Steve Blamires

Glastonbury Talk September 1st 2007
Dion Fortune & “The Immortal Hour”

Wm Sharp. 12th September 1855. Paisley (LOWLAND), wealthy family. Eldest child of
seven and saw mother’s pain and discomfort during pregnancy. Youngest sibling died
when he was 6 years old. Profound effect in later life regarding attitudes to women,
women’s rights, childbirth and, especially, death. Chronic ill health. Non-stop traveler.
Married first cousin Elizabeth. Friend of the literati of the day. Wrote extensively as
Sharp. Created Fiona in 1894 – lived two lives – died Sicily 12th December 1905. Buried there.
His summer childhood was spent amongst the sea-lochs and islands of the west and north
of Scotland, still remote and distant places in the 1860s. He was highly imaginative and
even as a young child often spoke of the spirit of the place or the trees or the loch in a
way that revealed a deeper understanding of such things than his infant years would
suggest. In one incident he later recalled,
“I was not more than seven when, one day, by a well near a
sea loch in Argyll, just as I was stooping to drink, my
glancing eyes lit on a tall woman standing amongst a mist
of wild hyacinths under three great sycamores. I stood,
looking, as a fawn looks, wide-eyed, unafraid. She did not
speak, but she smiled and because of the love and beauty in
her eyes I ran to her. She stooped and lifted blueness out
of the flowers, as one might lift foam out of a pool, and I
thought she threw it over me. When I was found lying among
the hyacinths dazed, and, as was thought, ill, I asked
eagerly after the lady in white and with hair all shiny
gold like buttercups, but when I found I was laughed at or
at least, when I passionately persisted, was told I was sun
dazed and had been dreaming, I said no more - but I did not
forget.” (Page 9, “Memoir”)
This encounter, factual or imagined, is more important than
it may at first seem. Today we would probably consider such
a childish experience as cute and endearing but certainly
not something to be taken seriously. This was not the
prevalent attitude amongst Victorians however. To them
fairies, in whatever guise, were a far cry from the sugary
little tinsel winged sprites of today’s ‘New Age’. As
Carole Silver has shown vividly in her book “Strange &
Secret Peoples” the Victorians considered the fairies to be
real, dangerous, a threat to life and limb and to be
avoided at all cost. The newspapers of the day frequently
carried serious stories of children being abducted by
fairies, adults being charged with horrendous crimes

against children they considered to be changelings and
general accounts by people of all classes of fairy
encounters.
As Silver says, “… from the 1840s till the 1920s, the elfin
peoples had a surprisingly large impact on the society that
witnessed, studied, painted, dramatized and wrote about
them. The Victorian study of fairy lore acts as an
excellent reflector of both the dominant ideas and
concealed anxieties of the era. The specific areas and
problems in fairy faith and fairy lore that preoccupied
Victorian folklorists and believers are revelations of
social and cultural concerns, perhaps shown elsewhere, but
never in such sharp relief.” (page 57, Strange & Secret)
and later, “The best thing to do, all agreed, was to avoid
the fairies. Meeting them even in innocent encounters was
dangerous; doing them injury or insult was bound to be
damaging or deadly.” (page 155, Strange & Secret)
Young Sharp’s close encounter of the fairy kind no doubt
caused a degree of genuine anxiety and concern from his
family and certainly from nurse Barbara. It also explains
why in later life he was still prepared to recount the
tale, knowing it would be met with reactions of shock and
relief at his narrow escape rather than ridicule or
astonishment at still believing in such childish fantasies.
In the foreword to “The Immortal Hour”, written towards the
end of the century, he, as Fiona Macleod, says, “It should
be added that with the ancient Gaels (and with the few
today who have not forgotten or do not disdain the old
wisdom) the Hidden People were great and potent, not small
and insignificant beings. ‘Mab” long ago was the terrible
‘dark’ queen, and the still more ancient Puck was not a
frolicsome spirit, but a shadowy and dreadful Power.” 

