by Dion Fortune
“What does Persephone do to me?”
“She is the queen of the unborn. I took you right back to childhood—and earlier. I made you as the unborn in order to rest you.”
“That is the psychology of dementia praecox.”
“And it is sound psychology, Rupert. If people would go back to Persephone when they needed to, they would not get dementia Praecox. That is the thing you get when life is too hard for you.”
“I've been pretty near it, these last few days. In fact I believe I actually had it. Then the clouds lifted for a moment and I bolted round here. If they had found me in the morning as I was this evening, they'd have taken me off to the asylum.”
“You remember the words in the ritual—“They are the living dead, who are orphaned of the Great Mother?” Isn't that dementia praecox? The living dead?”
“Yes, it felt like that.”
“And now, in actual life, you have worked the Persephone ritual with me. You have taken refuge in the shelter of my aura. Presently when you are rested, I will give birth to you, and you will return to the world and take up your life again. But you have got to become as the unborn before I can do that.”
“Yes, I know. Complete surrender. That is what I would
not face, and that was why I came so low.”
He rolled over on his side in the big chair, drew his knees up to his chest, crossed his arms onto his shoulders and bent his head over them. I wondered what in the world was happening.
“Ever seen a foetus, Lilith? I've been lying curled up like that all day. Didn't want to move. Nothing seemed to matter. Then suddenly I felt a tremendous longing for you and I uncoiled and simply bolted, for it struck me that I had seen people in asylums lying like that, and I was scared.”
Listen, Rupert !” and I began to sing with power:
I am the star that rises from the sea,
The twilight sea.
I bring men dreams that rule their destiny.
I bring the moon-tides to the souls of men,
The tides that flow and ebb and flow again;
That flow and ebb and flow alternately;
These are my secret, these belong to me.
I am the Eternal Woman, I am she -
The tides of all men's souls belong to me.
The tides that flow and ebb and flow again;
The secret, silent tides that govern men;
These are my secret, these belong to me.
Out of my hands he takes his destiny;
Touch of my hands bestows serenity -
These are the moon-tides, these belong to me.
Isis in Heaven, on earth Persephone,
Diana of the moon and Hecate,
Veiled Isis, Aphrodite from the sea,
All these am I and they are seen in me.
The high full-moon in the heavens shines clear,
I hear the invoking words. hear and appear -
Shaddai el Chai and Rhea, Binah, Ge,
I come unto the priest that calleth me.
“That's not the Persephone point,” said Malcolm.
“No, it's not,” said I.
He lay in silence for a while. At length he spoke.
“What you say is perfectly true, and I know it. My destiny is in your hands, but I'm not free to take it—I'm not free, Lilith!”
The last words were like a cry of pain.
“The soul is never bound, Rupert.”
I spoke quietly, trying to steady him, for he was in no state to lose his head.
“You mean that if my soul were free, it would not matter about my legal and moral obligations?”
“The only bond on the inner planes is function. Are you in touch with your wife on the inner planes?”
No, I am not.”
“Then you can fulfil all righteousness and yet keep your inner freedom.”
“I am not sure that I understand you.”
“Never mind about that now. Just take my word for it.”
“All right.” There was a pause. Then—“That's the first time I've accepted anyone's diagnosis without verifying it. Sing to me again, Lilith. That helps more than talking. I can't take in what you're telling me.”
So I sang for him again the song of the sleep of Persephone, but I sang it to the end, which he had not heard before.
Sink down, sink down, sink deeper and more deep
Into eternal and primordial sleep.
Sink down, be still, forget and draw apart
Sink into the inner earth's most secret heart.
Drink of the waters of Persephone,
The secret well beside the sacred tree.
Waters of life and strength and inner light -
Eternal joy drawn from the deeps of night.
Then rise, made strong, with life and hope renewed,
Reborn from darkness and from solitude.
Blessed with the blessing of Persephone,
And secret strength of Rhea, Binah, Ge.
Malcolm uncoiled himself from his huddled-up position.
“My condition has definitely improved,” he said. “I've been lying like that all day and not bothered, and now I'm cramped already. That song has power in it, Lilith. I could see everything you sang about, and when you called me up, I had to come. I couldn't lie in a heap any longer. I felt that joy, Lilith. I never thought I should again, but I did. Listen, I'll tell you what happened down at Worthing during this past week. I want to tell you, I want you to know. Any one else would think me a monster, but you'll understand. You don't think a man's morally guilty because of his feelings, do you? It is what he does that counts, isn't it? He can't help what he feels. I can't anyway, and it's no use pretending I can. It comes up from deep down inside me and I have to cope with it as best I may.
“This is what happened—I got a trunk call, just as I was coming round to see you, to say that my wife had had a stroke and wasn't expected to live through the night. If that call had come five minutes later I should have been out of the house and round here and they wouldn't have known where to lay hands on me.
