Aleister Crowley & Boleskine House (updated Jan 21)

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Born Edward Alexander Crowley
12 October 1875
Royal Leamington Spa, Warwickshire
England
Died 1 December 1947 (aged 72)
Hastings, East Sussex
England
Occupation Occultist, poet, novelist, mountaineer
Spouse(s) Rose Edith Kelly (m.1903–09)
Maria Teresa Sanchez (m.1929–)
Children Nuit Ma Ahathoor Hecate Sappho Jezebel Lilith Crowley (1904–06)
Lola Zaza Crowley (1907–90)
Astarte Lulu Panthea Crowley (1920–2014)[1]
Anne Leah Crowley (1920)
Randall Gair Doherty (1937–2002)
Parent(s) Edward Crowley and Emily Bertha Crowley (née Bishop)
Aleister Crowley (/ˈkroʊli/; born Edward Alexander Crowley; 12 October 1875 – 1 December 1947) was an English occultist, ceremonial magician, poet, painter, novelist, and mountaineer. He founded the religion and philosophy of Thelema, identifying himself as the prophet entrusted with guiding humanity into the Æon of Horus in the early 20th century.

Born to a wealthy Plymouth Brethren family in Royal Leamington Spa, Warwickshire, Crowley rejected this fundamentalist Christian faith to pursue an interest in Western esotericism. He was educated at the University of Cambridge, where he focused his attentions on mountaineering and poetry, resulting in several publications. Some biographers allege that here he was recruited into a British intelligence agency, further suggesting that he remained a spy throughout his life. In 1898 he joined the esoteric Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, where he was trained in ceremonial magic by Samuel Liddell MacGregor Mathers and Allan Bennett. Moving to Boleskine House by Loch Ness in Scotland, he went mountaineering in Mexico with Oscar Eckenstein, before studying Hindu and Buddhist practices in India. He married Rose Edith Kelly and in 1904 they honeymooned in Cairo, Egypt, where Crowley claimed to have been contacted by a supernatural entity named Aiwass, who provided him with The Book of the Law, a sacred text that served as the basis for Thelema. Announcing the start of the Æon of Horus, The Book declared that its followers should adhere to the code of “Do what thou wilt” and seek to align themselves with their Will through the practice of magick.

After an unsuccessful attempt to climb Kanchenjunga and a visit to India and China, Crowley returned to Britain, where he attracted attention as a prolific author of poetry, novels, and occult literature. In 1907, he and George Cecil Jones co-founded a Thelemite order, the A∴A∴, through which they propagated the religion. After spending time in Algeria, in 1912 he was initiated into another esoteric order, the German-based Ordo Templi Orientis (OTO), rising to become the leader of its British branch, which he reformulated in accordance with his Thelemite beliefs. Through the OTO, Thelemite groups were established in Britain, Australia, and North America. Crowley spent the First World War in the United States, where he took up painting and campaigned for the German war effort against Britain, later revealing that he had infiltrated the pro-German movement to assist the British intelligence services. In 1920 he established the Abbey of Thelema, a religious commune in Cefalù, Sicily where he lived with various followers. His libertine lifestyle led to denunciations in the British press, and the Italian government evicted him in 1923. He divided the following two decades between France, Germany, and England, and continued to promote Thelema until his death.

Crowley gained widespread notoriety during his lifetime, being a recreational drug experimenter, bisexual and an individualist social critic. As a result, he was denounced in the popular press as “the wickedest man in the world” and erroneously labelled a Satanist. Crowley has remained a highly influential figure over Western esotericism and the counter-culture, and continues to be considered a prophet in Thelema. In 2002, a BBC poll ranked him as the seventy-third greatest Briton of all time.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleister_Crowley
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http://www.freerangehumans.net/barbara-bush-was-most-likely-fathered-by-satanist-aleister-crowley/

Barbara Bush
https://youtu.be/L5pv-2zCbeU

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Boleskine House
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Boleskine House was the estate of author and occultist Aleister Crowley from 1899 to 1913. It is located on the South-Eastern shore of Loch Ness in Scotland, two miles east of the Village of Foyers. The house was built in the late 18th century by Archibald Fraser.

