Moon Magic

by Dion Fortune

  “Utterly amiable, my dear, utterly amiable. A child could play with me.”

  He retired to the bathroom to collect his sodden rags, and reappeared looking outwardly presentable.

  He took my hand.

  “I don't know what to say to you,” he said. “I don't know what you've done to me, but you've helped me beyond anything I believed was humanly possible.”

  He looked at me for a moment, and then suddenly he dropped on his knees and put his head against me as he had done in my vision; and as I had done in my vision, I held him. Then he rose, and without a word, went out of the door. I watched him, striding away towards the river in the moonlight, looking like a giant refreshed.

  “So much,” thought I, “for Isis in her Persephone aspect.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The next day being Monday, Malcolm had something to think about besides me and my magic, but in the quiet time between tea and the evening meal there came a knock at the door, and there he was. He stood before me and bared his head as if it were a ritual; I thought he was going down on his knees again, but he restrained himself, and followed me silently into my big room and sank into his usual chair beside the fire. He thrust his hand into his breast pocket and threw a bundle of papers into my lap.

  “There's your record,” he said, and lit a cigarette.

  I gathered the papers together and read.

  “When Miss L.F. proposed another experiment I felt no nervousness but sheer pleasure. When she told me she was going to make me a robe, I felt positively inebriated. Lost my head, in fact, for the moment. However, she left me alone to cool my heels and went to get dressed herself. By the time she was dressed, I had calmed down. “She made me stand at the altar and put my hands on it, and put hers there too. It affected me very much to see our two pairs of hands there, I don't know why. It seemed like a kind of union. I don't understand, but it meant a lot. Then she did plain, straightforward, common or garden hypnosis, and that was all there was to it.

  “When I woke up, however, I was in a state in which I have never seen a subject come round from hypnosis. At a guess, my temperature was 103 or 104. I broke immediately into a profuse perspiration, which gave relief, though there was extreme exhaustion, almost amounting to syncope, and my mind was confused as if in slight delirium. I did not know what I was doing or where I was. I can only offer apologies for my subsequent unceremonious behaviour, but I really was not master of myself. “There was marked loss of sensory control of the lower limbs, the kinaesthetic sense being definitely aberrant. It threw much light on the hysterical paralyses and anaesthesias, and was of great interest to me. “I recovered rapidly, however,when I forced myself to move about, and food and drink restored me not only to normal, but to super-normal. I felt magnificent, and still do (3 a.m.). But under all the vitality there is a profound peace and sense of relaxation, and so much happiness that if I had a voice, I

  would sing.

  “I am deeply grateful to Miss L.F. for her patience with me and her kindness to me.

  R.A.M.”

  “ ‘R.A.M.?’ ” said I, “Aries, the Ram—of course you are! Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

  “I got a bit. Two bits, in fact. One as soon as I went to bed, and the other just as it was getting light. But I haven't felt my broken night at all; I've felt fine all day, and still do. I have drunk of the secret well, Miss Le Fay—the water of life.”

  “Did you dream at all?” I asked, for I knew from his words that the subconscious content was working through to the surface.

  “Yes, I did dream, and my dream, and the conclusions I draw from it, are in the rest of those papers you've got. Read them and be done with it, and then you can say whether you mean to throw me out or not. You won't like them, but you stipulated I should be frank, and I have been. Now it's up to you.”

  I turned over the papers and he lit another cigarette. I saw that his hand was not quite steady. Knowing what Malcolm's hands were like, I began to wonder what those papers contained.

  “After leaving the house, I found myself in a very exhilarated condition, a bit above myself, in fact. An impulsive and ill-considered act on my part had met with a more tolerant reception than it deserved, and I was slightly inebriated in consequence. I walked home in this state, but as soon as I entered my own quarters my mood changed suddenly, and I realised I had done an exceedingly foolish thing, one that must never occur again. There was a sudden reaction, and I fell into a self-doubting mood, and became deeply unhappy.

