tever they were or were
not, her genius had come, insisted upon it; for influx of some kind there
must always be. Did they dread heresy, or had they no purpose but the
greatest possible immediate effect?

XX

At the British Museum reading room I often saw a man of thirty-six, or
thirty-seven, in a brown velveteen coat, with a gaunt resolute face, and
an athletic body, who seemed before I heard his name, or knew the nature
of his studies, a figure of romance. Presently I was introduced, where or
by what man or woman I do not remember. He was called Liddle Mathers, but
would soon, under the touch of "The Celtic Movement," become Macgregor
Mathers, and then plain Macgregor. He was the author of _The Kabbala
Unveiled_, and his studies were two only--magic and the theory of war, for
he believed himself a born commander and all but equal in wisdom and in
power to that old Jew. He had copied many manuscripts on magic ceremonial
and doctrine in the British Museum, and was to copy many more in
Continental libraries, and it was through him mainly that I began certain
studies and experiences, that were to convince me that images well up
before the mind's eye from a deeper source than conscious or subconscious
memory. I believe that his mind in those early days did not belie his face
and body, though in later years it became unhinged, for he kept a proud
head amid great poverty. One that boxed with him nightly has told me that
for many weeks he could knock him down, though Mathers was the stronger
man, and only knew long after that during those weeks Mathers starved.
With him I met an old white-haired Oxfordshire clergyman, the most
panic-stricken person I have ever known, though Mathers' introduction had
been "he unites us to the great adepts of antiquity." This old man took me
aside that he might say--"I hope you never invoke spirits--that is a very
dangerous thing to do. I am told that even the planetary spirits turn upon
us in the end." I said, "Have you ever seen an apparition?" "O yes, once,"
he said. "I have my alchemical laboratory in a cellar under my house where
the Bishop cannot see it. One day I was walking up and down there when I
heard another footstep walking up and down beside me. I turned and saw a
girl I had been in love with when I was a young man, but she died long
ago. She wanted me to kiss her. O no, I would not do that." "Why not?" I
said. "O she might have got power over me." "Has your alchemical research