Thelema Lodge Calendar for December 1992 e.v.

Thelema Lodge Calendar

for December 1992 e.v.

   The viewpoints and opinions expressed herein are the responsibility of the contributing authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of OTO or its officers.

   Note to update: the addresses and phone numbers in these issues of the Thelema Lodge Calendars are obsolete since the closing of the Lodge. They are here for historic purposes only and should not be visited or called.

Copyright © O.T.O. and the Individual Authors, 1992 e.v.

Thelema Lodge
Ordo Templi Orientis
P.O.Box 2303
Berkeley, CA 94702 USA

December 1992 e.v. at Thelema Lodge

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

Announcements from
Lodge Members and Officers

December Events

Important Notice Regarding the Gnostic Mass

    Beginning in December, The Gnostic Mass which is held by Thelema Lodge is moving into a new location. The O.T.O. will no longer hold, or sponsor any Mass held at the 63rd Street Address. The location for all future Masses will be The Horus Temple at Thelema Lodge at the following address: 544 31st Street in Oakland (see map with this calendar for details). As with any transition there will be difficulties and problems which we as a community must face and endure. Although nicer, our new Temple is much smaller making our services limited.
    There are other changes which all concerned must become aware of, first, the time at which the Mass is held is also changing. We will now be starting the Mass earlier, or promptly at 4:18pm in the afternoon on Sundays. It is recommended that individuals who wish to attend arrive early as once the Mass begins, the Temple door will be closed and no one will be allowed to enter, although the Lodge itself will remain open for those individuals who come late and wish to hang around.
    Second, we are temporarily NOT holding Masses every Sunday as has been the case over recent years. It is important that you read the calendar and see which dates are scheduled. This is due to the recent lack of Priest/Priestesses &c. volunteering, but hopefully this will change in the upcoming year and we can again offer our services on a weekly basis, but for now if you are in doubt that a Mass is being held then call the Lodge for further info.
    At present, two Masses have been scheduled for the month of December. The dates are Sundays, December 6th and 20th. We have two being planned for January but no dates for such as of yet.
    Third, it is now the policy of Thelema Lodge that only full Liber XV's will be offered on Sundays, no experimental or any personal derivatives of any kind will be allowed (except for those approved by Hymenaeus Beta). Those individuals who wish to volunteer their services must realize that the intent of Masses held at Thelema Lodge are for the sake of the Ordo Templi Orientis and not for their own personal proclivities, so if you can't do it for the sake of the Order and the 93 Current itself then don't bother volunteering. Liber AL vel Legis I:62 states, "At all my meetings with you shall the priestess say - and her eyes shall burn with desire as she stands bare and rejoicing in my secret temple - To me! To me! calling forth the flame of the hearts of all in her love-chant." Crowley's Comment on this verse is: "The Gnostic Mass is intended to supply this need" ... let's return to the reason WHY the Mass was intended to be performed, that which is a common bond between us, Liber AL vel Legis and the promulgation of the New Aeon.
    Aleister Crowley also has written that for the best account of a properly- conducted congregational ceremony one should read the Equinox Vol.I No.IX "Energized Enthusiasm". If one does not have a copy of this piece it can be obtained at the Lodge for a small donation. Another volume which all initiates should have a copy of is Liber XV Ecclesiae Gnosticae Catholicae Canon Missae, it too can be purchased for only $2.00 at the Lodge.
    If you need any further info please feel free to call one of the Lodge Officers at (510) 658-3280 and we will assist you in any way we can.
    For now it is important to spread the word of the changes so that all in our community become aware of the new policies and do not get lost in the shuffle.

The Future of the Church

    What are our long term plans? Are we going to exist week by week in a small location? Is this all that we have to look forward to? So many questions have been presented to us in the recent weeks by individuals who feel lost, or confused with the changes going on in the Bay area. Then again we have our gossip mongers who love to spread despair and gloom because things are not going the way they would like them to, they should be left unheeded. If you have questions ... go to the source! Ask your local Lodge representatives. We have been discussing long term plans regarding the future of our Church in the Bay area.
    Outside the Temple door at Thelema Lodge is a wooden Donation Box, It simply states "OUR GOAL IS $2,500" and underneath will be the total amount of money collected to date which as of this writing is $105.45, each week this will be updated so that individuals can see our dream growing and reaching toward our end goal, a new, larger and more beautiful location for the Gnostic Catholic Church in the Bay area! If you believe as I do that such dreams can be reached then whenever you visit Thelema Lodge drop in the Donation Box what you can. Donations accepted all the time, not just on Sundays.
    If it takes a year, or a year and a half to reach our goal this is OK, we must begin somewhere. To those people who love to do NOTHING but bitch and moan, or gossip we ask that if you can not help us with our dreams please don't hinder us with your fears. Lets work together if possible, after all the Church belongs to all of us.

Crowley's Greater Feast

    Thelema Lodge will be holding a pot-luck feast on the evening of Tuesday, December 1st to celebrate this most auspicious day. Feasting begins around 6:30pm. All are invited to attend, please RSVP to advise of the number of people attending and to coordinate offerings.