  “Knowing that I should not sleep, I acted on the advice of a colleague I had consulted, and took a sleeping tablet; this being ineffectual, I took another, and got into an unpleasant, nightmarish state between sleeping and waking which I very much dislike. The drug I had taken prevented me from rousing myself, but did not induce complete unconsciousness, and I became very disturbed and apprehensive.

  “Something seemed to tell me insistently that if I would call upon Miss L.F. I would be all right, but this I was unwilling to do, thinking it wiser not.

  “I struggled on in this state for some time, getting more and more desperate, but determined not to give in, when a man suddenly seemed to be standing beside my bed. I didn't see him, but I knew he was there, and I knew what he looked like. He was tall and thin, between fifty and sixty years of age, with a shaven, sunburned head, a hook nose, thin lips, grey eyes, and wore a long straight garment of white pleated cotton or linen with no sleeves. He had gold sandals on his feet, a gold collar round his neck, gold bracelets on his arms, and a gold band round his head. I knew at once that he was the chief priest whom I had worked under, and who had been the only man who had understood me or given me any sympathy. My confidence immediately returned, and I felt an enormous sense of relief. My sleep deepened, and I began to dream in good earnest.

  “I dreamt that I talked over my difficulties with this man, and what he told me amounted to this: that provided I did not mind being sacrificed in the end, everything would be all right. He said I was always to keep the end-sacrifice in view, and I need not fear anything going wrong. He said I lacked faith, I said that I did not lack faith, nor did I fear any consequences to myself; but I did fear, and not without reason, in my opinion, the consequences to other people of the imperfections in myself. He seemed to think that it did not matter, but I was unable to take that view. I asked for some sort of guarantee or promise, but he wouldn't give it. All he would say was: “It doesn't matter.”

  “Then he said a thing which seemed to change my whole outlook, I cannot tell why; but as soon as he said it, apprehension gave place to confidence. He said—not in words, but in ideas that came into my mind—“You will remember what I told you—that next time you will be the priest.”

  “Then I seemed to have a dream within a dream, or rather a very vivid kind of memory picture of this man coming to me just before the torture started that was to put me to death, and saying those words.

  “I woke up with a start, wide awake, no trace of the drug, though its action is normally prolonged. It seemed to me that I had just had a nightmare within my dream of being put to death by torture. I could see the torture chamber and all the rest of it, and yet I knew I hadn't had that nightmare, but only remembered having had it. It is very difficult to describe the impression I received of several different levels of consciousness overlapping each other.

  “Everything seemed to have been cleared up. All my anxiety was gone. I felt quite sure of myself and not in the least apprehensive of any further loss of self-control, which is the thing that has been my great dread, knowing that several times it has only been circumstances that have saved me from making a fool of myself. It seemed to me that as the priest—the genuine priest this time, not the pseudo one—I should have all the power I needed. That I was no longer working blindly in Miss L.F.’s hands, with all the responsibility on her, but that I had the necessary knowledge inside my head and that it would come back to me when occasion recalled it.

  “I
n this optimistic mood I lay down again. I judged it unwise to take another sleeping tablet, but it did not seem to matter whether I slept or not, I was perfectly refreshed and very clear mentally. Feeling thus elated and self-confident, I determined to try an experiment on my own. I recalled in my imagination the scenes Miss L.F. had described when she made me imagine myself going with her into the Temple of Isis and actually seeing the goddess appear. I did this with extraordinary success; in fact it became so vivid that it all seemed real. I was tempted for a moment to imagine Miss L.F. beside me, as she had been on the previous occasion, but resisted the temptation and went on into the temple alone. When I got in there, however, I knew that she was behind the curtain in the Holy of Holies, but I had no right to go in there except at her invitation, and that I might never get that invitation. But on the other hand, I might. That was a point that was not settled yet. I knew this was so, but did not know what it meant, and don't know now.

