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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Wilfred Talbot Smith
c/o Karl Germer. Berlin.
27 July 31.
C∴F∴
93
I have been delayed in answering yours of June 21 by utter uncertainty—what should I write? It is not a question of cash in the ordinary sense—at least it has not been so far, though whether a general smash will come who can say?—but of escaping from an intolerable situation, which gets worse daily. I do really need a medium to large-size miracle if I am ever to get out and do any work again.
You seem all right on the ritual question. I expect you have the Words up to the V° at least.
Your Profess-House idea is a dangerous one. It takes a very special temperament to run one—I'm afraid I get more hopeless about everything the more I see how people are incapable of doing anything out of the ordinary. They start, usually with a fine burst of speed, and presently the invisible fetters of old custom drag them down to the routine.
However, you seem to me the most likely person to succeed me when I turn up my toes—a not remote event unless some miracle comes off—and far from an unwelcome one. I feel that I am a bit of a handicap alive, while dead I should be a whale of an asset.
At least, I'll put it another way. I'm pretty well convinced that my mistake has been that I have let myself be distracted by Literature, Art and Magick; that I ought to have cut all this out, and been the plain Prophet (etc) of the Book of the Law. Well, it may be that this year of crisis for the world is my real year to come forward. Then do you say to all: Here is the Law which shall make a new heaven and a new earth. If we delay we are doomed. The one chance is to accept the Law, and organize the world anew on those lines. Etc Etc.
Now I am sure that this can be put over; the one obstacle with you as with me is that we both happen to be particularly rational men. And to succeed one must be transfigured into a Whirlwind of Fiery Flying Serpents. Here the O.T.O. could help you. I myself am without an adequate partner for those high Works at the moment. (I have a hunch that Vagina [Regina Kahl] might be the woman for me, if I can be brought to encourage her enthusiasm—i.e. to accomplish this Great Work.) Aimee McPherson gets away with every kind of murder; that is because of the Cunt behind all he theatricals and nonsense.
But the Book of the Law itself must be our sole Light. We must bow to it where we most disagree with it. And we mustn't mind making mistakes. Nothing must matter but success.
Love to Jane [Jane Wolfe], Vagina, & Co.
93 93/93
F∴[raternal]ly
666
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