1929 · CLOSE READING
Confessions of Aleister Crowley
Confessions of Aleister Crowley (1929), PDF p. 334
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334
As the sequel will show, the gods knew when to lay their hands on it. I surrendered at discretion,
re-obligated myself and in September 1909 wrote my greatest magical poem "Aha!" in which the
Cairo working is restored to its proper place in my life. I have made many insurrections since then;
but they have always been quelled in very short order and punished as they deserved.
This lengthy preamble will enable the reader to fit into their proper places the ostensibly
incoherent events of 1907 and 1908. My own continuous illness, the birth of Lola Zaza and the
tragedy of Rose had combined to complicate my ordinary business, making it impossible for me to
think of making any new plans for exploration. My affairs in Scotland had fallen into great confusion
through the extravagance and dishonesty of my factor. While the cat was away the mice had been
extremely busy.
Fuller and I had clearly understood the imminence of the world catastrophe. We did not exactly
know where civilization would begin to crack, or when; we were content to leave such speculations
to the Prophet Baxter, the Rev. Booth Clibborn and such small deer. But we saw the New Zealander
sitting on the ruined arch of London Bridge quite clearly.
We could also see the Professor of Archaeology in the University of Lhasa excavating the ruins of the
British Museum. He discovered a vast number of volumes of our period purporting to deal with the
occult sciences, but there were few indeed of these which had not crumbled into dust. Of those
that remained, the vast majority were evidently frivolous. He rejoiced exceedingly to discover one
series of volumes, the dignity of whose appearance, the permanence of whose paper, the
excellence of whose printing, and the evident care which had been bestowed on their production,
showed him at first sight that the people responsible for their production had been at infinite pains
to make these volumes testify against the tyranny of time1. He had them taken to his camp with
the greatest care. Although he could not read a word of the letterpress, the illustrations were in the
universal language, which he could read at sight. The first standard work of reference --- the key to
the wisdom of the buried past.
With this vision before us, we determined on making our record of the highest attainments of
human spirits of our generation as worthy as possible of its subject. It annoyed us that we could not
engrave our knowledge on ten thousand slabs like those at Mandalay, but we determined to do our
best. We decided on a fount of type, a size of page and a quality of paper which could not fail to
impress the professors of posterity, and we determined that our prose should be so simple,so
dignified and so sublime that it would stand out from the slipshod journalism of the period as the
Alhambra above
{543}
1. WEH Note: Here Crowley refers to the preferred manner of his
publication. Yet he never understood the nature of binding, and looked
to hand-made papers that yellow and mold in the damp. He sought fine
leather for the covers, but the stitchings were of linen and the glue such
as to fail with age. The first edition of "The Equinox" tends to fall apart
at the touch!
the hovels of the vermin that surround it. The scheme required capital, and though I was already
somewhat embarrassed by the habit of buying a black egg without haggling, I did not hesitate to put
my hand in my pocket.
Fuller was at this time in grave difficulties, ŕ la d'Artagnan, but he gave his time and his toil with
magnificent generosity. His draughtmanship, within certain limits, was miraculously fine. Certain
subjects were altogether beyond him; he could not portray the human figure. His "Adonai-Ha-Aretz"
is lamentable, but his symbolic drawing shows the highest qualities of imagination and execution,
and his geometrical work is almost inconceivably perfect. His four Watch Towers (The Equinox, vol.
I, no. VII) and similar illustrations are superb, and his ornamental alphabet is altogether beyond me
to appreciate. Unfortunately, his prose was florid and confused, and he suffered acutely from what
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