Gary Lachman on Colin Wilson

Gary Lachman will be talking about Colin Wilson at Westminster Reference Library on Friday 9th December 6.00 to 7.30 FREE.  Book here in advance.

Copies of Secret Tunnels of England: Folklore & Fact - in which Gary wrote an essay about the occult underground - will be on sale at a special reduced price.

Elliott O'Donnell and Aleister Crowley

As is common in memoirs of the early twentieth century Elliott O'Donnell claimed to have encountered Aleister Crowley (in this instance I am inclined to believe it).  Although O'Donnell says that the meeting took place in Chelsea, it was most likely 33 Avenue Studios, 76 Fulham Road.

'I will now refer to a mystery performance that I once witnessed in a Chelsea studio, by the kind invitation of Mr Aleister Crowley.'  O'Donnell was accompanied by two friends - on entering they passed through an ante room into a dimly lit apartment with a semi-circle of chairs arranged for the audience.  Behind the chairs, against the walls, busts were placed at regular intervals which he was informed 'were those of Pan, Lucifer and other mystic beings of questionable reputation.'  In the centre of the room was an altar.  Behind this, against the wall 'stood three tall wooden structures, that one might have mistaken for bathing machines, minus their wheels, or some rather antiquated kind of sentry-box.

When the audience was seated: 'Mr Aleister Crowley, arrayed in quasi-sacerdotal vestments, read extracts to us from a book which he told us was the "Book of Death".  This was followed by music described by O'Donnell as doleful and depressing; when this ceased a lady appeared from the left one of the 'sentry-boxes' wearing a flimsy green robe and carrying a a harp which she played for a short while before retiring to her box.  Another lady then emerged from the middle box, played on a harp and then retired.  The lights dimmed and Crowley 'strode out from behind a curtain and advanced in approved theatrical fashion to the altar', where he 'invoked certain gods of a none too respectable order.'  He then 'raised his voice to a shrill scream' proclaiming 'Now I will cut my chest'.  Then 'something bright flashed through the air and a short, sharp, crinkly sound was heard, a sound which was followed immediately by horrified murmurs from most of the ladies present, and from a whisper from one of my friends, consisting if I heard aright, of some vague allusion to isinglass, parchment and potato chips.'

O'Donnell then tells us that 'after a dramatic pause, sufficient to enable the ladies to recover from the fright,' Mr Crowley said, "I will now dip a burning wafer in my blood."'  He then passed something which O'donnell admitted he could not see, through the flame of a candle, and 'then held it close to his bare chest, thereby electing more cries of horror from the ladies.'  After this he paid his respects to the busts around the room, beginning each time 'O mighty and illustrious one' and ending 'we, thy servants assembled here to do the honour do now bid thee farewell.'  Then 'after making a few passes in the air with a dagger - or rather, as my friends remarked, after making a few vicious jabs in the air with a bread-knife, jabs or passes, the effect was sufficiently alarming to call forth a chorus of 'Ohs' - he announced that the ceremonies for the time being were at an end.'

He claims that he heard that later that evening 'rites of an even more enthralling nature were performed in private for those desirous of being initiated into the various stages of the Eleusinian mysteries, but as we could not count ourselves amongst the persons so desirous, my friends and I took our departure.'  He concludes by saying: 'I have heard many accounts of the weird things that are alleged to occur at the ceremonies and services presided over by Mr Aleister Crowley in Sicily, but if they are no more mystical and harrowing than those I and my friends witnessed in Chelsea, they are meat only for the most elementary type of thrill-hunter, the very rawest tyro in magic and occultism.  We were looking for something more subtle and magical than the magic we had frequently seen at Chinese and Indian entertainments, but we certainly looked for it in vain in the much-talked-of mystery room of Mr Aleister Crowley.'  [Elliott O'Donnell Rooms of Mystery, ch.XIX The Room of the Crab and Other Mystery Chambers  London' Philip Allan & Co. 1931 pp.255-258.  NB This is taken from an online transcription]