Crowley purchased the home in order to perform the operation found in The Book of the Sacred Magick of Abra-Melin the Mage. To perform it, Crowley says,

One must have a house where proper precautions against disturbance can be taken; this being arranged, there is really nothing to do but to aspire with increasing fervor and concentration, for six months, towards the obtaining of the Knowledge and Conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel.

In The Confessions of Aleister Crowley (Chapter 22), he continues:

The first essential is a house in a more or less secluded situation. There should be a door opening to the north from the room of which you make your oratory. Outside this door, you construct a terrace covered with fine river sand. This ends in a “lodge” where the spirits may congregate.

Crowley eventually sold the manor in order to fund the publication of The Equinox, Vol. III. However, he later alleged that the funds were stolen by the Grand Treasurer General of Ordo Templi Orientis, George MacNie Cowie.

Aleister Crowley considered Boleskine to be the Thelemic Kiblah. This is an Arabic word which refers to the direction of Mecca, the holiest shrine of Islam. It has a slightly different meaning in Thelema, as it is mentioned in several rituals written by Crowley where it is identified with the East.

The Gnostic Mass and Liber Reguli both identify the principal orientation (sometimes known as “Magical East”) as being towards Boleskine. It is considered to be the focal point of the magical energies (also called the “93 Current”) of the Aeon of Horus. In this way it is similar to Jerusalem in Judaism and Mecca in Islam.

As Sabazius X (1998) notes:

Thus, the location of Boleskine House is to be the Omphalos or Center of Power for Thelema, and is to continue as such for the duration of the Aeon of Horus, regardless of the physical presence of the Stèle or of the house itself. Thus, O.T.O. Lodges, Profess-Houses and Gnostic Mass Temples are ideally to be oriented towards Boleskine.[2]

House and grounds

Boleskine House is located on the South-Eastern shore of Loch Ness in Scotland at 57°15′55.3″N 4°28′28.8″WCoordinates: 57°15′55.3″N 4°28′28.8″W.

Crowley describes Boleskine in Confessions:

The house is a long low building. I set apart the south-western half for my work. The largest room has a bow window and here I made my door and constructed the terrace and lodge. Inside the room I set up my oratory proper. This was a wooden structure, lined in part with the big mirrors which I brought from London.

The home includes the entrance hall, five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a drawing room, dining room, family room, kitchen, utility room, and the cellars. The grounds (about 47 acres) includes the Gate Lodge, which was originally the home for a coachman. It has a living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, as well as a pond, small garden and an orchard.
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Did Aleister Crowley unwittingly summon the Loch Ness Monster?

One might not ever have a reason to compare Nessie with the infamous occultist Aleister Crowley, unless of course to make the point that they’ve both been called monsters, but the two may have more in common than you think. In fact, if the mystics and monster hunters are to be believed, Crowley and the odd events at a house on the South-Eastern shore of Loch Ness in the early 1900’s may be responsible for the appearance of the legendary beast.
In Full Here
http://weekinweird.com/2011/04/11/the-boleskine-house-loch-ness-other-stranger-monster/

The Holograph Manuscript of Liber AL vel Legis
http://lib.oto-usa.org/libri/liber0031.html
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And Of Course, Aangirfan
http://aangirfan.blogspot.co.uk/2009/10/aleister-crowley.html?m=1
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http://www.luckymojo.com/crowley/

LOCH NESS CULT
https://spidercatweb.wordpress.com/2015/09/11/alien-jesus-cult-loch-ness/

BOLESKINE HOUSE MYSTERIOUSLY BURNS TO GROUND

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ncomer from hell

Saturday 1 June 1996 / News

Published Saturday 1 June 1996 / News

 

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The ghost of Aleister Crowley, who influenced many, including the late film director Donald Cammell, has finally left Boleskine House, declares Roger Hutchinson

AS we drove along the north-west shore of Loch Ness, my companion said: “That’s where Aleister Crowley lived.” He was pointing directly over the water at a blur of housing on the far hillside. “It’s still haunted. Things happen there. I don’t care what anybody says, it’s a weird place.”

