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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Gerald Yorke
68 [Sybel Str 68. Berlin Charlottenberg]
Wed. noon. [Undated: circa June 1932]
C∴[are] F∴[rater]
93.
Yours of Tuesday 5 P.M.
I'm ever so glad to hear that Bill [Bertha Busch] is better. Do get it out of your head that I "abused" her. We could pull things off better if we didn't have these fool misunderstandings.
Your letter was responsible for Bill rushing over. You know perfectly well that there is no chance to pull through unless you keep your word. Don't try to put off failure in London in '29 on poor Marie [Maria de Miramar]! I admit her return made things worse; but, even before that, it would have been a long slow job to get people interested. You might try Mrs. Shelley though: she might finance a six months campaign.
I think my presence would hurt things. And it is certainly impossible without reserves of cash.
While here, Rosenfeld and I have quite a lot of irons in the fire. If only Montgomery Evans would come over for a week, I'm pretty sure he could fix up a contract or two. With something fungible like that in my hand, I'd come over like a shot. For I could then approach the big people with prestige to back me. Get him at the Eiffel and persuade him.
I wish you wouldn't write rot about "threats". Why every letter you write threatens me with consuls and starvation[1] κ.τ.λ. unless I do what you say! What threats, any old way? I dunno. You're balmy!
The main trouble with you is that your conditions of life have forced you to take things seriously. You seem to think the [illegible] is an amusing topic for tea during the Eton and Harrow match. Worst of all you are so damned "well-meaning". Like all such people, you cause untold misery to yourself and others. But I assure you that your inaccuracy (etc) is due to this "don't care" attitude to life. Only the Order can pull you out of this, and it's not my fault if the Masters [illegible] on your toes. They trod damned hard on mine!
93 93/93
F∴[raternal]ly
666.
1—This reiteration in nearly every letter you write of inevitable smash is clearly the confession of a subconscious wish to destroy me. Dig deeper into G.J.Y. [Gerald J. Yorke].
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