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JUGGING THE MARCH HARE. A. C. [Aleister Crowley]
Published in the International New York, New York, U.S.A. (page 33)
Yes, this number is of a rich gloom like a poem of Baudelaire [Charles Baudelaire]. There is something in February which makes one want exotic luxury. If we are wealthy, we roll off to Palm Beach; if we are sensible, we get what is after all a much better effect out of the International. As the Earth passes through the waters of the month of Rains, we shall gloat. And is not winter nearly over? Will not the Sun come back to us at the end of March?
All ancient peoples have been careful to celebrate the return of the spring with drama. All plays are, properly speaking, based upon this one supreme comedy-tragedy which appeals to us all of necessity, since we are ourselves partakers of that Mystery.
Some such thoughts, stirring in
ourselves, made us wonder whether we could not offer a
banquet of drama to the readers of the International. Some
of our best contributors hastened to our aid. Dr. Hans Ewers
offered his “The Price He Paid”; Mr. Charles Beadle brought
out his Eastern comedy, “The Palm Tree and the Window.” We
have a charming little Scottish dialect play from the pen of
Lord Boleskine, which may fail to please our Puritans, but
that cannot be helped. The Master Therion is contributing
his Gnostic Mass, which is of intense interest as well to
the general readers as to the Theologian and Archaeologist.
I am not so sure about “The Saviour,” by Aleister Crowley. The author is not all I could wish, in many ways. His play is decidedly not for all tastes. In fact, it is mostly to please him personally that we print the beastly stuff.
However, there are others.
The rest of the paper would be more interesting if there were more of it. When, oh, when, will the bright day dawn when we can offer forty-eight pages with illustrations? A little bird has whispered that it may be soon. However, if our readers want to help us, it is only necessary for each one of them to go out and get six more.
And so we wish you all a safe passage through the month of the Waters.
A. C. [Aleister Crowley] |