(319
Poems & Dramas)
So when and how did the public perception of fairies change from that of evildoers to one
of wish-giving fairy godmothers with sparkly wands and fluttery wings? This was thanks
almost exclusively (and unintentionally) to JM Barrie and his fairy creation Tinkerbell. In
his first version of what was to become Peter Pan, a story called, “The Little White Bird
in Kensington Garden” (1902) he deliberately made a direct connection between fairies
and human babies, “…when the first baby laughed for the first time, his laugh broke into
a million pieces and they all went skipping about. That was the beginning of fairies.” He
thereby subtly associated fairies exclusively with children whereas previously they were
the deep concern of adults, especially parents. He also unwittingly created a new religion
for children with his plea of ‘if you don’t want Tinkerbell to die you must clap your

hands’ – and we’ve all been doing it ever since. It should also be noted that in the early
story Peter Pan (who is not a fairy nor neither is he entirely human) is a rather nasty
character and one to be avoided. Following the success of the play “Peter Pan”, Barrie
wrote an epilogue in 1907 called, “When Wendy Grew Up” in which Peter threatens to
kill Wendy’s child and claims to have forgotten Captain Hook because, “I forget them
after I kill them.” But pretty and kind little Tinkerbell had been firmly set in the
Edwardian mind.
“Peter Pan”, the play, was first produced in 1904 but Fiona’s “The Immortal Hour” had
first appeared in print in 1900 in “The Fortnightly Review” magazine. Whereas Barrie’s
play was aimed at a children’s audience, the Immortal Hour was clearly aimed at an adult
audience interested in mysticism, magic and the Otherworld. Consequently the fairy
emphasis is very different from Barrie’s popular work.
When Sharp started writing as Fiona Macleod he was working on a magical level with
WB Yeats, “AE” and others mainly in Ireland in what they were calling the
reconstruction of the “Celtic Rite”. Much of this magical work was connected with the
fairies and was therefore considered to contain a certain amount of danger. Sharp was
also a regular visitor to MacGregor and Moina Mathers in Paris where he was similarly
involved in such matters. None of these collaborators knew that he was Fiona Macleod.
Sharp created the name Fiona in 1893 from “Iona” & “Fionn” and from then on he lived
a double life, creating a whole history for Fiona. To the extent that she took on a life of
her own, despite never having had a physical body, and he often had no idea how she was
going to end a story, what new poetry she would come up with, how she would respond
to her many, many fans who wrote to her via her publishers etc.
This would also be the case later with Dalua whom Fiona (NOT Sharp) created and who
also took on a life of his own. It should be noted that both Fiona and Dalua are still
around today. Volumes have already been written on magical thought-forms taking on a
life and will of their own. This was a constant theme in the writings and teachings of DF.
In the case of William Sharp and Fiona Macleod, and Fiona and Dalua, we have classic examples from which we can learn.

Fiona could accurately be described as being of the Fairy and anyone wanting to learn of
the fairies, the Celtic Otherworld and the evocative imagery of both could do no better
than study the writings, especially the poetry, of Fiona Macleod. Her writing soon
became enormously popular with the Victorians (to the extent that most people today are
familiar with the name Fiona and believe it to be ancient Scottish or Irish). She received
several offers of marriage via her publisher from gentlemen who had been fascinated by
her writing (although none had ever seen her). In response all received the same fairy-like rebuttal.
“I was born more than a thousand years ago, in the remote region of Gaeldom known as
the Hills of Dream. There I have lived the better part of my life, my father’s name was
Romance, and that of my mother was Dream. I have no photograph of their abode, which is just under the 

