Aleister Crowley
October 12, 1875 - December 5, 1947
Of the many so-called occult philosophers,
the man born Edward Alexander Crowley on October 12, 1875, in the same hillside
county which produced Shakespeare, is undoubtedly the most notorious of them
all.
His father had made a small fortune in the production of a
family ale, and subsequently retired from business to devote himself to the
pious preaching of Protestant doctrine. His mother was equally puritanical, and
it was no time at all that this diabolically spirited lad was spitting in the
face of all that his parents and prevalent society held dear. As a child,
Crowley participated in the preaching with his parents, then rebelled against
it. His behaviour inspired his mother to call him "the beast" after
the antichrist. Later, he called her "a brainless bigot of the most narrow,
logical and inhuman type." His father died when he was 11.
A precocious boy with a decidedly sinister bent, Aleister
Crowley seemed to possess a remarkable sense of direction and a sense of life's
purpose, both of which remain the strongholds of the magical phenomenon. And he
soon set out to prove himself a great writer and master of all knowledge, good
and evil.
While remaining hopelessly undisciplined, even immature in
scope, he lived life on the instinctive edge, driven by an unquenchable thirst
for adventure, iconoclasm, and sexual deviancy. He was gripped by an urgency and
a wanderlust that could be satisfied only by exerting power over others,
especially women. He also outlasted others of normal vigor by indulging in great
quantities his weakness for hard drugs, and energetically thrashing about in an
endless pursuit of fame.
There is speculation that his future magical powers may
have been refined after hand-crafted fireworks blew up in his face, rendering
him unconscious for ninety-six hours when he was only sixteen. Again, it seems
here almost axiomatic to associate an early strong shock to the immune system
with the emergence of an intensified personal power, as in the case of other
charismatic occultists, including Casanova. As Crowley grew older, he
became interested in the occult. He also discovered he was excited by
descriptions of torture and blood, and he liked to fantasize about being
degraded by a Scarlet Woman who was both wicked and independant.
His roaring animal instincts and abrasive sexual appetites
no doubt contributed to raising within Crowley the understanding that the
practice of magic was somehow linked to the human will, that is to say, the
"true will" without which, man is merely a dead leaf floating
whichever way the breeze happens to blow.
Throughout his life this inner urge to know all and
control all compelled him in near desperation to explore the outer reaches of
reality as if there were no yesterday and no tomorrow. His unprecedented
selfishness and icy autonomy became trademarks of his chilling personality.
These traits, which were found repugnant by generally all those who heard of or
met him, had the curious effect of attracting many adoring followers, who
inevitably would suffer bouts of mental and physical exhaustion as a result of
their close association with the psychic master.
These followers, rather than being hostile to the man
calling himself the Beast of the Book of Revelation, fell immediately under his
spell and became more than willing devotees, completely taken in by his bad boy
persona.
Still a youth when he discovered rock climbing, he
remained an avid rock and mountain scaler throughout his life. When he was
nearly thirty, he headed a small expedition up Mount Kanchenjunga. After
reaching a summit of 20,400 feet on the face of the glacier just below the main
peak, the party convened to formally oust Crowley from his leadership role
because of his sadistic cruelty to the porters and the rest of the crew. Of
course Crowley refused to accept this demotion of rank, causing a disruption and
ultimately, the expedition to be aborted. Everyone except Crowley started down
for the lower camps. A slip in the loose snow set off an avalanche which buried
all the crew except Crowley still mounted above them.
He entered Trinity College at Cambridge, where he wrote
poetry and pursued, on his own, his occult studies. He loved to climb rocks and
mountains and attempted some of the highest peaks in the Himalayas. In 1898 he
published his first book of poetry, Aceldama, A Place to bury Strangers in.
A Philosophocal Poem. By a Gentleman of the Univeristy of Cambridge, 1898.
In th epreface, he described how God and Satan had fought for his soul:
"God conquered - now I only have one doubt left - which of the twain was
God?"
Crowley wanted to become known as a great person. He was
led to choose magic as a vocation rather that avocation after reading Arthur
Edward Waite's The Book of Black Magic and of Pacts, which hints of a
secret brotherhood of adepts who dispense occult wisdom to certain initiates.
Intrigued, Crowley wrote to Waite for more information and was refered to The
Cloud upon the Sanctuary, by Carl von Eckartshausen, which tells of the
Great White Brotherhood. Crowley determined he wanted to join this brotherhood
and advance to the highest degree.