Master Ghost Hunter

Reading Master Ghost Hunter, a Life of Elliott O'Donnell by Richard Whittington-Egan.  It is one of the very few biographies I've read where I find it almost impossible to trust the accuracy of any of its contents (the biography of Sax Rohmer Master of Villainy is another, although not to the same extent.  It's possible that the two writers may have met, as they were both members of the Ham Bone club in Soho).  O'Donnell would appear to have been the Arthur Shuttlewood (see The Golden Ram of Satan post) of ghost hunting, having been witness to literally hundreds of apparitions, some terrifying enough to scare one to death - if his accounts are to be believed.  He also seems to have met a vast number of unlucky individuals who had their death foretold by a ghost and to have experienced a statistically remarkable series of coincidences and uncanny encounters.  I even wonder whether he actually did spend some time in the United States, travelling around and working on a ranch, or whether this was yet another product of his over-fertile imagination.  The book itself is well produced, with some nice glossy illustrations, some placed at the beginning of each chapter.  A huge amount of the text consists of long quotations from O'Donnell's books and unpublished autobiography and footnotes do not identify where passages have been taken from.  There is almost no authorial comment on what is being presented.

Only one tale includes a secret tunnel.  In 1952 O'Donnell assisted a group of Bristol University students in a seance and treasure hunt.  The alleged haunted house on St Michael's Hill, Bristol, was: 'built on the ruins of the convent of St Mary Magdalene, founded in 1174 and destroyed by Henry VIII.  For the past seven years the woman who owns it has been troubled by strange happenings.  Silent vibrations shake the walls at night.  Doors slam suddenly.  The daughter of the house frequently finds her nylon stockings mysteriously knotted next morning or the buttons of a coat or blouse done up, apparently by no human agency.'

O'Donnell was present at a seance in which the following information was received about the site: 'Sister Mary, a nun, killed Sister Angela at the corner of a secret passage beneath the convent.  She buried jewellery under the floor there.  Later, in remorse, she threw herself down another well.  She has haunted the area since, can find no rest until her bones are recovered and buried and the treasure is dug up and sent to a church in Italy.'   Some parallels with the nun of Borley here.

A group of students went down to the cellars and attacked the floor, excavating some of the well.

'There, in a dark cobwebbed corner of what must have been the crypt of the convent. the students, stripped to the waist, dug down into the clay and rubble that filled the old shaft.  At the depth of five feet [they] struck brick. [Fellow students] laid bare what appeared to be a brick-and-stone wall.  It had a hollow ring, and is believed to conceal the entrance to a secret passage ...

 'After probing the brick surface, which seemed slightly curved, as if it were the top of an arch, the treasure-seekers decided to suspend operations until an expert could examine the brickwork.' (pp261-262).  We are not told if the expert was consulted.

It is rather a mystery how O'Donnell earned money in his early years to pay for all his travels.  It seems to me that he took up writing purely to make money and had to thereafter keep coming up with the sensational goods.   He wrote of his activities:

'Let me state plainly that I lay no claim to being what is termed a scientific psychical researcher.  I am not a member of any august society that conducts its investigations of the other world, or worlds, with test tube and weighing apparatus; neither do I pretend to be a medium or consistent clairvoyant - I have never undertaken to "raise" ghosts at will for the sensation-seeker or the tourist.  I am merely a ghost hunter.  One who lays stake by his own eyes and senses; one who honestly believes that he inherits in some degree the faculty of psychic perceptiveness from a long line of Celtic ancestry; and who is, and always has been, deeply and genuinely interested in all questions relative to phantasms and a continuance of individual life after physical dissolution.' (pp.3-4)

I've just discovered that Richard Whittington Egan died in September at the age of 91.  He was an acknowledged expert on Jack the Ripper, whom he refers to here as 'Saucy Jacky' (?!)  When I was writing Decadent London I tried to read his biography of Richard Le Gallienne, but was defeated by the orotund style.  Master Ghost Hunter was published earlier this year.  Obituary here.