quicken-arch immediately west of the sunset-rainbow. You will easily
find it. Nor can I send you a photograph of myself. My last fell among the dew-wet
heather, and is now doubtless lining the cells of the wild bees. All this authentic
information I gladly send you.”
Sharp was convinced that if the secret got out that he was Fiona Macleod then Fiona
would die. (He was right!) This is an interesting reversal of Barrie’s plea to keep the
fairies alive by simply believing in them.
Fiona and Dalua were not his only name creations. He was fascinated with anagrams and
creating names and pseudonyms.
H P Siwaarmill, Elspeth H Barzia, “Pagan Review” names, “Wescam”, Wilfion etc
So, too the play:-
In her Memoir of her late husband, Elizabeth Sharp comments that she cannot remember
exactly when he started to write “The Immortal Hour” but she recalls him reading it to
her at Ballycastle, Ireland in the summer of 1899. It originally appeared in print in “The
Fortnightly Review” in 1900. This version though lacked the present opening and
finished with a short epilogue. Sharp continued to write and rewrite the piece until his
death. It was finally printed posthumously first in America by Mosher in 1907 and then in
the UK by T N Foulis in 1908. Sharp had planned this play, along with his only other
published play “The House of Usna”, to be part of a series of plays which he referred to
variously as “The Theatre of the Soul” or sometimes as “The Psychic Drama”. Other
titles planned for the series but never completed were “Nial the Soulless”, “The King of
Ys”, “Drostan and Yssul”, “The Veiled Avenger” and “The Book of Dalua”.
Boughton wrote the opera during 1911-12 when he was living in a cottage deep in the
woods of Grayshott. He was quite inspired by his forest surroundings and his original
plan was to have the opera staged in the open air with the actors and choruses entering
and leaving through the natural, surrounding trees. This real feel for the Green World
aspect of FM’s play shines through in the score particularly. When DF saw it she was
struck by the way that the natural evening light outside the Assembly Rooms was
beginning to fade when the opera began. By the time Act 2 came along the stage was
virtually in darkness which added greatly to the Otherworld effect.
It still holds the world record for the greatest number of consecutive performances of any
serious opera. It was brought to the Birmingham Repertory Theatre in June 1921, and
scored such a success that the composer was persuaded to try it in London. At the Regent
Theatre, King's Cross, it proceeded to run for 216 consecutive performances, starting on
October 23rd, 1922. A revival on November 17th, 1923, brought another 160 consecutive
performances, and there followed major revivals in 1926 and 1932.

Summary of the Opera
The play has a small cast of characters:-
Eochaidh, the High King of Ireland
Etain, a Lost Princess, afterwards Eochaidh’s Queen
Midir, A Prince of the Hidden People
Dalua, The Amadan-Dhu
Manus and his wife Maive, a Woodcutter who dwells in the forest
A chorus of harpers, warriors and unseen voices.

The opera opens in a gloomy woodland scene. Dalua is there but does not know why or
how. He senses someone approaching and realises some great destiny is about to unfurl.
Etain enters as if in a dream. Dalua’s shadow that can bring either death or total loss of
memory falls on her. Etain does not die but instantly forgets everything. She does not
know that she is a fairy queen. Dalua tells her that soon a king will draw near and that she
will submit to his love but the king has a powerful lesson to learn from this. A hunting
horn sounds and Etain drifts off stage. Eochaidh, the High King of Ireland, appears. He
has been drawn to this spot by dreams and visions of his true love. Dalua mocks him and
entices him further and further into the dark forest. He seems to go willingly.
End of Act 1 Scene 1
Scene 2 opens in the humble home of Manus and Maive. A storm is raging outside and
Etain, still in a dreamlike state, has taken shelter there. Eochaidh arrives and asks for and
is granted shelter. He enters, sees Etain and knows that she is the vision of his dreams. As
Dalua predicted, she falls in love with him, still not remembering who she really is. As
night draws darker and they huddle together in each other’s arms by the fire she hears
vague fairy voices far off which start to stir memories but not enough to recall who she
really is.
End of Act 1 Scene 2
Act 2 opens a full year later. Eochaidh is holding a great feast in his palace to celebrate
the first anniversary of his meeting Etain. However both he and she have had strange,
uneasy feelings, a sense of foreboding for some reason, for the past few days. Etain is
tired and excuses herself from the festivities and withdraws. A young stranger now
appears at the hall declaring he is a king’s first son, a poet and a singer. He requests only
that he may kiss the queen’s fair hand with his lips and sing her a simple little song that
he had composed in her honour. In a rather hasty and incautious act Eochaidh agrees.
Etain is sent for. When she reenters she is wearing the same green garments she was
wearing when found in the forest. The stranger softly kisses her hand and begins his
song. Memories start to stir in Etain’s mind and as the song continues she remembers that
she is Etain a queen of fairy and that the stranger is Midir, her own true lord. Now, filled
with joy, she follows him to the Land of the Ever Young, leaving poor Eochaidh stricken
with grief. Dalua enters and casts his shadow over him. This time it is the Shadow of
Death.
End of Act 2 – Finis.