A Swiss climber managing to free himself began yelling for
help while furiously working to dig out his colleagues. Crowley heard the pleas
for help, but did not trouble himself. That night he wrote a letter, later
published in a London newspaper, noting that he was not "over-anxious in
the circumstances to render help. A mountain accident of this kind is one of the
things for which I have no sympathy whatever." Several died in the
incident, including all of the porters.
On November 18, 1898, Crowley joined the
London chapter of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, which was the first or
outer order of the Great WHite Brotherhood. He discovered he had a natural
aptitude for magic and rose quickly through the hierarchy. He began practicing
Yoga, in the course of which he discovered his earlier incarnations. He left
Trinity College without earning a degree, took a flat in Chancery Lane, named
himself Count Vladimir and pursued his occult studies on a full-time basis. He
advanced through the first order and sought entry into the second order of the
Great White Brotherhood, a Rosicrucian order also called the Order of the Red
Rose and the Golden Cross. Beyond this was the top order, The Silver Star, or A
A (Argentum Astrum), which had three grades: Master of the Temple, Magus and
Ipissimus. The latter could be achieved only by crossing an unknown and
unchartered abyss.
Crowley was intensely competetive with S.L.
MacGregor Mathers, the chief of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn and a
magician. Mathers taught Crowley Abra-Melin magic but had not yet attained any
of the three grades in the A A. The two quarelled, and Mathers supposedly
dispatched an army of elementals to attack Crowley. Crowley also argued with
other members of the Golden Dawn as well and as a result was expelled from the
order. He pursued the attainment of Ipissimus on his own.
Around 1899 or 1900 Crowley may have briefly
joined one of old George Pickingill's covens in Essex, according to Witch lore.
If he did, he makes no mention of it in his autobiography, The Confessions
of Aliester Crowley.
Crowley travelled widely. He studied eatsern
mysticism, including Buddhism, Tantric Yoga and the I Ching. For a time he lived
in Scottland, in an isolated setting near Loch Ness. In 1903 he married Rose
Kelly, who bore him one child. Rose began to recieve communications from the
astral plane, and in 1904 she told Crowley that he was to recieve an extremely
important message. It came from Aiwass, a Spirit and Crowley's Holy Gaurdian
Angel, or ture self. Crowley also later identified Aiwass, as a magical current
or solar-phallic energy worshipped by the Sumerians as Shaitan, a
"devil-god", and by the Egyptians as Set. On three consecutive days in
April 1904, from noon until 1 p.m., Aiwass reportedly manifested as a voice and
dictated to Crowley The Book of the Law, perhaps the most significant
work of his magical career. It contains the Law of Thelma: "Do what thou
wilt shall be the whole of the law." Though some ohave interpreted it to
mean do as one pleases, it actually means one must do what one must and nothing
else. Admirers of Crowley say the Law of Thelma distinguishes him as one of the
greatest magicians of history.
Aiwass also heralded the coming of a new Aeon
of Horus, the third great age of humanity. The three ages were characterized as
Paganism/Christianity/Thelma, represented, respectively, by ISIS/ Osirus/Horus.
Crowley considered himself as the profit of the new Aeon.
Perhaps the most famous of stories about the strange
powers of Aleister Crowley takes place in New York City. Strolling down Fifth
Avenue with an American writer who asked for a demonstration of his powers,
Crowley, after falling into step behind a distinguished looking gentleman,
suddenly dropped to his knees in a squat. A split second later he shot up again.
The knees of the man he had been following suddenly buckled, and he toppled to
the pavement. Crowley and the writer helped the man to his feet who searched
about as if looking for a banana peel or something that could have caused his
fall.
No discussion of this man, considered by many in his time
to be the most wicked man on the face of the earth, would be complete without
mentioning his women and the satanic rituals of sex magic he practised without
inhibition for nearly fifty years.
He loved dramatic effect and had fashioned himself as the
Beast of 666 notoriety. Of course, his primary woman at any given time, by
inference, would wear the title and act the role of the Great Whore of Babylon.
While in Mexico City, after much quiet contemplation and experiment, Crowley,
now in his mid-twenties, was finally completely convinced of his powers, and was
ready to expand his stable of friends and followers.
Returning to England he soon met Rose Kelly, an unevenly
pretty girl of weak mouth and backbone. He suggested she marry him at once on
the condition that they leave the marriage unconsummated. This idyllic condition
was made in order to convince her to affirm the proposal, and it worked,
although within hours of the ceremony, Crowley would seduce the young female
masochist, introducing her with great flair into his new rites of sexual magic.