Once you are near it, the place is very far from weird. It is an unassuming Georgian villa, standing above the quiet old road which skirts the southern shore of Loch Ness. Built in the last decades of the eighteenth century, it was no more than a lodge for the local aristocracy.

Since 1889, however, notoriety has hung like a vapour over Boleskine House. Strange doings have been rumoured there, things almost unspeakable, since it became the home of the “wickedest man in the world” – the man, declared John Bull magazine, “that we would like to hang.”

It is not so difficult to see what it was about Aleister Crowley that attracted such editorial comment. He was a bisexual drug-addicted charlatan with a fondness for the black arts.

There’s little doubt that he did have an influence on the group of people around him, however, which included film director Donald Cammell who shot himself in April. At times Cammell played down the connection – his father was a friend and one account names Crowley as Cammell’s godfather – but conceded that being brought up in a household where magick (as Crowley spelled it) was real, had an effect on him. That would not surprise anyone watching Cammell’s most notorious work Performance.

Crowley propagandised against his country during the First World War; he walked blithely away from Himalayan accidents, leaving his fellow mountaineers to their fate, and he claimed to be the prophet of a hedonistic new religion which would replace Christianity.

The 24-year-old who first walked into Boleskine House on Loch Ness-side in August, 1899, was a mere pupa of the fully-formed wizard who would come to call himself “The Beast” and be abominated in the press 20 years later.

He bought this unsuspecting little single-storey villa at Boleskine because he was already fascinated by the black arts, and the magician Abra-Merlin had advised that in order to conjure up one’s Guardian Angel one must construct an oratory with certain physical and geographical characteristics. It should have a north-opening door, a terrace covered with fine river sand, and a lodge at the end of the terrace.

Crowley had inherited a huge fortune of #40,000, and he was prepared to spend all of it on the appropriate site for the Operation of the Sacred Magick.He ended up half way between the sleeping hamlets of Foyers and Inverfarigaig.

Crowley’s first few years at Boleskine were a mixture of mundanity, magic, and mischief.

Then he raised the demons in the lodge above Loch Ness and discovered them to be uncontrollable. A workman employed to renovate the building attacked Crowley and had to be locked in the cellar.

Crowley absent-mindedly scribbled some incantation on the Foyers butcher’s bill, and the poor tradesman promptly chopped through his own femoral artery and died. His lodgekeeper, who had claimed to be a teetotaller, went on a three-day binge and tried to kill his wife and children.

His housekeeper unsurprisingly handed in her notice and fled. People began to take the old hill paths, rather than risk offending the inhabitants of Boleskine House.

It is not difficult to imagine the impact that Crowley had on the Highlands at the turn of the century. That big, bold, amoral man with his gypsy band of friends and his matter-of-fact communications with the netherworld hit the district like a howitzer. He was the incomer from hell.

Like most men of certainty and all of the half-mad, Crowley went on his way quite unperturbed by the opinions of others. He christened himself the Laird of Boleskine and Abertarff, in respect of his two Highland acres, and had a coronet with a gilded “B” embossed on his notepaper. (The honorific was later elevated to Lord Boleskine.)

And then he got married in the Highlands, but not in any normal way.

In the summer of 1903, when Crowley was 28 his friend Gerald Kelly joined him in Boleskine. Kelly’s mother and widowed sister were taking the waters 20 miles away at the Strathpeffer spa, and one day a letter arrived from Mrs Kelly requesting a visit from her son.

Crowley went along for the ride. It transpired that Mrs Kelly was worried by the behaviour of her daughter Rose. Intrigued, Crowley befriended Rose. Her problem was, he discovered, easily solved. She was a young widow pestered by boring older men, one or other of whom her mother was determined she should marry.

