
available language. If you fail to obtain good results, blame either
yourself or Their method, as you will; if you succeed, thank either
yourself or Them, as you will.
In this first number are published three little books; the first an
account of Their character and purpose, restored from the writings of von
Eckartshausen; the second an ethical essay restored from the Cipher MSS. of
the G.'. D.'. (of which MSS. a complete account will later be given);
these two books chiefly for the benefit of those who will understand
wrongly or not at all the motto "THE METHOD OF SCIENCE --- THE AIM OF
RELIGION," in which (if rightly interpreted) all is expressed; the third a
series of scientific experiments, designed to instruct beginners in the
groundwork of Scientific Illuminism, {2} and to prevent them from falling
into the self-deception which pride always prepares for the unwary.
From time to time further knowledge will be published, as fast as the
diligence of the persons employed to write it down will permit.
It is the intention of the Brothers of the A.'. A.'. to establish a
laboratory in which students may be able to carry out such experiments as
require too much time and toil to suit with their ordinary life; and Their
further plans will be explained fully as opportunity permits.
Any person desirous of entering into the communication with the A.'.
A.'. may do so by addressing a letter to the Chancellor of the Order, at
the offices of this paper. {3}
AN ACCOUNT OF A.'. A.'.
FIRST WRITTEN IN THE LANGUAGE
OF HIS PERIOD
by
THE COUNCILLOR VON ECKARTSHAUSEN
AND
NOW REVISED AND REWRITTEN
IN THE UNIVERSAL CIPHER
{5}
A.'. A.'.
Official publication in Class C.
Issued by Order:
D.D.S. 7ø = 4ø
O.S.V. 6ø = 5ø
N.S.F. 5ø = 6ø
{6}
{Illustration opposite to this page: A collotype in gray-black on an
embossed inset rectangle. This is a figure in Neophyte robe, face forward.
The figure is vertical, frontal with hood down and triangle atop forehead.
Left arm hangs down vertically. Right hand with index finger to lips in
gesture of silence, other fingers closed under thumb and palm facing left.
Feet are bare and placed heel nearly to heel at right angles with right
foot directly pointed forward and left pointed left. The figure is framed
by a plaster or clay low bas-relief in six panels: Top is a Ba-hadit or
winged sun, sans serpents. Left and right are two tapering pillars,
crossed near top by three bars, drum expanding slightly at top but not
approaching more than 3/4 diameter of base. The pillars are surmounted by
the atef crown (two plumes of Maat joined by an ovoid at base and resting
on two horizontal wavy rams horns). The bottom three panels are blank.}
AN ACCOUNT OF A.'. A.'.
[The Revisers wish to acknowledge gratefully
the translation of Madame de Steiger, which
they have freely quoted.]
IT is necessary, my dear brothers, to give you a clear idea of the interior
Order; of that illuminated community which is scattered throughout the
world, but which is governed by one truth and united in one spirit.
This community possesses a School, in which all who thirst for
knowledge are instructed by the Spirit of Wisdom itself; and all the
mysteries of nature are preserved in this school for the children of light.
Perfect knowledge of nature and of humanity is taught in this school. It
is from her that all truths penetrate into the world; she is the school of
all who search for wisdom, and it is in this community alone that truth and
the explantation of all mystery are to be found. It is the most hidden of
communities, yet it contains members from many circles; nor is there any
Centre of Thought whose activity is not due to the presence of one of
ourselves. From all time there has been an exterior school based on the
interior one, of which it is but the outer expression. From all time,
therefore, there has been a hidden assembly, a society of the Elect, of
those who sought for and had capacity for light, and {7} this interior
society was the Axle of the R.O.T.A. All that any external order possesses
in symbol, ceremony, or rite is the letter expressive outwardly of that
spirit of truth which dwelleth in the interior Sanctuary. Nor is the
contradiction of the exterior any bar to the harmony of the interior.
Hence this Sanctuary, composed of members widely scattered indeed but
united by the bonds of perfect love, has been occupied from the earliest
ages in building the grand Temple (through the evolution of humanity) by
which the reign of L.V.X. will be manifest. This society is in the
communion of those who have most capacity for light; they are united in
truth, and their Chief is the Light of the World himself, V.V.V.V.V., the
One Anointed in Light, the single teacher for the human race, the Way, the
Truth, and the Life.
The interior Order was formed immediately after the first perception
of man's wider heritage had dawned upon the first of the adepts; it
received from the Masters at first-hand the revelation of the means by
which humanity could be raised to its rights and delivered from its misery.
It received the primitive charge of all revelation and mystery; it received
the key of true science, both divine and natural.
But as men multiplied, the frailty of man necessitated an exterior
society which veiled the interior one, and concealed the spirit and the
truth in the letter, because many people were not capable of comprehending
great interior truth. Therefore, interior truths were wrapped in external
and perceptible ceremonies, so that men, by the perception of the outer
which is the symbol of the interior, might by degrees be enabled safely to
approach the interior spiritual truths. {8}
But the inner truth has always been confided to him who in his day had
the most capacity for illumination, and he became the sole guardian of the
original Trust, as High Priest of the Sanctuary.
When it became necessary that interior truths should be enfolded in
exterior ceremony and symbol, on account of the real weakness of men who
were not capable of hearing the Light of Light, then exterior worship
began. It was, however, always the type or symbol of the interior, that is
to say, the symbol of the true and Secret Sacrament.
The external worship would never have been separated from interior
revel but for the weakness of man, which tends too easily to forget the
spirit in the letter; but the Masters are vigilant to note in every nation
those who are able to receive light, and such persons are employed as
agents to spread the light according to man's capacity and to revivify the
dead letter.
Through these instruments the interior truths of the Sanctuary were
taken into every nation, and modified symbolically according to their
customs, capacity for instruction, climate, and receptiveness. So that the
external types of every religion, worship, ceremonies and Sacred Books in
general have more or less clearly, as their object of instruction, the
interior truths of the Sanctuary, by which man will be conducted to the
universal knowledge of the one Absolute Truth.
The more the external worship of a people has remained united with the
spirit of esoteric truth, the purer its religion; but the wider the
difference between the symbolic letter and the invisible truth, the more
imperfect has become the religion. {9} Finally, it may be, the external
form has entirely parted from its inner truth, so that ceremonial
observances without soul or life have remained alone.
In the midst of all this, truth reposes inviolable in the inner
Sanctuary.
Faithful to the spirit of truth, the members of the interior Order
live in silence, but in real activity.
Yet, besides their secret holy work, they have from time to time
decided upon political strategic action.
Thus, when the earth was night utterly corrupt by reason of the Great
Sorcery, the Brethren sent Mohammed to bring freedom to mankind by the
sword.
This being but partially a success, they raised up one Luther to teach
freedom of thought. Yet this freedom soon turned into a heavier bondage
than before.
Then the Brethren delivered unto man the knowledge of nature, and the
keys thereof; yet this also was prevented by the Great Sorcery.
Now then finally in nameless ways, as one of our Brethren hath it now
in mind to declare, have they raised up One to deliver unto men the keys of
Spiritual Knowledge, and by His work shall He be judged.
This interior community of light is the reunion of all those capable
of receiving light, and it is known as the Communion of Saints, the
primitive receptacle for all strength and truth, confided to it from all
time.
By it the agents of L.V.X. were formed in every age, passing from the
interior to the exterior, and communicating spirit and life to the dead
letter, as already said.
This illuminated community is the true school of L.V.X.; {10} it has
its Chair, its Doctors; it possesses a rule for students; it has forms and
objects for study.
It has also its degrees for successive development to greater
altitudes.
This school of wisdom has been for ever most secretly hidden from the
world, because it is invisible and submissive solely to illuminated
government.
It has never been exposed to the accidents of time and to the weakness
of man, because only the most capable were chosen for it, and those who
selected made no error.
Through this school were developed the germs of all the sublime
sciences, which were first received by external schools, then clothed in
other forms, and hence degenerated.
According to time and circumstances, the society of sages communicated
unto the exterior societies their symbolic hieroglyphs, in order to attract
man to the great truths of their Sanctuary.
But all exterior societies subsist only by virtue of this interior
one. As soon as external societies wish to transform a temple of wisdom
into a political edifice, the interior society retires and leaves only the
letter without the spirit. It is thus that secret external societies of
wisdom were nothing but hieroglyphic screens, the truth remaining
inviolable in the Sanctuary so that she might never be profaned.
In this interior society man finds wisdom and with her All --- not the
wisdom of this world, which is but scientific knowledge, which revolves
round the outside but never touches the centre (in which is contained all
strength), but true wisdom, understanding and knowledge, reflections of the
supreme illumination. {11}
All disputes, all controversies, all the things belonging to the false
cares of this world, fruitless discussions, useless germs of opinions which
spread the seeds of disunion, all error, schisms, and systems are banished.
Neither calumny nor scandal is known. Every man is honoured. Love alone
reigns.
We must not, however, imagine that this society resembles any secret
society, meeting at certain times, choosing leaders and members, united by
special objects. All societies, be what they may, can but come after this
interior illuminated circle. This society knows none of the formalities
which belong to the outer rings, the work of man. In this kingdom of power
all outward forms cease.
L.V.X. is the Power always present. The greatest man of his times,
the chief himself, does not always know all the members, but the moment
when it is necessary that he should accomplish any object he finds them in
the world with certainty ready to his hand.
This community has no outside barriers. He who may be chosen is as
the first; he presents himself among the others without presumption, and he
is received by the others without jealousy.
It if be necessary that real members should meet together, they find
and recognize each other with perfect certainty.
No disguise can be used, neither hypocrisy nor dissimulation could
hide the characteristic qualities which distinguish the members of this
society. All illusion is gone, and things appear in their true form.
No one member can choose another; unanimous choice is required.
Though not all men are called, many of called are chosen, and that as soon
as they become fit for entrance. {12}
Any man can look for the entrance, and any man who is within can teach
another to seek for it; but only he who is fit can arrive within.
Unprepared men occasion disorder in a community, and disorder is not
compatible with the Sanctuary. Thus it is impossible to profane the
Sanctuary, since admission is not formal but real.
Worldly intelligence seeks this Sanctuary in vain; fruitless also will
be the efforts of malice to penetrate these great mysteries; all is
indecipherable to him who is not ripe; he can see nothing, read nothing in
the interior.
He who is fit is joined to the chain, perhaps often where he though
least likely, and at a point of which he knew nothing himself.
To become fit should be the sole effort of him who seeks wisdom.