Planetary Magic

    Mark's final planetary magic class will be held the weekend of December 5th, focusing on Saturn. The class is on Thursday night, December 3rd at Thelema Lodge and begins at 7:00pm. This class features a paper on modern planetary magic and Crowley's disciple C.F. Russell. Invocations of Saturn in Aquarius will be held at dawn and at 12:30pm the following Saturday, December 5th, at 566 63rd St. For more information about these events call (510) 658- 8783.

OTO Raid Workshop

    The work of "putting it into perspective" continues this month with a fourth meeting scheduled for Saturday, December 12th at 7:30pm. Once again only members are allowed to attend. Call for more information.

Lodgemaster's Workshop

    This month Jerry will offer a workshop for OTO initiates only on Friday, December 18th at 7:30pm. As usual our illustrious leader is vague regarding the topic but it will probably be tailored according to the initiatory levels of those attending. These talks are always instructive and illuminating even if somewhat baffling.

Third Annual Henry Miller Feast

    Once again as the sun enters Capricorn Mark, Keith & Holly present the Lesser Feast of St. Henry Miller. Good food and good spirits will be in plentiful supply as we read Miller's works. The party begins Saturday, December 26th at 8:00pm, at the Catacombs, 566 63rd St. - Bring Your Appetite! (This is an independent, non-OTO, event.)

Lodge Business

    Lodge of Perfection meets Sunday, December 6th at 2:00pm. Please note new time for LoP meetings due to the advent of the Gnostic Mass at 4:18pm.
    Thelema Lodge Meeting will be held on Monday, December 7th at 8pm. Anyone wishing to schedule an event on the calendar should be present at the meeting and present a written description of their event.
    Initiations will be held as usual on Saturday, December 19th. Call to discover what degree and advise of your attendance. Additionally we will be holding III° on Wednesday, December 23rd, call for more information.

Crowley Classics

    Just in time for the Xian holidays, here's a brief excerpt from pages 209-212 of Crowley's The Gospel According to St. Bernard Shaw, published by Karl Germer and copyrighted for OTO with the Library of Congress Copyright office in the USA, 1953 e.v. Beware of pirate editions by Francis King and others! This work was begun as a review of Shaw's preface to the play Androcles and the Lion, but it developed a hyperthyroid condition and became a book in itself. See below for a reference cited. This present work is available from OTO on IBM PC 5 1/4 diskettes. - ED
    {Note to Web edition: Diskette copies discontinued. Still available by email attachment}

    The understanding of Eastern customs is imperative, if the life of Jesus is to be truly imagined and realized. A few years travel in India and North Africa familiarizes one with the atmosphere, and it is to smile when people talk of the `wonderful life' of Jesus. By every roadside in India you may find a holy man today - you might have found me in 1901! - who is living exactly the life recorded of Jesus. He begs his food, or else `women minister to him of their substance' (Luke VIII, 3.) just as happens to the idle and vicious rascals who come out of India to America and England to pose as `yogis' at the expense of lazy and good-for-nothing society women in search of a new fad. Only, in India, the support of yogis is decent and honourable. The men are really saints, and demand nothing but a little rice and curry. You can support one for a year on the price of a lunch at the Claridge.
    Most yogis in India are solitaries. Very likely they have a vow of silence. But in some few the itch of teaching works, and they wander from place to place picking up disciples. Now and then they go mad under the strain of the life, or the use of drugs, or the abuse of religious ecstasies, become ferocious run `amok' perhaps do murder, perhaps attack the temple of a rival sect on some pretext, or try to reform their own temples in some such violent way as Jesus took with the money-changers. Sometimes they get politically drunk, and start a campaign against the powers that be. Every Indian official will tell you what a plague such men often become; half the raids on the frontier are due to some such `exalte'. England at large (even) has heard of the Madhi, and the Mad Mullah, and the Senussi, and perhaps even in older days of the Druses and the Old Man of the Mountain, with his Hashish- maddened disciples, from whom we have our word `assassin'. The good people of England may be shocked to hear that there is not a penny to choose between such men and their idolized Jesus. But it is the fact.
    All these men have their disciples, and their following of women - usually loose women, hermits and holy men having a great reputation everywhere for sexual prowess. They have their sayings, they make up their parables and fables to amuse their followers by the camp-fire at nightfall, they do their miracles, and fulfil the ancient prophecies in exactly the same way as Jesus did. The complaints of the Pharisees against Jesus are the stock complaints of the Orthodox in India to-day against the Yogis. They omit ceremonial washings; they eat filthy food; they take no heed of religious festivals or of the prescriptions of the Rishis and other great teachers. They care nothing for caste; they are shiftless, idle, and vagabond; they pray instead of working; and so on. Similarly, nine-tenths of the injunctions of Jesus are aimed at the most cherished rules or fads of the Pharisees; and so are most of the Wise sayings of the `holy man' of India and all Islam to-day.
    The little dialogues in which Jesus refutes the Scribes and Pharisees are extremely characteristic. The Oriental loves to have his `darwesh' outwit the heckler. Every Eastern story-teller has (a) hundred such in his repertoire. Here is a sample. A certain king asks a darwesh: "How is it possible that Iblis (Satan), who is made of fire, should be tormented by fire?" The holy man picks up a clod of earth and throws it at the king, who howls. "What! impossible!" exclaims the darwesh, "you who are made of earth cannot be hurt by earth." Here the saint has the right end both of the argument and of the brick. The type of story is as common as the desert sand itself.
    What Mr. Shaw calls the `comic miraculous overdraught of fishes' is also an absolutely universal story. The greedy man tries to exploit the powers of the thaumaturgist, and has his prayer granted to his own confusion. There is hardly a book of Fairy Tales in the world that has not some such story. One need only mention Ingoldsby's tale of Laybrother Peter and the beer. It is of the very root of the tree of primitive comicality; greed or pride or some such quality o'erleaping itself and falling on the other, the engineer hoist with his own petard. It is better than a true story; it is a story of All Truth, to use the admirable distinguish of Hermes Trismegistus.

