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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Israel Regardie
26 July [1930]
C∴[are] F∴[rater]
93.
There are two Germers. One you don't know. A subconscious Qliphoth of Saturn and Virgo, the most loathsome fiend I have ever encountered. I could have exorcised it, but he hates to be cured: it is his deepest curse that he delights in his anguish and filth.
There are periodic outbursts of this—and, thanks partly to Cora [Cora Germer], partly to the actual depression, they seem more frequent of late. The above is very strictly confidential. Also severely condensed. The facts are frightful. It has been good for me, though it has nearly killed me, to have had to endure this ordure. And no way out yet!
I think I see clearly that it is all against the real need of the Time to try to do anything with Art and Literature. Even with Magic as generally.
I think we have got to concentrate on one thing and one thing only—the Law of Thelema as the sole way out for the World, threatened as it is by universal collapse, revolution, anarchy of all kinds.
All I am is the Prophet as in the Book of the Law.
It is possible that Lloyd might be brought to understand this and to organize and back a movement. I wish you could get him to come to Berlin. His mind was poisoned by the hapless Yorke [Gerald Yorke]—which is absurd, he is a solid man of real business experience, and the other an obvious hysteric.
I want to warn you of one thing about yourself. You have far more ability and experience than most men of your age, but you are still that age. And people won't take seriously any one much below 40, whatever brilliant qualities he has; that is, in negotiations. You show the defect (e.g.) in talking of a "mere secretarial position". You were getting much more inside information that way than you could have in any other; and you ought to have thought it a supreme privilege, instead of repining. What else was there for you to do? So don't be in such a hurry to appear as a Magus 9º=2o! Good Lord, what a fool of myself I made by my own impatience to wear epaulettes!
I think you should manage to look up Foreman [N. J. N. Foreman] who is sticking gallantly to his guns in the most dreadful trouble.
Also, do your utmost to get Lloyd to toe the march. He is really a sane and serious man, only perhaps too easily influenced by sham pomp—the Waite [Arthur Edward Waite] Regalia Racket. If we had him once with us quite whole-heartedly, I think the Word of the Equinox would be justified.
93 93/93
F∴[raternal]ly
666.
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