Throughout both Boughton’s opera and FM’s play the stage is more or less in constant
gloom, lots of shadows and far-off moonlight. There are also frequent interruptions from
unseen off-stage voices of mocking laughter and a repeated chorus extolling the Lordly
Ones, the fairies and their beautiful fairy land.
In the booklet that accompanies the 1987 Hyperion 2 CD release of the opera, Michael
Hurd comments, “For the most part he [Boughton] took the play as it stood, but made a
number of important cuts that significantly tightened its dramatic shape. He also
expanded certain lyrical moments by the insertion of appropriate poems by the same
author. All in all, Boughton’s version of The Immortal Hour is much more theatrically
effective than the original play and much more apt for music.”
Boughton’s opera is substantially different from any of FM’s versions of the play. The
opera is 766 lines and the play is 982. FM’s original play is in Two Acts, the first having
3 scenes, the second having 2 scenes. Boughton’s opera is also in Two Acts but with 2
scenes and 1 scene respectively.
Much of the difference is small and necessary – e.g. shortening a sentence by a word or
two so it fits better with the music, cutting out some of the small incidental one-word
comments and replies etc that do not change the sense of the play but help keep the
rhythm of the music and so forth as Hurd explains. But there are large sections of
dialogue in the play that have been completely omitted from the opera and, conversely,
there are other Fiona Macleod poems inserted into these gaps, and elsewhere, which were
never intended by FM to be part of the play.
For example one major omission in the opera is in Act 2 when Midir appears at the feast
after Etain has left. In the opera he merely mentions that he is a minstrel and that his boon
is to kiss the queen’s hand and sing his simple song. However in the play he arrives late
and does not mention the queen at first but rather invites Eochaidh to a game of chess.
Eochaidh says that his chessboard is in his bedroom and by now Etain will be asleep and
he does not wish to disturb her. Midir says that is not a problem and produces from under
his cloak a magnificent chessboard and pieces of such exquisite workmanship they must
have been made in fairyland. They play, Midir wins and Eochaidh asks what he wishes as
his prize. It is only then that he asks to kiss the queen’s hand etc. This theme of magical
chess is very important and is of great significance from a magical point of view.
Boughton also made a small but magically crucial cut in the very end of the play. In the
opera, after Etain and Midir have returned to fairyland, Eochaidh stands alone on stage
with the unseen fairy voices chanting their descriptions of that place. Eochaidh finally
blurts out, “My dreams! My Dreams! Give me my dreams!” Whereupon Dalua, unnoticed
by the distraught Eochaidh, swiftly moves in behind him, allows his shadow to fall on
him, Eochaidh stiffens, and then falls dead. There is a final short, four-line, burst of fairy
song and the curtain falls.
However in the play there is no background chorus, Eochaidh is alone on stage
immediately after Etain and Midir have left but he sees Dalua enter and says, “It is the

same Dalua whom I met long since, in that grey shadowy wood about the verge of the old
broken earth where, at the last, moss-clad it hangs in cloud.”
Dalua replies, “I am come.”
Eochaidh says, “My dreams! My dreams! Give me my dreams!”
Dalua says, “There is none left but this [touches Eochaidh who stiffens and dies] – the
dream of Death.”
The curtain falls.
It is not clear why Boughton felt that Eochaidh should not see Dalua before he deals his
fatal touch or why Dalua does not speak. From a magical point of view the original
ending is much more important. This is the conclusion of a lengthy and extremely
important ritual involving much polarity work, much converse between the world of
humans and the world of fairy and the great mysteries of life, love and death. In any ritual
openly stating the purpose and intent of the working is vital. Actually speaking these
words not only makes it clear to all participants what is going on and what is expected of
them but also sets up a vibration on the Inner Planes to help make such changes occur. By
having Dalua specifically tell Eochaidh that there is no dream left for him other than
Death, Sharp clearly concludes the ritual and closes down the connections that have been
set up between the characters and between the worlds and Inner and Outer planes. It
would magically very messy and unsafe not to do so.
There is a lot of other dialogue, especially descriptions of fairyland and the ways of the
fairies that are in the play but not the opera. Much of this dialogue has been replaced by
repeated choruses that, again, make for a better musical production as opposed to a
spoken play without music. But there is much, deliberate symbolism and magical nods
and winks in the play that FM intended to be understood by those capable of knowing
such things. These can now only be gleaned by reading/watching the play. The opera will
not give you this occult information.
As Hurd says, a lot of Boughton’s insertions are lengthy poems by FM that do fit into the
flow and theme of the play. This shows that Boughton had a fairly in-depth knowledge of
the writings of Fiona Macleod to be able to select poems from her other volumes that
meet seamlessly with the original dramatic dialogue.
So why did the opera, not the play, have such an effect on the likes of DF, Netta Fornario
and other contemporary occultists who saw it? Netta Fornario saw the opera 23 times and
wrote a lengthy explanation of its inner meanings. Part of this says,
“Visitors to the Regent Theatre may be roughly classified as follows; students of
mysticism and folk-lore who are able to understand the great truths concealed behind
this gossamer curtain of faery; (a small clan, but they come frequently and every time
discover some new aspect of illuminating significance), a large number of people who
think the play beautiful but sad; and many for whom the whole drama is so elusive and
incomprehensible that they irritably demand of each other "what on earth the fellow can
be getting at," and are frankly bored: and there is a fourth class who, while keenly
appreciating the artistic beauty of the performance, also sense the existence of a deeper

