Perdurabo

Home > Other > Perdurabo > Page 39
Perdurabo Page 39

by Richard Kaczynski


  It is of course common knowledge that the AA and The Equinox and all the rest of it are a stupid joke of Aleister Crowley’s. He merely wished to see if any one were fool enough to take him seriously. Several have done so, and he does not regret the few thousand pounds it has cost him.

  When Jacob Epstein’s (1880-1959) sculpture for the tomb of Oscar Wilde caused a sensation in France that fall, Crowley found himself embroiled in the controversy. The Père Lachaise guardian declared the statue obscene and ordered it covered with a tarp. In response, Crowley issued a manifesto to state his outrage and broadcast his plans to unveil the monument:

  Sir,

  I noticed that, in obedience to the order of the prefect of Seine the Oscar Wilde Memorial in Pére-la-chaise has been mutilated by the placing of an enormous black butterfly over the criticized parts, thus rendering Jacob Epstein’s masterpiece as ridiculous and obscene as its critics themselves. And still the aforesaid prefect of the Seine keeps the tarpaulin on the statue.

  At noon on the fifth of November, Guy Fawkes’ Day, it is my intention to proceed to Pére-la-chaise and, armed with an instrument adapted for the purpose of cutting the cords which hold the tarpaulin in position and to cut the same.

  I am yours, sir,

  Faithfully,

  Aleister Crowley.86

  On the eve of this confrontation, Crowley and an accomplice attached a thin, nearly invisible wire to the tarp. On November 5 his accomplice hid out of sight, holding the end of the wire and awaiting his cue. Crowley gave a speech and, as he spoke, gesticulated toward the sculpture. As if by magic, the tarp flew off the sculpture.

  Following his protest, as only he could, Crowley removed the butterfly and hid it beneath his waistcoat, slipping from the cemetery portlier than when he entered. Reaching London, Crowley put on his evening suit and strolled into the Café Royal wearing the butterfly as a codpiece.

  The end of 1913 favored Crowley with a small spate of recognition: his critique of United States culture, “Art in America,” appeared in the November English Review. Its premise was that Americans, despite the inspiring qualities of their nation, are uninspired; with few exceptions, America has spawned no great artists, poets, writers, actresses, dancers, musicians, or scientists. The London Times called it “An entirely preposterous, but quite enjoyable, tirade,” while the Academy predicted it would “set all Americans … hot on his trail with loaded revolvers.” The article garnered attention in the American press such as the Chicago Daily Tribune and The State, the latter conceding that “its author reveals a wider reading of American literature than most natives can claim.”87 Ten years later in the English Review, American poet Robert Haven Schauffler (1879–1964) reflected on Crowley, “His article is most readable. It bristles with wit and wisdom—and the wildest unsportsmanship.”88 The Yorkshire Herald put the debate into perspective by asking who had ever heard of Aleister Crowley.

  Meanwhile, the anthology Cambridge Poets, 1900–13 reproduced the following selections from Crowley’s works: “In Neville’s Court,” “On Garrett Hostel Bridge,” “The Goad,” “The Rosicrucian,” “Song,” “In Memoriam A. J. B.” [Ada Jane Bishop], “The Challenge,” “Two Hymns on the Feast of the Nativity,” “The Palace of the World,” and “Perdurabo.” It also included seven pieces by Victor Neuburg and G. H. S. Pinsent’s “The Organ in King’s Chapel, Cambridge” from The Equinox. 89 The collection was well received, although J. DeLancey Ferguson complained in his review for The Dial that

  Only rarely—notably in Aleister Crowley’s “The Quest,” every stanza of which requires at least one footnote to explain its symbolic meaning—do we feel that the poet is overdoing the thing. The true mystic can make his vision plain without footnotes.90

