Читать книгу Sexuality, Magic & Perversion - Francis King - Страница 10

The title of this chapter may require some explanation, but I have no doubt that a substantial number of my readers will be aware that a dildo (alternative spellings are dildoe and dildol) is an imitation penis, and that, while the use of such an artificial aid to sexuality may seem to show a level of erotic sophistication verging on depravity, its history extends back almost as far as that of Mankind itself.

Enough, for the moment at any rate, of the dildo!¹

The witch of my chapter heading requires a more detailed explanation. She was not the traditional hag, complete with cat and broomstick, nor did she display any noticeable tendencies to either bewitch cattle, fly up a chimney on a broomstick, or turn milk sour. She was only twenty-three years of age, quite pretty, and a rather good viola player. I had first met her at a concert, but it was only after I had known her for some time and she had discovered that I was mildly interested in the more obscure aspects of occultism and magic, past and present, that she told me that she was not only a witch, but quite an important witch, the High Priestess of one of the covens of the contemporary witch-cult.

I was fascinated. It was not that Marian (for so I will call her) was a witch—I had already met several, most of them living on one variety or other of welfare hand-out—but that she was the first witch I had met who seemed to have charm and to be not only reasonably intelligent but a real personality in her own right; the most pronounced character-trait of the other witches I had met had been an inordinate and inexplicable fondness for the sweet white wines of Spain and Cyprus. One night Marian got very drunk on sherry—a drink to whose effects witches seem peculiarly susceptible—and told me the extraordinary story of the perverse sexual rite by which she had been initiated into the degree of High Priestess. It was this story that first aroused my interest in the complex interconnections between sexuality, religion and magic, and I think it worth recounting in some detail. Before doing so, however, it is best that I should briefly explain the origins of the contemporary witch-cult.²

In England there are a considerable number of groups of witches, known as covens. I estimate that there are between two and three thousand active witches who are members of such groups. The cult now seems to be enjoying a mushroom growth in the U.S.A., where at least one small business has found it worthwhile to specialise in the production of athames (ceremonial knives), scourges, and the other impedimenta of what its practitioners refer to as “the craft”. Without exception all the cult members I have met have believed, or at least pretended to believe, that their magical-sexual-religious rites are of immemorial antiquity, the remnants of the Great Mother worship of Stone-Age Europe, now at last able to re-emerge into the open after enduring an underground existence during long centuries of Christian persecution.

It would be nice if this was so, but alas, it isn’t! With one or two dubious exceptions all the covens of the modern witch-cult owe their existence to the activities of Gerald Gardner, an eccentric Englishman who died in 1964.

Gardner, whose relations seem to have been even more eccentric than he himself—his father used to strip naked every time it rained, go into the garden and sit on his clothes until the rain stopped, while one of his uncles spent a fortune on building places of worship for various Protestant denominations—had been born in the North of England but had spent much of his life in the Far East until his retirement from the Malayan customs service in 1936. He combined a taste for dabbling in the messier fringes of occultism with a considerable although unscholarly, acquaintance with the whole field of English and Manx folklore. Indeed, from March 1946 until his death he was a member of the Council of the Folk Lore Society, although it is probable that his fellow-members of that august body were somewhat embarrassed by his habit of plagiarising from long-dead folk-lore collectors, as they certainly were by his mysterious assumption (circa 1950) of the degrees of M.A., Ph.D. and D.Litt.! These sudden academic honours were certainly not conferred by any recognised university. At first I thought that they had been obtained from a degree-mill known as the Temple Bar College (Seattle), with which some of Gardner’s associates had been mixed up in the early ’forties. I found, however, that by order of the Federal Trade Commissioners this institution had been closed down in July 1947, some years before plain Mr. Gardner blossomed out as Dr. Gardner. Gardner’s degrees were almost certainly obtained from one or other of the bogus Universities associated with the strange ecclesiastical underworld of the episcopi vagantes.

In 1954 Gardner published Witchcraft Today, not as bad a book as one might have expected, for the publisher’s reader, an occult scholar of real distinction, had insisted on the deletion of the more rubbishy passages. The book’s basic theses were four in number; (a) that Margaret Murray had been right in her assertion that the mediaeval witch-cult had enjoyed a real existence, and had not been a mere fantasy of the Inquisitors, (b) that this cult was the “Old Religion”, the still surviving faith of prehistoric man, (c) that this secret religion had survived into the present century (Gardner claimed to be in touch with hereditary witches and implied that he himself was a member of a coven) and (d) that the magical-religious practices of the cult involved the worship of a horned God and a great Mother-goddess by rites involving both flagellation and sexual intercourse. These simple, but quite unproven assertions, were padded out with a good deal of rather meaningless flim-flam about the Order of the Garter, the Knights Templar and their alleged homosexual practices etc. etc.

