TOUCHSTONE
By ARTHUR EDWARD WAITE


THE destiny of Faerie is a gilt-edged security for those who are
faithful and true. After days and weeks and months of quest and
venture, I was licensed to look into the Law of Fate in Faerie and to
learn how it is consulted by means of a Dial of Flowers. The inward
working of spells is made known thereby, but the way out of them is
not declared. I learned it in another place and long after: it is one
of the secret laws. You follow the course of destiny in Faerie, as you
do on this earth of ours but it is thus only till you have learned to
distentangle its skein. It is then in your hands, and- if you are
wise- it can be woven at your own will so that the Law follows you
thenceforward. For destiny is consequence, and that upon which it is
consequent is we ourselves alone.  So it is true that the Book of Fate
in Faerie is the Book of the Art of its Ruling.
    There was a Prince who had lost his history through the service of
a spell, so that no name is given him. It is needful, on occasion, to
be lost before you can find your way; but when I met with him in
Faerie, I did not know without seeking whether that which had
bechanced him was of evil, which passes, or of hidden goodness,
unfolding like a flower fiom within. He had no memory of his
birthplace, his forbears and heritage, or aught of his opening life. A
mournful gift of divination was mine in Faerie, and the same is a gift
of second sight. Now, there is a certain bond of concord between these
kinds of workings and the fall of the evening dew, for which reason I
made use of my oracles under the first star.  I consulted my Book of
Fate, the reading of which is like the sleep of beauty and of magic. I
must not tell you my method; but I found that the Prince was heir to a
throne in the Kingdom over the way, and he had great treasures in
birthright. He was the descendant of a faerie race, full of powers and
privileges. Over his cradle the Houses of Heaven- which are twelve-
shone as new houses in a renewed heaven, looking as if over a virgin
earth. Yet was he deprived of his history, but wit you well, it was
because of great things which might be fulfilled concerning him. As to
these I did not see in my glass. I had awakened in Faerie and was
learned in mysteries of silken couches, of tapestried rooms and
ladders of golden rope, of secret keys, of ivory gates and the paths
that lead therefrom. I knew also of a certain mysterious repose in
Faerie, when the powers of enchantment soften and Nature moves in her
sleep. In this manner I had one key of enchantment, but of the way out
of all enchantments- which goes due east and explains them all as you
go- I had learned nothing as yet.
    So further concerning this Prince: he was brought from a far and
blessed country, to be abandoned in the dark labyrinth of a forest,
which is more full of glamour and misdirection than is a picture of
painted images. Like a child made by magic, he discovered himself
awake therein. You might judge that he was a Prince by the golden
fillet on his head, and another traveller from a land that is very far
away- having been once in like case- uncovered the misfortune that had
come over the high Prince by means of the heart's remembrance and
obvious tests. He sent him through the world in search of a second
history testifying that something of his old estate should unfold in
every loyal and sacred venture undertaken and carried to its term by
him who was bewrayed.
    I know not how long this Prince lingered over the vintages and
winepress of Faerie or with maids created for joy who fool some
travellers therein. But he came to himself on a day and was presently
in a quest of stars, which is a good beginning anywhere. A call in the
heart of a star; a star which sings in its calling; the star and its
call shall lead. He found some stars moreover- yes, even in the
sandhills and the marshes. But they were not worlds, unhappily; and
though one by one the scenes of his past came back, they were only as
ghosts or dreams- like tales told in the twilight, which are not
believed in day. Then he was counselled to discover the Stone called
Touchstone, which opens all doors of mystery. My companion and fellow-
traveller, seeking for treasure of gold, does it happen that you
possess the Touchstone? Do you dream what it is, my child of wonder?
It tests and tries everything, and nothing of all resists. It is like
a dream which is behind dream; it leads to the Land of Reality, on
God's side of the Land of Dream; it brings the good dreams true. By
its aid you can find the meaning in Tales of Faerie. It comes to you
on the blade of a drawn sword, and that sword is like the parting of
ways for ever.
    The Prince who has lost his history has been to the Valley of
Vision, but the King sleeps therein. He has been to the Land of Irem,
but the hidden City is still empty and desolate. He has drunk at the
Fountain of Borico, where a man may find his youth, though he has left
it long since at a corner of streets remote. He has knelt in the
Temple of Isis, which has a girdle of mysteries and a Holy Place
within it, about which the mysteries worship. He has watched in the
Groves of Dodona, where the trees- which are old as the world- whisper
with human voices, and he has ascended the highest peak of the Holy
Mountain Kaf. He has spoken with Harut and Marut, the fallen angels
who first taught magic to man. He has been to the tombs of the Magian
Kings, which are watched by the Star of Bethlehem- till the second
dawn of the day of Christ. He has sorrowed with Vathek and Solomon in
the Hall of Eblis, wherein they suffer until their sins are whitened.
He has tarried with Gian ben Gian, the King of the Pens. But he has
not found that cube which is called Touchstone. Now this is great
sorrow, and I have pledged myself to seek through the whole earth and
the whole starry heaven for that which will open the eyes, so that
even a Prince- in his passing through pageants like these- may know
that it is in his heart already- that white and shining Talisman. I
travel in search of this and the water of all-seeing. I am pledged to
seek out the Touchstone for a Prince who has lost his history. Are you
he for whom I work, tell me, or shall I look for another?

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Scanned from the periodical "The Occult Review", Vol. XLVIII, No. 1;
July 1928. Formatted and corrected by hand.