But there are methods by which fitness is attained, for in this holy
communion is the primitive storehouse of the most ancient and original
science of the human race, with the primitive mysteries also of all
science. It is the unique and really illuminated community which is
absolutely in possession of the key to all mystery, which knows the centre
and source of all nature. It is a society which unites superior strength
to its own, and counts its members from more than one world. It is the
society whose members form the republic of Genius, the Regent Mother of the
whole World. {13}
LIBER LIBRAE
SVB FIGVRA
XXX
{15}
A.'. A.'. Publication in Class B.
Issued by order:
D.D.S. 7ø = 4ø Premonstrator
O.S.V. 6ø = 5ø Imperator
N.S.F. 5ø = 6ø Cancellarius
{16}
LIBER LIBRAE
SVB FIGVRA
XXX
O. Learn first --- Oh thou who aspirest unto our ancient Order! ---
that Equilibrium is the basis of the Work. If thou thyself hast not a sure
foundation, whereon wilt thou stand to direct the forces of Nature?
1. Know then, that as man is born into this world amidst the Darkness
of Matter, and the strife of contending forces; so must his first endeavour
be to seek the Light through their reconciliation.
2. Thou then, who hast trials and troubles, rejoice because of them,
for in them is Strength, and by their means is a pathway opened unto that
Light.
3. How should it be otherwise, O man, whose life is but a day in
Eternity, a drop in the Ocean of time; how, were thy trials not many,
couldst thou purge thy soul from the dross of earth?
Is it but now that the Higher Life is beset with dangers and
difficulties; hath it not ever been so with the Sages and Hierophants of
the past? They have been persecuted and reviled, they have been tormented
of men; yet through this also has their Glory increased.
4. Rejoice therefore, O Initiate, for the greater thy trial {17} the
greater thy Triumph. When men shall revile thee, and speak against thee
falsely, hath not the Master said, "Blessed art thou!"?
5. Yet, oh aspirant, let thy victories bring thee not Vanity, for with
increase of Knowledge should come increase of Wisdom. He who knoweth
little, thinketh he knoweth much; but he who knoweth much hath learned his
own ignorance. Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit? There is more
hope of a fool, than of him.
6. Be not hasty to condemn others; how knowest thou that in their
place, thou couldest have resisted the temptation? And even were it so,
why shouldst thou despise one who is weaker than thyself?
7. Thou therefore who desirest Magical Gifts, be sure that thy soul is
firm and steadfast; for it is by flattering thy weaknesses that the Weak
Ones will gain power over thee. Humble thyself before thy Self, yet fear
neither man not spirit. Fear is failure, and the forerunner of failure:
and courage is the beginning of virtue.
8. Therefore fear not the Spirits, but be firm and courteous with
them; for thou hast no right to despise or revile them; and this too may
lead thee astray. Command and banish them, curse them by the Great Names
if need be; but neither mock nor revile them, for so assuredly wilt thou be
lead into error.
9. A man is what he maketh himself within the limits fixed by his
inherited destiny; he is a part of mankind; his actions affect not only
what he calleth himself, but also the whole universe.
10. Worship and neglect not, the physical body which is {18} thy
temporary connection with the outer and material world. Therefore let thy
mental Equilibrium be above disturbance by material events; strengthen and
control the animal passions, discipline the emotions and the reason,
nourish the Higher Aspirations.
11. Do good unto others for its own sake, not for reward, not for
gratitude from them, not for sympathy. If thou art generous, thou wilt not
long for thine ears to be tickled by expressions of gratitude.
12. Remember that unbalanced force is evil; that unbalanced severity
is but cruelty and oppression; but that also unbalanced mercy is but
weakness which would allow and abet Evil. Act passionately; think
rationally; be Thyself.
13. True ritual is as much action as word; it is Will.
14. Remember that this earth is but an atom in the universe, and that
thou thyself art but an atom thereon, and that even couldst thou become the
God of this earth whereon thou crawlest and grovellest, that thou wouldest,
even then, be but an atom, and one amongst many.
15. Nevertheless have the greatest self-respect, and to that end sin
not against thyself. The sin which is unpardonable is knowingly and
wilfully to reject truth, to fear knowledge lest that knowledge pander not
to thy prejudices.
16. To obtain Magical Power, learn to control thought; admit only
those ideas that are in harmony with the end desired, and not every stray
and contradictory Idea that presents itself.
17. Fixed thought is a means to an end. Therefore pay attention to
the power of silent thought and meditation. {19} The material act is but
the outward expression of thy thought, and therefore hath it been said that
"the thought of foolishness is sin." Thought is the commencement of
action, and if a chance thought can produce much effect, what cannot fixed
thought do?
18. Therefore, as hath already been said, Establish thyself firmly in
the equilibrium of forces, in the centre of the Cross of the Elements, that
Cross from whose centre the Creative Word issued in the birth of the
Dawning Universe.
19. Be thou therefore prompt and active as the Sylphs, but avoid
frivolity and caprice; be energetic and strong like the Salamanders, but
avoid irritability and ferocity; be flexible and attentive to images like
the Undines, but avoid idleness and changeability; be laborious and patient
like the Gnomes, but avoid grossness and avarice.
20. So shalt thou gradually develop the powers of thy soul, and fit
thyself to command the Spirits of the elements. For wert thou to summon
the Gnomes to pander to thine avarice, thou wouldst no longer command them,
but they would command thee. Wouldst thou abuse the pure beings of the
woods and mountains to fill thy coffers and satisfy thy hunger of Gold?
Wouldst thou debase the Spirits of Living Fire to serve thy wrath and
hatred? Wouldst thou violate the purity of the Souls of the Waters to
pander to thy lust of debauchery? Wouldst thou force the Spirits of the
Evening Breeze to minister to thy folly and caprice? Know that with such
desires thou canst but attract the Weak, not the Strong, and in that case
the Weak will have power over thee.
21. In the true religion there is no sect, therefore take heed {20}
that thou blaspheme not the name by which another knoweth his God; for if
thou do this thing in Jupiter thou wilt blaspheme HB:Heh HB:Vau HB:Heh HB:Yod and in
Osiris HB:Heh HB:Vau HB:Shin HB:Heh HB:Yod . Ask and ye shall have! Seek, and ye shall
find! Knock, and it shall be opened unto you!
{21}
LIBER
E. VEL EXERCITIORVM
SVB FIGVRA
IX
{23}
A.'. A.'. Publication in Class B.
Issued by order:
D.D.S. 7ø = 4ø Premonstrator
O.S.V. 6ø = 5ø Imperator
N.S.F. 5ø = 6ø Cancellarius
{24}
LIBER
E. VEL EXERCITIORVM
SVB FIGVRA
IX
I
1. It is absolutely necessary that all experiments should be recorded
in detail during, or immediately after, their performance.
2. It is highly important to note the physical and mental condition of
the experimenter or experimenters.
3. The time and place of all experiments must be noted; also the state
of the weather, and generally all conditions which might conceivably have
any result upon the experiment either as adjuvants to or causes of the
result, or as inhibiting it, or as sources of error.
4. The A.'. A.'. will not take official notice of any experiments
which are not thus properly recorded.
5. It is not necessary at this stage for us to declare fully the
ultimate end of our researches; nor indeed would it be understood by those
who have not become proficient in these elementary courses.
6. The experimenter is encouraged to use his own intelligence, and not
to rely upon any other person or persons, however distinguished, even among
ourselves. {25}
7. The written record should be intelligibly prepared so that others
may benefit from its study.
8. The book John St. John published in this first number of the
"Equinox" is an example of this kind of record by a very advanced student.
It is not as simply written as we could wish, but will shew the method.
9. The more scientific the record is, the better.
Yet the emotions should be noted, as being some of the conditions.
Let then the record be written with sincerity and care, and with
practice it will be found more and more to approximate to the ideal.
II
"Physical Clairvoyance"
1. Take a pack of (78) Tarot playing cards. Shuffle; cut. Draw one
card. Without looking at it, try and name it. Write down the card you
name, and the actual card. Repeat, and tabulate results.
2. This experiment is probably easier with an old genuine pack of
Tarot cards, preferably a pack used for divination by some one who really
understood the matter.
3. Remember that one should expect to name the right card once in 78
times. Also be careful to exclude all possibilities of obtaining the
knowledge through the ordinary senses of sight and touch, or even smell.
There was once a man whose finger-tips were so sensitive that he could
feel the shape and position of the pips, and so judge the card correctly.
{26}
4. It is better to try first, the easier form of the experiment, by
guessing only the suit.
5. Remember that in 78 experiments you should obtain 22 trumps and 14
of each other suit; so that, without any clairvoyance at all, you can guess
right twice in 7 times (roughly) by calling trumps each time.
6. Note that some cards are harmonious.
Thus it would not be a bad error to call the five of Swords ("The Lord
of Defeat") instead of the ten of Swords ("The Lord of Ruin"). But to call
the Lord of Love (2 Cups) for the Lord of Strife (5 Wands) would show that
you were getting nothing right.
Similarly, a card ruled by Mars would be harmonious with a 5, a card
of Gemini with "The Lovers."
7. These harmonies must be thoroughly learnt, according to the
numerous tables given in 777.
8. As you progress, you will find that you are able to distinguish the
suit correctly three times in four, and that very few indeed inharmonious
errors occur, while in 78 experiments you are able to name the card aright
as many as 15 or 20 times.
9. When you have reached this stage, you may be admitted for
examination; and in the event of your passing, you will be given more
complex and difficult exercises.
III
"Asana --- Posture"
1. You must learn to sit perfectly still with every muscle tense for
long periods. {27}
2. You must wear no garment that interferes with the posture in any of
these experiments.
3. The first position: (The God). Sit in a chair; head up, back
straight, knees together, hands on knees, eyes closed.
4. The second position: (The Dragon). Kneel; buttocks resting on the
heels, toes turned back, back and head straight, hands on thighs.
5. The third position: (The Ibis). Stand; hold left ankle with right
hand (and alternately practise right ankle in left hand, &c.) free
forefinger on lips.
6. The fourth position: (The Thunderbolt). Sit: left heel pressing up
anus, right foot poised on its toes, the heel covering the phallus; arms
stretched out over the knees: head and back straight.
7. Various things will happen to you while you are practising these
positions; they must be carefully analysed and described.
8. Note down the duration of the pracitce, the severity of the pain
(if any) which accompanies it, the degree of rigidity attained, and any
other pertinent matters.