Events

I did manage to get to the Folk Horror Revival conference at the British Museum last month.  It was totally sold out and very busy (how I dislike modern lecture theatres with long continuous cramped rows with no aisles between them).  A lot of the subject matter was already familiar to me, but one or two leads will be followed up.  A few days earlier I watched Robin Redbreast for the first time, a Play for Today with a nicely sinister performance from Bernard Hepton.   Two special guests put in an appearance towards the end - Shirley Collins and Reece Shearsmith, who both participated in the Q&A.  Shirley Collins mentioned that when she lived in Hastings and walked with her mother and sister along the Ridge, there was one point where they crossed over the road - to avoid 'the house where Aleister Crowley lived' (Netherwood - see my book).

Even though I don't make an effort to see him talk any more (as I once did) Iain Sinclair was one of the most interesting speakers, making some insightful comments on Witchfinder General and its director Michael Reeves.  A good review of the event here.  Very nifty badges given out, by the way.  I met English Heretic (who should have been asked to speak or perform - he was name checked at the conference) at the end and we went for a drink.  We discussed doing a joint event next year in Hastings similar to the one at the Electric Palace in 2012, but at a different venue.

Richard Cavendish died a couple of weeks ago.  A historian who wrote extensively on the occult before it was being seriously investigated by the Academy (very different situation these days), Cavendish was the editor of the hugely influential early 1970s journal Man Myth and Magic (I picked up a bound edition from Treadwells a few years ago) - he also wrote on Arthurian matters.  Obituary here (cannot find one that is non-subscription at the moment).

Gary Lachman will be talking about his new biography of Colin Wilson at Westminster Reference Library on Friday 9th December between 6.30 and 8.00.  This is a free event.  Booking details very soon.  Copies of the Secret Tunnels of England book will be on sale - Gary contributed an excellent essay.

The monumental Pink Floyd Early Years box set is released next week, at great expense.  I think their transition from avant grade experimentalists to multi-million selling chart act is fascinating, although I could safely never listen again to anything since Wish You Were Here.  Amongst a number of rarities are recordings made with the book-destroying artist John Latham.  See this article by David Toop.

Harry Price at Pulborough

Last week on the same excursion to West Sussex to visit Lyminster we also went to Pulborough to see the house - Arun Bank (no blue plaque) - in which Harry Price lived from 1908 to 1948 and in which his wife spent most of her time while he was travelling around investigating spirits and poltergeists and having affairs.  He died there in his study on 29 March 1948 from a massive heart attack - he was working on a third book about Borley Rectory, which was never finished or published.

We also went to St Mary's Pulborough where Price and his wife are buried and found the grave.  On this occasion there was a small bunch of flowers by the gravestone with a message "Dear Harry, Hope you enjoy your conversations with Gef the Mongoose."  Christopher Josiffe's long-awaited study of this extremely bizarre case investigated by Price will be available next month.  I can't wait to read it.

October Reading

Roger Bristol  The Last Bohemians: The Two Roberts, Colquhoun & MacBryde

See post below.

Michael Hastings  Tom and Viv  This is Hastings' most well-known play about the disastrous marriage of T S Eliot and Vivienne Haigh-Wood.  Coincidentally, in a biography of George Devine (a founder of the English Stage Company responsible for the 'golden age' of plays at the Royal Court) I read:

"Devine went along to the New Lindsay production of Don't Destroy Me [by Hastings] and discovered not only that its author had talent but that he was in some danger of destroying himself.  Besides his eight-to-six tailoring job, he was drunk nightly in the Fitzrovian company of Colquhoun and MacBryde ... Devine thereupon 'in a most fatherly manner' warned him off the literary life and the Beaverbrook Press and advised him to get on with writing and finish his apprenticeship: telling 'me in no uncertain terms that Radiguet was a finer writer at this age than I was and young Raymond never required a Colquhoun or a MacBryde to carry him home at night.'"   Irving Wardle The Theatres of George Devine (Cape, 1976) pp.195-196

Geoffrey Household  Rogue Male  First read at secondary school and reread a few times since then.  Still a great thriller.  And due for yet another remake, this time with Benedict Cumberbatch.  Interesting article about it here.

