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Correspondence from Frieda Harris to Aleister Crowley
Rolling Stone Orchard
Jan. 28, 1940
Dear Aleister,
Thank you for your letter.
The No. 5 is also done.
About the Stafford Galleries. I think the best way of handling Ala Story will be for me to invite her for the weekend, show her the cards and let the suggestion that she should show them come from her. Percy [Percy Harris] has offered to drive her down and it was all fixed up, when she developed a cold and could not come. She is an erratic cove and from long experience of her I am sure she is more likely to function if she is allowed to think she is the originator of any business scheme. In spite of her alluring manners she is fundamentally a very capable business woman and she won't be persuaded to do anything that will not mean publicity or money.
There is one more thing—I do not think those cards will sell if you include any sort of ritual. People generally are afraid of being made fools of, getting bad luck by associating with black magic, especially at these times, when all the world is crossing itself to avert the evil eye, and the secular business man, whose money you need if the cards are to be reproduced, simply will not touch anything in the nature of a stunt for fear of offending his general public.
I humbly suggest that we let Ala advertise it in her own way, keeping very much in the background, for my part anonymously and so stimulate the curiosity of the public and the critics. The whole production will be unusual enough to make a mark, that is if I have done my part well enough, and I have observed that a well staged mystery is a magic of great value in attracting attention. I would even like to suggest that you do not sign your work either. To those, who know your lucid prose and classic style, it will be unmistakable, to the general public, it will be taken as a shock, but, without the suspicion that you, Aleister Crowley, are either attempting to pull their leg or poisoning them with some dangerous new creed in the attempt to raise funds or the wind. In my case I should be accused of trying to learn them, and anyhow why should we respect this insane art when “Percy Harris ought to have the poor thing locked up, he can afford it, only he is too mean.”
THE WEATHER. I don't find it too
bad. It is really lovely to look at. The trees are incased
in ice, I have never seen anything like it, and living and
walking, everything ordinary has assumed a rare and
dignified aspect with the elements completely out of
control. Also, the howling wind, and this new invention
“icisny” which is neither raining or snowing, keeps everyone
away, so I can read, paint, or cook to my entire
satisfaction, also slither up and down the ladder to my
studio which provides the necessary exercise and danger to
stimulate me and keep me warm.
The still life I sent you is the favorite “eat” of the Cotswold. I ate mine after posting some to you and I must confess, though tasty and strong meat for us babes, it did seem a bit tough, but I hoped your genius would lead you to discover how to cook them, I only baked mine in butter.
Goodnight.
Yours fraternally,
Frieda Harris
I should like hours of brain-picking with you. I have 1000 of things I want to ask you, I shall never remember when I see you! Qaballa, Chinese, Eddington medley and questions and demands for your sage and onion explanations pierce the ether all round me.
Have you by any chance heard G.P. Wodehouse's masterpiece on the wireless Ukridge! Saturday afternoons.
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