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Correspondence from Wilfred T. Smith to Aleister Crowley
14 Sept 43
My very dear Aleister:
Many times these many years I have speculated as to how and when my turn would come as it has to so many others, and now it is here.
With the limited powers with which I was endowed I desperately tried to hold together the Order and extend its influence, despite the dire blunders in the matter of simple first principals for organization which you so often made and your total failure to give me adequate support, as you acknowledged in one of your recent letters.
A stated in mine to you of June 3rd, after leaving here, which you did not answer, I started out with some home that I might perhaps achieve somewhat for the benefit of all concerned, and started some practices and kept a record until August 13th.
Perhaps unfortunately, who shall say, I took along and reread all your letters to me, and I think they more than the contents of Liber CXXXII and subsequent events, decided me after over two solid months of thinking to change the course of thirty-seven years of my life. There are besides many other factors which contributed to the final decision.
In more than one respect I have chosen the hardest course, for I remember nothing so distasteful in my life as was the leaving of Culling’s Heritage following my decision, some three or four days previous to my return to 1003, which threshold I half hoped never to cross again. Since arrival the distaste is no whit alleviated.
I found several notable matters during revision of your letters that had entirely been forgotten, one of which was Mr. Germer’s [Karl Germer] long criticism of you, many good points therein, and your characteristic vitriolic and verbose attack upon him.
Will it be necessary to write such a one in my case, or have you not already said enough to others already in your letters? Which by the way the F.B.I. seem to take seriously.
I could now, as I have often in diary and destroyed letters, write you for hours on end. But I have never felt quite sure that you would not use the confessional of a record against me, as I so recently discovered (see above) Germer accuses you of doing in his case.
That stack of letters from one who wrote Liber LXV, VII, XXVII, CDXVIII, XXI, and many, many more. In a spirit of sadness and not blame I say that they are deplorable and they have had their effect. I can only suppose you felt that there was no corresponding intelligence at this end to inspire or warrant anything better on your part. You should not have formulated such an opinion by my poorer ability than yours to express in writing my best, and because I left an “e” off of “before,” and some such blunders, through an undue haste to put into writing my thoughts. Has you not accepted so ardently the opinions of apparently a more convincing letter writer, or had the knowledge furnished by a higher source of information on May 28th, 3 P.M. come to you sooner, probably this sad ending would not have occurred.
What is the use of writing, for I have no powers to write of much more subtle matters pertaining hereunto.
I am sad.
With love,
Wilfred.
I have held this now two days, but I must send something off to you though this represents little of what I wish I could say to you. It looks as if I was oblivious to my failures in the matter, but I assure you I am not.
Yet I hear things daily which had I heard them before the decision would have hastened it.
Never the less could the wire be recalled, at least in part, I would probably do it.[1]
“Sleep that knits up the reveled sleeve of care” is the only surcease. Would to God you knew your people better.
1—Smith cabled Crowley on September 10, 1943: “POSTPONING OPERATION. RESIGN IN TOTO. THANKS. FAREWELL.”
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