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    Last month's CROWLEY CLASSICS column had an error in citation. This was corrected in the electronic edition for our readers with Modems, but went out incorrectly in the printed edition. The introductory paragraph should have stated: "The Palace of the World was first published with Crowley's raw notes in O.T.O. Newsletter Vol. 1, No. 4, pp. 4-7, March 1978 e.v.; previously, without notes, in The Soul of Osiris, pp. 103-106, 1901 e.v. and with the edited notes in The Works of A.C., Vol. 1, pp. 204-205, 1905 e.v., as part of 'The Temple of the Holy Ghost'."
- Bill Heidrick

from the Grady Project:

Space Tides: A Prophecy

The roar of space winds pouring o'er
The star hung cataracts of night
Has thundered on the sapphire shore
Of Orion. And in the light
Of clustered suns the men of Earth
Have heard this song celestial
Have stopped their labors, and their mirth,
Looking back to where, terrestrial,
Our mother planet swings in peace
Around her parent sun of old
And in those gyres that never cease
The story of our life is told.
From here the race of Man has sprung
To conquer space and claim the stars,
With fire atomic as the rung
He leaped the chasmed isobars
Between the worlds! From Him there came
The Cosmic Engineers who spanned
The stellar deep with ships of flame
Who saw galactic empires planned
For all of time. And so they dreamed
To throw the outposts of the Race
Beyond the farthest stars that gleamed
Upon the outer rim of space.

Hull down the ranging cruisers ride
The star wind o'er the Pleiades,
The space tanned mariners may stride
Their quarter-decks, or stand at ease
Along the bridge. While on patrol
Space borne torpedoes of the deep
Trans-stellar spaces gently roll
And feel the space tides as they leap
The curving parsects. Through the roar
Of stellar seas their orbits run
And close hauled clippers drive before
The blast of an exploding sun
That ripples space. And in the holds
Of merchant argosies are gems
From Centaurus; strange fungoid molds,
Monstrosities with many limbs
From Aldebaran; by the tons
Uranium and all its ores;
The priceless commerce of the suns
Consigned to Earth from foreign shores!

The cold, dry wind of outer space
That sweeps a way between the stars
Has fanned Capella's flaming face
And stirred the sanguine sands of Mars
And I would ride that dark simoon
With the Corsair avatars of old
In racing shells that plunge the flume
Of interstellar space. Behold
The orange flame of Foamlhaut's
From far below the Median Deep,
And stand the watch with astronauts
Who time the light years as they sweep
Across the universe. Who know
How wheeling galaxies will strain
The spatial curve. What storm may grow
A million years before they gain
The strength of cosmic hurricanes.

Such cyclone vortices as these,
Light years across, have fanned the vanes
Of stations anchored in the seas
That wash Polaris. And the spawn
Of this space warping typhoon wind
Are fiery molecules whole drawn
From some sub-ether. So they send
Another nebula to swirl
Across the strained and troubled void.
A cloud of new born stars to whirl
And lure the questing anthropoid.

The power of atomic might
Stripped from the ore uranium,
Where neucleons are whipped in white
Heat from bedrock neutronium,
Has fueled the navies of high space,
And out in that sidereal sleet
A mighty dreadnought seeks to trace
The orbit of a spindrift fleet
Lost on the deep. Whose men marooned
On racing meteorites have gazed
With fevered eyes, their thoughts attuned
To dusky phantoms on the glazed
Backdrop of suns. In dream they see
The sleeting comets crash and burn
And gaunt ribbed worlds flap hopelessly
About a gutted sun whose urn
Of ashes cold spills in the gloom.
Such drifting clouds of dust set free
May sail the dead, high seas of doom
Forever, yet may never see
Nor spume in breakers on the shore
Of worlds that spin in hyperspace:
Beyond the ken of terrene lore
Are planets out of time and space.

