The Arch-Conjuror of England: John Dee – A Review

Firstly, I would like to suggest that if and when I am named the arch-conjuror of the United States, or a particular state, or perhaps even the local Starbucks, I would prefer it to be done so without the hyphen. “Archconjurer” just seems more tidy to me; but then again, arch-nemesis is hyphenated, so there’s the counterpoint to my own argument. Or should it be “counter-point”? Either way, someone had better conjure up an iced grande skinny vanilla latte, no whip, or there will be hell to pay.

I just finished up Glyn Parry’s work ‘The Arch-Conjuror of England: John Dee”. I was very excited about this book, firstly because I had to get it all the way from England, or rather all the way from Amazon.uk which makes me feel like the consummate occult hipster (at least outside of the UK),  and secondly because it was about John Dee, about whose work I wrote a little bit about some time back. Furthermore, the author is from New Zealand, which country I was in while finishing up the last edits on the aforementioned work, The Magic Seal of Dr. John Dee, The Sigillum Dei Aemeth. I mean, what are the odds? I was meant to read this book – nothing short of Divine providence, I tell you!

And read it, I did. Now, readers be warned, this is not a book like most books on Dee that follow his career in conjuration, exposing all the minute details of his magical system that continue to baffle a number of us well past the point of insanity. There are no speculations on odd lettering or table construction, his seemingly endless dependency on the letter ‘b’, or what Angelic Governors might rule over IP address sub-domains of the World Wide Web. This book is different: it’s about politics, especially the red-state/blue-state conflict of the era, the Reformation and Counter-Reformation that set the stage for the reign of Queen Elizabeth I. This conflict would include, of course, the treatment of “popish” – that’s “Pope-ish” – witchcraft and conjuring, bringing Dee right into the midst of the melieu.

While a number of books from magically-inclined authors have noted political mechanations as a side-note to the magical work of Dr. Dee, this work does us all the exceptional favor of looking at it from the other direction. Its focus is on the politics and intrigue of Tudor England from the time surrounding Dee’s birth through to his death in 1609. (Parry actually provides reference to external documents showing Dee died in 1609, and not in 1608, about which there has been some debate given the absence of Dee’s diary entries past the earlier of the two dates.) Magic is thus relegated to the side-plot, though not entirely, as its involvement and/or utility in court matters (royal, not legal) was often the measure of Dee’s fleeting successes and failures. It also focuses on his much-overlooked work with alchemy, usually deemed to be Kelley’s forte, but only because the latter seems to have been the more successful promoter of his efforts.

Those of us that have studied Dee know that he was at least at times close to Queen Elizabeth and had the pleasurable acquaintance of many in the upper eschelons of the Elizabethan court. However, Dee’s own diaries do not give us much insight into the background of these interactions, nor the many political ramifications that might precede or promote them. Parry’s book does so marvellously, detailing the plots, sub-plots, twists and deceptions behind the national and international political climates of the time.

So, if you are looking for a work on the magic of Dr. Dee, this is not it. There are a few of those about, however, and a quick search on certain online auction sites can quickly part you from a great deal of your money should you choose to pursue some of them. (There are also a number of them readily available that can do so for a much more reasonable price.) However, if you are looking for a fantastic book on the politics underlying and informing the magical work of John Dee, then this is definitely the book. I am glad to have made the purchase.

Sincerely,

Colin Campbell, Arch-Reviewer of New England

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

A Book of Demonology in Every Stocking…

Just in time for the Christmas rush, “…there be three Devils in the Art of Necromancy; viz: Lucipher, Beelzebub and Satan…”

I am very pleased to announce the release of “The Offices of Spirits”, a Hockley MS with a fascinating history to rival its content. I have edited and provided an introduction to this work, which is principally a listing of spirits with close ties to the infamous Goetia. It is originally from a 1583 MS “on magic and necromancy”, placing it in the same period as the aforementioned Goetia as well.

So, you ask, why should you care? What makes this meaningful in the grand scheme of Renaissance demonology? The fact that I like it and/or wrote about it isn’t enough? Preposterous! …but very well, I shall suffer the explanation.

German monk and magical apologist, tutor and influence on Agrippa, author of the crypto-magical work Steganographia, and all-around swell guy, Trithemius compiled a listing of demonological works – something he was dead-set against in his defense of both his own reputation and the proto-scientific magia naturalis – called Antipalus Maleficiorum. (This section is reproduced by Zambelli in “White Magic Black Magic in the European Renaissance”.) In this are two works, noted to be quite similar, whose titles translate to “The Offices of Spirits”.