Lord Boleskine proposed his solution. If she would marry him, Crowley declared – why then, Rose could not possibly be forced to marry anybody else. And he would not be a demanding husband. In fact, after the wedding he would disappear.

Rose delightedly agreed, and in the grey of the dawn of the following morning the couple went to Dingwall, where they roused a lawyer and were married at 8am. Crowley had no sooner drawn his sgian dubh from his stocking and ceremoniously kissed it than Gerald Kelly burst in and swung a punch.

But it was too late. The couple were obliged to register their marriage with the local sheriff. Dingwall and Strathpeffer were, to Crowley’s great joy, “seething with scandal” as the happy couple boarded the train to honeymoon on the West Coast.

It is too easy to assume that the Boleskine set was solely a collection of drug-raddled and sex-obsessed misfits and outcasts. His social circle was extraordinarily distinguished. As a young man in the south he had met William Butler Yeats, who shared his interest in magic (and in poetry, although Crowley considered that he was a far superior poet to Yeats).

Crowley features in the work of such acquaintances as W Somerset Maugham (in whose novel, The Magician, Boleskine House becomes Skene and Crowley became Oliver Haddo. He was also known as “the Mahatma” in Arnold Bennett’s Paris Nights. He hung around with Christopher Isherwood and the Berlin set which would be immortalised in Mr Norris Changes Trains. He gave hallucinogenic drugs to Katherine Mansfield (she was sick). He drew portraits of Aldous Huxley; he was sketched by Augustus John; he climbed with Professor Norman Collie; Tom Driberg was his acolyte; he dined with Stephen Spender; he advised young Peter Brook on a production of Dr Faustus, he corresponded with H L Mencken.

He was, during those happy years at Boleskine before John Bull magazine dubbed him the wickedest man in the world, little more than another eccentric Edwardian free-thinker.

He left Boleskine before the First World War, and sold it some time after that, while he was on the continent or seeing out the war in the USA, where he wrote articles in praise of the German psyche. He returned to Britain after the conflict, to be pilloried and libelled in the newspapers.

In the 1920s, when he had been expelled from most European countries and was nursing a heroin addiction which had been formed not by recreational use but because a Harley Street physician had prescribed it for his asthma (heroin was not made illegal until 1922), he occasionally voiced a longing for the peaceful Highlands. His 1931 will asked for his ashes to be placed in an urn on the ledge of the cliff behind Boleskine House. (They were not. When he died in 1947 Crowley was cremated in Brighton.)

Not only are his ashes absent. There is no numen hanging over Boleskine House now, no matter what my friends suggest.

In 1969, the film-maker Kenneth Anger, who made the black cult movie Scorpio Rising, rented Boleskine House for the summer. A new generation, attracted by his drug use, by his sexual anarchy, by his mysticism, and by his coda: “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law”, had stumbled across Crowley.

Anger told his fellow Crowleyite, Jimmy Page of the rock band Led Zeppelin that the place was available, and in 1970 Page bought it . . . and the rest is mythology. Did Page sign a pact with the Devil in Boleskine House? asked the popular press of the 1970s in a wonderful reprise of Crowley’s coverage. Was Led Zeppelin’s inexplicable success the result of a pact which would lead to the Devil claiming the band’s drummer, its lead singer’s boy child, and almost killing Robert Plant’s family while Page was in Sicily exploring Crowley’s former dwelling there?

No. Vodka killed John Bonham, a virus carried off little Karac Plant, and the boy’s mother was badly injured in a car crash.

The 1960s are long gone now, Page has sold Boleskine House, and all that is left of Crowley is a north-facing door, a terrace, and a lodge, and a reputation to die for.