One of the most notable personality characteristics of the majority of occultists is their overpowering credulity, their capacity to believe six impossible things before breakfast. Someone has only to announce the existence of a mysterious book, or an even more mysterious occult fraternity, and there will always be those who are prepared to produce the required article or organisation—usually for a suitably large fee. For example, no one had heard of any alchemical writings of the early English St. Dunstan until the Elizabethan magician Edward Kelly stated that he had found a strange red powder of projection and The Book of St. Dunstan, describing how to use this same red powder for the purpose of transmuting base metals into gold, in the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey. Nevertheless, within fifty years of Kelly first making his claim to this discovery no less than half a dozen alchemical tracts had been printed, all of them differing one from another and each claiming to be the sole authentic Book of St. Dunstan. Again, the American horror-writer H. P. Lovecraft invented a completely imaginary grimoire (text book of magic), entitled the Necronomicon, which became almost a fixed feature of the plots of the many stories he churned out for Weird Tales and other pulp magazines of the ’thirties. For some reason unknown to me many occultists became convinced that such a grimoire really existed; sure enough, a forged Necronomicon was produced, its contents pilfered from a much older forgery, the Fourth Book of the pseudo-Agrippa, but put into an Egyptian-cum-Arab form, and I know of at least one would-be Magician who has paid forty guineas for this literary-occult curiosity.

It is not surprising, therefore, that after Gardner had loudly proclaimed the existence of a network of covens practising traditional witchcraft such a network actually came into existence. In fairness to both the witches and Gardner however, it must be admitted that there were almost certainly at least two pre-Gardnerian covens in existence before 1954, one in St. Albans and the other in the New Forest. I think it most unlikely that their origins go back before 1900, however, and that in all probability they came into existence after 1921 and the publication of Margaret Murray’s Witch Cult in Western Europe.

Gardner himself seems to have been well prepared for a rebirth of the witch-cult and to have made suitable contingency-plans many years before. For as long ago as 1943/4 he had employed Aleister Crowley, at a suitably large fee, to compose rituals that could be used in a new, Gardnerian witch-cult. There seem to have originally been four of these rituals:³ the first one designed to be used at a Spring-festival to be held on either March 21st or April 30th, the other three for initiation rituals into the cult. The latter included both ordinary and sado-masochistic sexual components, for the first-degree ritual involved scourging—the would-be witch was told that he or she had “to suffer in order to learn”, and the third-degree ritual had sexual intercourse between a couple while surrounded by the other members of the coven as its so-called “Sacrament of Life”.

The cult rapidly grew, but not all those who desired to consider themselves as witches shared Gardner’s voyeuristic and masochistic preoccupations, and a gradual process of evolution led to the emergence, on the one hand, of groups of the utmost respectability, some of which even went so far as to eschew the traditional nudity, and, on the other hand, of covens which emphasised sexuality even more than Gardner himself. For a time Gardner managed to act as a sort of unitary centre and to keep these diverging trends in some sort of co-operative relationship with one another. After his death in 1964, however, the evolutionary process seems to have accelerated and today the cult is more segmented than ever before. At the present time there are at least five competing splinter movements (each, inevitably, claiming the sole orthodoxy) varying from one with an almost puritanical attitude towards sex, and largely concerned with traditional ritual magic, to another which incorporates almost every variety of sexual perversion, from anilinctus to zoophilia into its rituals.⁴

It was into one of the more extreme of the sexually inclined covens that “my” witch, Marian, had been initiated. It will be remembered that the first-degree “Gardnerian” rite involved scourging. In many covens this “suffering in order to learn” has become symbolic, no more than a few token flicks administered by either the High Priest (to female candidates) or the High Priestess (to male candidates). Exactly the opposite process had taken place in Marian’s coven; at her initiation she had been stripped, tied up so tightly that her circulation had been impeded, and heavily beaten on the back, buttocks and even breasts by not only the Priest but by each member of the coven. This heavy scourging was continued until Marian was bruised and bleeding—she told me that she had been so badly scarred that it had become impossible for her to wear a low-cut dress.