John Russell Taylor  The Art Nouveau Book in Britain

Allan Bryce Amicus The Friendly Face of Fear  Just published, arrived appropriately on Halloween.  I've enjoyed Doctor Terror's House of Horrors and The Skull this year.  While Amicus' output was very mixed to say the least, it would appear that there are still one or two other films worth seeking out.

R K R Thornton ed.  Poetry of the Nineties

David Hare  The Secret Rapture

My play is now finished and I intend to send it to a professional (many advertise their services online,  but one wonders about their real qualifications) to read through and comment on before any further progress.

Knucker Hole, Lyminster

To Lyminster in West Sussex to investigate an interesting piece of local folklore.  Knucker Hole is a deep round pool, close to the church, fed by a strong underground spring.  According to Notes & Queries (1855) such deep pools:

are called by the people thereabouts Nuckar Holes.  They are very deep, and considered bottomless, because such strong springs arise in them that they never require to be ... emptied and cleaned out.  A mystery ... attaches to them among the common people, who seem to have a vague notion of their connexion with another bottomless pit.

The Lyminster pond has been measured to a depth of thirty feet, but a local story says that village men once took the six bellropes from the church tower (a pub nearby is called The Six Bells) tied them together and still could not touch the bottom.  The word Knucker derives from the Anglo- Saxon 'nicor' or 'water-monster' (nicoras appear in Beowulf) and the Lyminster pool was said to be the home of a fearsome dragon.  For years he ravaged the surrounding area until a brave knight slew him.  A very worn medieval tombstone, believed to be that of the knight, could for centuries be found near the church porch, but more recently was moved inside to stand by the font.

Another local tale ascribes the slaying to a young villager called Jim Pulk.  The canny lad baked a huge pie, lacing it with poison, and drew it on a horse cart to the pool, where he hid behind a bush.  The dragon emerged from the water, sniffed the pie, ate it together with the horse and cart, the poison soon took its course and the dragon curled up and expired.  Having cut off the creature's head, to celebrate his victory Jim went to the Six Bells for a beer, but collapsed and died when he wiped his hand over his mouth - he'd forgotten to wash the poison off his hands; the tombstone has also been claimed as his.  Another version features a hero called Jim Puttock.  For more see Folklore of Sussex by Jacqueline Simpson (Tempus, 2002, pp.34-39).

Inevitably, there is a secret tunnel involved.  Simpson notes that: 'Some seek a rational explanation, saying, for example, that there was a nunnery in Lyminster, linked to the church by a tunnel, and that the nuns invented the story of the dragon to scare soldiers away from this tunnel at the time of the Conquest.'

Inside the church of St Mary Magdalene we were pleasantly surprised to find a stained glass window commemorating the Knucker Hole tale.  Between two angels representing sun and moon a fearsome dragon is approached by the figure of Jim Pulk bearing a much-reduced pie that would have been unlikely to finish off the monster.  The window is, however, very beautiful.  It was made by Caroline Benyon.

Unfortunately, the Hole itself - a couple of hundred yards down a wide grassy path from the church - cannot now be easily seen and sits heavily fenced off (complete with barbed wire!) and behind thick high hedges.  Only small glimpses are available through a gate.

Pictures above:  Stained glass window, tombstone and limited view of Knucker Hole through gate.

The Two Roberts

Having acquired a lithograph by Robert Colquhoun earlier this year I decided to read The Last Bohemians, The Two Roberts - Colquhoun and MacBryde by Roger Bristow.   The two Roberts met at Glasgow School of Art and were inseparable until Colquhoun's death from a heart attack at the age of 47 in September 1962.  MacBryde survived until May 1966 when he was killed by a hit-and-run driver in Dublin following an evening's drinking.  They were one of the homosexual double-acts that have cropped up a few times in the history of art: one immediately thinks of Ricketts and Shannon and Gilbert & George.