meaning, but are hopelessly baffled by their inability to interpret the intricate symbolism
employed.”
If so much of the magical stuff has been cut out why did so many people attend
performances over and over again and comment on its magical, spiritual and psychic
effect? Would those people have had the same reaction had they been able to read the
original play?
Maybe it is the very evocative music and lighting, or the combination of the new words
and music, which gave the opera its longevity. We shall come back to that question.
One thing we must take note of here is the time in which this opera first saw the light of
day. It was first performed in the Assembly Rooms, Glastonbury, on August 26
th
1914.
Only three weeks before, on August 4
th
1914, war had been declared. The mood of the
public was sombre to say the least. Nobody knew then how long this war would drag on
or what its outcome would be. At such times there is a great stirring in the National Soul,
in the collective psyche of the public at large. Great stirrings and movements take place
on the Inner Planes and many people become sensitive to these massive shiftings of
energy whether they are active occultists or not. “The Immortal Hour” spoke to the
emotions of the people at the time. Its underlying themes of loss, death, helplessness and,
ultimately, no happy ending echoed deep in the individual and collective psyches.
It will be noted that despite the various actions of the characters in the play – deception,
enforced mind-control, killing, lying etc – nobody is ever condemned or even judged for
these actions. There are no retributions, no revenges. Everything is played out as if it was
all inevitable (which is the realization Dalua has at the very beginning of the play when
he first sees Etain). This feeling of helplessness at the Hands of Fate, of inevitability and
certainty of an unhappy ending, were rife throughout the land at the start of the war.
The emergence of Dalua into the public’s mind was very important. He is a tragic figure
himself in that it is clear he has little or no control over his powers of forgetfulness and
death and that he too is a pawn – in the opening scenes even he doesn’t know how he got
to the forest or what he is doing there – he takes no pride or pleasure in what he does –
but he does it anyway. It cannot be avoided. Maybe seeing the great war that was
unfolding ahead in this light made it somehow more tolerable.
Despite the claims by FM several times throughout her writings that Dalua is a figure
from ancient Celtic mythology – she calls him the Amadan-Dhu which means black or
dark fool – he is no such thing. Just as Fiona Macleod was a creation of the mind of
William Sharp so too was Dalua a creation of the mind of Fiona Macleod. Historically
there never was such a mythological person or creature. A glance at any dictionary of
Celtic or world mythology will prove this. He appears in several of her stories and
poems, not just in this play. Usually she has some footnote or other alleging his ancient
stature and authenticity in Celtic mythology and folklore – none of which is true. Oddly
though, in the prologue to the play, she admits Dalua does not exist in the mythology
when she says, “Nor has Dalua part or mention in the antique legend. Like other ancient