  The volume’s editor, Aelfrida Catherine Wetenhall Tillyard (1883–1959), was the daughter of the former mayor of Cambridge, Alfred Isaac Tillyard; a former Sunday School teacher; an aspiring writer of poetry and children’s works; and wife of King’s College undergraduate Constantine Graham. She had become interested in comparative mysticism before age twenty and by 1904 referred to her “thirst for mysticism,” which was heightened by the experiences of being nursed at a convent in 1905 and having a stillbirth in 1912.91 She discovered Crowley while researching her anthology, writing in her diary for April 26,

  I have discovered one genius for my book—Aleister Crowley, Victor Neuburg’s “master.” There are odd legends about him … But his poetry is marvelous, great floods of it, mystic or sensual or singing or majestic—and once in a way downright beastly.92

  Thus, she became a student, reading part one of Book Four; Crowley soon sent her part two, the first nine issues of The Equinox and 777, and began addressing her in letters as “Soror Sarasvati.”93 She considered him “a great religious genius”94 and referred to him as her “guru.” However, the relationship ended that November after her husband, Constantine, met “Count and Countess MacGregor” at the consulate in Paris and received an earful about his wife’s spiritual master; a controlling and physically abusive husband, he insisted that Tillyard break off communications with “the devil incarnate”95 because he was having too much of an influence on her.

  Another Crowley publication, “The City of God,” was slated to appear as the lead piece in the January 1914 English Review. Of this poem, the Manchester Guardian would write, “Mr. Crowley is an expert in the portentous, a collector of clanging, menacing phrases; we are a little doubtful about it all and disposed to seek for relief in Anthony Trollope or Jane Austen.”96

  The MMM was back on its feet, his works were recognized, and he was in Paris with Neuburg: these circumstances again inspired Crowley. His Canadian student, Charles Stansfeld Jones—who had advanced to Neophyte earlier that year and taken the motto of Achad (One, unity)—passed to the grade of Zelator on New Year’s Eve and was eager to set up the AA in Vancouver. All were good portents.

  Realizing they were on the verge of the six hundredth anniversary of the immolation of Knights Templar Grand Master Jacques de Molay, AC decided it was his duty to experiment with the secret of the IX°.

  Walter Duranty (1884–1957) had just become a foreign correspondent for the New York Times. An understated five-foot-six in height, what he lacked in comeliness he made up for in brilliant wit and raconteur’s skill. Duranty hailed from an affluent British family and was educated at the prestigious Harrow and Eaton schools, graduating in 1903 near the top of his class. His forte lay in translating into other languages, particularly French, and he routinely astonished his fellow correspondents by taking any local newspaper and reciting a perfect French, Latin, or Greek translation on the fly.

  Years would pass before he would be acclaimed for his coverage of both World War I and the rise of Joseph Stalin. Over a decade would pass before a train crash claimed his leg, and nearly a score before his poem “Red Square” appeared with the famous words, “you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs.” In December 1913, Wally, as AC called him, was still a green journalist, sharing with Crowley the affections and opium of their mutual lover, Jane Chéron.

  Crowley had devised a ritual amalgamating “Liber Pyramidos,” the Goetia, “The Ship,” and IX° sex magick to invoke the gods Mercury and Jupiter. It began with Crowley invoking Thoth, the Egyptian Mercury, as he had in Cairo. He proceeded with constructing the pyramid à la “Liber Pyramidos” and reciting conjurations from the Goetia and his own works. Then, at the stroke of midnight, Crowley and Neuburg rang in the new year with sex intended to invoke Mercury. Crowley assumed the passive role, and both chanted the versicle which Duranty had translated into Latin:

  Jungitur in vati vates: rex inclyte rabdou

  Hermes tu venias, verba nefanda ferens.

  (“Seer is joined with seer: Renowned king of the wand, come thou, Hermes, bearing the ineffable word.”) As they proceeded, the room, in Crowley’s eyes, filled with thousands of golden caducei, their entwined serpents writhing animatedly. Victor, manifesting the god, became
giddy and childish. It reminded Crowley of the description in the Thelemic Holy Book “Liber Ararita”: “Thou hast appeared to me as a young boy mischievous and lovely, with Thy winged globe and its serpents set upon a staff.”

