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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Wednesday, 25 July 1923
Die Mercury
12.55 a.m. About ‘frankness’. It upsets people at first to hear a friend’s most ‘private’ thoughts blurted out carelessly. He should reflect that he has been accustomed to make allowance for the bulk of the iceberg under water: to form an idea of the character of the man from the known (or stated) point of view plus a vast unknown & unstated content which he assumes to be more or less a constant common to all men. Now, as this unstated part of a man’s thoughts is unstated precisely because the man does not want it to be known, it consists mainly of thoughts of which he is not proud: the utterance therefore naturally makes the hearer think him cynical, selfish . . . etc. ‘What the eye does not see the heart does not grieve over’: so a bad impression is made, the expressed thought seeming worse than the silence—though the hearer imagines that he has made full allowance for this in his general estimate. He should reflect that the fact of their being uttered shows just how broad/bad their vastness/badness is: & in reality they lose their venom by being ‘air-asepticized’—as soon as the first surprise is over. Obviously, such frankness might be used by a subtle scoundrel to deceive still more deeply than is normally possible: the safeguard against this is the instinct & judgment that the man is incapable of such extreme baseness. This instinct & judgment are made more sure by the increased field of data: thus, at the end of the argument the Thelemic plan is vindicated.
The principles of this moral virtue should be examined, analysed, & stated coherently by Frater O.P.V. [Norman Mudd]
1.30 a.m. An eloquent Evangelical was urging upon an impenitent that every one of his sins added to the burden borne by the Saviour on whom was the weight of the whole wickedness of the World. The sinner urged that—with so much naughtiness about-his own particular offences could hardly make much difference to the Anguish of the Crucified. ‘Ah! My dear friend,’ replied the man of God earnestly, ‘it’s the last straw that breaks the camel’s back.’
1.30 p.m. The Fascist film has been withdrawn—so I can’t get into the limelight that way!
I must leave this hotel: as in May, so today, there are 2 men who converse—apparently the identical dialogue!—every night from 1.30 to after 4 at the top of their voices. The impression is exceedingly strange: I can’t say why, but there is an Arabian Night’s flavour about it. In any case, it makes either sleep or work quite impossible; & it excites the will to wander too seriously.
Observe, by the way, that disturbance of sleep does this (Cf. Wm. Caine ‘Behind the Door’ stories). There must be a psychological reason. I really & truly wish to kill those men—whom I would pardon cheerfully for robbing me or almost anything else.
2.10 p.m. In the times of the Three Musketeers, as compared with later periods, each character, even the most servile, seems independent & individual. They take what comes to them, & go after what they want, with full self-subsistence (I can’t find a good word). Progressively this is lost, till even Cagliostro & Louis XVI seem somehow attached to ‘Society’.
3.33 p.m. I expected O.P.V. before now-rightly or wrongly. The point is that, now as on Monday when he was late at the cafe, my nerves invent absurd hypotheses involving his infamy & insanity! This is a lifelong imbecility of mine: I think that it is due to the feeling that I ought to include all possibilities, for the sake of intellectual completeness.
9.45 p.m. Moved to Tunisia Palace [Hotel]. It’s all too strange to me, being treated decently—even reasonably—after all these years. It really does take a little time to settle down to the idea! The L.M.R. [Lesser Magical Retirement]. is now therefore about to begin properly on right lines.
My blasted Nonconformist Conscience is on the job still, despite all I can do! It is devilish to have to wonder whether—I having ample supplies—the Abbey [Abbey of Thelema] is getting all it needs.
The answer is that if I can produce but one perfect poem—& I shall, at the least-the justification is absolute.
10.15 p.m. There is a very curious psychological affect of the regimen which I have undertaken. Not knowing the source of supplies, all that happens to me is somehow senseless. Nothing is part of a system. I live utterly in the present. I don’t know whether this is good for a man: when the strangeness wears off I should be able to judge better.
10.30 p.m. Puzzle: why no mosquitos (or very very few) in Tunis? And few flies!!
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