372
Towers under the skis; that they had driven me to make the key to my position the absence of the 
manuscript; that they had directed Kenneth Ward's actions for years that he might be the means of 
the discovery, and arranged every detail of the incident in such a way that I should understand it as 
I did. 
Yes; this involves a theory of the powers of the Secret Chiefs so romantic and unreasonable that is 
seems hardly worth a smile of contempt. As it happens, an almost parallel phenomenon came to 
pass ten years later. I propose to quote it here in order to show that the most ordinary events, 
apparently disconnected, are in fact only intelligible by postulating some such people as the Secret 
Chiefs of the A.'. A.'. in possession of some such prevision and power as I ascribe to them. When I 
returned to England at Christmas 1919, all my plans had gone to pieces owing to the dishonesty and 
treachery of a gang which was bullying into insanity my publisher in Detroit. I was pledged in honour 
to look after a certain person; but I was practically penniless. I could not see any possible way of 
carrying on my work. (It will be related in due course how this condition of things came about and 
why it was necessary for me to undergo it.) 
I found myself at Moręt, on the edge of the Forest of Fountainebleau, with nothing to do but wait. I 
did not throw up the sponge in passionate despair as I had done once before, to my shame --- I had 
been rapped sufficiently hard on the knuckles to cure me of that --- but I said to the gods: "Observe, 
I have done my damnedest and here I am at a dead centre. I am not going on muddling through: I 
demand a definite sign from you that I am still your chosen prophet." I therefore note in my diary, 
on January 12th 1920, as follows: 
{598} 
I am inclined to make my Silence include all forms of personal work, and this is very hard to give up, 
if only because I am still afraid of "failure", which is absurd. I ought evidently to be non-attached 
even to avoiding the Woes-Attendant-Upon-Refusing-The-Curse-Of-My-Grade, if I may be pardoned 
the expression. 
And why should I leave my Efficacious Tortoise and look at people till my lower jaw hangs down? 
Shall I see what the Yi says? Ay. Question: Shall I abandon all magical work soever until the 
appearance of a manifest sign? 
Answer: 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ No symbol could be more definite 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ and unambiguous. 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ 
I have invoked Aiwaz to manipulate the Sticks; and, wishing to ask, "What shall be the Sign?" got 
instantly the reference in CCXX to Our Lady Babalon: "... the omnipresence of my body." But this is 
not quite clear; I took it mentally as referring to the expected arrival of Our Lady, but it might 
mean a trance, or almost anything. So I will ask Yi, as my last magical act for the time being. 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ I think this means the arrival of 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ our Lady. I have serious doubts 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ whether the hexagram should not 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ have been: 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ which would have certainly meant 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ that. That I should doubt anything 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ is absurd: I shall know the Sign, 
ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ without fail. And herewith I close