  In the end, either the mischievous, childlike nature of young Hermes or the silly giddiness of Brother Lampada Tradam (Neuburg) prevented the active partner from reaching orgasm. The god could not take control and be questioned, and the first working ended at 1:40 a.m., disappointing yet promising.

  Such began Crowley’s first systematic experiments in sex magick, encompassing twenty-four workings over the next six weeks.

  Crowley spent New Year’s Day 1914 forming a phallic figure of Hermes out of yellow wax. Erecting it in the east that evening, the second working began at 11:20 p.m. Owing to poor performance in the first working, the magicians agreed to avoid distraction during sex by eschewing the Latin versicle. Just before midnight, after Neuburg climaxed, they commenced the chant, and Hermes took possession. The god appeared in this working not as a child but as a messenger, robust in body with caduceus and talaria. Although Victor initially lost control and began scrawling in the record, Crowley eventually initiated a proper dialogue. “Are we working right?” he asked the god.

  “No,” Hermes informed him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The time, and, to a lesser extent, the place.”

  “What is the right time?”

  “Three hours before dawn.”

  “Does this apply to Mercury alone, or to all the gods?”

  “To Mercury alone.”

  “Are we to invoke Mercury again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  “When, then?”

  “On the day of the full moon.”

  “What god shall we invoke tomorrow?”

  “Thoth.”

  “But Thoth is Mercury!”

  “You will get another aspect.”

  “Shall we not use the same versicle?”

  “It does not matter.”

  “Shall I make statues of all the gods?”

  “No.”

  “Shall I make tablets of all the gods?”

  “Yes.”

  “What tablets?”

  “Tablets with the names only.”

  “In what order shall we invoke the gods?”

  “The proper order is Venus, Mercury, Jupiter, Luna, Sol.”

  “Will he help in geomancy?”

  “Yes.” As a god of magic, Mercury should help in divination.

  “And also in the conduct of affairs?”

  “In some, not in all.”

  “In business?”

  “In some business.” Again, appropriate for the god of commerce.

  “What?”

  “Books, money, love.” This prediction, Crowley noted at the conclusion of the workings, definitely came true.

  “How can we invoke Mercury better?”

  “Use a golden pentagram, placing the same in a prominent position; drink yellow wine and eat fish before the ceremony. Let the clock be removed.”

  “Can you suggest any improvements in the ceremonies, especially that of Jupiter?”

  “Scarlet and silver should be worn, and the crown OSV. LT is to wear the scarlet robe, violets are to be strewn and trodden with bare feet.” OSV was Crowley’s Adeptus Major motto, while LT referred to Neuburg as Zelator.

  At this point, Victor asked, “Shall I let him take full possession now?” Satisfied that the entity they had conjured was, in fact, the god Hermes, and that it was safe to allow him to take control of Neuburg’s body, Crowley agreed. “I am going.” Victor paused, handing himself over to Hermes, who took over the conversation. “What do you want to know now? There are other things I can tell you, or else ask me questions.”

  “Tell,” Crowley replied curtly.

  “You will receive good news in respect of money on the eleventh of January, in the forenoon. Frater LT will be concerned with it; it will be quite unexpected. Money will be given by someone to whom LT introduced OSV. A change in OSV’s affairs in February.” These predictions all came true by the end of the working, when Crowley, whose fortune was depleted by this point, saw his finances improve.

  “I am going to ask a very important question. Concentrate hard. N.C.G.M.H.D.” Crowley was asking in code when he would attain the grade of Magus (9°=2°), in the AA.

  The god computed. “L is 50, and P is 6.”

  “Fifty-six what?”

  “I don’t know … Wait … Hours? I am not quite sure, but it is connected with time.” It was remarkable enough that Neuburg, or whatever was answering, knew the question concerned time. Even more startling is the fact that the time between Crowley’s formal induction as a Magister Templi (8°=3°) on December 3, 1909, and his reaching the grade of Magus on October 12, 1915, would be six years less fifty days.

