SYMON ~{T}; W~~!); OJ VTPSl};J ):JO\AT};A By the same Author: THE GREAT BEAST: THE LIFE OF ALEISTER CROWLEY Novels WILLIAM WASTE THE LADY IN THE TOWER THE BRIGHT BLUE SKY A GIRL AMONG POETS The Magic of Aleister Crowley * JOHN SYMONDS FREDERICK MULLER LTD LONDON D rawing by Augustus John, 1946 FIRST PUBLISHED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY FREDERICK MULLER LTD Again, IN 1958 for Gerald Yorke PRINTED AND BOUND BY H AZELL WATSON AND VINEY LTD AYLESBURY AND SLOUGH COPYRIGHT © JOHN SYMONDS 1958 I'", alwq)'S thinking ofwhat history will sqy CONTENTS of file when l'111 dead. I The Lady of the House 9 A LE ISTER C ROWLEY The Mage 13 ) Crapulous Creeds 2I ;l Magic, Sacred and Profane 26 The Green Lion B I The Hastings Mahatma 44 7 10 Pan! 53 8 Past Lives 65 9 The Redemption of Frank Bennett 76 10 The High Magick Art 91 I T The Wizard Abuldiz 147 The Wizard Amalantrah 170 1'; The Vision and the Voice 184 Index 2.07 7 ILLUSTRATIONS CHAPTER ONE Drawing of Aleister Crowley in 1946 The Latfy of the HONIe by Augustus John Frontispiece N D I found myself living in an old house in Hampstead. The stucco was peeling from the walls and the woodwork Aleister Crowley as the Author knew him Facing page 64 in need of a coat of paint, but it was in a better condition \I, jlS The Great Beast: the Logos of the Aeon 64 dum some other houses in the street. The house next door, for ample, was almost stifled by creeper, and the top floor, on Brother Perdurabo in the Himalayas 65 Ircount of the bad state of the roof, was uninhabitable. Brother Perdurabo performing a Rite in the Golden Dawn 65 It was an early-Victorian house, detached and double­ honted. A flight of stone steps, covered by the remains of a The Priestess Astarte: drawing by Crowley 96 lass canopy upheld by an iron frame, led to the front door. r ile rooms on the ground floor, in the manner of the mansions Frank Bennett 97 or the eighteenth century, were large and tall. John Claudius Victor Neuburg 97 l,tJudon, author of An El1cyclopadia of Cottage, Farm and Villa , Ircbitectu1"C and Furniture, 1839, would have listed it as a villa. Brother O.S.V.; drawing of Crowley about the time I occupied the rooms on the first floor. On the floor above of The Paris Working 160 I1ved an old lady and her two sons, one of whom was a poet, Ih e other a musician. The rooms on the ground floor were In the Grip of the Scarlet Woman 161 (hose of the Lady ofthe House. (Although she let the two upper The Magic Circle and Triangle of Exorcism 19z Hoors of her house, the term 'landlady' would be inappropriate.) Chance, which governs everything, had brought me to this Ink drawing by Crowley of Choronzon or some other lli.tmpstead villa. The poet provided the link. Demon 193 I remember getting up from the grass one summer afternoon I' a tall, grey-haired woman approached. She was smiling. The pULl'Sbrother, who was carrying an oboe, accompanied her. r was introduced. Tea was served in the garden. A little woman, with a sad, l'l1tle face, helped to bring out the tea-things. She was the The author wishes to thank Mr. Augustus ] ohn, O.M., R.A., for permission to reproduce , .(ltC'S (and the musician's) mother. With an audience of four, the Lady of the House held forth two drawings of Crowley, and Mr. Arnim Mitto-Sampson for information and helpful '_III a number of subjects. criticism. It was clear that she'd read all the latest books, and sub­ ~.A.C.-l· 9 THE MAGIC OF ALEISTER CROWLEY THE LADY OF THE HOUSE scribed to the most progressive views. She took a special I nsked the poet, 'Had Victor Neuburg practised any magic?' interest in writers and poets. '[ gather so,' he replied. I was happy to tell her that I worked on the staff of a literary In my view, Neuburg was not a great poet, but doubtless magazine, and had written several short stories. I thought) the London County Council would insert a purple After tea, and as I was departing, I said to the poet, 'It seems IIJ.lque in the outside wall of this house, above the doorway: to me you've an empty flat in the house.' I pointed to a line of I "tor Neuburg, poel and magician, livedhere.* curtainless windows. I had invited Mr Clifford Bax to lunch. We had not yet met. 'Yes,' he replied quietly. (He invariably spoke quietly, some­ ( 'vcr the telephone, I asked him how we should recognise each times in a whisper.) oI lIer. 'I look like Shakespeare,' he replied. 