Beyond the islands of a sun
In Andromeda's stellar swarms
These cosmic pioneeres have won
A beach-head. And against the storms
Of toxic gases they have wrought
Weird cities' domes with crystal shell,
And to these alien worlds have brought
Some touch of Earth. Here they may dwell
Until once more the call of space
Has echoed in their hearts, and then
The snub-nosed mining fleets will pace
The comet trails, and treading men
Seek merchandise among the strange
Inhabitants of Narccrokelts,
With jewel dyes and sweet orange
To barter for their shaggy pelts
Symbiotic. Such men have seen
The massive glyptodons make war
On monsters trapped in the marine
Of worlds ruled by the dinosaur
Near Procyon. While from the locks
Of guardian keeps on Mercury
To where the slag of cinder rocks
Speed out beyond the star-lit sea . . . .

-- Grady L. McMurtry      
January 1946     

Previously published in Kaaba I:4 (April 1979 e.v.) and in The Grady Project #3 (March 1988 e.v.). Grady sent this poem to Aleister Crowley with a letter from San Francisco dated 12 May 1946 e.v. which mentions the piece: "Here is a copy of `Space Tides', my latest effort in the line of poetry. Had hoped to make it longer but I had to cut it short as I wanted to enter it in a poetry contest over at the University. Then I found a copy of the poem that won last year's prize and decided that I didn't have a chance. `How beautiful the sun is on the sea for over the hill there is a flag-pole and a young lady sits under the pear tree' kind of stuff."

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Holiday Feature

    In the above selection for "Crowley Classics", Crowley makes passing reference to Ingoldsby's tale of Laybrother Peter and the beer. Of all the strange items flipped off by Crowley in passing citation, this is one of the hardest to find. To help our readers pass the season, here is the Rev. Richard Harris Barham's story of Laybrother Peter and the beer, titled "A Lay of St. Dunstan", from The Ingoldsby Legends or Mirth and Marvels, by Thomas Ingoldsby (R.H.Barham), Ist series (Vol. I of three), tenth edition, 1855 e.v., pp. 223-237. This work provides useful insights into the Music Hall or Benny Hill humor of Crowley, and had a notable, though generally overlooked, influence on his style of writing and religious jests. Barham lived from 1788 to 1854 e.v.


---   ---

Golden Legend.

ST. DUNSTAN stood in his ivied Tower,
  Alembic, crucible, all were there;
When in came Nick to play him a trick,
  In guise of a damsel passing fair.
        Every one knows
        How the story goes:
He took up the tongs and caught hold of his nose.
But I beg that you won't for a moment suppose
That I mean to go through, in detail, to you
A story at least as trite as it's true;
        Nor do I intend
        An instant to spend
On the tale, how he treated his monarch and friend,
When, bolting away to a chamber remote,
Inconceivably bored by his Witen-gemote,
        Edwy left them all joking,
        And drinking, and smoking,
So tipsily grand, they'd stand nonsense from no King,
        But sent the Archbishop
        Their Sovereign to fish up,
With a hint that perchance on his crown he might feel taps,
Unless he came back straight and took off his heel-taps.
You must not be plagued with the same story twice,
And perhaps have seen this one, by W. DYCE,
At the Royal Academy, very well done,
And mark'd in the catalogue Four, seven, one.

You might there view the Saint, who in sable array'd is,
Coercing the Monarch away from the Ladies;
His right hand has hold of his Majesty's jerkin,
His left shows the door, and he seems to say, "Sir King,
Your most faithful Commons won't hear of your shirking!
Quit your tea, and return to your Barclai and Perkyn.
Or, by Jingo,1 ere morning, no longer alive, a
Sad victim you'll lie to your love for Elgiva!"

        No farther to treat
        Of this ungallant feat,
What I mean to do now is succinctly to paint
One particular fact in the life of the Saint,
Which somehow, for want of due care, I presume,
Has escaped the researches of Rapin and Hume,
In recounting a miracle, both of them men, who a
Great deal fall short of Jaques Bishop of Genoa,
An Historian who likes deeds like these to record ---
See his Aurea Legenda, by

St. Dunstan stood again in his tower,
  Alembic, crucible, all complete;
He had been standing a good half hour,
And now he utter'd the words of power,
  And call'd to his Broomstick to bring him a seat.

The words of power! --- and what be they
To which e'en Broomsticks bow and obey? ---
Why, --- 'twere uncommonly hard to say,
As the prelate I named has recorded none of them,
        What they may be,
        But I know there are three,
And ABRACADABRA, I take it, is one of them:
For I'm told that most Cabalists use that identical
Word, written thus, in what they call "a Pentacle."
        However that be,
        You'll doubtless agree
It signifies little to you or to me,
As not being dabblers in Grammarye;
Still, it must be confess'd, for a Saint to repeat
Such language aloud is scarcely discreet;
For, as Solomon hints to folks given to chatter,
"A bird of the air may carry the matter;"
        And in sooth,
        From my youth
        I remember a truth
Insisted on much in my earlier years,
To wit, "Little Pitchers have very long ears!"
Now, just such a "Pitcher" as those I allude to
Was outside the door, which his "ears" appeared glued to.

