|
Correspondence from George MacNie Cowie to Aleister Crowley
14 Glenisla Gardens, Edinburgh.
31 Dec 1917.
Care Frater.
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
If things were as they were a year ago, nothing would give me more pleasure than to send over a good supply of the books, even if only to reduce storage charges. As a matter of fact, however, I've not been able to supply on of the rare orders for books lately. One reason is that the only person who knows [Althea Hobbs] where to lay hands on things was frightened out of her wits, dumped keys and everything (nearly into your lawyer's hands) and fled. The only other person who could perhaps manage at a pinch mustn't be landed in this bug [big?] order. The real and vital reason however and here you force my hand, is that the police were trying to trace your property in this country. I kept silence, not to give them a clue till forced to give you a hint in my last letter.
Now there were four reasons for my prompt action in closing down [the Lodge]—as I hoped temporarily. (1) to avert total loss and disaster to yourself (2) I take my guardianship of the Knowledge through the Cataclysm in dead earnest and would run no risk of its being profaned with the resulting Blame to myself. (3) Poor "Crownmewithpoppy leave" was in a sweat lest all the laborious and costly work should be seized on useless suspicion (4) I had to avert certain ruin and loss of livelihood from innocent people who had not the smallest notion they were in danger of being regarded as political offenders. I did all that according to my lights a man should do, and can dismiss, unmoved, the tactful and delicate hint that I am made of manure.
If I could get the books packed and pay the cost of that and shipping which I can't (it might mean £20) the chances are that they would never reach you, indeed I am certain of it. I can't help it if this very letter warns the authorities to be on the look-out, as your own has probably already done. The simplest and most feasible way is for you to come across for them. On your own showing there is nothing to prevent you. Failing this, please send me a plain and non-ambiguous statement that you accept the entire responsibility for loss and confiscation should that happen, and that I am in nowise to be blamed. Arrange with a reputable publisher to receive and stock the books for you. Then write to your friend in London, who can send you money etc without embargo. I will give him the particulars and a warrant. Ask him to pay the packing and shipping and arrange for the customs, sending through W.H. Smith [Bookseller] etc. This I cannot do from here. All this fuss about the books, of all others, designed to make people think clearly is of course supremely silly, but that is not the real question involved, it's on this account I won't be responsible. You'd have been wise to have had the whole of the stuff shipped to your side before advertising yourself as an ex-British subject. Take things sporting and if they go wrong it's only poetic justice.
Taking leave of a business friend for the year on Friday, I remarked that 1917 had been the most dreadful year of my life and that I was glad to see the end of it. 'I'm sorry' says he, 'but I hope next year will be (here I bowed prematurely) worse!'. A true humourist that. I'm not blaming you, it was a necessary letter, but it's part of the cussedness of things that just as I get the chance of a few days of freedom from the daily grind and hope to utilise it for a season of quiet contemplation, down, as ever, mathematical accuracy comes a bomb from you into my front trench and poisons the air for the four precious days I have. To keep the mind fixed on Adonai or Nothing, or anything whatever, is impossible, so I may as well go and dig my garden, or read novels, Latin or Greek or settled study have been Nowhere since May—What's the good? The garden by the way is dead earnest. It may be a last resource yet. Christmas is over and no horror happened as per prediction, unless you regard the taking of Jerusalem as that. You probably do.
I don't think Scotland Yard could see any harm in the last 'International' Good boy! And your effort at a super-Sherlock Holmes should please.
Adieu in the quiet confidence that if 1918 is not a worse year for me, it won't be for want of your trying your damndest! (Before I forget, not a book can be lifted as I'm owing half a year's storage. I will try to settle this in time, if you arrange about the shipping costs). Things in general are becoming more difficult over here and the pinch beginning to be felt. Even in N[ew] Y[ork] you'll feel it.
Love is the law, love under will.
Fraternally ever.
George M Cowie.
|