  “I went down some steep stone steps to a door below the level of the floor. I had the key, it appears, and let myself in. This was my own domain, where I was at home. It was a gloomy, sinister sort of place, but I felt more at home there than in the main part of the temple, just as today I am more at my ease in the path. lab. than in the wards, and get on better with the research men than with the ordinary students. I knew I was an outcast, but an important sort of outcast, and however much they disliked me, they could not get on without me. I am referring to the temple, not the hospital, but it applies equally to the hospital. History repeats itself, if these are really re-incarnation memories. But I am wondering whether they are, or whether they are simply a dramatisation of my inner state. In any case, they serve the same purpose as a psychoanalysis, so I will leave it at that.

  “It is very difficult to describe the state I was in. It was more than a daydream and less than sleep. I could look on at it, and direct it, and yet I was in it and it was happening to me.

  “I imagined myself going down a long underground passage, with water running in a channel at one side. It was monotonous, going down there in the dark, but I found I could speed up my pace till I flew rather than walked; all the same, I had to traverse that passage, I could not cut it short by any act of arbitrary will on my part. Finally I came out into a large cave with a very high roof; I could not see the top of it. I judged it to be a natural cave that had been improved upon. There was a main entrance at one side—it was roughly octagonal—and opposite that was a huge statue of a naked woman cut out of the living rock and not quite detached from it behind. The door by which I entered was alongside her right leg, and my head came about level with the lower edge of her patella, so that by raising my arms I could clasp her knees.

  “The carving of this image was very rough and primitive, and she appeared to be much blackened and discoloured by smoke, as were, in fact, the upper part of the walls of the cave and its roof as far as I could see. The whole build of the woman represented was coarse and massive; she seemed to symbolise crude and brutal animal force. There flashed into my mind the memory of the various insect species, notably spiders, in which the females eat their mates after fertilisation has taken place. This was a destructive brute of a woman, I knew that; but I was her priest, and there it was—I couldn't do anything about it. There was another aspect, a beautiful aspect, of womanhood in the other temple, but I had nothing to do with that. It was with one of the priestesses of this other aspect that I had got infatuated, and this was what had got me into my trouble. The higher grade priests and priestesses used to come down to my cave temple periodically. I don't know why. I had to do some sort of ritual involving blood sacrifice for their benefit, I fancy. They got the benefit, and then cleared out and left the man who did the ritual.

  “I remembered Miss L.F. telling me to pray to Isis, and the remarkable results I got from that prayer; so I prayed to this great image, whom I judged to be a primitive form of Isis. I remember I clasped her knees and got very worked up, pouring out my whole soul to her, ugly monstrosity though she was. Then suddenly she began to change, and instead of rough red sandstone blackened by smoke, she became shining like polished black marble, and I saw that she was Miss L.F., or rather a statue of her, being three or four times life-size. I thought of the words of Scripture—“I am black but comely.” This statue was a most beautiful thing, though jet black. I had a kind of horrified admiration for it. I continued to clasp its knees, but as one would clasp a snake or a fish, I was afraid of it, yet fascinated by it. I knew inwardly that if I could break through my fear and sense of repulsion and throw myself whole-heartedly into the business, it would change into something beautiful, but I was unable to do this.

  “Then the main door opened a few inches, and through the crack there slipped the priestess I was fond of. Naturally I was very pleased to see her, and came down from the platform and went over to her and embraced her. She reciprocated in a gentle kind of way. At any rate, she did not repulse me. I took her hand and led her up onto the platform, and we sat down at the goddess's feet and I embraced her again, with more warmth, and got from her the same kind of gentle response. All this was genuine dream, I was not directing it.

  “Then there was a lot of singing in the distance, and I noticed for the first time that there was a pool of water in the middle of the floor and that it apparently fed the conduit that ran along the passage. Beside the pool was a big stalagmite which I knew was regarded as a sacred object.

  “Then the dream suddenly changed back again, and I was still sitting at the feet of the goddess and caressing the priestess, who was taking everything quite quietly and as a matter of course. Then I woke up.