  Peter, the Lay-brother, meagre and thin,
    Five feet one in his sandal-shoon,
  While the saint thought him sleeping,
  Was listening and peeping,
    And watching his master the whole afternoon.

This Peter the Saint had pick'd out from his fellows,
To look to his fire, and blow with the bellows,
To put on the Walls's-Ends and Lambtons whenever he
Choose to indulge in a little orfevrerie;
        - Of course you have read,
        That St. Dunstan was bred
A Goldsmith, and never quite gave up the trade!
The Company - richest in London, 'tis said -
Acknowledge him still as their Patron and Head;
        Nor is it so long
        Since a capital song
In his praise - now recorded their archives among -
Delighted the noble and dignified throng
Of their guests, who, the newspapers told the whole town,
With cheers "pledged the wine-cup to Dunstan's renown,"
When Lord Lyndhurst, THE DUKE, and Sir Robert, were dining
At the Hall some time since with the Prime Warden Twining. -
- I am sadly digressing - a fault which sometimes
One can hardly avoid in these gossiping rhymes -
A slight deviation's forgiven! but then this is
Too long, I fear, for a decent parenthesis,
So I'll rein up my Pegasus sharp, and retreat, or
You'll think I've forgotten the Lay-brother Peter,
        Whom the Saint, as I said,
        Kept to turn down his bed,
        Dress his palfreys and cobs,
        And do other odd jobs, -
        As reducing to writing
        Whatever he might, in
The course of the day or the night, be inditing,
And cleaning the plate of his mitre with whiting;
Performing, in short, all those duties and offices
Abbots exact from Lay-brothers and Novices.

        It occurs to me here
        You'll perhaps think it queer
That St. Dunstan should have such a personage near,
        When he'd only to say
        Those words, - be what they may, -
And his Broomstick at once his commands would obey. -
        That's true - but the fact is
        'Twas rarely his practice
Such aid to resort to, or such means apply,
Unless he'd some "dignified knot" to untie,
Adopting, though sometimes, as now, he'd reverse it,
Old Horace's maxim "nec Broomstick intersit." -
- Peter, the Lay-brother, meagre and thin,
Heard all the Saint was saying within;
Peter, the Lay-brother, sallow and spare,
Peep'd though the key-hole, and - what saw he there? -

What Shakespeare observes, in his play of King John,
        Is undoubtedly right,
        That "oftimes the sight
Of means to do ill deeds will make ill deeds done."
Here's Peter, the Lay-brother, pale-faced and meagre,
A good sort of man, only rather too eager
To listen to what other people are saying,
When he ought to be minding his business or praying,
Gets into a scrape, - and an awkward one too, -
As you'll find, if you've patience enough to go through
        The whole of the story
        I'm laying before ye, -
Entirely from having "the means" in his view
Of doing a thing which he ought not to do!

        Still rings in his ear,
        Distinct and clear,
Abracadabra! that word of fear!
And the two which I never yet happen'd to hear.
        Still doth he spy,
        With Fancy's eye,
The Broomstick at work, and the Saint standing by;
And he chuckles, and says to himself with glee,
"Aha! that Broomstick shall work for me!"

        Hark! - that swell
        O'er flood and o'er fell,
Mountain, and dingle, and moss-cover'd dell!
List! - 'tis the sound of the Compline bell,
And St. Dunstan is quitting his ivied cell;
        Peter, I wot,
        Is off like a shot,
Or a little dog scalded by something that's hot,
For he hears his Master approaching the spot
Where he'd listened so long, though he knew he ought not:
Peter remember'd his Master's frown -
He trembled - he'd not have been caught for a crown;
        Howe'er you may laugh
        He had rather, by half,
Have run up to the top of the tower and jump'd down.

                *         *         *         *         *

The Compline hour is past and gone,
Evening service is over and done;
        The monks repair
        To their frugal fare,
A snug little supper of something light
And digestible, ere they retire for the night.
For, in Saxon time, in respect to their cheer,
St. Austin's Rule was by no means severe,
But allowed, from the Beverley Roll 'twould appear,
Bread and cheese, and spring onions, and sound table-beer,
And even green peas, when they were not too dear;
Not like the rule of La Trappe, whose chief merit is
Said to consist in its greater austerities;
And whose monks, if I rightly remember their laws,
        Ne'er are suffer'd to speak,
        Think only in Greek,
And subsist, as the Bears do, by sucking their paws.
        Astonish'd I am
        The gay Baron Geramb,
With his head sav'ring more of the Lion than Lamb,
Could e'er be persuaded to join such a set - I
Extend the remark to Signor Ambrogetti. -
For a monk of La Trappe is as thin as a rat,
While an Austin Friar was jolly and fat;
Though, of course, the fare to which I allude,
With as good table-beer as ever was brew'd,
Was all "caviare to the multitude,"
Extending alone to the clergy, together in
Hall assembled, - and not to Lay-brethren.
St. Dunstan himself sits there at his post,
        On what they say is
        Called a Dais,
O'erlooking the whole of his clerical host,
And eating poach'd eggs with spinach and toast;
Five Lay-brothers stand behind his chair,
But where is the sixth? - Where's Peter! - Ay, WHERE?

