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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Martin Birnbaum
55 Avenue de Suffren Paris VII
February 28th, 1929
My dear Birnbaum,
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
I refrain from quoting the immortal words of Longfellow, subsequently mutilated by Beatrice Harrowden: But I should have so much have liked to had a "crack" with you. I have been considerably under the weather since I left America, chiefly owing to asthma, which was maltreated by all the famous specialists, and ultimately cured by a perfectly simple operation. The upshot has been that I have never published anything for ten years. The enclosed prospectus indicates my resurrection. If you count the stones of the Great Pyramid, the whole thing becomes perfectly simple. Not that I recommend your doing it, for it might be more illuminating to follow the meteoric career of Konody [Paul Konody].
My personal opinion is that Matisse never painted anything. All he has done was to find a crypt, preferably in Styria, where were a large number of pictures of Fra Angelico, which he has passed off as his own work.
Although I have been a conservative during the whole of my present incarnation, my present approaching resurrection is largely attributable to the grand nephew of Lord Roseberry. His name is Yorke [Gerald Yorke], which is excessively irritating, as we were honest Lancastrians in the Wars of the Roses. At the same time, I am compelled to admit that he does take a fairly reasonable view of my actual situation. Since the War, the gutter press has run the universe, and I have had a pretty bad time consequently. Nowadays, it is hard to think of anybody at all who has the courage to go on doing decent work. On the other hand, I think everybody is about sick of the present situation. We are approaching what Zoroaster called "the psychological moment."
Do let me hear more of you. You were a very bright spot during my exile in America—and the night is yet young.
Love is the law, love under will.
Yours sincerely,
Aleister Crowley
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