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Correspondence from Captain F.N.E. Townshend to J.F.C. Fuller
c/o Banca Commerciale Italiana Palermo. Sicily
Ap. 19th. 1921.
My dear Fuller,
I had decided to go to Cefalu yesterday [to visit Crowley again at the Abbey of Thelema]—but my washing came not back from the wash—so I stayed until today. This morning I bought a ticket to the place—and five minutes later received your kindly telegram—telling me not to go: so I changed my ticket for one to Taormina—and start for there tomorrow. I don't of course know all the reasons that made you send the wire—Though I can guess a good many of them—but relying, as I do, on your good judgment in such matters, I have not thought twice before acting on your advice. Thank you very much for giving it.
(It seem curious that we should have caused each other to be acquainted with men of ill repute" and both warned each other off later on. Anyhow shows our friends are not without interest!). Since I last wrote to you I have spent a whole day at Cefalu—most of it carousing with Crowley. We climbed the huge rock that towers over the city, and talked of many things and people. (When we got back he told the Holy Virgin [Leah Hirsig] that we had been discussing sodomy. That wasn't quite true: but it explains the atmosphere of the place). I found the conversation interesting, ever able, and he had a ready and quite logical answer to the many questions that I asked him. He volunteered a lot of information about his activities in America during the War. To simplify the transcription of what he said—I'll put it down in the first person).
"I found that the policy of the German propaganda, under a man named Munster or Munsterburg), was careful moderation—accuracy—under-statement if anything, but under no circumstances the publication of any untruthful exaggeration. Our own propaganda, on the other hand, over-stated the case in every possible way; made the Germans out to be devils incarnate, full of unthinkable iniquity; and indulged in the most stupid and transparent exaggerations. The effect on the average thoughtful American—with about 10 million Germans, the bulk of them peaceful, hardworking, excellent citizens living around him, was appalling. I got in touch with our intelligence people, found them extremely stupid and utterly failed to make them understand the untold harm they were doing. There remained only one thing to be done—viz. to gradually work the German Propaganda—in [illegible] of Munster—who to the same pitch of insanity as our own—more insane if possible. I wrote many articles on those lines and succeeded in getting them published at intervals. One paean of praise to the Kaiser—so fulsome that he himself would have modestly said 'No, no, you really mustn't say [illegible] that' led an amusing after result. It appeared in an obscure but quite respectable journal—not usually given to politics. A small bookseller who stocked the said journal (he lives in a cross lane between the Charing Cross road and St. Martin's Lane) found himself raided one day and was given three months! He had never worked inside the paper. After that I started in advocating submarine warfare of the most drastic night, without-trace type, feeling nice that that if anything would bring America in. I'm afraid our Intelligence people never quite trusted me. Anyhow it was not surprising that I eventually found myself labeled as a traitor".
Quite a plausible story, and, from what I know of things, not without its possibilities. It interested me, as it agreed with the little I already knew, and was not stated in answer to any question, but merely as an account of his doing in America.
'Do what thou wilt' he said. 'not the haphazard wishes and desires of the conscious mind but the unchangeable will of your inner self. You must dig down into that and find out what it is—drag it out into the daylight. You, like Fuller, are not living in accordance with your real will. You soldier to make a living, your real self remains unexpressed. Why do I have these erotic pictures? Those, in the corner there, are Lesbians as large as life. Why do you feel shocked and turn away: or perhaps overtly turn to look again? Because, though you may have thought of such things, you have been afraid to face them. Drag all such thoughts into the light. If you stayed here for a little you would be like the others and notice nothing wrong—these drawings would strike no answering chord in your mind. If I replaced them by something more realistic—more truthful, you would not notice; or if you did would think nothing of it. Why do we all bathe naked together? The same reason. 'Tis only your mind that feels any thing. Why do I wear a magician's robe? Tell me why do you sometimes clothe yourself in the amazing and uncaring uniform of a soldier instead of wearing the ordinary gentlemanly garb of a magician? Habit, atavism—it is necessary to break down such pre-conceived ideas—to break down the complexes which chain your mind. Freud (psycho-analysis) endeavours to break down such complexes in order to put the sub-conscious mind into a bourgeois respectability. That is wrong—the complexes should be broken down in order to give the not-conscious will a chance to express itself freely—not tinker it with tired-business-men-respectability—My methods are perhaps those of a surgical operation. It is better so—better than weeks of gradual treatment". And so on. Most of it, as I think, so eminently sound that, as I have told you, I had decided to go and see how it worked in practice. Many of his conclusions I had already reached myself—and in addition—I imagine it was time, he said that it was all based on the 'Book of the Law', a work which you had described as being the output of a master of mankind. I confess to having been deeply interested. It was only the magical part of the business that irritated me and put me off. Crowley—at the head of his flock repeating some weird invocation to the sun, before sitting down to meals. Great beauty of diction it had—and not unimpressive—but something theatrical about it all worried me. Then the grace, said sitting down at table, a sort of duet between the children punctuated by raps on the table with the hilt of a silver dagger. The silence during meals—ordered, so Crowley said, to keep the women from idle [illegible]. [illegible] magical 'Services', held in the Holy of Holies with all the paraphernalia of robes and incense: sword, wand and crystal bowl. I did not see this last, as 'service' I mean, but the fact of it annoys me and I cannot understand what on earth it has to do with Crowley's otherwise excellent ideas. So—as I have said—I am interested: and partly because of that—and partly because I do not believe there exists a personality—however dangerous—not worth finding out about I had decided to make the experiment. Now a kindly fate [illegible] me—but I still feel the same interest, (perhaps much the same sort of interest that you once felt for Crowley—curiosity and the lure of a postal truck) and if I don't hear from you—in reply to this—of some [illegible] cogent reason for not doing so, I shall probably pay him a visit after Taormina! But I'll sit in Taormina anyhow for a month—so send a line when you have time. I daresay you have written in answer to my first letter but I'll wait for a reply to this too. The same address will find me.
Yours sincerely,
F.N.E. Townshend.
Col. J.F.C. Fuller D.S.O. War Office Whitehall S.W.1.
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