        'Tis an evening in June,
        And a little half moon,
A brighter no fond lover ever set eyes on
Gleaming and beaming,
And dancing the stream in,
Has made her appearance above the horizon;
Just such a half moon as you see, in a play,
On the turban of Mustapha Muley Bey,
Or the fair Turk who weds with the "Noble Lord Bateman;"
- Vide plate in George Cruickshank's memoirs of that great man.

She shines on a turret remote and lone,
A turret with ivy and moss overgrown,
And lichens that thrive on the cold dank stone;
Such a tower as a poet of no mean calibre
I once knew and loved, poor, dear Reginald Heber,
Assigns to oblivion2 - a den for a She bear;
        Within it are found,
        Strew'd above and around,
On the hearth, on the table, the shelves, and the ground,
All sorts of instruments, all sorts of tools,
To name which, and their uses, would puzzle the Schools,
And make very wise people look very like fools;
        Pincers and hooks,
        And black-letter books,
All sorts of pokers, and all sorts of tongs,
And all sorts of hammers, and all that belongs
to Goldsmith's work, chemistry, alchymy, - all,
        In short that a Sage,
        In that erudite age,
Could require, was at hand, or at least within call.
In the midst of the room lies a Broomstick! - and there
A Lay-brother sits in a rush-bottom'd chair!

Abracadabra, that fearful word,
And the two which, I said, I have never yet heard,
        Are utter'd. - 'Tis done!
        Peter, full of his fun,
Cries, "Broomstick! you lubbery son of a gun!
Bring ale! - bring a flagon - a hogshead - a tun!
        'Tis the same thing to you;
        I have nothing to do;
And, 'fore George, I'll sit here, and I'll drink till all's blue!"

No doubt you've remark'd how uncommonly quick
A Newfoundland puppy runs after a stick,
Brings it back to his master, and gives it him - Well,
        So potent the spell,
The Broomstick perceived it was vain to rebel,
So ran off like that puppy; - some cellar was near,
For in less than ten seconds 'twas back with the beer!
Peter seizes the flagon; but ere he can suck
Its contents, or enjoy what he thinks his good luck,
The Broomstick comes in with a tub in a truck;
        Continues to run
        At the rate it begun,
And, au pied de lettre, next brings in a tun!
A fresh one succeeds, then a third, then another,
Discomfiting much the astounded Lay-brother;
Who, had he possess'd fifty pitchers or stoups,
They all had been too few; for, arranging in groups
The barrels, the Boomstick next started the hoops;
        The ale deluged the floor,
        But, still, through the door,
Said Broomstick kept bolting, and bringing in more.
        E'en Macbeth to Macduff
        Would have cried "Hold! enough!"
If half as well drench'd with such "perilous stuff,"
And, Peter, who did not expect such a rough visit,
Cried lustily, "Stop! - That will do, Broomstick! - Sufficit!"

        But ah, well-a-day!
        The Devil, they say,
'Tis easier at all times to raise than to lay.
        Again and again
        Peter roar'd out in vain
His Abracadabra, and t'other words twain: -
        As well might one try
        A pack in full cry
To check, and call off from their headlong career,
By bawling out, "Yoicks!" with one's hand at one's ear.
The longer he roar'd, and the louder and quicker,
The faster the Broomstick was bringing in liquor.

        The poor Lay-brother knew
        Not on earth what to do -
He caught hold of the Broomstick and snapt it in two. -
        Worse and worse! - like a dart
        Each part made a start,
And he found he'd been adding more fuel to fire,
For both now came loaded with Meux's entire;
Combe's, Delafield's, Hanbury's, Truman's - no stopping -
Goding's, Charenton's, Whitbread's continued to drop in,
With Hodson's pale ale, from the Sun Brewhouse, Wapping.
The firms differ'd then, but I can't put a tax on
My memory to say what their names were in Saxon.
        To be sure the best beer
        Of all did not appear;
For I've said 'twas in June, and so late in the year
The "Trinity Audit Ale" is not come-at-able,
- As I've found to my great grief when dining at that table.

Now extremely alarm'd, Peter scream'd without ceasing,
For a flood of brown-stout he was up to his knees in,
Which, thanks to the Broomstick, continued increasing;
        He fear'd he'd be drown'd,
        And he yell'd till the sound
Of his voice, wing'd by terror, at least reach'd the ear
Of St. Dunstan himself, who had finish'd his beer,
And had put off his mitre, dalmatic, and shoes,
And was just stepping into his bed for a snooze.

