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Authors: David Hambling
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note and led the way to the last alcove on the left, where a
bearded man was absorbed in his studies at a round table, open books piled up
around him. He was an odd individual, his beard long and ragged and his
shoulder-length hair tied back in bohemian style. He had no jacket, just a
colourless linen shirt a size too large for him with a rag of a tie and reading
glasses mended with copper wire. He looked the sort of man who was too busy
with higher things to take any trouble over his appearance and undid the work
of any wife or valet who tried to set him straight.
He was
looking from one to book to another, lost in his work. I coughed politely. And
he looked up.
“Gentlemen,
gentlemen!” he said at once, standing up and offering his hand. “Delighted to
see you. My name is Powell.”
Yang stood
with his hands behind his back and nodded slightly. I made up for the
deficiency and shook hands, introducing both of us.
“Make
yourselves comfortable,” said Powell, pulling out two chairs. “My library is
your library. It’s a pleasure to meet other students of Roslyn D'Onston. “
“As
students, we are novices,” said Yang, suddenly humble. He took out a notebook
and a silver fountain pen. “We are honoured that you interrupt your work for a
few minutes to share your knowledge with us. Please permit me to record your
words.”
“The honour
is all mine,” Powell beamed, and I saw he was missing a tooth.
“All
aspects of Roslyn D’Onston are fascinating,” said Yang. “But my purpose today
is in what occult powers he claimed to possess and who his teacher was.”
“So I
gather—a most unusual interest!” Powell unfolded a grubby sheet of paper.
“To start at the beginning… as a young man, he travelled to Paris in the 1860s
to study medicine. He became acquainted with young Edward Lytton, son of Sir Edward
Bulwer-Lytton. When he showed an interest in the occult arts, he was introduced
to the older gentleman, who initiated him into the Hermetic Mysteries.”
“Bulwer-Lytton
the famous novelist?” I said, astonished to hear the name again.
“The same,”
added Powell. “Properly, Lord Lytton, of course. Known to the public for his
works of fiction but also a magist of considerable reputation. The account of
magic in some of his works is correct—have you read Zanoni ?”
“Please, Mr
Powell,” said Yang. “Tell us more of D’Onston. But you call him Stephenson?”
“His real
name was Robert D’Onston Stephenson, but he went more often by Roslyn
D’Onston,” said Powell. “I use that name to avoid confusion with Robert Louis
Stephenson.”
“Another
popular author— The Case of Jekyll and Hyde ,” I supplied.
“D’Onston
studied medicine in Paris and chemistry in Hamburg, while there he carried
out experiments of a psychical
nature and dabbled in hypnotism. He served as a doctor with Garibaldi in 1860
and sought out witches in Italy; in West Africa he had a sort of apprenticeship
with a witch doctor. After that, would you believe, he had a post with the
Customs in Hull. That went sour when he was shot… so he went to India to study
the occult.”
Yang was
busy taking notes. I was fascinated by the neatly composed Chinese characters
flowing from his pen and forming columns of miniature hieroglyphs.
“He
returned to London and took up with the Theosophists. He formed a romantic
attachment with Mabel Collins, secretary of the Theosophists, Madame
Blavatsky’s assistant. That was when he was in Norwood, of course.” Powell gave
me a significant look.
“At this
time, he wrote a number of articles for Lucifer ,
the Theosophy journal, under the pen name Tautridelta.” Powell displayed a
cheap-looking magazine. “These were chiefly about Black Magic, a subject on
which he was recognised as a leading expert.”
“Do you
know what powers he claimed to possess?” Yang asked.
“I started
to compile a list for you,” said Powell. “Some of them are just street
bearded man was absorbed in his studies at a round table, open books piled up
around him. He was an odd individual, his beard long and ragged and his
shoulder-length hair tied back in bohemian style. He had no jacket, just a
colourless linen shirt a size too large for him with a rag of a tie and reading
glasses mended with copper wire. He looked the sort of man who was too busy
with higher things to take any trouble over his appearance and undid the work
of any wife or valet who tried to set him straight.
He was
looking from one to book to another, lost in his work. I coughed politely. And
he looked up.
“Gentlemen,
gentlemen!” he said at once, standing up and offering his hand. “Delighted to
see you. My name is Powell.”
Yang stood
with his hands behind his back and nodded slightly. I made up for the
deficiency and shook hands, introducing both of us.
“Make
yourselves comfortable,” said Powell, pulling out two chairs. “My library is
your library. It’s a pleasure to meet other students of Roslyn D'Onston. “
“As
students, we are novices,” said Yang, suddenly humble. He took out a notebook
and a silver fountain pen. “We are honoured that you interrupt your work for a
few minutes to share your knowledge with us. Please permit me to record your
words.”
“The honour
is all mine,” Powell beamed, and I saw he was missing a tooth.
“All
aspects of Roslyn D’Onston are fascinating,” said Yang. “But my purpose today
is in what occult powers he claimed to possess and who his teacher was.”
“So I
gather—a most unusual interest!” Powell unfolded a grubby sheet of paper.
“To start at the beginning… as a young man, he travelled to Paris in the 1860s
to study medicine. He became acquainted with young Edward Lytton, son of Sir Edward
Bulwer-Lytton. When he showed an interest in the occult arts, he was introduced
to the older gentleman, who initiated him into the Hermetic Mysteries.”
“Bulwer-Lytton
the famous novelist?” I said, astonished to hear the name again.
“The same,”
added Powell. “Properly, Lord Lytton, of course. Known to the public for his
works of fiction but also a magist of considerable reputation. The account of
magic in some of his works is correct—have you read Zanoni ?”
“Please, Mr
Powell,” said Yang. “Tell us more of D’Onston. But you call him Stephenson?”
“His real
name was Robert D’Onston Stephenson, but he went more often by Roslyn
D’Onston,” said Powell. “I use that name to avoid confusion with Robert Louis
Stephenson.”
“Another
popular author— The Case of Jekyll and Hyde ,” I supplied.
“D’Onston
studied medicine in Paris and chemistry in Hamburg, while there he carried
out experiments of a psychical
nature and dabbled in hypnotism. He served as a doctor with Garibaldi in 1860
and sought out witches in Italy; in West Africa he had a sort of apprenticeship
with a witch doctor. After that, would you believe, he had a post with the
Customs in Hull. That went sour when he was shot… so he went to India to study
the occult.”
Yang was
busy taking notes. I was fascinated by the neatly composed Chinese characters
flowing from his pen and forming columns of miniature hieroglyphs.
“He
returned to London and took up with the Theosophists. He formed a romantic
attachment with Mabel Collins, secretary of the Theosophists, Madame
Blavatsky’s assistant. That was when he was in Norwood, of course.” Powell gave
me a significant look.
“At this
time, he wrote a number of articles for Lucifer ,
the Theosophy journal, under the pen name Tautridelta.” Powell displayed a
cheap-looking magazine. “These were chiefly about Black Magic, a subject on
which he was recognised as a leading expert.”
“Do you
know what powers he claimed to possess?” Yang asked.
“I started
to compile a list for you,” said Powell. “Some of them are just street
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