This title, we recall, is also the source of Wier’s Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, included in later editions of his De Praestigiis Daemonum, a refutation of the witch hunter’s manual Malleus Maleficarum. It is there noted as “Officium Spirituum vel Liber officiorum spirituum seu Liber dictus Empto. Solomonis”. A translation of this appendix would then become a chapter in The Discoverie of Witchcraft by Scot, and some admixture of these two would result in the MS variants we now know under the name Goetia. (See Peterson’s The Lesser Key of Solomon for a much better analysis of the stemma than I shall afford here.)

In fact, for anyone interested in Goetia, this is a parallel listing of spirits whose descriptions match very closely to the spirits in that work. While I have resisted the temptation of including a full comparative analysis, cross-pollination between these two works is readily apparent – indicating a probable sourcework of even earlier origin. It also includes descriptive content for the four demon kings, something referred to but not elaborated on within the scope of Goetia. Furthermore, it provides equal treatment for the three infernal kings Lucipher (sic), Beelzebub, and Satan.  These three were generally unmentionable even in the scope of demonology for fear of the Inquisition – there was no defense of their being “good” spirits!

For anyone insterested in the history or practice of goetic magic, this should make a great addition to the book shelf. (I was ecstatic when I finally came across a copy.) It’s also a black quarto hardcover with gilt front and spine, and you don’t get much cooler than that.

This book is available through Teitan Press at http://www.teitanpress.com and at fine occult bookstores everywhere!

Posted in Goetia | Leave a comment

Grimoire of Aleister Crowley

It’s not that I didn’t expect Grimoire of Aleister Crowley: Group Rituals in the Age of Thelema” by Rodney Orpheus to be great, which it is, I’ve just never considered myself a “group ritual” sort of guy. Okay, there are certain rituals that are greatly enhanced by the presence of another person, like the tango, but aside from those… and a few others…. Alright, I guess it made me admit to myself just how much group work I participate in despite my self-proclaimed (and self-perceived) mindset. My name is Colin, and I… I find benefit in social interaction.  There, I said it. Eleven steps to go.

Let’s start with the introduction by Lon Milo DuQuette. In a word: excellent. I am continually astonished and amazed at the depth and insight that he provides, and the clarity that he brings to the complexities of Thelema and the “spiritual journey” (for lack of a better term) in general. He addresses the conundrum of magick, whose object is a change in the individual, being seemingly at odds with the idea of ceremonial group work. This is an important prelude to the work, and he handles the topic admirably.

Within the work itself, each ritual is given a historical introduction. Every one is well written and provides a fantastic background to the ritual itself. It notes the time at which Crowley constructed the ritual, the backstory, and on a practical note also cites the expected duration, layout, number of participants, equipment and other mundanities that make for a smooth performance. There is also an introductory section on general safety that should serve more than profitable for someone not well-seasoned in this sort of work. No one wants to be known as “[N] the One-Eyed Magician”.

As I cannot possibly touch on each and every one of the fifteen rituals included (plus some more in the appendix), and a short sentence itself would be an equal disservice, I will take them in total and say that each is well thought out, practical, and provides ample instruction for the novice to the journeyman and beyond. Any organized body of magicians (an oxymoron, I know) would benefit from this on a bookshelf, and I highly encourage it specifically for building up a magical current in such a group. My favorites include the “two fragments of ritual” that evolved into “A Ritual to Invoke HICE” and “The Supreme Ritual”, the “Mithraic Liturgy”, “An Evocation of Bartzabel the Spirit of Mars”, and “The Bacchanal”.

To risk both cliche and hyperbole at once, the Grimoire of Aleister Crowley is an instant classic. It is a fantastic work, combining practical advice, experience and historical perspective to deliver a truly exceptional modern grimoire.

All opinions expressed herein are my own and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of any organizations that I might be affiliated with, employed by, &c.

Posted in Crowley | 1 Comment

Red Dragon

In full disclosure, I have published through Teitan Press, so I may be somewhat predisposed toward their catalog.  The truth is, they simply do great work, which is why I feel fortunate to have published through them in the first place. Thus, when I was alerted to their limited release (800 copies) of the infamous grimoire “Le Veritable Dragon Rouge”, I rushed to pick up a copy and once again found myself more than glad to have done so.

