Comments
by
Aleister
Crowley: |
I went back to Paris on
July 8th. I worked on Clouds Without Water, Sir
Palamedes, The World's Tragedy and "Mr. Todd". In
particular, I wrote the autobiographical preface to The
World's Tragedy, some ten thousand words, at a stretch; and
certain lyrics, mostly about Dorothy, of whom more in a moment.
"Mr. Todd", as the name implies, is a personification of death
an the idea of the play is to introduce him as deus ex machina,
helping the characters one by one out of their various troubles.
The idea sounds a good one, but apart from availing myself of my
opportunities for double entendre ("I was told the other
day that he held a lot of land in London and has more tenants
than the Duke of Westminister!"), I could not make much of it.
The repetition of the idea was bound to be rather ridiculous. It
is my one failure in this period.
The truth doubtless is that
I had used up the energy accumulated in my wanderings, and
written myself out: i.e., as far as anything big was concerned.
I was in excellent form with lyrics and wrote several as good as
anything I had ever done. In particular "After Judgment", to the
honour and glory of Dorothy, will stand in English literature as
one of the most passionate poems in the language.
— The Confessions of Aleister Crowley.
New York, NY. Hill and Wang, 1969. Pages 573-574.
______________________________
Besides this, I was writing
a good deal of poetry. Some of my most important work belongs to
this period. "The Wizard Way", "the Garden of Janus", "After
Judgment" and "Bathyllus" are especially notable. I was seeing a
good deal of Frank Harris, who was publishing much of my best
work in Vanity Fair. It was the first encouragement I had
ever had, and in a way it came too late, since I was already
entirely disillusioned with regard to fame. The approval of
Frank Harris was another matter; it was something, and something
very great, to know that my work gained me the respect of the
very few men on the planet who knew the difference between Keats
and Lewis Morris. I had been recognized as a poet of the first
class by my peers and the applause of the mob would leave me as
cold as its neglect or hostility does at present.
— The Confessions of Aleister Crowley.
New York, NY. Hill and Wang, 1969. Page 594. |
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