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https://www.pressandjournal.co.uk/fp/news/highlands/787946/fire-crews-battling-save-highland-mansion/

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http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-highlands-islands-35171061

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BOLESKINE HOUSE MYSTERIOUSLY DEVOURED BY RAGING INFERNO

https://spidercatweb.wordpress.com/2015/12/26/aleister-crowleys-inverness-mansion-destroyed-by-fire/

 

INCOMER FROM HELL

Saturday 1 June 1996 / News

 

 

The ghost of Aleister Crowley, who influenced many, including the late film director Donald Cammell, has finally left Boleskine House, declares Roger Hutchinson

AS we drove along the north-west shore of Loch Ness, my companion said: “That’s where Aleister Crowley lived.” He was pointing directly over the water at a blur of housing on the far hillside. “It’s still haunted. Things happen there. I don’t care what anybody says, it’s a weird place.”

Once you are near it, the place is very far from weird. It is an unassuming Georgian villa, standing above the quiet old road which skirts the southern shore of Loch Ness. Built in the last decades of the eighteenth century, it was no more than a lodge for the local aristocracy.

Since 1889, however, notoriety has hung like a vapour over Boleskine House. Strange doings have been rumoured there, things almost unspeakable, since it became the home of the “wickedest man in the world” – the man, declared John Bull magazine, “that we would like to hang.”

It is not so difficult to see what it was about Aleister Crowley that attracted such editorial comment. He was a bisexual drug-addicted charlatan with a fondness for the black arts.

There’s little doubt that he did have an influence on the group of people around him, however, which included film director Donald Cammell who shot himself in April. At times Cammell played down the connection – his father was a friend and one account names Crowley as Cammell’s godfather – but conceded that being brought up in a household where magick (as Crowley spelled it) was real, had an effect on him. That would not surprise anyone watching Cammell’s most notorious work Performance.

Crowley propagandised against his country during the First World War; he walked blithely away from Himalayan accidents, leaving his fellow mountaineers to their fate, and he claimed to be the prophet of a hedonistic new religion which would replace Christianity.

The 24-year-old who first walked into Boleskine House on Loch Ness-side in August, 1899, was a mere pupa of the fully-formed wizard who would come to call himself “The Beast” and be abominated in the press 20 years later.

He bought this unsuspecting little single-storey villa at Boleskine because he was already fascinated by the black arts, and the magician Abra-Merlin had advised that in order to conjure up one’s Guardian Angel one must construct an oratory with certain physical and geographical characteristics. It should have a north-opening door, a terrace covered with fine river sand, and a lodge at the end of the terrace.

Crowley had inherited a huge fortune of #40,000, and he was prepared to spend all of it on the appropriate site for the Operation of the Sacred Magick.He ended up half way between the sleeping hamlets of Foyers and Inverfarigaig.

Crowley’s first few years at Boleskine were a mixture of mundanity, magic, and mischief.

Then he raised the demons in the lodge above Loch Ness and discovered them to be uncontrollable. A workman employed to renovate the building attacked Crowley and had to be locked in the cellar.

Crowley absent-mindedly scribbled some incantation on the Foyers butcher’s bill, and the poor tradesman promptly chopped through his own femoral artery and died. His lodgekeeper, who had claimed to be a teetotaller, went on a three-day binge and tried to kill his wife and children.

His housekeeper unsurprisingly handed in her notice and fled. People began to take the old hill paths, rather than risk offending the inhabitants of Boleskine House.

It is not difficult to imagine the impact that Crowley had on the Highlands at the turn of the century. That big, bold, amoral man with his gypsy band of friends and his matter-of-fact communications with the netherworld hit the district like a howitzer. He was the incomer from hell.

Like most men of certainty and all of the half-mad, Crowley went on his way quite unperturbed by the opinions of others. He christened himself the Laird of Boleskine and Abertarff, in respect of his two Highland acres, and had a coronet with a gilded “B” embossed on his notepaper. (The honorific was later elevated to Lord Boleskine.)

And then he got married in the Highlands, but not in any normal way.

In the summer of 1903, when Crowley was 28 his friend Gerald Kelly joined him in Boleskine. Kelly’s mother and widowed sister were taking the waters 20 miles away at the Strathpeffer spa, and one day a letter arrived from Mrs Kelly requesting a visit from her son.