The Last Bohemians is an interesting study of the pair, but I felt by the end that I still didn't really know them that well.  Bristow is more forgiving than some commentators have been about their drunken and abusive behaviour and it has to be said that after Colquhoun's initial success and fame they certainly experienced some misfortunes.   They were, however, extremely fortunate in having a number of well-off and not so well-off friends who supported them, paying their rent and lending them cash, in some cases for years.

The book introduced me to the artist John Kashdan who I hadn't come across before, whose work seems worth looking for, as well as two enterprising ladies from Lewes, Frances Byng-Stamper and Caroline Lucas who founded the Miller's Press and ran an art gallery in the town that attracted a lot of big names.  There is an informative piece about them in Country Life (16 April 1987).   More information here and here.  Apparently, the portrait of them painted by Cedric Morris in 1935 (National Museum of Wales - see above) offended them so much that they never wanted to see it again once he had shown it to them.

I was also going to write more about some of the contemporaries and friends of the Two Roberts but I see that Richard Warren (see blog links opposite) has already done a wonderful job here.

Stage Directions

Modern guides to play writing recommend brevity in many areas, not least stage directions, favouring the Pinteresque (Pause.)  Dipping into one of my favourite literary studies/commentaries Invisible Forms by Kevin Jackson - a series of essays on paratexts eg.  epigraphs, footnotes, appendices etc. -  I find a chapter on stage directions.  Probably the most famous stage direction comes from The Winter's Tale Act III sc. iii:  Exit, pursued by a bear.  Samuel Beckett in Act Without Words and Breath succeeded in making plays only from stage directions.  

A type of discursive stage direction that is rarely, if ever, encountered nowadays comes from the beginning of J M Barrie's Peter Pan:

The night nursery of the Darling family, which is the scene of our opening Act, is at the top of a rather depressed street in Bloomsbury.  We have a right to place it where we will, and the reason Bloomsbury is chosen is that Mr Roget once lived there.  So did we in days when his Thesaurus was our only companion in London; and we whom he has helped to wend our way through life have always wanted to pay him a little compliment.  The Darlings therefore lived in Bloomsbury ...

My favourite of Jackson's examples comes from Thomas Hardy's The Dynasts (1904-8).  While Hardy in his preface describes it as 'presented to the mind's eye in the likeness of a drama' insisting that it is 'intended simply for mental performance and not for the stage' there apparently have been attempts to stage parts of it.  Admittedly, with modern technology it might be possible to realise the stage direction below, but it would be interesting to see how it is done:

At once, as earlier, a preternatural clearness possesses the atmosphere of the battle-field, in which the scene becomes anatomised and the living masses of humanity transparent.  The controlling Imminent Will appears therein, as a brain-like network of currents and ejections, teaching, interpenetrating, entangling, and thrusting hither and thither the human forms.   

Reading for September

Will Carruthers  Playing the Bass with Three Left Hands

I had the opportunity to see Will Carruthers (one-time bass player with Spacemen 3 and Spiritualized) at the splendid Wow and Flutter record shop in Hastings a couple of weeks ago.  Very entertaining speaker and conversationalist and the book is really good too.  It's often more interesting reading the experiences of the lesser known musicians struggling with poverty and addiction than the dull superstars like Elton bloody John.  Apparently Spiritualized - in the early days at least - were fuelled more by booze than drugs - leading one wag to rechristen their excellent debut lp Lager Guided Melodies.  I saw Spiritualized a number of times - memorable occasions were at the Hackney Empire with Aphex Twin and the short-lived Levitation (who had the plug pulled on them for over-running) and Middlesex Polytechnic playing within a stunning laser tunnel.

Michael Hoskin  The History of Astronomy A Very Short Introduction

Harold Pinter  The Dumb Waiter, The Birthday Party, The Room

Terry Johnson  Imagine Drowning,  Hysteria,  Dead Funny

Simon Gray Quartermaine's Terms - I remember seeing this back in 1981 directed by Harold Pinter and with Edward Fox in the title role.  Gray's autobiography The Smoking Dairies is also highly recommended.

Steve Gooch  Writing a Play

Writing of the play is about 80% complete.  Of course the likelihood of it ever being performed in public is extremely remote - we shall see.