  “I cannot describe the sense of buoyancy, self-confidence, and sheer happiness with which I awoke. Usually if I have a crude sort of dream I wake up loathing myself, and am despondent for the day; but the crude incidents in this dream I took in my stride in a perfectly matter of fact manner. I recalled the words of my male visitor: “It doesn't matter.” These had evidently taken effect, and taken effect so effectually that it really didn't matter. I was simply frightfully pleased with myself at having had a chance to caress the priestess, and have been able to think of nothing else all day.

  “I hope it will not be thought from this that I have any idea of translating my fantasies into action. I merely mention them, having been requested to do so, and for the psychological significance they possess. I had at first intended to keep them to myself, and prepared the earlier report; but then I saw that this would not work, and that I had got to be frank and abide by the consequences, otherwise I might vitiate the whole experiment and mislead Miss L.F. into a false sense of security.”

  No wonder, thought I, that Malcolm's hand had shaken as he gave this record to me. To a man of his temperament such a confession must have been like pulling teeth.

  He was sitting smoking and staring at the fire, perfectly impassive and matter of fact, looking more like a granite colossus than ever. I wondered how best to handle him. He would not thank me for encouraging him, I knew that. It was not a simple problem to strike the right note, and neither make him feel snubbed nor embarrassed.

  He evidently knew I had finished reading, although I had been careful not to lift my eyes from the page.

  “Well?” he said. “Do I get my marching orders now you see what kind of man I am? I warned you I was not pure-minded.”

  “A man who is as honest as you have been, Dr. Malcolm, is a far more trustworthy friend than self-deluded people who think they have improved on Nature.”

  “You are, of course, perfectly right, only I wasn't sure whether you would know enough of human nature to take it that way. I was not safe to have as a friend when I was trying to pretend to you and myself that I was better than I am. I am in love with you, Miss Le Fay, it would be folly for me to deny it; but it does not follow from that that I am not going to run straight with you, because I am. I tried to get away from you, as you know, when I saw the way things were heading, and how frightfully fo
nd I would get of you if I saw much of you. I was afraid of getting hurt—I have been hurt a good deal in my time. But after our first trip upstairs I was no longer afraid of that. It seems a queer thing to say, but I simply did not mind how much I was hurt. I was afraid of hurting you, however, especially after I had damaged your hands. I was also afraid that I might do or say something that would disgust you, or make me appear repulsive to you. But now all those fears have just vanished. As that old high priest said: it doesn't matter. I feel it doesn't matter—we take it in our stride. I talk to you as man to man, and you do the same with me. We're on to a big thing, and we aren't going to let any petty consideration upset us. I know you're out to avoid genuine evil just as much as I am. I wouldn't do anything to hurt my wife, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt you—I'd cut off my right hand—both hands—first, I know you wouldn't ask me to, and I don't suppose for a moment you'd let me, even if I wanted to—anyway, you'd be a fool if you did, for I'd walk out on you the moment after. So there we are; and if I explode, I explode at a safe distance, and that's my affair.”

  Not a muscle of Malcolm's face twitched, not a tone of his voice changed its timbre during all this recital. He might have been giving out notices to his students.

  For a moment I could not speak.

  “Why don't you answer? he asked.

  “Because,” I said, “I cannot. What you have said has moved me too much.”

  “Is it all right?”

  “Quite all right.”

  “I don't appear repulsive to you?”

  “Far from it. I honour you deeply, Dr. Malcolm. I don't know anything about your professional work, but I can understand why you are considered a great man, not just an eminent man, but a great man.”

  “My dear girl, don't talk nonsense. I simply do my job and fight like the devil with anyone who gets in my way. I only appear great in comparison with fools. It's not my greatness that's the marvel, it's their foolishness. They can't, or won't, see the thing that's poking them in the eye, that's all. Nothing in it, if you only knew. I draw attention to what ought ought to have been obvious.”