Crowley went along for the ride. It transpired that Mrs Kelly was worried by the behaviour of her daughter Rose. Intrigued, Crowley befriended Rose. Her problem was, he discovered, easily solved. She was a young widow pestered by boring older men, one or other of whom her mother was determined she should marry.

Lord Boleskine proposed his solution. If she would marry him, Crowley declared – why then, Rose could not possibly be forced to marry anybody else. And he would not be a demanding husband. In fact, after the wedding he would disappear.

Rose delightedly agreed, and in the grey of the dawn of the following morning the couple went to Dingwall, where they roused a lawyer and were married at 8am. Crowley had no sooner drawn his sgian dubh from his stocking and ceremoniously kissed it than Gerald Kelly burst in and swung a punch.

But it was too late. The couple were obliged to register their marriage with the local sheriff. Dingwall and Strathpeffer were, to Crowley’s great joy, “seething with scandal” as the happy couple boarded the train to honeymoon on the West Coast.

It is too easy to assume that the Boleskine set was solely a collection of drug-raddled and sex-obsessed misfits and outcasts. His social circle was extraordinarily distinguished. As a young man in the south he had met William Butler Yeats, who shared his interest in magic (and in poetry, although Crowley considered that he was a far superior poet to Yeats).

Crowley features in the work of such acquaintances as W Somerset Maugham (in whose novel, The Magician, Boleskine House becomes Skene and Crowley became Oliver Haddo. He was also known as “the Mahatma” in Arnold Bennett’s Paris Nights. He hung around with Christopher Isherwood and the Berlin set which would be immortalised in Mr Norris Changes Trains. He gave hallucinogenic drugs to Katherine Mansfield (she was sick). He drew portraits of Aldous Huxley; he was sketched by Augustus John; he climbed with Professor Norman Collie; Tom Driberg was his acolyte; he dined with Stephen Spender; he advised young Peter Brook on a production of Dr Faustus, he corresponded with H L Mencken.

He was, during those happy years at Boleskine before John Bull magazine dubbed him the wickedest man in the world, little more than another eccentric Edwardian free-thinker.

He left Boleskine before the First World War, and sold it some time after that, while he was on the continent or seeing out the war in the USA, where he wrote articles in praise of the German psyche. He returned to Britain after the conflict, to be pilloried and libelled in the newspapers.

In the 1920s, when he had been expelled from most European countries and was nursing a heroin addiction which had been formed not by recreational use but because a Harley Street physician had prescribed it for his asthma (heroin was not made illegal until 1922), he occasionally voiced a longing for the peaceful Highlands. His 1931 will asked for his ashes to be placed in an urn on the ledge of the cliff behind Boleskine House. (They were not. When he died in 1947 Crowley was cremated in Brighton.)

Not only are his ashes absent. There is no numen hanging over Boleskine House now, no matter what my friends suggest.

In 1969, the film-maker Kenneth Anger, who made the black cult movie Scorpio Rising, rented Boleskine House for the summer. A new generation, attracted by his drug use, by his sexual anarchy, by his mysticism, and by his coda: “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law”, had stumbled across Crowley.

Anger told his fellow Crowleyite, Jimmy Page of the rock band Led Zeppelin that the place was available, and in 1970 Page bought it . . . and the rest is mythology. Did Page sign a pact with the Devil in Boleskine House? asked the popular press of the 1970s in a wonderful reprise of Crowley’s coverage. Was Led Zeppelin’s inexplicable success the result of a pact which would lead to the Devil claiming the band’s drummer, its lead singer’s boy child, and almost killing Robert Plant’s family while Page was in Sicily exploring Crowley’s former dwelling there?

No. Vodka killed John Bonham, a virus carried off little Karac Plant, and the boy’s mother was badly injured in a car crash.

The 1960s are long gone now, Page has sold Boleskine House, and all that is left of Crowley is a north-facing door, a terrace, and a lodge, and a reputation to die for.

NEWSPACEMAN:  THE MELTING POT

 

 

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