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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Norman Mudd
[4 July 1923]
Care Frater O.P.V.
93.
IX° The Oracles are strangely bewildering: extreme, but on which side it is beyond me to divine.
The matter has been feeding—almost an obsession—for many years. It may imply a wife or mistress. "Success is your proof": the Oracles will become clear in the light of the Event.
There has always been a very definite picture of the woman: rather tall, muscular and plump, vivacious, ambitious, energetic, passionate, age from 30 to 35, probably a Jewess, not unlikely a singer or actress or addicted to such amusements. She is to be "fashionable", perhaps a shade loud or vulgar. Very rich, of course.
It would of course be child's play to recognize the right person as soon as she appeared.
The point is whether you should not take steps to find her—there are agents in Tunis, public (no good, these*) and semi-private or private, down to the regular [illegible]. I think you should try to get in touch with some such person.
P.S. I imagine you realize how a poet with such excess of personal pride and detestation of any ties (except [illegible] and sonnet's!) loathes the whole idea. Hence I have stuck to it. The last month or two I began to breathe more freely. "Will the Gods let me off, after all?" Therefore I deem the matter urgent—to be brought to a [illegible], once for all, if possible.
666.
P.P.S. Collect "[illegible]" from left-hand drawer of my dressing-table.
Don't let any human [illegible] for the day Crowley induce gas to fail on purpose in the matter of the IX° "[intelligible]". Crowley needs this whip: and 93 needs the IX°.
Eddy [Eddie Saayman] might spend an evening with me at "Les Avarie's"—improve his [illegible], and give him an idea of orthodox medical-modern Freudian views about the pox.
666.
* Well, how do I know? I'm probably quite wrong.
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