When men loose their heads on mountains they lose them very completely.
- Aleister Crowley, Confessions
For a man who devoted much of his life to the pursuit of vice, degradation and depravity, along with black magic, it is surprising that a single incident in the history of mountaineering is so often cited as evidence of the moral decrepitude of Mr. Aleister Crowley. Although better known as an occultist, he was in fact one of the most highly talented mountaineers of his generation, a student and protégé of the pioneering climber Oscar Eckenstein. In 1905 he led an ambitious expedition to climb the Himalayan peak Mount Kangchenjunga, the third tallest mountain in the world. The expedition ended in disaster with a climber named Pache, along with several coolies, losing their lives. Subsequently, Crowley was excoriated by the British Alpine Club and disowned by the British mountaineering establishment who accused him of fatal cowardice. Crowley never climbed again but defended himself in writing, most notably in his Confessions, as well as conducting a life-long campaign of vitriol against the hostile dignitaries of the Alpine Club. In most biographies of the man, even where his other aberrations are excused, the failed attempt on Kangchenjunga is cited as the one occasion where his true colours were revealed.
A painting of Kangchenjunga by Hermann von Schlagintweit, 1855
This infamous incident comes to mind to the present writer because he is temporarily situated in Darjeeling, only fifty or so miles from Kangchenjunga, and the place from where the Crowley expedition set out, and he can see the imposing snow-capped outline of the mountain on the horizon. The Crowley expedition almost made it to the summit before disaster struck. They set up a camp (Camp 5) at over 21,000 feet, which established a world record until the late 1930s. But Crowley and the second leader of the expedition, a Swiss doctor named Jacob Guillarmod, whom Crowley referred to by the name Tartarin, quarrelled and actually came to blows after Tartarin attempted to usurp Crowley’s leadership. Tartarin then led a group of mutineers back to a lower camp but they were struck by an avalanche. When they called for help Crowley failed to respond. Thereafter, the expedition was abandoned and they all made their way back to Darjeeling where they squabbled over money.
Crowley the mountaineer.
Crowley is the seated figure in the centre.
According to the standard accounts of the incident, Crowley was at fault. He provided poor leadership, it is said, and – most dastardly – refused to assist fellow climbers in an emergency. As Tartarin and the others called for help Crowley ignored them, cuddled up in his sleeping bag and callously slept until the next morning. This made Crowley’s name anathema to the British mountaineering community. His biographers, such as Kenneth Grant, cite it as an occasion where his moral fibre failed. He was, they say, either paralysed by fear or else his actions were simply evil. There are those who deem Crowley psychopathic, and they note his profound lack of empathy for other human beings: his behaviour on the Kangchenjunga expedition is given as a prime example of this.
There are, however, new and more objective assessments of the incident, and they present a far more sympathetic account of Crowley’s actions. In retrospect, his conduct was not altogether blameworthy, and the attacks he suffered afterwards from the Alpine Club probably had more to do with his acidic writing than his behaviour on Kangchenjunga. It must be said that Crowley invoked attacks upon his own reputation. Often he delighted in them. He wore the label, “The Great Beast 666”, with pride, after all. Who was going to believe that the man who identified himself as the Anti-Christ was innocent of misdeeds on an ill-fated mountaineering expedition? Mountaineers today are somewhat more inclined to trust his version of events, rather than that of the Alpine Club. It is, of course, difficult to establish the whole truth at this distance, but the expedition was fully recorded in proper reports at every step and it can be compared in all its details to modern mountaineering practice.
This present writer has been reading Crowley’s account in the Confessions – his prose writing, let it be said, is always very entertaining! - along with articles by contemporary mountaineers in an attempt to make sense of what happened. What really occurred? The following conclusions can be drawn:
* The expedition was poorly manned. Only Crowley had the requisite expertise. The other climbers were inexperienced or else had no experience whatsoever. This was no doubt Crowley’s fault. He should not have agreed to climb with such a team. In part, this can be put down to his own perversity. He thought Tartarin was an amusing fool and enjoyed his company – but that is a different matter than climbing a mountain with him. Crowley admits this in his Confessions. One of the party, de Righi, was nothing more than a hotel manager Crowley met in Darjeeling. It was completely inappropriate for him to be on the climb. In this sense, the expedition was doomed from the start.