'Well, you might ask the Lady of the House if! may have it.' My first glimpse of him, as he entered the foyer of the Cafe Two days later I was asked to call and discuss the matter Huyal, confirmed this: he did look like Shakespeare of the First with her. I had, it seemed, aroused her sympathy. I·ulio. I was only surprised to find Shakespeare so tall. We sat in her sitting-room, drank dandelion coffee, and Sensing in me an interest in out-of-the-way things, Mr Bax talked about literature. The flat upstairs was not mentioned, IIggested I should meet Aleister Crowley. not, at least, until the subject of English literature was ex­ 'I w.ill have him sent to London for you,' he said. hausted and the dandelion coffee drunk. 1begged Mr Bax not to go to the trouble ofpacking Crowley up for me. After I had moved into this crumbling but pleasant villa, lIe told me that Crowley was old and ill and would die soon. I found myself frequenting the salon of the Lady of the House, Ills account of Crowley, like his accounts of other people listening to her views on literature and politics, and looking at lIt knew or had known, was full of interest. the musician who was usually by her side. 'You should write your autobiography,' I suggested I gathered that her literary life-she had written a play­ r.trnestly. had commenced after she had met Victor Neuburg, a poet who A distant look came into his blue eyes. had achieved the difficult feat of running a column of serious '1 have, twice,' he replied to my dismay. poetry in a national Sunday newspaper. I looked for Neuburg'S poems, and found a slim volume 'I had lunch today with Clifford Bax,' I said casually to the entitled The Triumph of Pan. But the Arcadian god, who was at I .ILly of the House. I would always tell her of my meetings birth so ugly that his mother fled from him, had not, I felt, " tlh literary personalities. noticeably inspired the poet. 'Oh, did you?' she replied, her face lighting up. 'And how Neuburg was now dead; he had died in this house not long ltc, these days?' II before I had moved in. My friend, the poet, spoke apprecia­ •He seemed very fit to me.' tively of him: he had, it seemed, been very kind and helpful ' What is he writing at the moment?' to many young poets. 'Another play, I think.' Actually, I hadn't asked him what He had had another interest too: magic. This explained the lie was writing, but I knew that he wrote plays. title of his poems, and the presence of Eliphas Levi's fIjilory 'Is he going to write for you?' of Magic, and of John Dee's DiaTJ' in the bookcase in the salon of the Lady of the House. Tllcre is a lively account of Victor Neuburg in Arthur Calder­ hall's The Magic of my Youth. 10 IX THE MAGIC OF ALEISTER CROWLEY 'I hope so. It's a question of finding a suitable subject.' 'Did you talk about anything interesting?' 'He told me all about Aleister Crowley-the black magician -and advised me to get in touch with him.' CHAPTER TWO To my surprise, her smile immediately vanished. The Mage 'I shouldn't do that ifI were you,' she said. 'No? Is there anything wrong with him?' ,'If I.! Atlantis bookshop in Museum Street was, and probably Silence. There was a thoughtful expression on her face. 1111 is, a place where occultists sometimes meet. I have a faint 'He put a spell on Victor, and it took me ten years of prayer 11l'I)llection of catching a glimpse of Crowley there during the to exorcise it,' she said. it1drties, but this may be an illusion. Perhaps it was another I did not try to get in touch with Crowley at once, and very pr.lctitioner of the art whom I saw in the dim light at the back shortly afterwards I left this Victorian villa: the Lady of the rtl the shop which was then in Bury Street. Crowley would House and I had quarrelled. vl:lit the Atlantis books hop in the 'thirties, and was known, of Since then the house has been pulled down, along with the tl nrse, to the proprietor. It was he, and not Mr Bax, who gave other crumbling houses in the street, to make way for a block Crowley's address. 11Ir' of council flats. After carefully thinking how I should approach the magician who had put a spell upon Victor Neuburg, and probably on a 101 of other people as well, I decided to send him a telegram. I trIvited him to write an article on magic for the magazine of hich I was the literary editor, and I suggested that I should nHnc down to see him to discuss the matter. Crowley wired back, inviting me to lunch. Wishing to share the experience of seeing Crowley with ml1eone who, like myself, hadn't yet had that pleasure, I rang "I' Rupert Gleadow-the author of a really lucid book on II.IJ,"'C, (;lc:adow had also written an equally lucid book on astrology, lid [or several months he had taught me this royal science. 