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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Gerald Yorke
55 Avenue de Suffren, Paris, VII
December 29th, 1928.
Care Frater:
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
My number is not 120, as it might have been, nor 0, as I thought quite possible. As a matter of fact, my diagnosis, both from a magical and a medical point of view, has been vindicated with such distinction that I am liable to burst with pride. The trouble is a species of local infection, which appears to be the common characteristic of a magical attack, and I have an idea that we are being subjected to something of the sort.
The Shulamite [Maria de Miramar] is herself completely under the weather, although not at all in the same way, and I am beginning to wonder if your silence of the last few days may not imply that you yourself have been got at. You will remember that just before we left Paris, all three of the persons cooperating were stricken with blains and boils. This happened exactly at the moment when we started to get some big things going in the magical line.
Things will be all right financially, provided relief arrives before the 3rd of January, though it is, as a matter of fact, somewhat hard sledding.
I am quite determined to cut down expenses in the most radical way after January 20th, unless something quite unexpected turns up to justify us continuing on something like our present scale. Unfortunately it is the old dilemma. If I have to live in Retirement, I cannot do any business.
If once we can break through the vicious circle at one point, the Victory will be won. After all, things looked worse in March, 1918!
Love is the law, love under will.
Yours fraternally,
666.
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