9. When you have progressed up to the point that a saucer filled to
the brim with water and poised upon the head does not spill one drop during
a whole hour, and when you can no longer perceive the slightest tremor in
any muscle; when, in short, you are perfectly steady and easy, you will be
admitted for examination; and, should you pass, you will be instructed in
more complex and difficult practices. {28}
{Illustration facing next page: Halftone: Four photographs of a man
(Crowley?) with face blanked out, dressed only in a gemmed cross on a chain
about his neck and (upper panels only) a masonic apron. Nipples and navel
are air-brushed out. The postures shown are: "The Ibis", "The God", "The
Thunderbolt" and "The Dragon". Titled below to critique the examples: "In
the Ibis the head is tilted very slightly too far back; in the Thunderbolt
the right foot might be a little higher and the right knee lower with
advantage.}
IV
"Pranayama --- Regularisation of the Breathing"
1. At rest in one of your positions, close the right nostril with the
thumb of the right hand and breathe out slowly and completely through the
left nostril, while your watch marks 20 seconds. Breathe in through the
same nostril for 10 seconds. Changing hands, repeat with the other
nostril. Let this be continuous for one hour.
2. When this is quite easy to you, increase the periods to 30 and 15
seconds.
3. When this is quite easy to you, but not before, breathe out for 15
seconds, in for 15 seconds, and hold the breath for 15 seconds.
4. When you can do this with perfect ease and comfort for a whole
hour, practise breathing out for 40, in for 20 seconds.
5. This being attained, practise breathing out for 20, in for 10,
holding the breath for 30 seconds.
When this has become perfectly easy to you, you may be admitted for
examination, and should you pass, you will be instructed in more complex
and difficult practices.
6. You will find that the presence of food in the stomach, even in
small quantities, makes the practices very difficult.
7. Be very careful never to overstrain your powers; especially never
get so short of breath that you are compelled to breathe out jerkily or
rapidly.
8. Strive after depth, fulness, and regularity of breathing.
9. Various remarkable phenomena will very probably occur during these
practices. They must be carefully analysed and recorded. {29}
V
"Dharana --- Control of Thought"
1. Constrain the mind to concentrate itself upon a single simple
object imagined.
The five tatwas are useful for this purpose; they are: a black oval; a
blue disk; a silver crescent; a yellow square; a red triangle.
2. Proceed to combinations of simple objects; "e.g.", a black oval
within a yellow square, and so on.
3. Proceed to simple moving objects, such as a pendulum swinging, a
wheel revolving, &c. Avoid living objects.
4. Proceed to combinations of moving objects, "e.g.", a piston rising
and falling while a pendulum is swinging. The relation between the two
movements should be varied in different experiments.
Or even a system of fly-wheels, eccentrics, and governor.
5. During these practices the mind must be absolutely confined to the
object determined upon; no other thought must be allowed to intrude upon
the consciousness. The moving systems must be regular and harmonious.
6. Note carefully the duration of the experiments, the number and
nature of the intruding thoughts, the tendency of the object itself to
depart from the course laid out for it, and any other phenomena which may
present themselves. Avoid overstrain. This is very important.
7. Proceed to imagine living objects; as a man, preferably some man
known to, and respected by, yourself.
8. In the intervals of these experiments you may try to {30} imagine
the objects of the other senses, and to concentrate upon them.
For example, try to imagine the taste of chocolate the smell of roses,
the feeling of velvet, the sound of a waterfall, or the ticking of a watch.
9. Endeavour finally to shut out all objects of any of the senses, and
prevent all thoughts arising in your mind. When you feel that you have
attained some success in these practices, apply for examination, and should
you pass, more complex and difficult practices will be prescribed for you.
VI
"Physical Limitations"
1. It is desirable that you should discover for yourself your physical
limitations.
2. To this end ascertain for how many hours you can subsist without
food or drink before your working capacity is seriously interfered with.
3. Ascertain how much alcohol you can take, and what forms of
drunkenness assail you.
4. Ascertain how far you can walk without once stopping; likewise with
dancing, swimming, running, &c.
5. Ascertain for how many hours you can do without sleep.
6. Test your endurance with various gymnastic exercises, club-swinging
and so on.
7. Ascertain for how long you can keep silence.
8. Investigate any other capacities and aptitudes which may occur to
you. {31}
9. Let all these things be carefully and conscientiously recorded; for
according to your powers will it be demanded of you.
VII
"A Course of Reading"
1. The object of most of the foregoing practices will not at first be
clear to you; but at least (who will deny it?) they will have trained you
in determination, accuracy, introspection, and many other qualities which
are valuable to all men in their ordinary avocations, so that in no case
will your time have been wasted.
2. That you may gain some insight into the nature of the Great Work
which lies beyond these elementary trifles, however, we should mention that
an intelligent person may gather more than a hint of its nature from the
following books, which are to be taken as serious and learned contributions
to the study of nature, though not necessarily to be implicitly relied
upon.
"The Yi "K"ing" [S.B.E. Series, Oxford University Press].
"The Tao Teh "K"ing" [S.B.E. Series].
"Tannh„user" by A. Crowley.
"The Upanishads."
"The Bhagavad-Gita."
"The Voice of the Silence."
"Raja Yoga" by Swami Vivekƒnanda.
"The Shiva Sanhita." {32}
"The Aphorisms of Patanjali."
"The Sword of Song."
"The Book of the Dead."
"Rituel et Dogme de la Haute Magie."
"The Book of the Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage."
"The Goetia."
"The Hathayoga Pradipika."
Erdmann's "History of Philosophy."
"The Spiritual Guide of Molinos."
"The Star in the West" (Captain Fuller).
"The Dhammapada" [S.B.E. Series, Oxford University Press].
"The Questions of King Milinda" [S.B.E. Series].
"777. vel Prolegomena, &c."
"Varieties of Religious Experience" (James).
"Kabbala Denudata."
"Knox Om Pax."
3. Careful study of these books will enable the pupil to speak in the
language of his master and facilitate communication with him.
4. The pupil should endeavour to discover the fundamental harmony of
these very varied works; for this purpose he will find it best to study the
most extreme divergences side by side.
5. He may at any time that he wishes apply for examination in this
course of reading.
6. During the whole of this elementary study and practice, he will do
wisely to seek out, and attach himself to, a master, one competent to
correct him and advise him. Nor {33} should he be discouraged by the
difficulty of finding such a person.
7. Let him further remember that he must in no wise rely upon, or
believe in, that master. He must rely entirely upon himself, and credit
nothing whatever but that which lies within his own knowledge and
experience.
8. As in the beginning, so at the end, we here insist upon the vital
importance of the written record as the only possible check upon error
derived from the various qualities of the experimenter.
9. Thus let the work be accomplished duly; yea, let it be accomplished
duly.
[If any really important or remarkable results should occur, or if any
great difficulty presents itself, the A.'. A.'. should be at once
informed of the circumstances.] {34}
THE WIZARD WAY
{35}
THE WIZARD WAY
VELVET soft the night-star glowed
Over the untrodden road,
Through the giant glades of yew
Where its ray fell light as dew
Lighting up the shimmering veil
Maiden pure and aery frail
That the spiders wove to hide
Blushes of the sylvan bride
Earth, that trembled with delight
At the male caress of Night.
Velvet soft the wizard trod
To the Sabbath of his God.
With his naked feet he made
Starry blossoms in the glade,
Softly, softly, as he went
To the sombre sacrament,
Stealthy stepping to the tryst
In his gown of amethyst.
Earlier yet his soul had come
To the Hill of Martyrdom, {37}
Where the charred and crookŠd stake
Like a black envenomed snake
By the hangman's hands is thrust
Through the wet and writhing dust,
Never black and never dried
Heart's blood of a suicide.
He had plucked the hazel rod
From the rude and goatish god,
Even as the curved moon's waning ray
Stolen from the King of Day.
He had learnt the elvish sign;
Given the Token of the Nine:
Once to rave, and once to revel,
Once to bow before the devil,
Once to swing the thurible,
Once to kiss the goat of hell,
Once to dance the aspen spring,
Once to croak, and once to sing,
Once to oil the savoury thighs
Of the witch with sea-green eyes
With the unguents magical.
Oh the honey and the gall
Of that black enchanter's lips
As he croons to the eclipse
Mingling that most puissant spell
Of the giant gods of hell
With the four ingredients
Of the evil elements; {38}
Ambergris from golden spar,
Musk of ox from Mongol jar,
Civet from a box of jade,
Mixed with fat of many a maid
Slain by the inchauntments cold
Of the witches wild and old.
He had crucified a toad
In the basilisk abode,
Muttering the Runes averse
Mad with many a mocking curse.
He had traced the serpent sigil
In his ghastly virgin vigil.
" "Sursum cor!" the elfin hill,
Where the wind blows deadly chill
From the world that wails beneath
Death's black throat and lipless teeth.
There he had stood -- his bosom bare ---
Tracing Life upon the Air
With the crook and with the flail
Lashing forward on the gale,
Till its blade that wavereth
Like the flickering of Death
Sank before his subtle fence
To the starless sea of sense.
Now at last the man is come
Haply to his halidom. {39}
Surely as he waves his rod
In a circle on the sod
Springs the emerald chaste and clean
From the duller paler green.
Surely in the circle millions
Of immaculate pavilions
Flash upon the trembling turf
Like the sea-stars in the surf ---
Millions of bejewelled tents
For the warrior sacraments.
Vaster, vaster, vaster, vaster,
Grows the stature of the master;
All the ringed encampment vies
With the infinite galaxies.
In the midst a cubic stone
With the Devil set thereon;
Hath a lamb's virginal throat;
Hath the body of a stoat;
Hath the buttocks of a goat;
Hath the sanguine face and rod
Of a goddess and a god!
Spell by spell and pace by pace!
Mystic flashes swing and trace
Velvet soft the sigils stepped
By the silver-starred adept.
Back and front, and to and fro,
Soul and body sway and flow
In vertiginous caresses
To imponderable recesses, {40}
Till at last the spell is woven,
And the faery veil is cloven
That was Sequence, Space, and Stress
Of the soul-sick consciousness.
"Give thy body to the beasts!
Give thy spirit to the priests!
Break in twain the hazel rod
On the virgin lips of God!
Tear the Rosy Cross asunder!
Shatter the black bolt of thunder!
Such the swart ensanguine kiss
Of the resolute abyss!"
Wonder-weft the wizard heard
This intolerable word.
Smote the blasting hazel rod
On the scarlet lips of God;
Trampled Cross and rosy core;
Brake the thunder-tool of Thor;
Meek and holy acolyte
Of the priestly hells of spite,
Sleek and shameless catamite
Of the beasts that prowl by night!
Like a star that streams from heaven
Through the virgin airs light-riven,
From the lift there shot and fell
An admirable miracle. {41}
Carved minute and clean, a key
Of purest lapis-lazuli
More blue than the blind sky that aches
(Wreathed with the stars, her torturing snakes),
For the dead god's kiss that never wakes;
Shot with golden specks of fire
Like a virgin with desire.