Many commentators have pointed to Crowley's lack of
natural affection, his hatred of his mother, his overwhelming self-absorption,
his propensity for boyish shenanigans, and the sadistic strain of sexual
dysfunction he displayed, as the marks of a truly confused and shallow
personality. But perhaps closer to the truth is that Crowley's natural
intelligence had been so suppressed and warped by his early childhood that his
own outrageous sense of humor led him to take digs at, or defy, whatever
standard he confronted, less interested in forming a philosophy or lifestyle
free from contradiction than he was in retaining the satisfaction his private
joke gave to him, and him alone.
From 1909 to 1913, Crowley published the
secret rituals of the Golden Dawn in his periodical, The Equinox, which
also served as a vehicle for his poetry. Mathers trid but failed to get an
injunction to stop him. By 1912 Crowley had become involved with the Ordo
Templi Orientis, a german occult order that practices sex magic.
In 1909 Crowley explored levels of the astral
plane with his assistant, poet Victor Neuberg, using Enochian Magic. He believed
that he had crossed the abyss and united his consciousness with the universal
consciousness, thus becoming Master of the Temple. He described the astral
jouneys in The Vision and the Voice, published first in The Equinox
and prosthumously in 1949.
Crowley kept with him a series of
"scarlet women." The best known of these was Leah Hirsig, the
"Ape of Thoth," who indulged with him in drinking, drugs and sexual
magic and who could sometimes contact Aiwass. Crowley apparently made several
attempts with various scarlet women to beget a "magical child," none
of which was successfull. He later fictionalized these efforts in his novel Moonchild,
published in 1929.
From 1915 to 1919 Crowley lived in the United
States. In 1920 he went to Sicily and founded the Abbey of Thelma, which he
envisioned as a magical colony.
In 1921, when Crowley was 45, he and Hirsig
conducted a ritual in which Crowley achieved Ipissimus and became, according to
his cryptic description, a god ("As a God goes, I go"). He did not
reveal attaining Ipissimus to anyone, only hinting at it in his privately
published Magical Record much later, in 1929. After the transformation,
however, Hirsig found him intolerable. Crowley later discarded he and aquired a
new scarlet woman, Dorothy Olsen.
In 1922 Crowley accepted an invitation to
head the Ordo Templi Orientis. In 1923 the bad press that he routinely recieved
led to his expulsion from Sicily, and he had to abandon his abbey. After some
wandering through France (where he suffered from a heroin addiction), Tunisia
and Germany, he returned to England.
In 1929 he married his second wife, Maria
Ferrari de Miramar, in Leipzig.
Crowley was at heart a jester and an actor, a satirical
playwright busy dramatizing the foibles the world of magic and showmanship
presented him. He wrote many volumes of magical instruction and religious
parable. His Book of the Law can be condensed into the single epigraph
"Do what thou wilt" echoing a theme of Francois Rabelais some 350
years earlier. The importance of this simple creed is stressed again and again
by Crowley throughout his life.
In his later years he was plagued with poor
health, drug addiction and financial trouble. He kept himself afloat by
publishing his writings, both nonfiction and fiction. In 1945 he moved to a
boarding house in Hastings, where he lived the last two years of his life, a
dissipated shadow of his former vigorous self. During these last years, he was
introduced Gerald B. Gardner, an English witch, by Arnold Crowther. He died in
1947 in Hastings.
Crowley's other published books include The
diary of a Drug Fiend; Magick in Theory and Practice, still
considered one of the best books on ceremonial magic; The Strategem, a
collection of fiction stories; The Equinox of the Gods, which sets
forth the Book of the Law as mankind's new religion; and The Book
of Thoth, his interperetation of the Tarot. Confessions originally
was intended to be a six-volume autohagiography, but only the first two volumes
were published. Typically, he argued with the publishing company, which was
taken over by his friends and then went out of business. The remaining galleys
and manuscripts - he had dictated the copy to Hirsig while under the influence
of heroin - were lost or scattered about. They were collected and edited by John
Symonds and Kennith Grant and published in a single volume in 1969.
Crowley referred to himself in some of his
writings as "the Master Therion" and " Frater Perdurabo." He
spelled magic as Magick to "distinguish the science of the Magi from all
its counterfeits." Some modern occultists continue to follow suit!