Marian’s admission to the third degree—by which she became a High Priestess in her own right—was even more traumatic an experience. She had expected to undergo ritual sexual intercourse with the High Priest, but she found that the High Priestess, who seems to have been the dominant figure in this coven, had decided that she herself would “initiate” Marian with the aid of a dildo. The High Priestess justified this plan with the argument that a sodomitical interlude between the High Priest and a young male initiate had “reversed the physical plane polarities of the Chiefs” and that to restore the balance it was essential that she herself should play the male part in what she primly referred to as “an act of lesbian love-making”. “Love-making” is hardly the term I would have chosen to describe what actually took place. For the dildo used was very old, unlubricated, and made of wood. Marian found the experience extremely unpleasant, suffered great pain, and eventually had to have medical treatment in order to remove splinters from her vagina. Nevertheless, there were clearly masochistic elements in Marian’s psychological make-up, for it was apparent that she extracted a certain amount of emotional stimulation and fulfilment from telling me this unpleasant story. I wondered whether Marian and the other members of her coven were simply sado-masochists, using witchcraft as a means of living out their own pathetic fantasies, or whether, just possibly, they were something more, whether, in fact they were following the ancient and almost forgotten tradition of using pain and sex as a means of achieving ecstasy—ecstasy in the full sense of God-intoxication.

Over the next three months I had many conversations with Marian. As time passed, and she became aware that I was a reasonably sympathetic listener, she told me more and more about her coven’s beliefs, the sado-sexual techniques used by its members, and, most important of all, what those techniques were designed to achieve.⁵ Almost against my will I gradually came to the conclusion that these people were no ordinary “bunch of perverts”, out for kicks, but were (however misguided their beliefs might be), genuinely striving to transcend the limits of ordinary consciousness and to reach what Hindus call samadhi—that Union in which subject and object become one.

Marian’s revelation fascinated me. I began to devote a good deal of puzzled thought to the complex interconnections between sexuality, religion and western occultism and decided to undertake a brief study of the subject. As I read books, letters and manuscripts my puzzlement grew. For, from my knowledge of present-day sexual magic, I knew that there was present in western occultism an underground strain of the oriental sexual-religious-magical philosophy known as Tantricism, and I had always assumed that this had ultimately derived from Aleister Crowley and the Ordo Templi Orientis⁶—but to my surprise I found what seemed to be a Tantric element in western occultism before Crowley was even born! I found it, for example, hinted at in the allegedly Rosicrucian writings of Hargrave Jennings.⁷ I determined that my first task must be to trace down the source of these first faint echoes of Bengali and Tibetan sex-magic and I decided to start with Hargrave Jennings, whom I knew had both been obsessed by sex and friendly with several dubious scholars, anyone of whom might have been the link for which I was looking.

I approached Timothy d’Arch Smith, a bibliographer whose knowledge of the more obscure byways of Victorian literature is unequalled, and asked him for his help.

“Do you by any chance know”, he asked me, “whether Jennings was friendly with a pornographer named Edward Sellon?”

I replied that I not only thought it possible but was fairly sure that such a friendship had existed; for in a copy of an anonymously written, wretchedly illustrated, Victorian pornographic novel—the property of a private collector with whom I was acquainted—I had seen Hargrave Jennings’ bookplate. An MS note on the flyleaf of the same volume, presumably written by Jennings himself, conveyed the information that the illustrations were by a certain Captain Edward Sellon, now deceased, and that the writer of the note had known him well.

“There,” said Timothy, “is almost certainly your connecting link. Have a look at Sellon’s Annotations on the Sacred Writings of the Hindus and see if it gives you any clues.”

Taking Timothy’s advice I went along to the library of the British Museum, where I found Sellon’s own copy of the Annotations, a splendid volume in which he had bound up many of his own watercolours and drawings along with the printed sheets.

As I read I began to find that the material before me was oddly familiar; I soon felt sure that I had previously read parts of it, or at least something very similar to parts of it. I turned to Jennings’ book Phallicism, Celestial and Terrestrial. To my astonishment I found that the sixth and fifteenth chapters of it had been lifted bodily, without the benefit of quotation marks, from Sellon’s Annotations!

Timothy d’Arch Smith had been quite right; Sellon was the man for whom I had been looking, the man whose writings had first brought Tantricism to the attention of occidental occultists.

¹ See Appendix A—“The Dildo in History”.

² A more detailed examination of the origins of this movement is made in Chapter XXI of my Ritual Magic in England (Neville Spearman, 1970).

³ Later on other rituals were composed. They are markedly inferior in form and content to the original four and are clearly not of Crowley’s manufacture.

⁴ The ritual patterns and sexual practices of the more heavily sexually orientated covens are examined in detail in a later chapter of this book.

⁵ A detailed examination of these beliefs and techniques is made in the chapter of this book entitled “A Whip for Aradia”.

⁶ Dealt with in a later chapter of this book.

⁷ Dealt with in Part Two of this book.