Look, the levers! fern-frail fronds
Of fantastic diamonds,
Glimmering with ethereal azure
In each exquisite embrasure.
On the shaft the letters laced,
As if dryads lunar-chaste
With the satyrs were embraced,
Spelled the secret of the key:
" "Sic pervenias." And he
Went his wizard way, inweaving
Dreams of things beyond believing.
When he will, the weary world
Of the senses closely curled
Like a serpent round his heart
Shakes herself and stands apart.
So the heart's blood flames, expanding,
Strenuous, urgent, and commanding;
And the key unlocks the door
Where his love lives evermore.
She is of the faery blood;
All smaragdine flows its flood. {42}
Glowing in the amber sky
To ensorcelled porphyry.
She hath eyes of glittering flake
Like a cold grey water-snake.
She hath naked breasts of amber
Jetting wine in her bed-chanber,
Whereof whoso stoops and drinks
Rees the riddle of the Sphinx.
She hath naked limbs of amber
Whereupon her children clamber.
She hath five navels rosy-red
From the five wounds of God that bled;
Each wound that mothered her still bleeding,
And on that blood her babes are feeding.
Oh! like a rose-winged pelican
She hath bred blessed babes to Pan!
Oh! like a lion-hued nightingale
She hath torn her breast on thorns to avail
The barren rose-tree to renew
Her life with that disastrous dew,
Building the rose o' the world alight
With music out of the pale moonlight!
O She is like the river of blood
That broke from the lips of the bastard god,
When he saw the sacred mother smile
On the ibis that flew up the foam of Nile
Bearing the limbs unblessed, unborn,
That the lurking beast of Nile had torn! {43}
So (for the world is weary) I
These dreadful souls of sense lay by.
I sacrifice these impure shoon
To the cold ray of the waning moon.
I take the forkŠd hazel staff,
And the rose of no terrene graff,
And the lamp of no olive oil
With heart's blood that alone may boil.
With naked breast and feet unshod
I follow the wizard way to God.
Wherever he leads my foot shall follow;
Over the height, into the hollow,
Up to the caves of pure cold breath,
Down to the deeps of foul hot death,
Across the seas, through the fires,
Past the palace of desires;
Where he will, whether he will or no,
If I go, I care not whither I go.
For in me is the taint of the faery blood.
Fast, fast, its emerald flood
Leaps within me, violent rude
Like a bestial faun's beatitude.
In me the faery blood runs hard:
My sires were a druid, a devil, a bard,
A beast, a wizard, a snake and a satyr;
For --- as my mother said --- what does it matter? {44}
She was a fay, pure of the faery;
Queen Morgan's daughter by an aery
Demon that came to Orkney once
To pay the Beetle his orisons.
So, it is I that writhe with the twitch
Of the faery blood, and the wizard itch
To attain a matter one may not utter
Rather than sink in the greasy splutter
Of Britons munching their bread and butter;
Ailing boys and coarse-grained girls
Grown to sloppy women and brutal churls.
So, I am off with staff in hand
To the endless light of the nameless land.
Darkness spreads its sombre streams,
Blotting out the elfin dreams.
I might haply be afraid,
Were it not the Feather-maid
Leads me softly by the hand,
Whispers me to understand.
Now (when through the world of weeping
Light at last starrily creeping
Steals upon my babe-new sight,
Light --- O light that is not light!)
On my mouth the lips of her
Like a stone on my sepulchre
Seal my speech with ecstasy,
Till a babe is born of me {45}
That is silent more than I;
For its inarticulate cry
Hushes as its mouth is pressed
To the pearl, her honey breast;
While its breath divinely ripples
The rose-petals of her nipples,
And the jetted milk he laps
From the soft delicious paps,
Sweeter than the bee-sweet showers
In the chalice of the flowers,
More intoxicating than
All the purple grapes of Pan.
Ah! my proper lips are stilled.
Only, all the world is filled
With the Echo, that dips over
Like the honey from the clover.
Passion, penitence, and pain
Seek their mother's womb again,
And are born the triple treasure,
Peace and purity and pleasure.
--- Hush, my child, and come aloft
Where the stars are velvet soft!
ALEISTER CROWLEY.
{46}
THE MAGIC GLASSES1
{47}
1 WEH note: This Frank Harris story reads like a metaphor of
Crowley's subsequent career. Biographers, consider the possible
impact of this theme on Crowley's attitude to public life.
THE MAGIC GLASSES
ONE raw November morning, I left my rooms near the British Museum and
turned down Regent street. It was cold and misty: the air like shredded
cotton-wool. Before I reached the Quadrant, the mist thickened to fog,
with the colour of muddied water, and walking became difficult. As I had
no particular object in view, I got into talk with a policeman, and, by his
advice, went into the Vine Street Police Court, to pass an hour or two
before lunch. Inside the court, the atmosphere was comparatively clear,
and I took my seat on one of the oak benches with a feeling of vague
curiosity. There was a case going on as I entered: an old man, who
pretended to be an optician, had been taken up by the police for
obstructing the traffic by selling glasses. His green tray, with leathern
shoulder-straps, was on the solicitor's table. The charge of obstruction
could not be sustained, the old man had moved on as soon as the police told
him to, and the inspector had substituted a charge of fraud, on the
complaint of a workman and a shopkeeper. A constable had just finished his
evidence when I came into the court. He left the box with a self-satisfied
air and the muttered remark that the culprit was "a rare bad 'un."
I glanced about for the supposed criminal and found that he was seated
near me on a cross-bench in the charge of a {49} sturdy policeman. He did
not look like a criminal: he was tall, thin and badly dressed in a suit of
rusty black, which seemed to float about his meagre person; his complexion
was tallowy-white, like the sprouts of potatoes which have been kept a long
time in a dark cellar; he seemed about sixty years old. But he had none of
the furtive glances of the criminal; none of the uneasiness: his eye rested
on mine and passed aside with calm indifference, contemplative and not
alarmed.
The workman who was produced by the police in support of the charge of
fraud amused me. He was a young man, about middle height, and dressed in
corduroys, with a rough jacket of dark tweed. He was a bad witness: he
hesitated, stopped and corrected himself, as if he didn't know the meaning
of any words except the commonest phrases of everyday use. But he was
evidently honest: his brown eyes looked out on the world fairly enough.
His faltering came from the fact that he was only half articulate.
Disentangled from the mist of inappropriate words, his meaning was
sufficiently clear.
He had been asked by the accused, whom he persisted in calling "the
old gentleman," to buy a pair of spectacles: they would show him things
truer-like than he could see 'em; and so he "went a bob on 'em."
Questioned by the magistrate as to whether he could see things more plainly
through the glasses, he shook his head:
"No; about the same."
Then came the question: had he been deceived? Apparently he didn't
know the meaning of the word "deceived."
"Cheated," the magistrate substituted. {50}
"No"; he hadn't been cheated.
"Well, disappointed then?"
"No"; he couldn't say that.
"Would he spend another shilling on a similar pair of glasses?"
"No," he would not; "one bob was enough to lose."
When told he might go, he shuffled out of the witness-box, and on his
way to the door attempted more than once to nod to the accused. Evidently
there was no malice in him.
The second police witness had fluency and self-possession enough for a
lawyer: a middle-aged man, tall, florid and inclined to be stout; he was
over-dressed, like a spruce shopman, in black frock-coat, grey trousers and
light-coloured tie. He talked volubly, with a hot indignation which seemed
to match his full red cheeks. If the workman was an undecided and weak
witness, Mr. Hallett, of High Holborn, was a most convinced and determined
witness. He had been induced to buy the glasses, he declared, by the "old
party," who told him that they would show him things exactly as they were
--- the truth of everything. You'd only have to look through 'em at a man
to see whether he was trying to "do" you or not. That was why he bought
them. He was not asked a shilling for them, but a sovereign and he gave it
--- twenty shillings. When he put the glasses on, he could see nothing
with them, nothing at all; it was a "plant": and so he wanted the "old
party" to take 'em back and return his sovereign; that might have caused
the obstruction that the policeman had objected to. The "old man" refuse
to give him his money back; said he had not cheated him; had the impudence
to pretend that he (Hallett) had no eyes for truth, {51} and, therefore,
could see nothing with the glasses. "A blamed lie, he called it, and a
"do," an the "old man" ought to get six months for it.
Once or twice, the magistrate had to direct the stream of emphatic
words. But the accusation was formal and precise. The question now was:
How would the magistrate deal with the case? At first sight, Mr. Brown,
the magistrate, made a good impression on me. He was getting on in life:
the dark hair was growing thin on top and a little grey at the sides. The
head was well-shaped; the forehead notably broad; the chin and jaw firm.
The only unpleasant feature in the face was the hard line of mouth, with
thin, unsympathetic lips. Mr. Brown was reputed to be a great scholar, and
was just the type of man who would have made a pedant; a man of good
intellect and thin blood, who would find books and words more interesting
than men and deeds.
At first, Mr. Brown had seemed to be on the side of the accused: he
tried to soften Mr. Hallett's anger. One or two of his questions, indeed,
were pointed and sensible:
"You wouldn't take goods back after you had sold them, would you, Mr.
Hallett?" he asked.
"Of course I would," replied Mr. Hallett, stoutly: "I'd take any of my
stock back at a twenty per cent. reduction; my goods are honest goods:
prices marked plain on 'em. But 'e would not give me fifteen shillings
back out of my sovereign; not 'e; 'e meant sticking' to it all."
The magistrate looked into the body of the court and addressing the
accused, said:
"Will you reserve your defence, Mr. Henry?"
"Penry, your worship: Matthew Penry," corrected the {52} old man in a
quiet, low-pitched voice, as he rose to his feet. "If I may say so: the
charge of fraud is absurd. Mr. Hallett seems to be angry because I sold
one pair of glasses for a shilling and another pair to him for a sovereign.
But they were not the same glasses and, if they had been, I am surely
allowed to ask for my wares what I please."
"That is true," interrupted the magistrate; "but he says that you told
him he would see the truth through them. I suppose you meant that he would
see more truly through them than with his own eyes?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Penry, with a certain hesitation.
"But he did not see more truly through them," continued the
magistrate, "or he would not have wanted you to take them back.
"No," Mr. Penry acknowledged; "but that is this fault, not the fault
of the glasses. They would show the truth, if he had any faculty for
seeing it: glasses are no good to the blind."
"Come, come," said the magistrate; "now you are beginning to confuse
me. You don't really pretend that your glasses will show the truth of
things, the reality; you mean that they will improve one's sight, don't
you?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Penry, "One's sight for truth, for reality."