'He'll die soon, and then you'd have lost your chance,' I III, repeating Mr Bax's advice to me. •Where and when shall I meet you?' Gleadow replied. "he following morning we met at Victoria Station, and in htl~lht sunshine boarded a train for Hastings. ()o the outward journey we did not discuss the object of Irip. Neither of us knew more about Crowley than what filII ,) Ilad read in the newspapers, and that was too sensational to hcli~ ve, and too discursive to remember. Gleadow had dipped u 13 THE MAGIC OF ALEISTER CROWLEY THE MAGE into Crowley's Magjck in Theory and Practice, which he called I\t first glance I was disappointed: an old man in a plus-four 'a city within a city' because it cannot be understood without lilt with a goatee beard and white tufts of hair on either side a detailed knowledge of Crowley's life and recourse to unpub­ III Ids otherwise bald head had entered the room and looked lished references. , II~ with a pained expression in his staring eyes. (His eyes did I was reminded of Havelock Ellis's and Arthur Symons's 1Iil' r.imply stare; they were open unusually wide as if he were visit to Paul Verlaine. We also were off to meet a poet, and a I" l'pared to hypnotise us.) mage who believed he was Eliphas Levi reincarnated. I had '1)0 what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law,' he said not had the chance to call on Eliphas Levi, for he had died in II It rather querulous and nasal voice. 1875, but I was going to be just in time for Crowley. Of his flow do you do?' I said, stepping forward and announcing supposed ability to tum people into animals (I had heard Illysclf. I then turned to Gleadow and introduced him. meanwhile that he had turned Victor Neuburg into a camel) Crowley had heard of Gleadow as an astrologer; he men­ I was sceptical. I illlled the name of a common acquaintance. Then, to my sur­ When we arrived at Hastings, scene of the famous battle prise, he shook his head and said, like the most rational of which started the new regime and advertised by the Corpora­ l'l'I'SOnS, that he thought there was 'less than one per cent of tion with a poster of Norman knights, we entered a taxi-cab truth in astrology.' to go to that outlying part of the town, on the crest of a hill, I thought this a rather tactless remark to an astrologer who called the Ridge. had come, as it were, to pay him homage. 'Netherwood,' where Crowley was staying, had an encourag­ As we moved towards some comfortable arm-chairs, ing prospect from a country lane: a short drive through wooded 'leadow replied that he thought there was more truth in grounds led to the front door of a sprawling, ivy-covered I~trology than that. house, once the country residence of a member of the boom­ While Crowley and Gleadow were talking about astrology, ing Victorian middle-class, now a boarding-house with a short I observed Crowley closely. On his tie was pinned a large gold summer season. Crowley was the only permanent guest. It hrooch of the ibis-headed god of wisdom, Thoth. And on the was not an unsuitable place, on account of its seclusion, for a Ihird finger of his right hand was a large gold ring engraved mage in retirement. with hieroglyphics. He had long and upward-turning eyebrows. Crowley did not answer the door to us; he might have done I drew attention to the ring, and, to Crowley's pleasure (for so had he been downstairs, but he was upstairs, reclining on he smiled), Gleadow immediately translated it: the bed. It is, I thought, usually like that; by the time the great nkh-f-n-Khonsu. 'His life is in Khonsu [the moon god of man becomes universally known, so that journalists, poets and l'hebes].' I couldn't see the point ofit, but Gleadow apparently collectors of eccentrics want to meet him, he is so decrepit I hought it all in good order. Afterwards I learnt that Ankh-f-n­ that he can hardly come downstairs. Crowley's walk on the I"honsu was the name of a high priest of ancient Egypt, and stairs certainly sounded rather feeble and slow which, for a ,hat Crowley believed that he had once been this priest: it was man who had climbed half-way up Kz and Kangchenjunga, his first incarnation or avatar during the 26th dynasty. was rather sad, I thought. Gleadow stood near the open door I began to feel there was something a little strange about of the reception-room, and I, with my right shoulder half f:rowley. It was difficult to say what, exactly, it was. Apart averted, stood farther back. I waited with wary curiosity for rom the ring and the brooch, and his peculiar sweetish smell, his entrance. be might be considered, I thought, an ordinary old man; and 14 15