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Correspondence from George MacNie Cowie to Aleister Crowley
14 Glenisla Gardens, Edinburgh.
[Undated: circa 1914?]
Care Frater.
No good. The person I wanted to cheer up with a perusal of the article won't arrive for a day or two yet, and I'm afraid to deprive you of it longer, or to risk losing such a unique specimen. Print it in the Equinox when the years of Silence are over. But the person will also be cheered up by being told that if it is the Cataclysm that is coming, it's the safest thing to have a Brother of the Star for a friend even if he has a poor silly dam Neophyte who can't even do asana.
By the way I think you understand me well enough not to imagine that when I refer to disagreeables that may arise (such as the lunatic article) and possible consequences that is personal fear I have. Same with money. Easy enough to part with what I have, if there was not the rights of others to weigh.
My brain works with tortoise like rapidity and it has dawned on me that you possibly have intended to hint to me that it is really The Cataclysm that is at hand, the necessary clearance for the New Aeon. Well, I wish the clearance could be done with, but the carving up of little children and the violation of young girls before their mothers eyes, not to mention other things—I am tempted to imagine that the Germans have evoked unconsciously the terrible Yahweh of old and that old Jehovah is up against Ra-Hoor-Khuit. Suppose the hell—predestined German are discomfited, then the presence of the Russians, the Hindu troops and the possible Yellow Man in Western Europe may raise another hell. I am not communicating these ideas to others. The thing if it comes will be bad enough, without the horrors of anticipation.
I do not grasp what you are referring to when you speak of humbug and hypocrisy in this matter. I cannot see how else this country could have acted in the matter with any honour. I am comforting myself with the thought that it was probably predestined that Boleskine is not let, there are trout in the Loch, and red deer and white elephants and iguanas on the hills, and places to grow taters, and the cataclysm may not get at us there. Cheer up.
This is Sat evening. I had to be at it till 6 o'clock. Have to go to meet the 10.45 from Kings Cross with wire for war photos—what price 'some good result' now? However I have done a short med[itation], not a bit worse than usual and now I'm disposing of a letter or two, to have Sunday clear for Work. Let's do all we can before the Cataclysm comes.
Cataclysmically.
F[iat] P[ax]
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