"Well," retorted the magistrate smiling, "That seems rather
metaphysical than practical, doesn't it? If your spectacles enabled one to
discern the truth, I'd buy a pair myself: they might be useful in this
court sometimes," and he looked about him with a smile, as if expecting
applause.
With eager haste, the old man took him at his word, {53} threw open
his case, selected a pair of glasses, and passed them to the clerk, who
handed them up to Mr. Brown.
The magistrate put the glasses on; looked round the court for a minute
or two, and then broke out:
"Dear me! Dear me! How extraordinary! These glasses alter every one
in the court. It's really astonishing. They don't improve the looks of
people; on the contrary, a more villainous set of countenances it would be
difficult to imagine. If these glasses are to be trusted, men are more
like wild animals than human beings, and the worst of all are the
solicitors; really a terrible set of faces. But this may be the truth of
things; these spectacles do show one more than one's ordinary eyes can
perceive. Dear me! Dear me! It is most astonishing; but I feel inclined
to accept Mr. Penry's statement about them," and he peered over the
spectacles at the court.
"Would you like to look in a glass, your worship?" asked one of the
solicitors drily, rising, however, to his feet with an attitude of respect
at the same time; "perhaps that would be the best test."
Mr. Brown appeared to be a little surprised, but replied:
"If I had a glass I would willingly."
Before the words were out of his mouth, his clerk had tripped round
the bench, gone into the magistrate's private room and returned with a
small looking-glass, which he handed up to his worship.
As Mr. Brown looked in the glass, the smile of expectancy left his
face. In a moment or two, he put down the glass gravely, took off the
spectacles and handed them to the clerk, {54} who returned them to Mr.
Penry. After a pause, he said shortly:
"It is well, perhaps, to leave all these matters of fact to a jury. I
will accept a small bail, Mr. Penry," he went on; "but I think you must be
bound over to answer this charge at the sessions."
I caught the words, "œ50 a-piece in two sureties and his own
recognisances in œ100," and then Mr. Penry was told by the policeman to go
and wait in the body of the court till the required sureties were
forthcoming. By chance, the old man came and sat beside me and I was able
to examine him closely. His moustache and beard must have been auburn at
one time, but now the reddish tinge seemed only to discolour the grey. The
beard was thin and long and unkempt, and added to the forlorn untidiness of
his appearance. He carried his head bent forward, as if the neck were too
weak to support it. He seemed feeble and old and neglected. He caught me
looking at him, and I noticed that his eyes were a clear blue, as if he
were younger than I had thought. His gentle, scholarly manner and refined
voice had won my sympathy; and, when our eyes met, I introduced myself an
told him I should be glad to be one of his sureties, if that would save him
time or trouble. He thanked me with a sort of detached courtesy: he would
gladly accept my offer.
"You stated your case," I remarked, "so that you confused the
magistrate. You almost said hat you glasses were --- magic glasses," I
went on, smiling and hesitating, because I did not wish to offend him, and
yet hardly knew how to convey the impression his words had left upon me.
{55}
"Magic glasses," he repeated gravely, as if weighing the words; "yes,
you might call them magic glasses."
To say that I was astonished only gives a faint idea of my surprise
and wonder:
"Surely, you don't mean that they show things as they are," I asked:
"the truth of things?"
"That is what I mean," he replied quietly.
"Then they are not ordinary glasses?" I remarked inanely.
"No," he repeated gravely; "not ordinary glasses."
He had a curious trick, I noticed, of peering at one very intently
with narrowed eyes and then blinking rapidly several times in succession as
if the strain were too great to be borne.
He had made me extremely curious, and yet I did not like to ask
outright to be allowed to try a pair of his glasses; so I went on with my
questions:
"But, if they show truth, how was it that Mr. Hallett could see
nothing through them?'
"Simply because he has no sense of reality; he has killed the innate
faculty for truth. It was probably at not time very great," went on this
strange merchant, smiling; "but his trader's habits have utterly destroyed
it; he has so steeped himself in lies that he is now blind to the truth,
incapable of perceiving it. The workman, you remember, could see fairly
well through his spectacles."
"Yes," I replied laughing; "and the magistrate evidently saw a good
deal more through his than the cared to acknowledge."
The old man laughed too, in an ingenuous, youthful way that I found
charming.
At last I got to the Rubicon. {56}
"Would you let me buy a pair of your glasses?" I asked.
"I shall be delighted to give you a pair, if you will accept them," he
replied, with eager courtesy; "my surety ought certainly to have a pair";
and then he peered at me in his curious, intent way. A moment later, he
turned round, and opening his tray, picked out a pair of spectacles and
handed them to me.
I put them on with trembling eagerness and stared about me. The
magistrate had told the truth; they altered everything: the people were the
same and yet not the same; this face was coarsened past all description;
that face sharpened and made hideous with greed; and the other brutalized
with lust. One recognized, so to speak, the dominant passion in each
person. Something moved me to turn my glasses on the merchant; if I was
astounded before, I was now lost in wonder: the glasses transfigured him.
The grey beard was tinged with gold, the blue eyes luminous with
intelligence; all the features ennobled; the countenance irradiated
sincerity and kindliness. I pulled off the glasses hastily and the vision
passed away. Mr. Penry was looking at me with a curious little pleased
smile of anticipation: involuntarily, I put out my hand to him with a sort
of reverence:
"Wonderful," I exclaimed; "your face is wonderful and all the others
grotesque and hideous. What does it mean? Tell me! Won't you?"
"You must come with me to my room," he said, "where we can talk
freely, and I think you will not regret having helped me. I should like to
explain everything to you. There are so few men," he added, "who proffer
help to another {57} man in difficulty. I should like to show you that I
am grateful."
"There is no cause for gratitude," I said hastily; "I have done
nothing."
His voice now seemed to me to be curiously refined and impressive, and
recalled to me the vision of his face, made beautiful by the strange
glasses. ...
I have been particular to put down how Mr. Penry first appeared to me,
because after I had once seen him through his spectacles, I never saw him
again as I had seen him at first. Remembering my earliest impressions of
him, I used to wonder how I could have been so mistaken. His face had
refinement and gentleness in every line; a certain courage, too, that was
wholly spiritual. Already I was keenly interested in Mr. Penry; eager to
know more about him; to help him, if that were possible, in any and every
way.
Some time elapsed before the formalities for his bail were arranged,
and then I persuaded him to come out with me to lunch. He got up quietly,
put the leathern straps over his shoulders, tucked the big case under his
arm and walked into the street with perfect self-possession; and I was not
now in any way ashamed of his appearance, as I should have been an hour or
two before: I was too excited even to feel pride; I was simply glad and
curious.
And this favourable impression grew with everything Mr. Penry said and
did, till at last nothing but service would content me; so, after lunch, I
put him into a cab and drove him off to my own solicitor. I found Mr.
Morris, of Messrs. Morris, Coote and Co., quite willing to take up his case
at the sessions; willing, too, to believe that the charge was "trumped {58}
up" by the police and without serious foundation. But, when I drew Mr.
Morris aside and tried to persuade him that his new client was a man of
extraordinary powers, he smiled incredulously.
"You are enthusiastic, Mr. Winter," he said half reproachfully; "but
we solicitors are compelled to see things in the cold light of reason. Why
should you undertake to defend this Mr. Penry? Of course if you have made
up your mind," he went on, passing over my interruption, "I shall do my
best for him; but if I were you, I'd keep my eyes open and do nothing
rashly."
In order to impress him, I put on a similar cold tone and declared
that Mr. Penry was a friend of mine and that he must leave no stone
unturned to vindicate his honesty. And with this I went back to Mr. Penry,
and we left the office together.
Mr. Penry's lodging disappointed me; my expectations, I am afraid,
were now tuned far above the ordinary. It was in Chelsea, high up, in a
rickety old house overlooking a dingy road and barges drawn up on the
slimy, fetid mud-banks. And yet, even here, romance was present for the
romantic; the fog-wreaths curling over the river clothed the houses
opposite in soft mystery, as if they had been draped in blue samite, and
through the water-laden air the sun glowed round and red as a fiery wheel
of Pha‰ton's chariot. The room was very bare; by the broad low window
stood a large deal table crowded with instruments and glasses; strong
electric lamps on the right and left testified to the prolonged labours of
the optician. The roof of the garret ran up towards the centre, and by the
wall there was a low truckle-bed, fenced off by a cheap Japanese paper-
screen. The whole of the wall between {59} the bed and the window was
furnished with pine-shelves, filled with books; everything was neat, but
the room seemed friendless and cold in the thick, damp air.
There we sat and talked together, till the sun slid out of sight and
the fog thickened and night came on: there our acquaintance, so strangely
begun, grew to friendship. Before we went to dinner, the old man had shown
me the portraits of his two daughters and a little miniature of his wife,
who had died fifteen years before.
It was the first of many talks in that room, the first of many
confidences. Bit by bit, I heard the whole of Mr. Penry's history. It was
told to me piecemeal and inconsequently, as a friend talks to a friend in
growing intimacy; and, if I now let Mr. Penry tell his tale in regular
sequence and at one stretch, it is mainly in order to spare the reader the
tedium of interrupted narration and needless repetitions.
* * * * *
"My father was an optician," Mr. Penry began, "and a maker of
spectacles in Chelsea. We lived over the shop in the King's Road, and my
childhood was happy enough, but not in any way peculiar. Like other
healthy children, I liked play much better than lessons; but my school-days
were too uneventful, too empty of love to be happy. My mother died when I
was too young to know or regret her, and my father was kind, in spite of
his precise, puritanical ways. I was the only boy, which perhaps made him
kinder to me, and very much younger than my two sisters, who were grown up
when I was in short clothes and who married and left my father's house
before I had got to know them, or to feel much affection for them. {60}
"When I was about sixteen, my father took me from school and began
teaching me his own trade. He had been an admirable workman in his time,
of the old English sort --- careful and capable, though somewhat slow. The
desire was always present in him to grind and polish each glass as well as
he could, and this practice had given him a certain repute with a circle of
good customers. He taught me every part of his craft as he had learnt it;
and, in the next five or six years, imbued me with his own wish to do each
piece of work as perfectly as possible. But this period of imitation did
not last long. Before I reached manhood, I began to draw apart from my
father, to live my own life and to show a love of reading and thinking
foreign to his habit. It was religion which separated us. At school I had
learnt some French and German, and in both languages I came across
sceptical opinions which slowly grew in my mind, and in time led me to
discard and almost to dislike the religion of my father. I mention this
simply because any little originality in me seemed to spring from this
inquiry and from the mental struggle that convulsed three or four years of
my youth. For months and months I read feverishly to conquer my doubts,
and then I read almost as eagerly to confirm my scepticism.