His Holiness paused when he heard such a clatter;
He could not conceive what on earth was the matter.
Slipping on a few things, for the sake of decorum,
He issued forthwith from his Sanctum sanctorum,
And calling a few of the Lay-brothers near him,
Who were not yet in bed, and who happen'd to hear him,
        At once led the way,
        Without farther delay,
To the tower where he'd been in the course of the day.
Poor Peter! - alas! though St. Dunstan was quick,
There were two there before him --- Grim Death, and Old Nick!
When they open'd the door out the malt-liquor flow'd,
Just as when the great Vat burst in Tot'n'am Court Road;
The Lay-brothers nearest were up to their necks
In an instant, and swimming in strong double X;
While Peter, who, spite of himself now had drank hard,
After floating awhile, like a toast in a tankard,
        To the bottom had sunk,
        And was spied by a monk,
Stone-dead, like poor Clarence, half drown'd and half drunk.

In vain did St. Dunstan exclaim, "Vade retro
Strongbeerum! - discede a Lay-fratre Petro!" -
        Queer Latin, you'll say,
        That praefix of "Lay,"
And Strongbeerum! - I won they'd have call'd me a blockhead if
At school I had ventured to use such a Vocative;
'Tis a barbarous word, and to me it's a query
If you'll find it in Patrick, Morell, or Moreri;
But, the fact is, the Saint was uncommonly flurried,
And apt to be loose in his Latin when hurried;
The Brown-stout, however, obeys to the letter,
Quite as well as if talk'd to, in Latin much better,
        By a grave Cambridge Johnian,
        Or graver Oxonian,
Whose language, we all know, is quite Ciceronian.
It retires from the corpse, which is left high and dry;
But, in vain do they snuff and hot towels apply,
And other means used by the faculty try.
        When once a man's dead
        There's no more to be said;
Peter's "Beer with and e" was his "Bier with an i!!"


By way of a moral, permit me to pop in
The following maxims: - Beware of eaves-dropping! -
Don't make use of language that isn't well scann'd! -
Don't meddle with matters you don't understand! -
Above all, what I'd wish to impress on both sexes
Is, - Keep clear of Broomsticks, Old Nick, and three XXXs.


In Goldsmith's Hall there's a handsome glass-case,
And in it a stone figure, found on the place,
When, thinking the old Hall no longer a pleasant one,
They pull'd it all down, and erected the present one.
If you look, you'll perceive that this stone figure twists
A thing like a broomstick in one of its fists.
It's so injured by time, you can't make out a feature;
But it is not St. Dunstan, - so doubtless it's Peter.

Rev. R. H. Barham

1. St. Jingo, or Gengo (Gengulphus), sometimes styled "The Living Jingo,"
   from the great tenaciousness of vitality exhibited by his severed
   members. See his Legend, ...
2. And cold oblivion, midst the ruin laid,
     Folds her dank wing beneath the ivy shade.

Primary Sources

   It is generally known that there is some sort of connection between H. Spencer Lewis' A.M.O.R.C., a widely known "Rosicrucian" organization based in San Jose, CA, USA, and O.T.O. The A.M.O.R.C. 12th degree correspondence lessons analyze passages from Liber AL without credit, Lewis had a 1921 e.v. limited charter from Th.Reuss and A.M.O.R.C. makes occasional use of the Crowley's lamen of the O.T.O. Visitors to the A.M.O.R.C. library in San Jose in the late 60's could find Crowley's Equinox listed in the card catalogue, but it was absent from the shelves. Regardie's Golden Dawn and Fr. Achad's books were then both in the catalogue and on the shelves in the "Rosicrucian" section. Later in the '70s, all these works disappeared from both shelves and catalogue. The 1921 e.v. charter named Lewis as a VII° O.T.O. member. Crowley's diaries and letters indicate that Reuss brought in Lewis without Crowley's knowledge.
    H. S. Lewis and Swinburne Clymer got into a very acrimonious and litigious battle over "who is the real Rosicrucian Order." In the process of suits and white papers, Clymer published many O.T.O. documents which would otherwise have been lost. He also engaged in some of the most vicious libel of the day. With little regard for accuracy, Clymer brought forward an extended attack on Crowley and O.T.O. to blacken Lewis and A.M.O.R.C. by association. Crowley, short of money as always after the early 20's, decided to league with Lewis to clear both reputations and to make what he could of the situation. Lewis would have nothing of it. Many years later, when Crowley's writings became popular again in the late 1960's and 70's, A.M.O.R.C. tried to excise him from its library and its past.
    Here's Crowley's letter to Lewis, taking exception to Clymer's white paper: Not Under the Rosy Cross. It will be seen that Clymer had no copyright on vitriol!

An. 19{?} Sun in Leo
      Aleister Crowley
c/o Dennes{?} & Co.
22 Chancery Lane
London W.C.2

Very Illustrious Very Illuminated and Very dear Bro
    Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
    Some one has sent me a pamphlet in Blue wrapper 128 pp "Not under the Rosy Cross" by Swinburn Clymer, an ignorant swindler who came to me in N.Y. in 1914-15 e.v. for support. I kicked him out.
    As I assume that you know him, practically every statement he makes about me is false. (And why is the old Grand Hierophants' Cross called the Crowley Cross? And the R.C. with all the colours of the Rainbow the Black Cross?). But what can we expect of a creature who quotes seriously the obscene sayings of that very ancient and fish-like prostitute and black mailer Marian Dockerill?