* Always a pompous boor, Crowley strode ahead and demanded the others followed. This was contrary to common practice whereby an expedition leader was expected to play more of a planning role. Crowley was a hands-on leader, leading from the front. This is more in keeping with modern mountaineering, and in fact it was climbers such as Crowley and Eckenstein who pioneered this style of “guideless”, adventurous (as opposed to “gentlemanly”) climbing. In retrospect, criticism of Crowley for this by the Alpine Club and others was unwarranted. But his leadership style did create friction within his team. Tartarin soon resented it. They clashed.
* Crowley was criticized for his cruel treatment of the coolies on the expedition. This is because he demanded they march in the early mornings. Accordingly, they suffered from the cold. This was the main argument Tartarin made for proposing a mutiny against Crowley’s leadership. But, in fact, Crowley was correct. His reason for marching in the mornings was for safety. The chance of avalanche was much greater later in the day after the sun had been on the ice. To wait until the sun was up and conditions were warmer was flirting with danger. In the end, this is exactly what happened – avalanche.
* The incident: Crowley and another climber, Reymond, climbed to Camp 5 and were waiting for supplies from below. Tartarin, de Righi and Pache arrived without supplies and instead Tartarin demanded that he assume leadership of the expedition. There was an altercation. The Tartarin party then went back down to the lower camp but encountered an avalanche. Tartarin and de Righi rode the avalanche. Pache and several coolies were buried alive.
* Fact: Crowley strongly advised Tartarin and co. from descending at that time and warned them of the danger of avalanche. It was late afternoon. The ice had softened. As Crowley notes, the area was stable earlier in the day, but at that time of the day there was the danger of avalanche, which was precisely why he made the coolies march in the early morning, cold or not. Tartarin ignored this warning. Crowley notes in his Confessions: "I should have broken his leg with an axe..."
* Fact: Crowley did not ignore calls for help. He had taken off his boots and retired when he and Reymond heard calls from below. As Crowley notes, Tartarin and the others were forever calling out, and so there was nothing unusual in that. All the same, since Reymond still had his boots on, Crowley instructed him to go and see what had happened and to return if Crowley was needed. Reymond descended but since Tartarin and de Righi were safe and the others dead, there was nothing to be done. He did not go back for Crowley. Quite properly, Crowley settled down for the night and went back in the morning. It is not true to say that Crowley turned his back on his fellow climbers. What is true is that he wrote some injudicious things about the incident afterwards, to the effect that he had no sympathy for people who died in such preventable mountaineering "accidents" and thus to the effect that they deserved their fate. This was interpreted as a callous disregard for his fellow climbers.
A map of Kangchenjunga, 1903. The map used by the Crowley expedition. In his Confessions Crowley complains of its inaccuracies.
***
The present writer is very enamoured of Darjeeling and its views of Kangchenjunga. It is a beautiful, charming place, and a great relief from the heat and bustle of the cities and towns of the Indian plain. The skies are clear, apart from rolling mists, and the people - Hindoos, Nepalese, Ghorkas - are friendly. Mr. Crowley was considerably less impressed in 1905. Here, from the Confessions, is his account of the hill station:
CROWLEY ON DARJEELING
Darjeeling is a standing or rather steaming example of official ineptitude. Sir Joseph Hooker, one of the few men of brains who have explored these parts, made an extended survey of the district and recommended Chumbi as a hill station. "Oh well," they say, "Darjeeling is forty miles nearer than Chumbi. It will do rather better." So Darjeeling it was. The difference happens to be that Chumbi has a rainfall of some forty inches a year; Darjeeling some two hundred odd. The town is perched on so steep a ridge that there is practically no level road anywhere and one gets from one house to another by staircases as steep as ladders.
The whole town stinks of mildew. One's room is covered with mildew afresh every morning. India being the last hope of the unmarriageable shabby-genteel, Darjeeling is lousy with young ladies whose only idea of getting a husband is to practise the piano. In such a climate it is of course impossible to keep a piano in tune for five minutes, even if one could get it into that condition. The food itself is as mildewed as the maidens. The hotels extort outrageous rates which they attempt to justify by describing the meals in bad French. To be reminded of Paillard is adding insult to injury, for what the dishes are made of I never did discover. Almost the whole time I was there I was suffering from sore throat, arthritis, every plague that pertains to chronic soddenness. Do I like Darjeeling? I do not!
Yours,
Harper McAlpine Black
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