"I still remember the glow of surprise and hope which came over me the
first time I read that Spinoza, one of the heroes of my thought, had also
made his living by polishing glasses. He was the best workman of his time,
the book said, and I determined to become the best workman of my time; and,
from that moment, I took to my trade seriously, strenuously.
"I learned everything I could about glass, and began to {61} make my
own material, after the best recipes. I got books on optics, too, and
studied them, and so, bit by bit, mastered the science of my craft.
"I was not more than nineteen or twenty when my father found out that
I was a much better workman than his assistant Thompson. Some glasses had
been sent to us from a great oculist in Harley Street, with a multitude of
minute directions. They had been made by Thompson, and were brought back
to us one afternoon by a very fidgety old gentleman who declared that they
did not suit him at all. The letter which he showed from Sir William
Creighton, the oculist, hinted that the glasses were not carefully made.
My father was out, and in his absence I opened the letter. As soon as I
had looked at the glasses, I saw that the complaint was justified, and I
told the old gentleman so. He turned out to be the famous parliamentary
speaker, Lord B. He said to me testily:
"All right, young man; you make my glasses correctly and I shall be
satisfied; but not till then; you understand, not till then."
"I smiled at him and told him I would do the work myself, and he went
out of the shop muttering, as if only half reassured by my promises. Then
I determined to show what I could do. When my father returned, I told him
what had happened, and asked him to leave the work to me. He consented,
and I went off at once to the little workshop I had made in our back-yard
and settled down to the task. I made my glass and polished it, and then
ground the spectacles according to the directions. When I had finished, I
sent them to Sir William Creighton with a note, and a few days afterwards
we had another visit from Lord B., who told my father that he {62} had
never had such glasses and that I was a "perfect treasure." Like many very
crochety people, he was hard to satisfy, but one satisfied he was as lavish
in praise as in blame. Lord B. made my reputation as a maker of
spectacles, and for years I was content with this little triumph. ...
"I married when I was about two- or three-and-twenty, and seven or
eight years afterwards my father died. The gap caused by his death, the
void of loss and loneliness, was more than filled up by my young children.
I had two little girls who, at this time, were a source of perpetual
interest to me. How one grows to love the little creatures, with their
laughter and tears, their hopes and questions and make-believe! And how
one's love for them is intensified by all the trouble one takes to win
their love and by all the plans one weaves for their future! But all this
is common human experience and will only bore you. A man's happiness is
not interesting to other people, and I don't know that much happiness is
good for a man himself; at any rate, during the ten or fifteen years in
which I was happiest, I did least; made least progress, I mean, as a
workman and the least intellectual advantage as a man. But when my girls
began to grow up and detach themselves from the home, my intellectual
nature began to stir again. One must have some interests in life, and, if
the heart is empty, the head becomes busier, I often think.
"One day I had a notable visit. A man came in to get a pair of
spectacles made: a remarkable man. He was young, gay and enthusiastic,
with an astonishing flow of words, an astonishing brightness of speech and
manner. He seemed to light up the dingy old shop with his vivacity and
happy frankness. He wanted spectacles to correct a slight dissimilarity
{63} between his right eye and his left, and he had been advised to come to
me by Sir William Creighton, as the glasses would have to be particularly
well made. I promised to work at them myself, and on that he burst out:
"'I shall be very curious to see whether perfect eyes help or hurt my
art. You know I am a painter,' he went on, throwing his hair back from his
forehead, 'and each of us painters sees life in his own way, and beauty
with certain peculiarities. It would be curious, wouldn't it? if talent
came from a difference between one's eyes!'
"I smiled at his eagerness, and took down his name, then altogether
unknown to me; but soon to become known and memorable above all other
names: Dante Gabriel Rossetti. I made the glasses and he was enthusiastic
about them, and brought me a little painting of himself by way of
gratitude.
"There it is," said Penry, pointing to a little panel that hung by his
bedside; "the likeness of an extraordinary man --- a genius, if ever there
was one. I don't know why he took to me, except that I admired him
intensely; my shop, too, was near his house in Chelsea, and he used often
to drop in and pass an hour in my back parlour and talk --- such talk as I
had never heard before and have never heard since. His words were food and
drink to me, and more than that. Either his thoughts or the magic of his
personality supplied my mind with the essence of growth and vigour which
had hitherto been lacking to it; in a very real sense, Rossetti became my
spiritual father. He taught me things about art that I had never imagined;
opened to me a new heaven and a new earth and, above all, showed me that my
craft, too, had artistic possibilities in it that I had never dreamed of
before. {64}
"I shall never forget the moment when he first planted the seed in me
that has grown and grown till it has filled my life. It was in my parlour
behind the shop. He had been talking in his eager, vivid way, pouring out
truths and thoughts, epigrams and poetry, as a great jeweller sometimes
pours gems from hand to hand. I had sat listening open-mouthed, trying to
remember as much as I could, to assimilate some small part of all that
word-wealth. He suddenly stopped, and we smoked on for a few minutes in
silence; then he broke out again:
"'Do you know, my solemn friend,' he said abruptly, 'that I struck an
idea the other day which might suit you. I was reading one of Walter
Scott's novels: that romantic stuff of his amuses me, you know, though it
isn't as deep as the sea. Well, I found out that, about a hundred years
ago, a man like you made what they call Claude-glasses. I suppose they
were merely rose-tinted,' he laughed, 'but at any rate, they were supposed
to make everything beautiful in a Claude-like way. Now, why shouldn't you
make such glasses? It would do Englishmen a lot of good to see things
rose-tinted for a while. Then, too, you might make Rossetti-glasses,' he
went on, laughingly, 'and, if these dull Saxons could only get a glimpse of
the passion that possesses him, it would wake them up, I know. Why not go
to work, my friend, at something worth doing? Do you know,' he continued
seriously, 'there might be something in it. I don't believe, if I had had
your glasses at the beginning, I should ever have been the artist I am. I
mean,' he said, talking half to himself, 'if my eyes had been all right
from the beginning, I might perhaps have been contented with what I saw.
But as my eyes were imperfect I {65} tried to see things as my soul saw
them, and so invented looks and gestures that the real world would never
have given me."
"I scarcely understood what he meant," said Mr. Penry, "but his words
dwelt with me: the ground had been prepared for them; he had prepared it;
and at once they took root in me and began to grow. I could not get the
idea of the Claude-glasses and the Rossetti-glasses out of my head, and at
last I advertised for a pair of those old Claude-glasses, and in a month or
so a pair turned up.
"You may imagine that while I was waiting, time hung heavy on my
hands. I longed to be at work; I wanted to realize the idea that had come
to me while Rossetti was talking. During my acquaintance with him, I had
been to his studio a dozen times, and had got to know and admire that type
of woman's beauty which is now connected with his name; the woman, I mean,
with swanlike throat and languid air and heavy-lidded eyes, who conveys to
all of us now something of Rosetti's insatiable passion. But, while I was
studying his work and going about steeped in the emotion of it, I noticed
one day half a dozen girls whom Rossetti could have taken as models. I had
begun, in fact, to see the world as Rossetti saw it; and this talk of his
about the Claude-glasses put the idea into my head that I might, indeed, be
able to make a pair of spectacles which would enable people to see the
world as Rossetti saw it and as I saw it when Rossetti's influence had
entire possession of me. This would be a great deal easier to do, I said
to myself, than to make a pair of Claude-glasses; for, after all, I did not
know what Claude's eyes were really like and I did know the peculiarity of
Rossetti's eyes. I accordingly began to study the disparate quality in
Rossetti's {66} eyes and, after making a pair of spectacles that made my
eyes see unequally to the same degree, I found that the Rossettian vision
of things was sharpened and intensified to me. From that moment on, my
task was easy. I had only to study any given pair of eyes and then to
alter them so that they possessed the disparity of Rossetti's eyes and the
work was half done. I found, too, that I could increase this disparity a
little and, in proportion as I increased it, I increased also the
peculiarity of what I called the Rossettian view of things; but, if I made
the disparity too great, everything became blurred again.
"My researches had reached this point, when the pair of old Claude-
glasses came into my hands. I saw at a glance that the optician of the
eighteenth century had no knowledge of my work. He had contented himself,
as Rossetti had guessed, with colouring the glasses very delicately and in
several tints; in fact, he had studied the colour-peculiarities of the eye
as I had studied its form-peculiarities. With this hint, I completed my
work. It took me only a few days to learn that Rossetti's view of colour
was just as limited, or, I should say, just as peculiar, as his view of
form; and, when I once understood the peculiarities of his colour-sight, I
could reproduce them as easily as I could reproduce the peculiarities of
his vision of form. I then set to work to get both these peculiarities
into half a dozen different sets of glasses.
"The work took me some six or eight months; and, when I had done my
best, I sent a little note round to Rossetti and awaited his coming with
painful eagerness, hope and fear swaying me in turn. When he came, I gave
him a pair of the spectacles; and, when he put them on and looked out into
the street, I watched him. He was surprised --- that I could see --- {67}
and more than a little puzzled. While he sat thinking, I explained to him
what the old Claude-glasses were like and how I had developed his
suggestion into this present discovery.
"'You are an artist, my friend,' he cried at last, 'and a new kind of
artist. If you can make people see the world as Calude saw it and as I see
it, you can go on to make them see it as Rembrandt saw it and Velasquez.
You can make the dullards understand life as the greatest have understood
it. But that is impossible,' he added, his face falling: 'that is only a
dream. You have got my real eyes, therefore you can force others to see as
I see; but you have not the real eyes of Rembrandt, or Velasquez, or
Titian; you have not the physical key to the souls of the great masters of
the past; and so your work can only apply to the present and to the future.
But that is enough, and more than enough,' he added quickly. 'Go on: there
are Millais' eyes to get too; and Corot's in France, and half a dozen
others; and glad I shall be to put you on the scent. You will do wonderful
things, my friend, wonderful things.'
"I was mightily uplifted by his praise and heart-glad, too, in my own
way; but resolved at the same time not to give up the idea of making
Velasquez-glasses and Rembrandt-glasses; for I had come to know and to
admire these masters through Rossetti's talk. He was always referring to
them, quoting them, so to say; and, for a long time past, I had accustomed
myself to spend a couple of afternoons each week in our National Gallery,
in order to get some knowledge of the men who were the companions of his
spirit.
"For nearly a year after this, I spent every hour of my {68} spare
time studying in the National; and at last it seemed to me that I had got
Titian's range of colour quite as exactly as the old glasses had got
Claude's. But it was extraordinarily difficult to get his vision of form.