Until late in life he seemed to be able to manage his
excesses by sheer force of will. After a typical period of Crowleyesque
debauchery, he one day declared it was time for him to spend forty days and
forty nights in the wilderness. Being broke, some friends staked him to a stash
of money, a canoe, and a tent. Upon his departure, to their surprise, they found
that he'd spent every dime on buckets of scarlet tinted paint and a few bundles
of heavy gauge rope.
Concerned for his welfare, Crowley asserted that, like
Elijah, the ravens would feed him, and he would want for nothing. In an act
vaguely suggestive of Christo, the geo-artist of our own time, Crowley spent the
entire holiday scaffolded to the cliffs south of Kingston, New York, painting
the words "EVERY MAN AND WOMAN IS A STAR. DO WHAT THOU WILT IS THE WHOLE
OF THE LAW" in enormous scarlet letters. He said later that he did not
go hungry, but was made a gift of eggs, milk, and corn by neighboring farmers.
Completely restored, he'd rarely looked healthier or more radiant than when he
returned back to the city.
Crowley was always impersonating and assuming false
identities, usually but not always of a royal or ancient mystical nature. He
used many titles claiming they were bestowed by European or Hindu aristocracy,
but evidence in this regard has never been recovered. He was quick to share his
newly gained titles or pseudonyms with his women of the moment, conferring the
equivalent feminine form upon them.
His wife Rose, after a few years with Crowley, seemed to
have discovered a few mystical powers within herself, and even began to instruct
him by telepathy and in ritual concerning the Egyptian spirit Horus. Rose bore
her husband a couple of children before she trailed off into severe alcoholism
and subsequent insanity. Toward the end of their marriage, Crowley frequently
entertained a string of enchanted mistresses in their home, while Rose was hung
by her heels in the wardrobe. He later divorced her, as her mental stability
finally slipped away.
His prolific if somewhat unoriginal writings and mild fame
were easily counterbalanced by a series of conservative attacks on the man and
his lifestyle. Spending his way through his own inherited fortune and several of
his followers' financial graces, Crowley finally developed a taste for civil
suit litigation to help ease his prevailing poor pockets, but was not very
successful. The absurd irony of using the conservative courts to help line his
pockets in an age of great contempt in the mainstream for such foolishness as he
himself indulged never seemed to restrict or embarrass him.
But the parade of men and women who were starved for his
dark attentions hardly ceased. He continued to perform his sexual rites with
young society freaks of all stripes including a companion of Isadora Duncan who
needed to be beaten to achieve satisfaction. After shaving his domed skull and
sharpening his front canine teeth to a bloodletting point, elaborate rituals
employing sodomy, defecation, and both physical and mental sadism punctuated his
devilish approach to the string of aristocratic female disciples who traipsed to
the Satanic Temple he founded.
As mentioned earlier, Crowley was never in lack of someone
to play his Great Whore. Just before the end of World War I, a pair of homely
sisters made visit. The younger one was named Leah. Her thin gangly build,
challenged by a wide mouth full of sharp chalky teeth, immediately magnetized
Crowley. He rushed over in "pure instinct" (his own words), and began
violently smothering her with his own lips, grabbing violently at her flat
breasts.
The outrageous attention given her was not rebuked. She
was soon modeling nude for a heuristic painting Crowley dubbed "Dead
Souls". She became his next scarlet woman, and help move Aleister into his
next creative period: that of artist on canvas. He filled the walls of the Abbey
of Theleme in Italy, where they convalesced, with paintings of couples en
flagrante.
His philosophy became self-indulgent and unfettered.
Facing his own drug addiction, he countered with every ounce of intellectual
bamboozle he could muster, launching a personal spin on the fleshly arts which
dictated that skillful practitioners could only reject the compulsion for drugs
by taking them without restraint, thus vanquishing the need for them. Having
given the word, he spread piles of cocaine around the abode, for anyone with the
urge to inhale.
Crowley, never to miss a step, was certainly a man of his
times. Funds became scarce but his name more prominent, so to help feed the
steady flow of visitors seeking out this spokesman of the magical arts he tried
to seduce money from publishers by offering his memoirs, and an idea for a book
he called the Diary of a Drug Fiend, which might be said to anticipate
the focus of several books of that era, including the first writings of William
S. Burroughs, just a few years away. There were few takers.
Crowley died on December 5, 1947, after his lifelong peace
of mind had begun to give way to doubts, alcoholism, and unchecked heroin
addiction. His name is still synonymous with unbridled or pure undiluted evil,
although it is likely he was far less evil than any number of military leaders
of various stripes whose names are celebrated as heroic. But such are the
pitfalls of fame and the human whimsy.