The Western Gate

Astounding Secrets of the Devil Worshippers Mystic Love Cult
William Seabrook
Snuggly Books

Being Libran and last book review I contemplated the utopia of a circle of mystic brethren where the main concern of activity would be spent enjoying tea, cake and telling stories…. And I were content and satiated with that dream! But, as I state being Libran let us weigh up the other side of the coin. The indulgence of sex and drugs and a culty (careful with that spelling sir) secret society.
According to William Seabrook, this is the reality of Aleister Crowley’s debauched little gathering of likeminded deviants. Here presented in a small book the 12 articles that Seabrook ‘sensationalised’ and bought about Crowley’s expulsion, amongst other complaints, from his Abbey of Thelema in Cefalau. Seabrook describes it as a villa, its actually little more than a large shack, Seabrook, never actually went. His stories seem to be impressed by the telegrams and correspondence Aleister sent him, Mr Crowley of course well aware of the notion that ‘better to be talked about than not talked about’, as Oscar Wilde said, or was it Monty Python.
I can’t say the articles are fascinating, believable or essential, but having not read a newspaper for decades, reminds me of why I gave up in the first place. Admittedly, with all the integrity and honesty of a soap opera, apparently, reflecting life, there is adequate drama and escapism to endure the slog. hell, ok, I admit it (at last !) it was a fun read.
Despite claims that astounding secrets of sex cult action were to be revealed there was little to be had, perhaps the odd tease that a lady of the inner sanctum removed her clothes at one point, or that a woman lay atop an altar, bare! There wasn’t any pounding action or the great beast astride some wailing neophyte rutting for all his worth, an image I must add I don’t find too appealing to imagine.

There were drugs aplenty, Hash and smack and cocaine and ether to make pliable and dependent the, ahem, willing devotees.
We hear through the ‘lurid‘ stories of some poor girl flagellated and how scarlet woman ~ Leah Hirsig described herself as an empty soul before she became Crowley’s doll, he carved things into her chest Seabrook protests with abject horror.
I would give Crowley more respect, based solely on this book, if the accounts and stories as retold by Seabrook were a bit more gratuitous. I’ve heard far worse from the backroom of a gig, from antics of a rehearsal room, the afterparty of a first night at the theatre. In fact, to be honest, Mr Seabrook must have lead a very dull life if these accounts by his standards were actually shocking? He should have come to some of those nightclubs back in the eighties, the torture gardens, The Blitz Club, Limelight, he should have popped a few E’s and raved away, perhaps he never had a weekend of debauched cocaine frenzied shagging at a 48 hour party? Yes I know he’s pre war, but they could get their hands on much purer drugs than than the ‘pro-plus‘ and brick dust street offerings of today.
What I imagine is apparent is that as soon as these activities are linked in any way to anything ‘religious’ or ‘occult’, they insight hysteria! And why exactly does an underground ‘cult’ seem to veer towards the ‘deviant‘, the charges of sex and drugs? why aren’t there cults and underground occult circles whose activities revolve around art, music, writing, talking… why does it have to descend into drunken orgies? Which at my time of life, if always, ends up pretty boring and just tick a box to say ‘I’ve been naughty’.
If people want to indulge in lots of orgasms to free their inhibitions that’s their choice and their inhibitions their own problem, but the real work starts on trying to work out what is our true nature.

Crowley told Jane Wolfe to camp out on a hillside for 30days, at the risk of being stoned (literally not from a doobie) by the local youth. There she was, with the bare minimum, and freezing she would, it was suggested, demolish her ego. Maybe, she just resented the fact, maybe in fact the ego got stronger and plotted. Maybe the ego gave her a false image of bliss, free from want, knowing with glazed eyes and a look that Moses had when he came back down from chiseling the commandments that cake and grog could be enjoyed again.
The Occult, means to find the hidden, to explore the unknown and esoteric. When we were youngsters our greatest taboo and wonder was sex. Is that going to be the anvil onto which we are constantly hammered for life? Done it, some do it this way, some that, some are animals, some are gentle and sensual, sometimes its mechanical, and sometimes a chore, sometimes risky etc.
The point with drugs then… that other tandem vice, the escapism. When 4 hours of pleasure has to be paid back to the ferryman with 24 hours of strife, when the weekend takes a whole week to recover, the payback ceases to be equal. It becomes unjust. And why does it require drugs? There are benefits, and let’s leave out the ‘in moderation’ line, that’s just what addicts say. There are discoveries to be had, however, just as a travel to an exotic island fulfills the same result, just as a book that expands the mind or a song that makes you weep and usually without the awful payback the body has to give for forcefully shedding huge resources of dopamine. The mind will soon cry wolf, and evermore become more and more depressed mid way and between drug episodes, each indulgence requiring more of the same, or perhaps a little cocktail to liven things up, to try and recreate that first time… and it will never come, it will never happen again.
This is akin to that indulgence of fear, expectation and wonder, adorning some mystic gown, incense, there you are, just as everyone said you’d end up, in some weird gathering with dubious characters. How exciting.
Crowley declared himself an Ipsissimus, beyond the normal wants and motions of a mortal being, yet, hopelessly addicted to opiates until the day he declared, he was “perplexed” and popped off into the abyss.

What a waste. And yet…..what fun? If time were given back what would he have chosen? We can only guess in the light of knowledge, and that path begins without a map or compass , tread carefully or run through the tangled garden amok waving every tool to cut asunder the brambles of inhibition, inherent oppression, unknowing.
So, Mr Libra, let’s weigh it up. Sex drug fuelled mystic cult, or Philosophical theatre and creative exploration?
Mr.Crowley shames all us Librans by refusing to sing the mantra we of the balance uphold, “we don’t mind, whatever.” … well actually he said “do what thou wilt.” And that’s another way for us Libran’s to say nonchantly “yeah, if you want.”
This brings me finally to my last problem with Crowley, do what thou wilt, is;- to explore what the true nature of your will should be. Art, or writing, or theatre or performance or science….. well why not just observe, why not anything and everything… all at once?

Black and white Illustrations adapted from the originals article. See Also Here

Header illustration-The Romans in their Decadence- Thomas Coutoure 1847