First, in accordance with their style, the binding is wonderfully done, hard bound in black with an image of the red dragon stamped in gold. (I suppose that makes it a gold dragon.) The backings are a brilliant scarlet, which really “sets the mood” for an infamous book of black magic. I’m a binding fetishist, so those sort of things are important to me. Both the editorial and introductory work are written under pseudonyms, and each adds a great deal of background context to the text and its origins. I am not in any way privy to who the contributors are, nor would I be at liberty to speak of it if I did; all I know is that neither one is me.

While dated 1521, Le Veritable Dragon Rouge appears to have been produced closer to three hundred years later (if not precisely three hundred years later) during the French occult revival.[1] Perhaps my favorite quote is a citation in the front material that states the work is “remarkable for compressing in a hundred and six small pages as much grave absurdity as ordinarily would suffice to fill a folio.” Frankly, that’s what makes it so much fun!

Instructions are given for making the philosopher’s stone (almost certain to kill you), how to maim your enemies, making a pact with the Devil, making women dance naked (okay, I’m listening…), and winning the lottery. All of these, pursuant to the genre, are aimed at very material ends, though again the methods are straight out of a B-grade horror film.

There is a note preceding the text (included by the current author and publisher) that one should not try any of the practices detailed therein: wise counsel, indeed.[2] However, there are elements of the grimoire tradition in it that are not so far afield – orations calling upon the names of God, preparations of magical instruments such as a wand and magick mirror, and the like. Aside from that, you are instructed to slaughter the better half of a barnyard to get your work done, including a goat, a wolf, a cat, a badger, and so on. Please understand that no one should actually perform these operations. Unless you’re an idiot. Even then, really…

An infernal hierarchy is also detailed, which is interesting in and of itself, as this is a common preoccupation of necromantic/nigromantic grimoires. A partial listing of spirits from Goetia is given, eighteen of them as subservient entities to their infernal overlords, and their order matches exactly that of Wier’s Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, making it almost certainly the source of the listing. Lucifer, Beelzebub and Astaroth are given as the chief spirits, the latter rather interesting in that it is not Satan. A “Satanachia” is given a lesser rank thereafter.

Lastly, the secret of the Black Hen (Poulet Noire) is detailed, wherein one is able to get whatever he or she desires. It reminds me once again of Goetia in the description of the Seal of Solomon, which is to be written with “the Blood of a Black Cock which never trode hen.” (See if that phrase gets past your adult content filter!) In this case, however, the shoe is on the other foot, as it calls for a hen that has never been approached by a rooster. Naturally, you are instructed to kill it, after which a few orations are said, a spirit appears, and is then bound to do your bidding.

All in all, the work is well done and very interesting from a historical context if not a practical one. (Practical magic so-called is a complete misnomer in the first place, mind you.) Nonetheless, I am glad to have it on my shelf (finally!) as one of the key texts in the lineage of the grimoire period. It even sounds cool:”Le Veritable Dragon Rouge.” Try rolling that off your tongue a few times and tell me you don’t want that title on your shelf!

Note: inviting someone to look at your “red dragon” may have unintended consequences.

… and yes, if any of this “red dragon” talk brought you back to your Dungeons & Dragons days, wondering how many hit points the book might possess, then congratulations: you are a nerd. Like me.

[1] I am not aware of any direct connection, but it reeks of Simon Blocquel. He is perhaps indirectly famous for Le Triple Vocabulaire Infernal, used by A.E. Waite as a sourcework in the Book of Black Magic and Pacts, as well as being the source for Jimmy Page’s (Do I need to mention Led Zeppelin here?) “Zoso” symbol.

NB: Jimmy Page is awesome.

[2] My use of the text was nixed at the admonition to not enjoy the company “of women or girls” for the space of a week. Totally not worth it.

Posted in Magick | Leave a comment

A Hawk to Flutter in Thine Evil Face

I was reading through R. Campbell Thompson’s “The Devils and Evil Spirits of Babylonia” and came across a translation from “Tablet B”: A hawk to flutter in thine evil face, in my left hand I thrust forward. This reminded me of the following passage(s) in “The Book of the Law”: [III:51] With my Hawk’s head I peck at the eyes of Jesus as he hangs upon the cross. [III:52] I flap my wings in the face of Mohammed & blind him.

While this recognition, valid or otherwise, does not cross the line into pestilential interpretation (not that it would stop me if it did), I found the parallel ideas rather interesting.  In the Babylonian text, this is part of a ceremonial incantation, ostensibly to drive off an evil spirit.  In the Thelemic context, in my opinion, it is an image that denotes the obviation of the Old Aeon gods, represented here by Jesus and Mohammed, but would equally include any similar gods of that nature. Thus, in a sense, Ra-Hoor-Khuit, the hawk-headed lord of the Aeon, could be seen in these passages as “driving off” the gods of the Old Aeon.