“Well, I went down straight away, and got there in time. I told you on the phone that I couldn't imagine what she was doing with a stroke, as low blood pressure was her problem, and I was right. It wasn't a stroke, it was an embolus. They were quite right about her not lasting the night, though, she was going fast. There was just one chance—operate. It was a poor chance, but she was dying anyway, and I decided to take it. Jenkins, that's her doctor, agreed with my diagnosis when I pointed it out to him, but he was all against an operation. However, I made him get hold of a surgeon; he had to get hold of a local man, there was no time to send to London.”
“The surgeon was against the op.; firstly because he didn't think she'd stand it, and secondly because he'd had no experience of brain surgery, but he agreed to do it provided I'd take the responsibility and pilot him. I didn't mind that, that's one of my jobs, for I know brains in a way no surgeon does. We started in at nine o'clock that night. We were a scratch team. The surgeon was no brain surgeon; I'm no surgeon anyway; anaesthetics are a side line with Jenkins; the nurse had never seen an op. since she was a pro., and we were operating in a private house. However, it was a first-class job. She was out of the wood by next morning—I thought she was, anyway, but I stopped on another twentyfour hours to please Jenkins, and when I left she was sitting up in bed with budgerigars walking about all over her.
“Well, I got back to my rooms, meaning to leave my bag and have a wash and come round and see you, when all of a sudden the storm broke. I suppose it was the atmosphere of my rooms did it—I begin to realise what atmospheres mean now you've pointed it out to me. I went to those rooms when I had to break up my home, and I've been through a lot in them—depression, and all that; I suppose that they are as psychically septic as the surgical wards in the old infirmaries before the days of Lister. Anyway, I went down as if I'd been pole-axed. I can't tell you what I went through, Lilith. I had a most awful revulsion of fe
eling.”
“You see, I'd only had to keep quiet for a few hours and all my problems would have solved themselves. Every one was against that op.; Jenkins didn't believe it possible; the surgeon didn't want to risk it; the nurse looked down her nose; the companion carried on like a maniac, calling me a brute and a butcher and the Lord knows what else. There would have been no odium attached to me if I'd kept quiet and let her die. In fact, Jenkins even said to me: “It won't be pleasant for you if she dies on the table.” Yet what could I do? I knew she'd got a chance. Could I deny it her? Lilith, do you think me a fool?”
“No,” I said. “Far from it. I have never known a bigger thing than that operation.”
“I'm glad to hear you say that. I think I'd have turned my face to the wall for good if you'd said otherwise—I could feel the shadows closing in again for a moment. Yes, I suppose it was a big thing to do in the circumstances—it was too big for me, anyway. I'd bitten off more than I could chew. I didn't know it at the time, I was feeling rather pleased with myself, in fact. It was a jewel of an operation—a regular museum specimen—there was no holding the surgeon—I can't even remember the chap's name, but he was good, I'd never ask to work with a better—funny I can't remember his name. I felt quite satisfied about everything until I got back to my rooms, and then I had this awful revulsion of feeling. Lilith, I could have committed a murder when I realised what I'd done! I was past cursing, but if I'd had her there, I'd have killed her. If I'd had you there, my dear, I wouldn't answer for what would have happened to you, either. I wasn't human at that moment, I was a fiend. I haven't got over the horror of myself yet. Luckily it didn't last long. Something gave way inside me, and I became quite quiet and remote and everything seemed unreal and dream-like. I'd got no feelings at all. It seemed most merciful, but I can see now that it wasn't. The absence of pain was a danger signal, as it is in certain other conditions.
“Nothing happened. I got up and went to bed as usual. I even shaved. But I didn't eat my meals. I didn't feel the need of food. I was perfectly comfortable without it. And all the time I seemed to be getting further and further away, and to be caring less and less. I don't suppose I should have bothered to undress and get to bed much longer, but just lain in a heap in my chair—when suddenly I saw your face in front of me, and I had the first touch of feeling I'd had since I'd gone crack. And with the feeling came a sudden flash of realisation, and I knew I was in danger. I knew insanity was very near me. I didn't stop for hat or coat—I've left the lights on, too—I just shot out of my chair and down the stairs. I don't know if anybody saw me, but I hope for their sakes they didn't. You didn't see me at my worst. I was very different by the time I got round here. The worst is over now, but my goodness, Lilith, I feel a wreck! You've only just got me in time, my dear; if I'd gone through another night alone, there'd have been no mending me. Do you think you will be able to get me going again? I feel at the moment as if the only thing I were capable of is just to lie here, near you. If I left you, I'd go under again. What in the name of God are you going to do with me?”
“Keep you here, under my wing, till you're all right.”
“But you can't. There'd be a scandal.”
“Not unless you make it. I certainly shan't.”
“What about Meatyard?”
“He's a walking scandal himself, he won't worry; and anyway, he's very attached to us both. He'll think the worst and be delighted.”
“Lilith, I don't like to put you in such a position. It seems to me I spend my whole life trying to do the right thing and presenting all the appearance of the wrong one. Circumstantial evidence is always dead against me. You simply can't keep me here, Lilith.”
“Oh, can't I? You wait and see.”
“Where am I going to sleep?”
“In my temple.”
“In your temple?”
“Yes, have you never heard of the temple sleep?”
