362 The Diary of a Drug Fiend
The service ended with an anthem which rolled like
thunder among the hills and was re-echoed from the
wall of the great rock of Telepylus.
It was a very curious detail of life at the Abbey, that
one act merged into the next insensibly. There were
no abrupt changes. Life had been assimilated to the
principle of the turbine, as opposed to the reverberatory
engine. Every act was equally a sacrament. The
discontinuity and abruptness of ordinary life had been
eliminated. A just proportion was consequently kept
between the various interests. It was this as much as
anything else that had helped me to recover from the
obsession of drugs. I had been kept back from emancipa-
tion by my reaction against the atmosphere, in general,
and my latent jealousy of Basil, in particular. Lou,
not having been troubled by either of these, had slid
out of her habit as insidiously, if I may use the word,
as she had slid into it.
But the culminating joy of my heart was the com-
pleteness of the solution of all my problems. There
was no possibility of a relapse, because the cause of my
downfall had been permanently removed. I could
understand perfectly how it was that Basil could take
a dose of heroin or cocaine, could indulge in hashish,
ether, or opium as simply and usefully as the ordinary
man can order a cup of strong black coffee when he
happens to want to work late at night. He had become
completely master of himself, because he had ceased to
oppose himself to the current of spiritual will-power of
which he was the vehicle. He had no fear or fascina-
tion with regard to any of these drugs. He knew that
these two qualities were aspects of a single reaction;
that of emotion to ignorance. He could use cocaine as
a fencing-master uses a rapier, as an expert, without
danger of wounding himself.
About a fortnight after our first visit to the tower, a
group of us was sitting on the terrace of the Strangers’
House. It was bright moonlight, and the peasants
from the neighbouring cottages had come in to enjoy