A Review:

Saturday 22nd November 2003

ALEISTER CROWLEY & THE GOLDEN DAWN

It is upon a dark, wet November night that the occult and literary minds of London converge upon a deserted Chancery Lane. We stand, huddled under our umbrellas, outside numbers 67-69, an address we are soon told was once the home of none other than the notorious Aleister Crowley himself, and later also to Allan Bennett, a fellow member of the Golden Dawn. It is claimed the building once housed two temples, one light, one dark, where Crowley and his cohorts would perform mysterious magickal rites. The property has reportedly been subject to supernatural phenomena since Crowley's day, when a violent poltergeist ransacked the apartment, and it is fitting that the Order's own Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram should be performed outside by Treadwell's Allison Brice in order to cleanse the area - as well as those amassed.

Suitably unnerved, we leave Chancery Lane and proceed towards The Plough public house in Museum Street. A popular hang out of London's bohemians, its flesh-pink exterior earned it the nickname, "The Baby's Bum"; a plaque on the wall dates it at 1855. The street itself is fairly significant, having once been home to Mandrake Press, the publishers of Crowley's 'Confessions' and some of his fictional work, as well as the home of esoteric bookshop Atlantis, which was, at one time, frequented by the man himself and remains one of London's most renowned occult stores.

We follow our guide, Mark Pilkington - or rather the (thankfully) plastic frog impaled upon a cane, which we are told represents the amphibian crucified by Crowley in his youth - to the considerably more imposing Freemasons' Hall in Great Queen Street. A towering white building, it houses a museum and a library, home of the complete run of Crowley's Equinox. It was also the site of Crowley's Masonic initiation on 18 November 1898. It begins to feel as though the entire City hides elements of Crowley himself, over-looked by the unwitting public who bustle through and inadvertently find themselves following the wrong black umbrella as they finish their Christmas shopping for the day and head for nearby Leicester Square tube station.

A book shop, hidden away down a side street between Covent Garden and the Charing Cross Road, is the site of an infamous tale in which Crowley was challenged to demonstrate the power and authenticity of his magickal skill. The shop's owner was asked to close his eyes briefly, only to find upon reopening them that his entire stock had vanished. Within the blink of an eye everything had returned to its rightful place on the shelves…

We are led on deeper into Soho - the persistent rain by now thoroughly soaking any without the foresight to arm themselves with an umbrella - and pause again at a pub known as The Swiss, where it is said that Crowley first encountered Welsh poet Dylan Thomas, scribbling frantically in a note book. Crowley allegedly produced a note book of his own and moments later was seen skulking from the premises, having tossed a ball of paper at Thomas as he passed. Upon inspection, the page was revealed to be scrawled with verse identical to that which Thomas had himself been writing.

Aside from the more eerie tales of Crowley's exploits, the Café Royal at Piccadilly Circus brings with it some levity. Here, tales of 'The Beast' and his eccentric behaviour (striding in wearing full evening attire and a large bronze butterfly over his crotch, which had been stolen from its place censoring a nude statue of Oscar Wilde in Paris; or striding through wearing an outlandish hat and cloak decorated with occult symbols, which he believed would make him invisible) raise an array of grins, smirks and tickled laughter from our forty-strong group.

We continue across the heavily lit junction at Piccadilly - a shock after the narrow streets of Soho - toward Jermyn Street, Crowley's last London residence. After more than two hours in the dark, wet weather it is surprising how high the spirits of the group remain. The warmth of the Goat public house is fully appreciated, however, as we settle down with our choice tipples to discuss the tour, the arts and, as we grow more relaxed - and perhaps slightly more intoxicated - the prospect of Occult Speed-Dating. The atmosphere is jovial and friendly, with intelligent conversation and good company shared by all. It is a perfect way to round off a fascinating, illuminating tour, and with the second portion still to be taken it seems that the legacy of the infamous Aleister Crowley has more in store for us yet.

 

Alfirin Kirinki

 

Please use this link to return to the London Adventure Page