As Related by "Johnnie" Symonds

to Rod Davies

in

CROWLEY IN HASTINGS: LAST DAYS OF THE GREAT BEAST

Occult Magazine

CBS Publications, New York, New York, October 1975.

(pages 31 - 33, 76)

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Many of the people who knew Crowley are now dead. I was fortunate enough to meet some of those who knew him during the last years of his life, and while they had little to say about his passion for magic and the bizarre, they were able to shed an interesting light upon Crowley as a person.

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Crowley lived at Netherwood, a large, gabled Victorian guest house, now demolished, for a little more than two years. At the time, it was owned and run by Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Symonds. The Symonds operated Netherwood as a guest house and they tried to encourage visitors who were interested in both good cuisine and cultural activities.

"So long as I am here," wrote Vernon Symonds in the Netherwood brochure, "this house will never be a guest house in the ordinary sense of the term. Those seeking a conventional establishment in this district will be able to find better accommodation elsewhere, for my friends care more for fine food than for the ritual of dressing for dinner, and more for culture and the arts than for bridge and poker."

Of Netherwood itself he remarks, "The house was built more than 50 years ago and has excellent qualities of spaciousness. We are 500 feet above sea level on The Ridge that looks down over Hastings. So well do our four acres vary with lawns, woodland and garden they seem like 40."

Vernon Symonds died some years ago but his wife, "Johnnie" Symonds, remembers the weekend cultural activities that they provided very well. Now an attractive woman in her 60s, who lives in a house formerly occupied by the artists Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Holman Hunt, she told me that she and her husband would usually invite a well-known figure to Netherwood for the weekend to speak to and meet the guests.

"We had Professor Joad, Edith Bone, J.B.S. Haldane, Professor Bronowski and many others come to stay with us," she recalled. "A couple called Caplan frequently brought down a boy called Julian Bream who would play the guitar for the guests. After his recital we would pass the hat around and the money collected would pay for his next lesson. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed themselves."

How did Aleister Crowley come to find himself in this cultural milieu? Partly, one suspects, through Vernon Symonds' interest in "the company of men and women with stimulating character."

The initial contact came through Vernon Symonds theatrical activities. Symonds often acted with the Hastings Court Players, and after one performance met Louis Wilkinson. Wilkinson was a great friend of Crowley, and, aware that Crowley was unhappy with his present lodgings in Surrey, asked Symonds if Crowley could come and live at Netherwood as a permanent guest. Symonds replied in the affirmative.

"And that was that for several weeks," said Mrs. Symonds. "Then out of the blue we got a telegram which read: EXPECT CONSIGNMENT OF FROZEN MEAT ON (date given). Well, we were somewhat perplexed by this because we hadn't ordered any meat and we were even more surprised when the day arrived and two food inspectors turned up in anticipation of the delivery. While we were talking to them an ambulance suddenly came down the drive and deposited, on our doorstep, Aleister Crowley and 40 brown paper parcels. The frozen meat had arrived."

Mrs. Symonds was uncertain of the exact date of Crowley's appearance. We looked at the Netherwood guest book for this period but were disappointed to find that the first page had been removed, presumably by somebody anxious to keep Crowley's signature. Mrs. Symonds complained of the steady pilfering of Crowley memorabilia over the years. However, as the first date in the book was September 8, 1945, it seems reasonable to suppose that Crowley took up residence at Netherwood in late August or early September of that year. Louis Wilkinson's signature is present and dated Dec. 14, 1945 and he probably visited Crowley then.

Crowley was quite definite about which room he wanted. "He insisted on having room number 13, which was a room at the front of the house," said Mrs. Symonds. "It was furnished in the same way as most of the other rooms. There was a large wardrobe, a writing table, a bookshelf and a single bed, as well as a bathroom and toilet. He put up quite a lot of pictures, including some of his own."

Crowley's life at Netherwood was reasonably quiet, and much of his time was spent in writing. At nine each morning, breakfast would be taken up to him by the housekeeper, and at ten, he would emerge for a short stroll around the garden. He had odd eating habits. He greatly enjoyed eating sardines with curry powder. He took his meals in his room.

