Correspondence from George MacNie Cowie to Aleister Crowley

14 Glenisla Gardens, Edinburgh.

Jan. 6. [1918]

Care Frater.

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

I had scarcely got my last letter from you, posted, when along came a distressful note from M.D. [Mary Davies]. The expense for her trial in May & of defending you and the Lodge had come along, & amount to little short of £250. The solicitor, she states, has charged heavily for every interview with me, & you've driven me latest into further consultation. Mary can't be expected to pay this part. I must, somehow, Lord knows how, as I was driven to run up a big bill also with W. & W. It's time you were helping, instead of worrying my soul out with incessant clamour for money. It's to the good, that M.O.H. [Mother of Heaven—Leila Waddell] sent, at least, some human kindliness & sympathy. A little practical help in this matter, setting aside generosity, would be diplomatic & would pay—I know this is not so impossible as you would make me believe.

Remember your friend B.G. gave the Lodge a very different account of your circumstances to what you give me, and I believe made the B[lessed] b[rethren] suspicious of my account of your difficulties. I've been made to feel black shame this week especially, & to slink out of the way, not having a sixpence in the War Loan or being able to put anything in, whilst even my housekeeper (who won't work for what I used to pay her) is rushing off to the Tank to put a pound in.

1917 ended with a characteristic piece of bad, though not disastrous luck—I was under the illusion that my Rider's debenture would come due this month. As you have ignored repeated requests to return it I could not refer to it for confirmation & wrote to ask if it were payable this year. No, the terms are that 3 debentures are drawn for repayment each year, & mine was not amongst the latest.—I did not know this before & it seems to hang it up indefinitely. I know you haven't lost or misused the document, as I get the interest all right & am expecting some every day this month. In case you have lost it, I had to admit that the document is not in my possession, but has not been transferred to anyone & is not to be accepted unless from myself. You should now return it however. I can't sell it, tried to, at the time I was helping you so freely, but no go, the only way would be that I might get a friend to buy it if I were in a desperate emergency, & there is every prospect of that. Meanwhile the interest is useful & has often turned a corner for me these last 3 years. However the only other plank left, has had to go & this is the last. In case of accident etc, and the new chronic legal expenses, which you are adding to, most exasperatingly. I'm up a tree.

I shall avoid it as long as possible, but I may be driven to make you pay your own storage charges out of the rent, and put all in W. and W.'s [Williamson & Watt] hands.

I have done my best to keep out of letters anything that would injure you and confirm the police anew that it's only money that is the object of the Lodge, and to head you off from shouting for it. Nothing could have a worse effect. As you won't come over and have things explained, I have no resource but to write plainly. It is time we had that Council of Three to restrain you from degrading the Sacred Knowledge in appearance to the level of a confidence trick, and I am inclined to take steps towards this.

It is quite right that there should be an organisation to provide you with funds and save you from wasting time in writing piffle by why should not that object be open and above-board. It is reasonable; I have always said that the weak point of your manifestoes is their appeal to cupidity, like the we'll teach you to make £5 a week" advertisements. I believe and still believe that you had something up your sleeve, as ought to be the case, to back all this up. And it is now time to show it. At present I can put no face on things, or feel at all dignified. Bar my house, there is nothing (visibly) solid behind the manifesto.

By insisting so, on money, from the rent of the House [Boleskine] you are merely giving the appearance that it is your own, and its gift a sham and one risking its loss. I said as little as I could about that visit to your solicitors. You assured me in 1915 when I protested about that mean business of the studio and of your having tried to "do me in" that you were much hurt, that you were straight and that all would be put right when your mother died. I know nothing but it is a fair inference, at least, that you have had hundreds in anticipation, whilst trying to make me believe you were living on old boots. By not being straight, you have let me waste a lot of money attempting to pay debts which I had no idea till this year ran into five figures, or I'd have seen the uselessness of it. All has been based on the story you told me about Cremers [Vittoria Cremers]. I believed you were suffering from [word illegible] misfortune, and would recover yourself long before this time, though I couldn't understand why no attempt was made to make her disgorge. I accepted your version without question, but a very different side of the story came out when I was in London in June. It makes me wonder what was in your mind when you came here and ate salt with me in May 1914. To do you justice you have had a lot more from me than you ever asked for, but if you boast of having made a 'cuckoo' of the "soft old fellow" what does it amount to? You got hold of a man of the type who won't take something and give nothing. The Knowledge (such as I've got) seemed worth paying for, even at the price I've paid; I realised the importance of your mission and what a difficult task it was, and have helped you to the limit of my ability/ If I am a fool, well, it's better to be a generous fool than a mean cuss. The Law is good Do what you will, and I see nothing in that to justify the idea that the noblest type of man is the mean cuss. If I'm a cuckoo, well I can retort that you are in the position of having taken money for what you assert you gave without knowledge and price. It's a matter of indifference to me what you've done with the prize. There's been nothing visible from it in the way of the Work, however.

Your stories of distress, not sleeping in a bed, and so on, have made me feel compassion lately, but compassion that you should still think (after the Dennes Lamb visit) that you are gilling a baby. No, you were I am sure that original Beast of a boy who cried "Wolf!" too often. If a letter comes along to say you are fatally dead, I now only smile and say, "good dodge to get bogus funeral X's [Expenses] out of me"—It isn't any good, now, and a straight man can't be driven by crooked methods let alone ye canna take the breeks aff a Hielandman—You try to, nevertheless. I don't lie awake o' nights and weep because I've lost money. The material loss I can dismiss with a contemptuous cuss, but it's a different matter that you are robbing me of my own chance of attainment. It is useless to try to keep my mind calmly on the One Object when every week or other comes a letter to cut my mind into fiddle strings with sordid worry. I was like putty in your hands so long as I believed in your good faith in material matters as well as in the Knowledge. But you've lost your power over my impressionable and over-confiding nature. It's plain you are trying to break my will. It's the greatest sin you say, to interfere with the Will of another, is this humbug, too?

Come on! be a sporting Beast, not the kind of animal who gets out of pits by inviting some confiding creature to come in and taste the waters of Liberty how good they are! and climbs out over his shoulders. I'm writing a new Aesop revised according to the new ethics. There's that silly story of Androcles for instance. The real facts were that that fool of an Androcles tried to extract a thorn from the Beast's paws, and the animal sobbed "Brother!". But when they met again in the circus at Ephesus, it was not paws but claws that day and it was the Crowning Joy of the Beast's life to go for Andrew Cockles like one o'clock and gobble the supremely silly critter up. Moral . . . . . ?

Well, I know that things are not always what they seem, that an apparent will is often real good (this war e.g.(. What I state is how things seem at present, and try to get you to drop useless humbug. It was stupid to gull a man who didn't need to be gulled into helping you. Don't break your helpers, you haven't over many. Unless you're straight, you'll find it an easier job to extract the Greek Qabalah from J.M. than certain things from me. Clear? You should note that it means instant dismissal for me, after what has happened, if I help in any matter of publishing. This is like writing you to come on and try to break me, but lo! I am smooth and hard as flint (thanks to yourself) the Horror will get no hold, and I was looking forward to some things.

I don't believe you read my screeds, no matter, I've got this off my flinty chest, and must now conclude these recriminations.

Keep in mind that Love is the law, love under will.

Ever fraternally.

George M. Cowie.

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