An Aside: The Clavis Inferni

On a separate topic, I also noted in the “Grimoire of St. Cyprian,” released by Skinner and Rankine as part of their ever-increasing and excellent body of collaborative work, the Latin abbreviation of a circle and cross meaning “prayer,” its form perhaps indicative of a communion wafer. This brought me back to “The Book of the Law” III:47, “… this circle squared…,” which appears similarly, though broken.  I’ll leave the rest to the interpretation of the reader, but I found my own interpretation in light of that recognition rather interesting.

References:

The Devils and Evil Spirits of Babylonia; R. Campbell Thompson; Forgotten Books; 2010. Reprint of 1903 edition by Luzac & Sons, London.

The Law is For All; Crowley, Wilkinson (Ed.), Hymenaeus Beta (Ed.); New Falcon; 1996.

The Grimiore of St. Cyprian: Clavis Inferni, Skinner & Rankine; Golden Hoard; 2009.

Posted in Crowley | Leave a comment

Suleiman’s Khatam

In the last few weeks, I’ve done a great deal of research on the idea of sealing spirits into brass vessels, a common thread in Solomonic grimoires. Most people, including myself, first encounter the story of Solomon’s sealing spirits into a brass vessel within the text of Goetia.  It is also present in its precursor, Weir’s Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, though in Goetia it is given special note after the listing of spirits, where in Weir’s work it is given within the listing of spirits itself.

As the story goes, Solomon sealed all 72 of the spirits in a vessel of brass and threw it into a deep pit or well.  (The idea of a lake, repeated in later manuscripts, appears to have been introduced by Scot in The Discoverie of Witchcraft, though Weir’s text reads a great pit or well: puteum grandem valde.) The author notes that his master never said why Solomon bound the spirits, but nonetheless the vessel was discarded. However, the Babylonians, thinking that there was a treasure therein, recovered the vessel and opened it, once more releasing the spirits into the world.

This story is repeated in one form or another in many places, and not only works that are (ostensibly) Hebrew in origin. The famous collection of Arabic folk tales, One Thousand and One Nights has a story entitled “The City of Brass”.  In this story, a group of sailors are blown off course deep into Africa and are greeted by a local tribe, the leader of which happens to speak Arabic.  In resting at this seaside village, the sailors are amazed that the fishermen of that place routinely bring up brass vessels sealed in lead from the depths of the ocean. Upon opening these vessels, a spirit escapes! Inquiring of the chieftain, they are given the answer that this is indeed quite common and that the vessels belonged to King Solomon, who sealed spirits in the vessels by impressing them with his signet.

What is interesting here – at least to me – is that the ring of Solomon becomes the seal used to contain the spirits, rather than a distinct seal mentioned in Goetia. In Arabic, the word “khatam” refers to a ring or signature, since in earlier times one’s signature was (or could be) literally the “seal” of the signet ring.  It would certainly make sense that the ring, connected in The Testament of Solomon with his ability to compel spirits, would be the item used to constrain them in the vessel.  So was the discrete seal given in Goetia a later invention of someone ignorant of the use of the ring in this context?

This is where I get to say, “We’ll never know.”  … but I lean toward that theory.  However, there is a catch: if one were making an impression in lead of Solomon’s ring (used as a signet), which is made of silver (or gold, or silver and iron, or some similar), wouldn’t that deform the soft metal of the ring just as much as the lead?  Wax is all fine and good, but making an impression of one metal into another usually requires some force, which usually means the “stamping” metal must be relatively hard.  Here’s the counter-point: if it were being used to compel the spirits “away” into the vessel, then the ring would have been iron – silver was only used to make them do things for you – which is more than study enough to make an impression in the soft leaden seal.

And Solomon, stop throwing lead into our oceans.  It’s not good for anyone, but I suppose if you’re willing to make seals out of mercury, I can’t expect much.

Posted in Goetia | Leave a comment

Thoth Graecus – An Obsession

What started off as a curiosity with the figure of Thoth (or Toz/Toc) Graecus has become a full blown obsession.  The thread I was hoping to pull at is quickly unravelling the garment that is my time – and, in a book purchasing frenzy, my money!

As I mentioned in an earlier post, this individual is closely connected by Lynn Thorndike to Hermes the Egyptian, where Thoth Graecus is the analogous “Greek Thoth” as well as the seemingly parallel figure, Grema of Babylon – an association I readily agree with. Thus, we have three distinct, or rather “not so distinct” figures that surround the Mediterranean’s major classical cultural centers: Egypt, Greece, and Persia/Babylon, all of whom serve as leaders (if not initiators) of Hermetic thought.

