222
conditions, and teaching the boys from the start that they were brought into the world in order to 
rule it, produced a class of men who were like Old Testament heroes. (Under George III we had a 
rehearsal. Can it be that long prosperous 
{370} 
reigns favour the production of such men? We had another crop under Elizabeth, when the 
restoration of the abbeys to the people of England gave a chance to the development of a daring 
and dominant breed.) But the influences which are commonly called civilized attenuate the 
aristocratic spirit. 
The existence of a common scold is a definite system of imminent death in any community. The 
Indian renegades, from Lajpat Rai to Gandhi, are merely evidence that the sahib has given place to 
the competition wallah. India has not progressed in the last thousand years and will not in the next 
thousand. The biological impulse is expended. India was nature's attempt to construct a nation of 
diverse elements by welding them in a religious and moral system. It might have succeeded had it 
been secure against invasion. But while India has always conquered her conquerors (imposing, for 
example, the cast system on the English), the invaders interfered with the process of growth and 
diverted the national trend from unity. 
A nation lives by its architecture; when it comes to consciousness of its soul, it feels that it has to 
build a house for that soul to life in. Such buildings must be utterly useless; the soul will not live in 
a Woolworth Building --- that is inhabited by the unclean spirit whose name is Legion, and that is 
the evidence that America, with all its material prosperity, has no soul. Nor is a man rich while he 
confines his purchases to things which are useful. 
The love of my wife had made me the richest man on earth and developed my human soul to its full 
stature. I could afford to build a temple to love, and that of course had to be stupendous, useless 
and immortal. I made one disconcerting discovery, though not till long afterwards; this: that the 
erotic poetry does not spring from supreme satisfaction. Indeed, my life was a perfect lyric and left 
no surplus energy to overflow into words. I wrote nothing. The temple had to be, as I have said, and 
I could only think of constructing a long beautiful objectless journey. As soon as the summer showed 
signs of waning, we started on a hypertrophied honeymoon. We pretended to ourselves that we 
were going big-game shooting in Ceylon and to pay a visit to Allan at Rangoon (where he had now 
removed from Akyab), but the real object was to adorn the celebration of our love by setting it in a 
thousand suave and sparkling backgrounds. As my poetry had petered out, so had my Magick and my 
meditation. I let them go without a pang. I was supremely happy; love filled the universe; there was 
no room for anything else. 
I had not kept a diary. Day followed day, each a fresh facet of the diamond of delight. All I 
remember is that we made our preparations in London, trying and buying guns, giving dinners, and 
so on. We dazzled Paris for a day or two, but not without one sever shock. 
Rose and I were walking towards the Pont Alexandre III when it met 
{371} 
Vestigia, as we always called Mrs. Mathers. I had not seen her for a long time and we started an 
animated conversation. I noticed nothing peculiar. I do not live in the world of phenomena: I only 
visit it at rare intervals. I had forgotten Rose's existence. When Vistigia had gone, I realized that I 
had not introduced her to my wife. She did not ask me who it was. I told her. "Oh," said she, "I 
thought it was some model that you knew in the old days." 
The words came as a terrific shock. Vestigia had been our ideal of refinement, purity, spirituality 
and the rest. And then my mind informed me of what my eyes had seen, that Vestigia was painted 
thickly to the eyes --- did I say painted? I mean plastered. Where the camouflages stopped, there 
was a neck which could not have been washed for months. I learnt later that Mathers, falling upon 
evil times, had forced his wife to pose naked in one of the Montmartre shows which are put on for