Aleister Crowley - The Greatest Works of Aleister Crowley

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Musaicum Books presents to you this meticulously edited collection of Aleister Crowley greatest works. Crowley was a highly prolific writer, not only on the topic of Thelema and magick, but on philosophy, politics, and culture. This extraordinary collection presents both his fiction and non-fiction works with special emphasis on religious and mystical texts.
Contents:
Thelema Texts:
The Book of the Law (Liber AL vel Legis)
The Law of Liberty (Liber DCCCXXXVII)
Ecclesiæ Gnosticæ Catholicæ Creed
Liber A'ash vel Capricorni Pneumatici
Liber B vel Magi
Liber Cheth vel Vallum Abiegni
Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente
Liber DCCCXIII vel Ararita
Liber III vel Jugorum
Liber Liberi vel Lapidis Lazuli
Liber Librae
Liber LXI vel Causæ
Liber Porta Lucis
Liber Resh vel Helios
Liber Stellae Rubeae
Liber Tzaddi vel Hamus Hermeticus
Aleister Crowley On Drugs:
The Diary of a Drug Fiend
The Psychology of Hashish
Cocaine
Mysticism & Magick
The Book Of Lies
The Blue Equinox
The Lesser Key of Solomon
White Stains
Moonchild

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I wandered up all alone to the magic room, and sat with my hands on the table opposite the old man, trying to get him to talk.

His lips move, but I can't hear what he says.

I was disturbed, of course. I always am being disturbed. I am so tired. Why won't they let me alone ?

This time it was a shot. The magic room has windows all around it.

I went to see who could have fired. It was very bright moonlight ; but I could see nothing.

Then there came another flash and report. I went round to the side it came from, and watched. It was by the lake. I watched a long time. Then a crouching figure hidden among the reeds sprang up, put a gun to its shoulder and fired twice in rapid succession. Then it screamed, and ran to the house throwing away its gun. I wonder what it could be.

September 20

I have found a manuscript in grandfather's room that tells you how to invoke the Devil. It needs two people, and I don't feel sure about Peter.

He can't see into the spiritual world at all. On the contrary, he is getting a little queer in the head, and imagines he sees things which don't exist at all. He's constantly scratching himself.

He behaved very strangely at dinner. I think the butler noticed it.

At midnight we went up to the old man's room and began to go through the ritual. A lot of it seems silly, but the climax is fine.

You keep on saying, over and over

" Io Pan Pan! Io Pan Pan! Ai Pan Pan ! Io Pan Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan Pan Pan!

Aegipan, Aegipan, Aegipan, Aegipan, Aegipan,

Aegipan, Io Pan Pan! "

You go on till something comes. We used two black robes that we found hanging up there.

They were lovely silk robes with hoods.

You take candles in both hands and dance while you make the incantations.

We got frightfully excited. It was as if a strange force had got hold of us. It seemed to lead us all round the house and then into the grounds.

We were shouting at the top of our voices.

Once or twice we saw a servant putting out a nose through a chink of a door. It would always be shut with a little squeal, and we could hear keys turning and bolts being pushed.

We wanted to roar with laughter, but we had to keep on with the invocation. The book said you mustn't stop it while you were outside the magic room, or the Devil could get you.

The strange thing is that I don't remember at all what happened. Did the Devil come or not ?

I don't even remember getting back to the magic room. I must have gone to sleep, for I've woken up frightfully hungry.

Cockie's awake too. He's kneeling at the window with a shot gun. He aimed it two or three times, but didn't fire. He came back to me after putting the gun in a comer.

He said, " It's no good. They're too spry. The only chance to get them is at night."

He was hungry too. We rang for some food. Nobody answered the bell.

We rang again and again.

Then Peter got angry and went to see what was wrong. " There isn't a soul in the place ! "

It's perfectly incomprehensible. What could have happened to them all ?

Peter says it's the Germans. Part of a plot to persecute him for what he did in the war. But I don't think so at all.

It says in a book that you have to get rid of every one if you're going to start the spiritual life.

I expect my spiritual guide put it into their minds to go, but I'm very doubtful about Cockie. He's not ready for any high development. Men are always revoltingly gross.

Think how they are even about love. I must say this for Cockie, he's all right about that. The very flower of purity-a perfect knight !

Yet we went through a period of a very evil character. No doubt we had to be purged of all our baser elements.

There is a great sympathy between us at times, and it is not soiled by any animality.

The only thing is I'm not sure whether it hasn't been too great a strain for his mind-the process of purification.

He certainly has some very queer ideas. Sometimes I catch him looking at me with some deep suspicion in his eyes. His mind is harping on the Germans. He broke out just now into a denunciation of Gretel Webster as a German spy, and rambled on from that to say something that I couldn't properly understand. But the gist of it was apparently that as Gretel had introduced us more or less, I was being used to do him some harm.

Of course ideas like this come to one when one's hungry, and all this sprang up owing to the mysterious disappearance of the servants.

There was nothing for it but for Peter to go to the inn and have food sent in. But I had the devil's own job to get him to do it. His character lacks decision.

I made him take two or three sniffs of snow. That put him right, and now he's gone off to the inn.

I'm very glad to be alone. I always felt those servants were spying. The house is delightfully quiet.

As I write there are two beautiful people looking over my shoulder. They have been sent to watch over me and guide me, and prepare me for the great destiny which is in store for me.

Here comes Peter with the waiter and a tray. I must hide this book. The secrets of the spiritual life must be kept from the profane.

It's all right. Peter is my soul-mate after all. We couldn't eat much. It's only natural; all base appetites have to be killed out before one is ready to go on. Peter ate very little himself; and then he said:

" I know why we couldn't get the Devil to come the other night. It was having those servants about. I remember now that grandfather only had two in the house, and he used to send them away when he had anything big on. Let's see what we can do to-night."

That was delightful. That was his old self.

We thought it would be a good plan to coke up pretty hard before starting.

Chapter VI.

Cold Turkey

Table of Contents

Seplember 23

I Don't remember what happened. I know why. Basil told me long ago that the mind only kept count of material things. So these spiritual events are recorded in a higher kind of mind of which we are not conscious until we get accustomed to spiritual life. So all I can put down is that we had a complete success.

The Devil, of course, needs a human interpreter if he is to communicate with this world, and so he took possession of Peter. He has been preparing Peter to represent him. He will make Peter pope, and I am to be in the Vatican disguised, to help him because he can't do without me.

My own spiritual guide is named Keletiel. She is a wonderful being, wears peacock blues and greens. She has white wings like a swan, and carries a sheaf of many-coloured flowers. She has long, loose, black curling hair down to her waist. There is a golden band round her forehead, studded with sapphires, with her name on it. I can always tell her by this.

There has to be a token, because she changes her size so much. Sometimes she is a tiny thing, not up to my knee, and sometimes she is two or three times as high as the North Tower.

Peter and I are covered with blood. We came out of the circle before the Devil had gone, and he scratched us all to pieces. Luckily we got back before he killed us, but we lost consciousness and woke up a long while later. That's why we can't remember what happened.

I have some idea that I had a terrible quarrel with Peter, but I can't remember any details.

I think he does, though, but he won't tell me.

I don't know why he should act like that. The only thing I can think is that Gretel Webster may have come down to see him perhaps in her astral body, and put him against me somehow....

He was lying on the sofa in his pyjamas. I wanted to be kissed, and went over to him with some cocaine. But he didn't move. He looked at me with wide open eyes. There was some dreadful fear in them, and he said,

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