  The magicians next switched roles, with Crowley channeling Hermes and Neuburg asking the questions. Crowley launched into a discourse on the nature of Mercury and a comment on the Gospel of John, chapter one, which begins “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Crowley, as Hermes, spoke, “In the Beginning was the Word, the Logos, who is Mercury, and is therefore to be identified with Christ. Both are messengers; their birth-mysteries are similar; the pranks of their childhood are similar. In the Vision of the Universal Mercury, Hermes is seen descending upon the sea, which refers to Mary. The Crucifixion represents the Caduceus; the two thieves, the two serpents; the cliff in the vision of the Universal Mercury is Golgotha; Maria is simply Maia with the solar R in her womb.” This discussion and vision went on until they closed the temple at 2 a.m.

  The third working commenced on January 3. Crowley and Neuburg began the ceremony around midnight, but could not be sure since, per Hermes’s instructions, the clock was gone. Around 1 a.m., they completed the “Quia Patris” and Hermes appeared. In this manifestation, Neuburg saw him as essentially phallic, bearing in his hand the Book II, subtitled BIA, whose 106 pages referred to the grade of Adeptus Exemptus (7°=4°). BIA, in Greek, meant force, might, or strength.

  “Every drop of semen which Hermes sheds is a world,” Neuburg explained. “The technical term for this semen is KRATOS.” This Greek word, also meaning force, differed from BIA in that the former corresponded to the kabbalistic Boaz while KRATOS equated with Jachin: opposite pillars in Solomon’s temple. Numerically, both words added up to be prime numbers, BIA 13 and KRATOS 691; together they were 704, an important number in the Christian gematria of Bond and Lea.97

  The discourse proceeded at length, finally providing instructions on the workings. “He wants us not to invoke the other forms of Mercury,” Neuburg spoke. “He says that we have more knowledge than we know what to do with.”

  Regarding the rite of Jupiter, they learned banquets were not only in order for the ceremony, but that results depended on them. Therefore, they should be prepared carefully. In addition, Neuburg added, “He wants us to overcome shame generally, and says, ‘There is no shame about me, is there?’ He suggests an obvious method which I blush to repeat.”

  At 2:15 a.m., the third working ended.

  Since the gods insisted on overcoming shame, they followed their suggestion: Crowley and Neuburg called on Jane Chéron and there engaged Duranty in an act of public sodomy. As Crowley noted, “W.D. was the victim”—i.e., he played the passive role—but AC neglected to record the aggressor’s identity. It was more likely the shy Neuburg, who had more shame to overcome, than Crowley, who preferred the passive role.

  Crowley had a cold and Neuburg a temper when they did the fourth working on January 5. Because of this, Crowley described the rites as “maimed.” Nevertheless, he became oracular and interacted in the guise of Hermes with Neuburg. After closing the temple, however, Neuburg became possessed by something else and began to speak. The entity warned that they were unleashing an enormous magical force that wou
ld result in international complications. This would prove significant as World War I began only months afterward. “Those who adopt this rite will either succeed completely or fail utterly. There is no middle path for it is impossible to escape the ring of Divine Karma created.”

  The entity next described what it considered a most potent ritual: “The supreme Rite would be to bring about a climax in the death of the victim.” The victim had to be willing, and was ideally a young girl. Hearing details on the rape, sacrifice, and vivisection of the “offering,” Crowley was horrified. Both he and Neuburg agreed the directions involved black magic and should be ignored.

  The entity went on to make predictions about the magicians. Neuburg, he said, would travel east, marry in June, and return to the Great Work in September; none of these predictions came to pass. For Crowley, he saw a long journey to the east, during which he would leave Neuburg in charge of his affairs. In retrospect, this erroneous prediction would amuse Crowley as, shortly after this Paris Working, he and Neuburg would split and Crowley would journey west, not east, to America for the duration of the war.

 

‹ Prev