“No, never. What is it?”
“I expect you will call it hypnotism, but it is different from that. I don't use my mind to dominate yours, I use it to lead it. I don't drive you, as English shepherds drive their sheep; I lead you, as Eastern shepherds do. I go out on to the inner planes myself, and make you follow me; and in the same way, I bring you back again.”
“The same as before?”
“Yes, the same as before, only further this time—and your robes are ready.” I lifted the mass of black velvet from where it lay on my workbox beside my knee. “They are just finished. I finished them this evening.” I drew from its wrappings the glittering silver head-dress. “Take these,” I said, “and go to the bathroom and robe. There are no sandals, so you will have to go barefoot. Nothing can be worn in the temple that belongs to everyday life—everything must be left behind—.”Sink down, forget, be still and draw apart.”
Malcolm heaved himself out of the low chair and took his robes from my hands. He did not look at them, but just stood holding them and looking at me.
“You've made these for me yourself?”
“Yes.”
He looked at the long seams.
“By hand?”
“Yes.”
“Magnetised them?”
“They got magnetised in the making.”
“I strip and wear these right next to my skin?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” He looped up the draperies over his arm and went off to the bathroom, moving very differently to the man who had stumbled across the floor an hour earlier.
I too went to my room and robed. I came back to the hall and stood by the hearth, waiting for Malcolm. In a moment or two I saw him coming through the low dark arch of the door beside the chancel, moving silently on bare feet till he stood before me.
I have never seen any human being change so completely. Malcolm was not a tall man, but he was very powerfully built, and his breadth of shoulder and depth of chest took off from his height and made him look shorter than he really was. In his robes he looked exactly twice his natural size. The long draperies lent him the height he lacked. The head-dress exaggerated it. His grim, hard face, tense with expectation, seen beneath the severe lines of the Egyptian nemyss, looked like the face of one of the nether gods. He was the archetypal primitive man. It was as if a gorilla were inside those robes. The only thing he lacked was the broad leather belt and bronze knife of the sacrificing priest. It took all my courage to face him, robed thus, in the half-light of the hall. He gazed at me. I too wore the black velvet and silver head-dress of the dark side of the cult.
“You look like the moon rising at midnight,” he said.
I led the way up the steep stairs, Malcolm following silently in my wake. There was something grim and terrifying about the pad of his bare feet coming on behind me. I wondered how often I had gone down the long underground way from the white to the black temple with those softly padding feet following after. From the human point of view I was taking a long chance with Malcolm. On his own showing he had been well over the borderline of insanity. If I pushed him over that borderline again, murder would be merciful compared to what he would do to me. But I had no fear. Not the slightest quiver of uneasiness or even tension was in mind or body. I was the priestess of Isis tonight, and a mistress of all magic.
We came to the temple, and for the third time I lifted the curtain for him and he crossed the threshold. Unbidden, he went up to the cubical altar and laid his hands on it, staring down at the faintly flickering lamp. With the small silver ritual tongs I changed the wick and the light leaped up. From it, with a taper in a silver holder, I took the flame to the moon-lamp before the mirror. Then I got the incense going over the incense heater, transferred it to the censer and censed the temple. All this time Malcolm never stirred. Finally I came and stood at his elbow. He raised his eyes and saw me reflected in the mirror beside him.
It was a strange and dramatic picture that was reflected in the great mirror which took up the whole of one section of the wall. Framed between the pil
lars of polarity, the black and the silver pillars that flanked the couch altar, we stood side by side. Exactly matched as to height—for I am tall for a woman—but the one broad and powerful, the archetype of primitive strength, the other slender in the swathing draperies. Each one the exact opposite of the other in every aspect of being.
Malcolm stared at himself in the glass.
“Yes, that's me,” he said. “I know it.”
“The Goddess will come presently. When She comes, ask Her for strength.”
“I don't need strength, Lilith, I've got plenty. What I need is understanding. May I ask Her for that?”
“Yes, if you feel you can stand it at the present moment.” It was not for me to hold him back. “Come to the couch,” I said, and he followed me.
I spread a fur rug over him, for although the temple was warm, he would be there for hours, and one gets cold, lying like that. He folded his hands on his breast and looked like a dead man on a bier. If anything happened to him there, I wondered how I should explain the stripped and robed Malcolm to the coroner, for there is always a chance of something happening on the further astral journeys. There are times when people go out and don't come back.
I did not fetch the stool this time to put behind his head, but carried across one of the thrones, for I too should be there for hours, and I wanted some support for my back.
Malcolm started when he saw me carrying it.
“Why didn't you let me fetch that for you?” he said.
But I had never thought of it. My strength was upon me for the rite, and I had picked up the great chair as if it had been a foot-stool.
The incense was smoking steadily. The newly-lit wicks had ceased flaring, and we settled down to our vigil. I put out my hand and struck softly nine times upon a rod-shaped gong that hung beside the altar. I heard the astral bells reply, and I knew from Malcolm's start that he had heard them too. Our eyes met in the mirror.
“You are the Goddess,” he said. “Do I pray to you?”