things, this divinity hath come secretly upon us in a forgetful time, new and strange and
terrible, though his unremembered shadow crossed our way when first we set out on our
long travel, in the youth of the world.” (321 Poems and Dramas)
This rather garbled and ambiguous statement is typical of FM but it does contain a good
deal of truth from a magical point of view. To put it into simpler terms what she is saying
is that, no, he is not to be found in the ancient legends and stories of the Celtic people.
But, nonetheless, he was there unknown and unrecognized – as were, are and will be
ALL gods and goddesses whether we were aware of them, are aware of them or have yet
to encounter them at some time in the future. In Dalua’s case his time had not yet come.
His very specific function and power had never been needed so he never manifested –
until now (or rather until the beginning of the 20
th
century). Then, with the forces shifting
and straining and setting in motion on an Inner level what would manifest later on an
Outer level as the terrible world war that claimed the lives of millions, his time to make
his presence known had finally come.
Never in human history had such massive forces and energies been unleashed on a truly
global scale involving so many nations and so many individual men and women. The
capacity to kill each other on a never before imagined scale was now becoming obvious.
There had never been a need for a god or goddess to deal with such awesome and awful
things in the past because nobody in the past could possibly even have imagined such
things were possible.
But, I hear you say, FM wrote this play at least 15 years before the outbreak of hostilities.
Yes, the outbreak of hostilities on this level – on the physical level – but there had been
serious disruptions going on in the Inner levels since the 1880s. These Inner forces, good
or bad, must inevitable manifest in our world. Many of the major occultists and occult
groups working at that time commented on disruptions and complications. Sharp himself,
who died only 9 years before the first world war, commented in his correspondence to
various people including WB Yeats and Dr John Arthur Goodchild of great tragedies that
would soon be unleashed and of massive upsets and disruptions that would be felt by
everyone.
FM, Goodchild and others who knew the play and/or had seen the opera commented that
its message was dangerous and that it was not a play to be taken lightly and, especially,
that Dalua was not an Inner contact to be encouraged or nurtured. Indeed if he is as
ancient as FM claimed, and if he truly does have the power of forgetfulness and death
then it is pretty obvious he is not your average tinsel winged fairy sprite who will grant
you three wishes!
This may have had something to do with the peculiar death of Netta Fornario in 1929,
some years after seeing the opera for the twenty third time and after writing her piece on
its meaning. She had travelled from London and was staying in lodgings on the Isle of
Iona – in fact the same house in which Sharp had lodged and in which he had started to
write the Immortal Hour. This was also the house in which Christine Allen, then newly
wed to the artist John Duncan, had also lived. She was one of JAG’s “Triad”

administering to the sacred bowl. Netta had been there for some months and it was now
November. Late on a Sunday afternoon she told her landlady she had to leave the island
immediately, that day. Being a Sunday this was impossible. She went to her room in a
state of distress but reappeared some time later, calm and steady, and announced she was
just going out for a while. She did not come home that night. A search was started on
Monday but it was Tuesday before they found her naked body lying on a hillside known
as the Fairy Hill. Stories here now differ. The current story is that her body was lying
inside a large cross which she had cut into the ground with a large ceremonial knife
which was lying close by. Her feet were badly scratched and bloody as if she had been
running fast and hard over the rough ground in bare feet. Round her neck a silver cross
and chain had turned black. However, the story at the time, and later confirmed by Calum
Cameron, son of the householder who was 12 at the time and remembers Netta vividly, is
quite different. The first published account of the incident is from the “Glasgow Bulletin”
which said,
“The body was lying in a sleeping posture on the right side, the head resting on the right
hand. Round the neck was a silver chain and cross. A few feet away a knife was found.
Miss Fornario had left the Cameron’s farm (about a mile away) sometime during Sunday
night. The island was bathed in moonlight and a keen frost prevailed. The doctor who
was called gave it as his opinion that death was due to exposure. With the exception of a
few scratches on the feet, caused by walking over the rough ground, there were no marks
on the body.”
Calum added that the ‘ceremonial knife’ of later accounts was no more than a normal
table knife, taken from the kitchen. There was no cross cut into the turf but Netta had told
him that she had been trying to dig into the Fairy Hill in order to make contact with the
fairies.
The islanders paid for her to be buried on Iona and she now rests next to Oran’s Chapel.
What was it that had terrified her to the point of needing to leave the island immediately?
Why did she die in such a bizarre way? Keeping in mind her interest – obsession? – with
The Immortal Hour, and with her warnings about it being dangerous, one wonders if she
came a little bit too close to Dalua.

©Steve Blamires 2007

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