Early variants (Weir & Scot) of Goetia mention Thoth Graecus by name in connection with the “book of the sayings of Tocz,” most likely Liber Lunae, or the book of the mansions of the Moon.  This led me to Lynn  Thorndike’s History of Magic and Experimental Science, Volume II, in which both Thoth Graecus and Liber Lunae are discussed. [HMES pp. 227-229]  It specifically notes this work as beginning with the phrase “Said Toc…”  What I did not expect (though perhaps I should have) is to find yet another parallel, this time linking both the Greater Key of Solomon and the Lesser Key of Solomon with this name.

Thoth Graecus is mentioned in Goetia in the description of the Brass Vessel, specifically in the story of how this vessel was recovered.  As the story goes, Solomon shut up the spirits of Goetia in a brass vessel and threw it into a lake, though the reading (in Latin) from Wier indicates more likely that it was a pit or well.  The Babylonians, thinking there was a great treasure, recovered and unsealed the vessel, causing all of the spirits to disperse about the face of the earth.

In the preface to The Key of Solomon the King, a.k.a. The Greater Key of Solomon, Mathers gives the introduction from Additional MS. 10862, which tells a story of one “Iohe Grevis” (though he admits another MS using the name “Iroe Grecis”) being among a group of Babylonian philosophers that determined to restore the sepulchre of King Solomon.  Upon digging up the tomb, they found the Greater Key sealed in an ivory casket (as Solomon had instructed his son Roboam to bury with him).  However, none of these men could comprehend it until Thoth Graecus (or perhaps more fittingly, Grema of Babylon) implored them to beseech the Lord for guidance.  He was granted the presence of an angel, and subsequently his desire to understand the book.

The parallel between the two stories is somewhat remarkable, such that I believe they must originate from a single source.  Each involves the Babylonians recovering a great treasure related to King Solomon, specifically digging it up from the depths.  Thus, were the stories to be cross-referenced, it would seem that the reading of “pit” from Weir is likely more correct, rather than the common manuscript variant of “lake”.  Moreover, the intent appears to be that the pit was not simply a deep hole, but in fact the tomb of King Solomon himself!

Obviously, the tale is pure folklore, but the parallels are reasonably clear, and this is where my obsession has sprung from.  It started as a passing reference and has exploded into a full blown research project.  I’d be annoyed with it, were it not exactly the sort of thing I love to do.

References

History of Magic and Experimental Science, Volume II; Lynn Thorndike; Columbia University Press, New York & London; 1923.  Fourth Edition, 1947.

The Key of Solomon the King; S.L. MacGregor Mathers, Ed.; Samuel Weiser, York Beach, ME; 1972.  Reprint, 1989.

De Praestigiis Daemonum; Johann Weirus; Basel; 1583.

Sloane MS 3825.

The Discoverie of Witchcraft; Reginald Scot; Dover Publications, New York; 1972.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

The Man Behind the Curtain

It occurred to me today that what most people think of as “magick” is actually just practice for the real thing… if they’re lucky.

Posted in Magick | Leave a comment

Tractus Contra Demonum Invocatores

Every so often I “chase the dragon” of Solomonic literature and go digging through what online archives are available for this sort of research.  It’s a magician’s version of playing buzzword bingo with the manuscript search engines.  While it might not completely intersect with whatever project I am working on, I almost always learn a good deal, despite the fact that I usually end up reading through a great deal of medieval Latin (which I am not very good at), French (which I can get through passably), and German (which I cannot manage at all).

I recently found Tractus Contra Demonum Invocatores, a “Treatise Against the Conjurers of Spirits,” a Latin text in the German Bibliothek Wolfenbuttel written under the name Johannes Vivetus and dating to 1487.  (I was searching for a French text called Le Triple Vocabulaire Infernale, so you see just how far afield these searches can bring you.)  The British Library’s link to the Bibliothek Wolfenbuttel’s digital images can be found here.

I found what seems to be a parallel to a story given in the description of Belial in Wier’s Pseudomonarchia Daemonum (the English translation of which is given in Scot’s The Discoverie of Witchcraft): ”Certeine nigromancers doo saie, that Salomon, being on a certeine daie seduced by the craft of a certeine woman, inclined himselfe to praie before the same idol, Beliall by name: which is not credible…. For wise Salomon did accomplish his works by the divine power, which never forsooke him.”