However, I was determined to succeed; and, with infinite patience and after
numberless attempts, success began slowly to come to me. To cut a long
story short, I was able, in eight or ten years, to construct these four or
five different sorts of glasses. Claude-glasses and Rossetti-glasses, of
course; and also Titian-glasses, Velasquez-glasses and Rembrandt-glasses;
and again my mind came to anchor in the work accomplished. Not that I
stopped thinking altogether; but that for some time my thoughts took no new
flight, but hovered round and about the known. As soon as I had made the
first pair of Rossetti-glasses, I began to teach my assistant, Williams,
how to make them too, in order to put them before the public. We soon got
a large sale for them. Chelsea, you know --- old Chelsea, I mean --- is
almost peopled with artists, and many of them came about me and began to
make my shop a rendezvous, where they met and brought their friends and
talked; for Rossetti had a certain following, even in his own lifetime.
But my real success came with the Titian-glasses. The great Venetian's
romantic view of life and beauty seemed to exercise an irresistible
seduction upon every one, and the trade in his glasses soon became
important.
"My home life at this time was not as happy as it had been. In those
long years of endless experiment, my daughters had grown up and married,
and my wife, I suppose, widowed of her children, wanted more of my time and
attention, just when I was taken away by my new work and began to give {69}
her less. She used to complain at first; but, when she saw that complaints
did not alter me, she retired into herself, as it were; and I saw less and
less of her. And then, when my work was done and my new trade established,
my shop, as I have told you, became the rendezvous for artists, and I grew
interested in the frank, bright faces and the youthful, eager voice, and
renewed my youth in the company of the young painters and writers who used
to seek me out. Suddenly, I awoke to the fact that my wife was ill, very
ill, and, almost before I had fully realised how weak she was, she died.
The loss was greater than I would have believed possible. She was gentle
and kind, and I missed her every day and every hour. I think that was the
beginning of my dislike for the shop, the shop that had made me neglect
her. The associations of it reminded me of my fault; the daily
requirements of it grew irksome to me.
"About this time, too, I began to miss Rossetti and the vivifying
influences of his mind and talk. He went into the country a great deal and
for long periods I did not see him, and, when at length we met, I found
that the virtue was going out of him: he had become moody and irritable, a
neuropath. Of course, the intellectual richness in him could not be hidden
altogether: now and then, he would break out and talk in the old magical
way:
And conjure wonder out of emptiness,
Till mean things put on beauty like a dress
And all the world was an enchanted place.
But, more often, he was gloomy and harassed, and it saddened and oppressed
me to meet him. The young artists who came {70} to my shop did not fill
his place; they chattered gaily enough, but none of them was a magician as
he had been, and I began to realise that genius such as his is one of the
rarest gifts in the world.
"I am trying, with all brevity, to explain to you the causes of my
melancholy and my dissatisfaction: but I don't think I have done it very
convincingly; and yet, about this time, I had grown dissatisfied, ill at
ease, restless. And once again my hear-emptiness drove me to work and
think. The next step forward came inevitably from the last one I had
taken.
"While studying the great painters, I had begun to notice that there
was a certain quality common to all of them, a certain power they all
possessed when working at highest pressure: the power of seeing things as
they are --- the vital and essential truth of things. I don't mean to say
that all of them possessed this faculty to the same degree. Far from it.
The truth of things to Titian is overlaid with romance: he is memorable
mainly for his magic of colour and beauty; while Holbein is just as
memorable for his grasp of reality. But compare Titian with Giorgione or
Tintoretto, and you will see that his apprehension of the reality of things
is much greater than theirs. It is that which distinguishes him from the
other great colourists of Venice. And, as my own view of life grew sadder
and clearer, it came to me gradually as a purpose that I should try to make
glasses that would show the reality, the essential truth of things, as all
the great masters had seen it; and so I set to work again on a new quest.
"About this time, I found out that, though I had many more customers
in my shop, I had not made money out of my {71} artistic enterprises. My
old trade as a spectacle-maker was really the most profitable branch of my
business. The sale of the Rossetti-glasses and the Titian-glasses, which
at first had been very great, fell off quickly as the novelty passed away,
and it was soon apparent that I had lost more than I had gained by my
artistic inventions. But whether I made œ1500 a year, or œ1000 a year, was
a matter of indifference to me. I had doubled that cape of forty which to
me marks the end of youth in a man, and my desires were shrinking as my
years increased. As long as I had enough to satisfy my wants, I was not
greedy of money.
"This new-born desire of mine to make glasses which would show the
vital truth of things soon began to possess me; and, gradually, I left the
shop to take care of itself, left it in the hands of my assistant,
Williams, and spent more and more time in the little workshop at the back,
which had been the theatre of all my achievements. I could not tell you
how long I worked at the problem; I only know that it cost me years and
years, and that, as I gave more time and labour to it and more and more of
the passion of my soul, so I came to love it more intensely and to think
less of the ordinary business of life. At length, I began to live in a
sort of dream, possessed by the one purpose. I used to get up at night and
go on with the work and rest in the day. For months together, I scarcely
ate anything, in the hope that hunger might sharpen my faculties; at
another time, I lived almost wholly on coffee, hoping that this would have
the same effect; and, at length, bit by bit, and slowly, I got nearer to
the goal of my desire. But, when I reached it, when I had constructed
glasses that would reveal the naked truth, show things as they were and men
and {72} women as they were, I found that circumstances about me had
changed lamentably.
"In the midst of my work, I had known without realising it that
Williams had left me and started a shop opposite, with the object of
selling the artistic glasses, of which he declared himself the inventor;
but I paid no attention to this at the time, and when, two or three years
afterwards, I awoke again to the ordinary facts of life, I found that my
business had almost deserted me. I am not sure, but I think it was a
notice to pay some debts which I hadn't the money to pay, that first
recalled me completely to the realities of everyday life. What irony there
is in the world! Here was I, who had been labouring for years and years
with the one object of making men see things as they are and men and women
as they are, persecuted now and undone by the same reality which I was
trying to reveal.
"My latest invention, too, was a commercial failure: the new glasses
did not not sell at all. Nine people out of ten in England are truthblind,
and could make nothing of the glasses; and the small minority, who have the
sense of real things, kept complaining that the view of life which my
glasses showed them, was not pleasant: as if that were any fault of mine.
Williams, too, my assistant, did me a great deal of harm. He devoted
himself merely to selling my spectacles; and the tradesman succeeded where
the artist and thinker starved. As soon as he found out what my new
glasses were, he began to treat me contemptuously; talked of me at times as
a sort of half-madman, whose brain was turned by the importance given to
his inventions; and at other times declared that I had never invented
anything at all, for the idea of the artistic {73} glasses had been
suggested by Rossetti. The young painters who frequented his shop took
pleasure in spreading this legend and attributing to Rossetti what Rossetti
would have been the first to disclaim. I found myself abandoned, and hours
used to pass without any one coming into my shop. The worst of it was
that, when chance gave me a customer, I soon lost him: the new glasses
pleased no one.
"At this point, I suppose, if I had been gifted with ordinary
prudence, I should have begun to retrace my steps; but either we grow more
obstinate as we grow older, or else the soul's passion grows by the
sacrifices we make for it. Whatever the motives of my obstinacy may have
been, the disappointment, the humiliation I went through seemed only to
nerve me to a higher resolution. I knew I had done good work, and the
disdain shown to me drove me in upon myself and my own thoughts."
* * * * *
So much I learned from Mr. Penry in the first few days of our
acquaintance, and then for weeks and weeks he did not tell me any more. He
seemed to regard the rest of his story as too fantastic and improbable for
belief, and he was nervously apprehensive lest he should turn me against
him by telling it. Again and again, however, he hinted at further
knowledge, more difficult experiments, a more arduous seeking, till my
curiosity was all aflame, and I pressed him, perhaps unduly, for the whole
truth.
In those weeks of constant companionship, our friendship had grown
with almost every meeting. It was impossible to escape the charm of
Penry's personality! He was so absorbed in his work, so heedless of the
ordinary vanities and greeds of {74} men, so simple and kindly and
sympathetic, that I grew to love him. He had his little faults, of course,
his little peculiarities; surface irritabilities of temper; moments of
undue depression, in which he depreciated himself and his work; moments of
undue elation, in which he over-estimated the importance of what he had
done. He would have struck most people as a little flighty and uncertain,
I think; but his passionate devotion to his work lifted the soul, and his
faults were, after all, insignificant in comparison with his noble and rare
qualities. I had met no one in life who aroused the higher impulses in me
as he did. It seemed probable that his latest experiments would be the
most daring and the most instructive, and, accordingly, I pressed him to
tell me about them with some insistence, and, after a time, he consented:
"I don't know how it came about," he began, "but the contempt of men
for my researches exercised a certain influence on me, and at length I took
myself seriously to task: was there any reason for their disdain and
dislike? Did these glasses of mine really show things as they are, or was
I offering but a new caricature of truth, which people were justified in
rejecting as unpleasant? I took up again my books on optics and studied
the whole subject anew from the beginning. Even as I worked, a fear grew
upon me: I felt that there was another height before me to climb, and that
the last bit of the road would probably be the steepest of all. ... In the
Gospels," he went on, in a low, reverent voice, "many things are symbolic
and of universal application, and it alway seemed to me significant that
the Hill of Calvary came at the end of the long journey. But I shrank from
another prolonged effort; I said to myself that I couldn't face another
task like {75} the last. But, all the while, I had a sort of uncomfortable
prescience that the hardest part of my life's work lay before me.
"One day, a casual statement stirred me profoundly. The primary
colours, you know, are red, yellow and blue. The colours shown in the
rainbow vary from red to blue and violet; and the vibrations, or lengths,
of the light-waves that give us violet grow shorter and shorter and, at
length, give us red.2 These vibrations can be measured. One day, quite by
chance, I came across the statement that there were innumerable light-waves
longer than those which give violet. At once the question sprang: were
these longer waves represented by colours which we don't see, colours for
which we have no name, colours of which we can form no conception? And was
the same thing true of the waves which, growing shorter and shorter, give
us the sensation of red? There is room, of course, for myriads of colours
beyond this other extremity of our vision. A little study convinced me
that my guess was right; for all the colours which we see are represented
to our sense of feeling in degrees of heat: that is, blue shows one reading
on the thermometer and red a higher reading; and by means of this new
standard, I discovered that man's range of vision is not even placed in the
middle of the register of heat, but occupies a little space far up towards
the warmer extremity of it. There are thousands of degrees of cold lower
than blue and hundreds of degrees of heat above red. All these gradations
are doubtless represented by colours which no human eye can perceive, no
human mind can imagine. It is with sight as with sound. We know now that
there are noises louder than thunder which we cannot hear, the roar that
lies on the other side of silence. We {76} men are poor restless
prisoners, hemmed in by our senses as by the walls of a cell, hearing only
a part of nature's orchestra and that part imperfectly; seeing only a
thousandth part of the colour-marvels about us and seeing that
infinitesimal part incorrectly and partially. Here was new knowledge with
a vengeance! Knowledge that altered all my work! How was I to make
glasses to show all this? Glasses that would reveal things as they are and
must be to higher beings --- the ultimate reality. At once, the new quest
2 WEH Note: It's the other way around. The wavelength of the
violet end of the spectrum is shorter than that of the red end.
became the object of my life and, somehow or other I knew before I began
the work that the little scraps of comfort or of happiness which I had
preserved up to this time, I should now forfeit. I realised with shrinking
and fear, that this new inquiry would still further remove me from the
sympathy of my fellows.