I am writing, not only in sympathy, but because the time has come for me to turn the tables upon these rascals. Will you cable me - address "Chaucellor {?} London" - the name and address of your London Representative, or otherwise facilitate rapid & sure communication between us? I feel sure that co- operation at this moment will be most valuable for the Great Work.
    Love is the law, love under will
           Yours in the Bonds of the Order
{11-fold cross} Baphomet X° 33° 90° 97° O.T.O.

   Clymer's pamphlet was revised to include events from the 1930's and reprinted in The Rosicrucian Fraternity in America, by Dr. R. Swinburne Clymer, The Rosicrucian Foundation, Beverly Hall, Quakertown, Pa., 1935. This work is well worth having for its many reproductions of early documents of O.T.O. and O.T.O. precursors. The opinions in it are by-and-large garbage, but they do show that O.T.O. and Crowley have been subjected to lying charges of "Deviltry" for quite some time in the USA. The cover blurb is a notable example:

Not Under the Rosy Cross

Presenting documentary proof that H. Spencer Lewis - Imperator of A.M.O.R.C., a spurious R.C. Order - fabricated and copied secret lessons from published books. Lewis admits that Crowley - Baphomet Anti-Christ - is his Secret Chief, and the Black Cult of O.T.O., as source of his authority, shows his connections with Black Magic and inverted triangle.

Here's the passage alluded to in Crowley's letter:

    "In this connection, we recall that Aleister Crowley had been a member of an authentic English Rosicrucian organization, in which he was probably instructed in the Mystery of the Cross; that he denounced his vows, broke his solemn obligations and turned Black, and that thereafter, a short time prior to 1909, he fabricated and launched the A A in London. As and for the grand symbol of his A A , its ramifications, subordinate orders and their Black Magic activities, he adopted a specially designed cross - not the Rosy Cross that is and long has been the symbol of the Rosicrucian Brotherhood, but the Crowley Cross. Crowley made publication of his specially designed cross in March, 1910, facing page 210, Volume I, No. 3, of THE EQUINOX, which we reproduce herein, 'being facsimile Reproduction No. 23.' Will the reader kindly make special note of CROWLEY'S CROSS - the grand symbol of his various Black Magic activities? It is of special interest. We shall presently show that Mr. Lewis uses this same 'Crowley Cross' in his work and recently made an unsuccessful attempt to register it as an emblem of A.M.O.R.C. in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania."

Disappointed by Lewis's lack of support, Crowley later demanded control of A.M.O.R.C., threatening legal action in the process. There is every reason to think that he was serious in this plan, but a measure of his lack of practical judgment can be found from Crowley's request to Lewis in the matter. Crowley actually asked Lewis for the gift of $5,000 to underwrite a suit by Crowley and O.T.O. against Lewis and A.M.O.R.C.! Bit of a long shot, eh? - Ed.
{Note to Web edition: It was a longer shot than that -- a closer reading indicates that this was a mistaken impression. Crowley didn't actually ask Lewis to finance a suit against the latter}

Previous Primary Sources                   Next Primary Sources

The Out Basket will return in our next issue. No space this time.

Thelema Lodge Location in late 1992 e.v., not there now

{Note to Web Edition: The above map is included for historic purposes only. Thelema Lodge is not now at that location}

Thelema Lodge Events Calendar for December 1992 e.v.

12/1/92Crowley's Greater Feast, 6:30 PMThelema Ldg
12/3/92Planatary Magick a la Agrippa with
Mark. Saturn Class, 7:00 PM
Thelema Ldg.
12/5/92Planatary Magick a la Agrippa with
Mark. Saturn Rite, 12:30 PM
at: 566 63rd St. (not 588)
Thelema Ldg.
12/6/92Lodge Council & LOP 2:00 PMThelema Ldg.
12/6/92Gnostic Mass 4:18 PMThelema Ldg.
12/7/92Thelema Lodge meeting 8 PMThelema Ldg.
12/12/92OTO Raid Workshop #4 7:30 PM
Members only, Call to attend.
Thelema Ldg.
12/18/92O.T.O. Workshop 7:30 PM. Call to
attend. Initiates only.
Thelema Ldg.
12/19/92Initiations. Call to attend.Thelema Ldg.
12/20/92Gnostic Mass 4:18 PMThelema Ldg.
12/21/92Winter Solstice
12/23/92IIIrd Degree Initiation. Call to
Thelema Ldg.
12/26/923rd Annual Lesser Feast of Henry
Miller. 8:00 PM at
566 63rd St. (not 588).

    The viewpoints and opinions expressed herein are the responsibility of the contributing authors and do not necessarily reflect the position of OTO or its officers.

   Note to update: the addresses and phone numbers in these issues of the Thelema Lodge Calendars are obsolete since the closing of the Lodge. They are here for historic purposes only and should not be visited or called.

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