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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Ben Stubbins
140 Piccadilly.
6 Aug [1942].
Dear Brother.
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
Your grand loyal letter cheered and encouraged me more than I can say F.H. [Frieda Harris] is in a bad way. She would not invoke Mercury properly, and got obsessed by the Cynocephalus—over a year ago, now—and has made blunder after blunder. Now that her (supposed) work has been noticed for the first time in her life, the idea has come to her to steal the whole shooting match! (She wanted to escape the "early struggles of the artist", so she married a rich Jew. But the result was that serious artists refused to take her seriously, while all the gang of sham wastrels & parasites & sycophants in Bloomsbury came and fawned on her and pulled her leg and robbed her and laughed at her behind her back. She has ended by a really foul insult to Mercury, showing as Trump I "The Juggler", a horror most unspeakable instead of the one that I had approved. It is a vile thing. The worst of it is that He will punish her most terribly; of all the Gods, Mercury is the easiest to offend, the hardest to propitiate. He has no human feelings at all; truth is the one virtue that appeals to him.
I am very fond of F.H. and hoped to make her a real artist; and I cannot even avert the wrath of the insulted God!
I am sorry you are so hampered just now; apart from all this, it would have been a real pleasure to see you again.
Love is the law, love under will.
Fraternally.
666.
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