"My prevision was justified. I had hardly got well to work --- that
is, I had only spent a couple of years in vain and torturing experiments
--- when I was one day arrested for debt. I had paid no attention to the
writ; the day of trial came and went without my knowing anything about it;
and there was a man in possession of my few belongings before I understood
what was going on. Then I was taught by experience that to owe money is
the one unforgivable sin in the nation of shopkeepers. My goods were sold
up and I was brought to utter destitution" --- the old man paused --- "and
then sent to prison because I could not pay."
"But," I asked, "did your daughters do nothing? Surely, they could
have come to your help?"
"Oh! they were more than kind," he replied simply, "the eldest
especially, perhaps because she was childless herself. I called her
Gabrielle," he added, lingering over the name; {77} "she was very good to
me. As soon as she heard the news, she paid my debt and set me free. She
bought things, too, and fitted out two nice rooms for me and arranged
everything again quite comfortably; but you see," he went on with a timid,
depreciating smile, "I tired out even her patience: I could not work at
anything that brought in money and I was continually spending money for my
researches. The nice furniture went first; the pretty tables and chairs
and then the bed. I should have wearied an angel. Again and again,
Gabrielle bought me furniture and made me tidy and comfortable, as she
said, and again and again, like a spendthrift boy, I threw it all away.
How could I think of tables and chairs, when I was giving my life to my
work? Besides, I always felt that the more I was plagued and punished, the
more certain I was to get out the best in me: solitude and want are the
twin nurses of the soul."
"But didn't you wish to get any recognition, any praise?" I broke in.
"I knew by this time," he answered, "that, in proportion as my work
was excellent, I should find fewer to understand it. How many had I seen
come to praise and honour while Rossetti fell to nerve-disease and madness;
and yet his work endures and will endure, while theirs is already
forgotten. The tree that grows to a great height wins to solitude even in
a forest: its highest outshoots find no companions save the winds and
stars. I tried to console myself with such similes as this," he went on,
with a deprecatory smile, "for the years passed and I seemed to come no
nearer to success. At last, the way opened for me a little, and, after
eight or ten years of incessant experiment, I found that partial success
was all I {78} should ever accomplish. Listen! There is not one pair of
eyes in a million that could ever see what I had taught myself to see, for
the passion of the soul brings with it its own reward. After caring for
nothing but truth for twenty years, thinking of nothing but truth, and
wearying after it, I could see it more clearly than other men: get closer
to it than they could. So the best part of my labour --- I mean the
highest result of it --- became personal, entirely personal, and this
disappointed me. If I could do no good to others by it, what was my labour
but a personal gratification? And what was that to me --- at my age! I
seemed to lose heart, to lose zest. ... Perhaps it was that old age had
come upon me, that the original sum of energy in me had been spent, that my
bolt was shot. It may be so.
"The fact remains that I lost the desire to go on, and, when I had
lost that, I woke up, of course, to the ordinary facts of life once again.
I had no money: I was weak from semi-starvation and long vigils,
prematurely old and decrepit. Once more, Gabrielle came to my assistance.
She fitted up this room, and then I went out to sell my glass, as a pedlar.
I bought the tray and made specimens of all the spectacles I had made, and
hawked them about the streets. Why shouldn't I? No work is degrading to
the spirit, none, and I could not be a burden to the one I loved, now I
knew that my best efforts would not benefit others. I did not get along
very well: the world seemed strange to me, and men a little rough and hard.
Besides, the police seemed to hate me; I don't know why. Perhaps, because
I was poor, and yet unlike the poor they knew. They persecuted me, and the
magistrates before whom they brought me always believed them and never {79}
believed me. I have been punished times without number for obstruction,
though I never annoyed any one. The police never pretended that I had
cheated or stolen from any one before; but, after all, this latest charge
of theirs brought me to know you and gave me your friendship; and so I feel
that all the shame has been more than made up to me."
My heart burned within me as he spoke so gently of his unmerited
sufferings. I told him I was proud of being able to help him. He put his
hand on mine with a little smile of comprehension.
A day or two later curiosity awoke in me again, and I asked him to let
me see a pair of the new glasses, those that show the ultimate truth of
things.
"Perhaps, some day," he answered quietly. I suppose my face fell,
for, after a while, he went on meditatively: "There are faults in them, you
see, shortcomings and faults in you, too, my friend. Believe me, if I were
sure that they would cheer or help you in life, I would let you use them
quickly enough; but I am beginning to doubt their efficacy. Perhaps the
truth of things is not for man."
* * * * *
When we entered the court on the day of Penry's trial, Morris and
myself were of opinion that the case would not last long and that it would
certainly be decided in our favour. The only person who seemed at all
doubtful of the issue was Penry himself. He smiled at me, half pityingly,
when I told him that in an hour we should be on our way home. The waiting
seemed interminable, but at length the case was called. The counsel for
the prosecution got up and talked perfunctorily for five minutes, with a
sort of careless unconcern that seemed to {80} me callous and unfeeling.
Then he began to call his witnesses. The workman, I noticed, was not in
the court. His evidence had been rather in favour of the accused, and the
prosecution, on that account, left it out. But Mr. 'Allett, as he called
himself, of 'Igh 'Olborn, was even more voluble and vindictive than he had
been at the police-court. He had had time to strengthen his evidence, too,
to make it more bitter and more telling, and he had used his leisure
malignantly. It seemed to me that every one should have seen his spite and
understood the vileness of his motives. But no; again and again, the judge
emphasised those parts of his story which seemed to tell most against the
accused. The judge was evidently determined that the jury should not miss
any detail of the accusation, and his own bias appeared to me iniquitous.
But there was a worse surprise in store for us. After Hallett, the
prosecution called a canon of Westminster, a stout man, with heavy jowl and
loose, suasive lips, Canon Bayton. He told us how he had grown interested
in Penry and in his work, and how he had bought all his earlier glasses,
the Rossetti-glasses, as he called them. The cannon declared that these
artistic glasses threw a very valuable light on things, redeemed the
coarseness and commonness of life and made reality beautiful and charming.
He was not afraid to say that he regarded them as instruments for good; but
the truth-revealing glasses seemed to excite his utmost hatred and
indignation. He could not find a good word to say for them: they only
showed, he said, what was terrible and brutal in life. When looking
through them, all beauty vanished, the charming flesh-covering fell away
and you saw the death's-head grinning at you. Instead of parental
affection, you found personal vanity; instead of the {81} tenderness of the
husband for the wife, gross and common sensuality. All high motives
withered, and, instead of the flowers of life, you were compelled to look
at the wormlike roots and the clinging dirt. He concluded his evidence by
assuring the jury that they would be doing a good thing if they put an end
to the sale of such glasses. The commerce was worse than fraudulent, he
declared; it was a blasphemy against God and an outrage on human nature.
The unctuous canon seemed to me worse than all the rest; but the effect he
had on the jury was unmistakable, and our barrister, Symonds, refused to
cross-examine him. To do so, he said, would only strengthen the case for
the prosecution, and I have no doubt that he was right, for Morris agreed
with him.
But even the prosecuting witnesses did not hurt us more than the
witnesses for the defence. Mr. Penry had been advised by Mr. Morris to
call witnesses to his character, and he had called half a dozen of the most
respectable tradesmen of his acquaintance. One and all did him harm rather
than good; they all spoke of having known him twenty years before, when he
was well-to-do and respectable. They laid stress upon what they called
"his fall in life." They all seemed to think that he had neglected his
business and come to ruin by his own fault. No one of them had the
faintest understanding of the man, or of his work. It was manifest from
the beginning that these witnesses damaged our case, and this was
apparently the view of the prosecuting barrister, for he scarcely took the
trouble to cross-examine them.
It was with a sigh of relief that I saw Mr. Penry go into the box to
give evidence on his own behalf. Now, I thought, {82} the truth will come
to light. He stated everything with the utmost clearness and precision;
but no one seemed to believe him. The wish to understand him was
manifestly wanting in the jury, and from the beginning the judge took sides
against him. From time to time, he interrupted him just to bring out what
he regarded as the manifest falseness of his testimony.
"You say that these glasses show truth," he said. "Who wants to see
truth?"
"Very few," was Penry's reply.
"Why, then, did you make the glasses," went on the judge, "if you knew
that they would disappoint people?'
"I thought it my duty to," replied Penry.
"Your duty to disappoint and anger people?" retorted the judge, "a
strange view to take of duty. And you got money for this unpleasant duty,
didn't you?"
"A little," was Penry's reply.
"Yes; but still you got money," persisted the judge. "You persuaded
people to buy your glasses, knowing that they would be disappointed in
them, and you induced them to give you money for the disappointment. Have
you anything else to urge in your defence?"
I was at my wit's end; I scarcely knew how to keep quiet in my seat.
It seemed to me so easy to see the truth. But even Penry seemed
indifferent to the result, indifferent to a degree that I could scarcely
explain or excuse. This last question, however, of the judge aroused him.
As the harsh, contemptuous words fell upon the ear, he leaned forward, and,
selecting a pair of spectacles, put them on and peered round the court. I
noticed that he was slightly flushed. In a {83} moment or two, he took the
glasses off and turned to the judge:
"My lord," he said, "you seem determined to condemn me, but, if you do
condemn me, I want you to do it with some understanding of the facts. I
have told you that there are very few persons in this country who have any
faculty for truth, and that the few who have, usually have ruined their
power before they reach manhood. You scoff and sneer at what I say, but
still it remains the simple truth. I looked round the court just now to
see if there was any one here young enough, ingenuous enough, pure enough,
to give evidence on my behalf. I find that there is no one in the court to
whom I can appeal with any hope of success. But, my lord, in the room
behind this court there is a child sitting, a girl with fair hair, probably
your lordship's daughter. Allow me to call her as a witness, allow her to
test the glasses and say what she sees through them, and then you will find
that these glasses do alter and chang | | |