Aside from an early mention of four demon kings – Belial, Sathanas (Satan), Vehemot (Behemoth), and Leviatan (Leviathan) – as well as a reference to Albertus Magnus (as all good German authors were wont to do), there is a reference in Contra Demonum Invocatores to Solomon and ”foreign gods” such as Astarte, Chemosh, and Moloch: Salomon cum iam ??? senex depravatum est cor eius p mulieres ut sequerent deos alienos nec erat cor eius p sectum cum uno deo suo sicut cor de primus  eius. sed colebat Salomon Astartem deam Sidonios et Chamos deam Moabitos et Moloch ydolum Amonitas. (p. 20) [Latin scholars: feel free to attempt a more critical translation than I could manage.]

Thus we have a similar account of Solomon – as a dirty old man (senex depravatum), no less! – with women (mulieres) and foreign gods (deos alienos).  The term colebat might be read either as “toppled” or “fell down before,” so the sense to me is still uncertain, but I feel that the latter is the correct reading.  Belial is not mentioned, per se, but the idea is the same.

Support for this is given in Kings, 11-7: “Then did Solomon build an high place for Chemosh, the abomination of Moab, in the hill that [is] before Jerusalem, and for Molech, the abomination of the children of Ammon.”  While much has been made of Solomon’s supposed invocation of spirits, here is a Biblical passage that shows he appears at least to have made shrines unto extra-Judaic gods, repeated here with the exclusion of Astarte.  Most of these gods were later demonized within the corpus of Judeo-Christian magical literature: Astaroth, Moloch, etc.

Side-Comment: I was also looking up information on Toz Graecus recently, but had set it down to research other avenues.  Lynn Thorndike cites the potential of this being the same entity as both Gemma Babilonensis and Hermes Trismigestus, yet Contra Demonum Invocatores cites them in turn: … magus quam compleverunt Thot Greci et Gemma Babilonicus et Hermes Egyptius in primis.  Thus, at least at this point, the three personages had already come together as one.  Thoth Graecus and Hermes Aegypticus are basically the same name, but reverse the Greek and Egyptian associations, where Greek Thoth = Egyptian Hermes… and apparently Babylonian Gemma.

Posted in Goetia | Leave a comment

A Man of Letters

I am now reading Brother Curwen, Brother Crowley (Teitan Press, 2010), an interesting and wonderfully produced collection of letters between Aleister Crowley and David Curwen in the latter years of Crowley’s life. I also purchased The Progradior Correspondence, a similar collection of letters between Crowley and Frank Bennett. This is also a Teitan Press title from Keith Richmond (whose previous works on Bennett were fantastic) that I am quite looking forward to. So, it appears I will be spending the next few days reading other people’s mail.

In as much as one can give a “spoiler alert” to seventy year old correspondence, here it is. At the outset, it is interesting to find Curwen’s frustration at attempting to understand Crowley’s work interpreted as hostility, and the first few interactions are decidedly uncordial. While having studied magick for some time, Curwen had never actually done any, which of course does put a damper on one’s ability to comprehend it. However, things do begin to smooth out, with Curwen giving apologies for his brusque manner and Crowley equally changing his tone (perhaps remembering his manners). From there, the exchange alternates between Curwen asking questions and Crowley explaining how it should all be perfectly clear – classic Crowley!

Having both of these titles reminded me of a painful lesson learned: if you see a collection of letters to/from someone you admire, get it!  I recall poking around a used book shop in Dover, NH, one day – ten years ago? – and finding a collection of letters between Aleister Crowley and Israel Regardie.  It included much correspondence centered around the time of their split, and Crowley’s vindictiveness toward Curwen is all the greater for Regardie – though the latter had at that point lost all patience for his former teacher.  I remember the letters going something like this:

Regardie: “Dear Alice, … That’s right, I said it.  You’re gay!”

Crowley: “Perhaps, but you Mr. Regardie – nee Regudy – are a dirty Jew!”

Yeah, that is also (sadly) classic Crowley, and we’re fortunate enough to have passed through the social permutations that brought both of these prejudices largely to a halt. However, it made for a hilarious read, but I did not have a single penny on me at the time – and, like the leprechaun’s gold, the work had disappeared when I returned for having taken my eyes off it.  I can’t even recall the title.

All of this got me thinking about the value of correspondence and its place in our current society, where technology has all but eliminated the practice of physical letter-writing. Will we have such a body of evidence in the future?

Posted in Crowley | 3 Comments