The housekeeper, Miss Clarke, was not very fond of Crowley, Mrs. Symonds remembers. :He was always teasing her that she was a witch and that he had seen her flying past his window on her broomstick. Her dislike of him led to one quite funny incident. I had asked Mr. Crowley if he would do my horoscope, and when he asked me for my time of birth, all I could tell him was that I had been born during the night. When he eventually got around to starting the horoscope, he wrote me a note which read, succinctly, 'Before or after midnight?' and which he placed on my breakfast tray.

"Of course Miss Clarke read the note and, thinking I was planning some nocturnal escapade with Mr. Crowley, took it straight to my husband. We all had a good laugh about that."

A steady stream of guests came to see the aging man. These included Michael Houghton, who ran the Atlantis Bookshop in Museum Street, London, a well-known occult shop that is still in business. Houghton was a practitioner of white magic, and he and Crowley, whose magical tendencies were in a rather different direction, would have long arguments. Kenneth Grant, later author of Aleister Crowley and the Hidden God, was another frequent visitor, as was John Symonds. Symonds wrote of his meetings with Crowley at Netherwood in his book The Magic of Aleister Crowley. Other visitors came from abroad. "Crowley taught Ken Grant a technique for summoning up the elements," said Mrs. Symonds. "Once when he came to stay with us, we housed him in a nearby cottage and there he showed me a board that had bits of metal, twigs and pieces of coal wired to it, and which he had constructed under Mr. Crowley's direction. In my presence he said over it what sounded like mumbo-jumbo and then, much to my surprise, the wind rose and suddenly gusted through the cottage, blowing everything all over the place. It looked like Mr. Crowley's contraption worked very well."

Apart from taking his daily walks along The Ridge and in the garden at Netherwood, Crowley basically kept to his room. He did, however, join the Hastings Chess Club where, according to Mrs. Symonds, Crowley found the time to have long conversations with Vernon Symonds and to tutor the Symond's nephew in Latin. Occasionally, he was taken for drives by a Mr. Watson, who owned a nearby grocery store, and with whom Crowley had struck up a friendship.

Crowley's chief pursuit was writing. He also maintained a heavy correspondence with people around the world. Bouts of authorship were punctuated with heavy heroin use. He had the drug sent to him from London, and on at least one occasion, the local police called on him to investigate his use of the drug. They must have been satisfied with his explanation of his addiction, for the supplies from London continued to arrive.

Crowley tirelessly greeted one and all with the phrase, "Do what thou wily shall be the whole of the law," or, "upon occasion, with, "Do what thou wilt; love is the law; love under will." Both sentiments lay at the heart of the philosophy he expounded in his Book of the Law.

By the time Crowley came to live at Netherwood, he was an old man. Senility had been hastened by both the excesses of his youth and his use of heroin. John Symonds comments on the state of Crowley's health in his book, "There was, as far as I could see, nothing really wrong with him, apart from the fact that he was dying on his feet." Crowley was probably glad to be able to lead a quiet life. Constant travel and indulgence in long magical ceremonies must have exhausted him. Now he was able to rest and write.

Crowley's death was due to pneumonia. "I do remember Dr. Charnock-Smith coming to see him," said Mrs. Symonds, "and after he had examined Mr. Crowley, he told me to put a poultice on Mr. Crowley's back. This I prepared to do and, Mr. Crowley watching me, said, 'What are you going to do to me?' I told him and he uncovered his back."

Mrs. Symonds efforts notwithstanding, Crowley quickly deteriorated and soon he had great difficulty in breathing. Death followed on Monday, December 1, 1947. He was cremated at Brighton on Friday, December 5, 1947. Mrs. Symonds attended the cremation ceremony.

"Mrs. Thorne-Drury and myself followed the coffin from Hastings to Brighton," she said. "At the crematorium we found only a few mourners there, perhaps two or three. I remember that a German lady placed some red roses on his coffin. There was no service. :Louis Wilkinson read his poem 'Pan' and something else that Mr. Crowley had written. Then he was cremated. On the way back to Hastings, there was a terrific storm which continued for the whole of the night. Louis Wilkinson, who travelled back to Hastings with us, said, 'Just what Crowley would have liked.' "

Crowley's stay at Netherwood undoubtedly had been enjoyable. He would probably have concurred with the sentiments expressed by a Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Evans, two pre-war guests, who had written in the guest book.

"For interest, fun and real good food / We came to stay at Netherwood."

Although one wonders if Crowley would have approved of the poetry!