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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Tuesday, 1 January 1924
Die Mars.
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
Hail unto Keph Ra! [The H of Hail in the form of the astrological sign for Uranus.]
I dedicate myself wholly for this year to come to The Great Work whereunto I am called and chosen by the Most High the Secret Chiefs of the A∴A∴
12.03 Despite what I have written above, I am moved to ask an Oracle—(This was not an Omen for the year, or anything at all definite. The Event must, in short, shew the question as well as the answer. It may refer to Montparnasse as my centre: or to T.S.F. [French radio] as my job.) which is:
A great night, and scarce fires therein: but freedom for the slave that its glory shall encompass. Liber Liberi. VI. 25.
It continues: So also I went down into the great sad city. There dead Messalina bartered her crown for poison from the dead Locusta: there stood Caligula, and smote the seas of forgetfulness. Who wast thou, O Ceasar, that knewest God in an horse? Ect. Etc. I shall know the import of these Words by the Event.
1.25 A.M. Can’t sleep----. Freud again, by the way, In my year’s work I forgot my ‘Songs for Italy’, being sick with loathing at the filthy outrage perpetrated on me by Jane Wolfe. I can never see her or write to her again. What adds to the horror is that she did it with such very good intentions and took such pains and made such sacrifices—and all to blot my fame indelibly with the abomination of vile printing.[1]
8.30 Slept very late, but woke to order, fresh, with a great dream in which I thrashed Parry[2] (I think) ad lib. With many diverse enjoyments on the side.
Banks etc. shut to-day, I hear: must find F.H. [Frank Harris] by Magick. No: I leave all to the Gods. I am literally oppressed by the sense of something about to happen. There is a strong physical sympathy: heaviness, dyspnea, indigestion, etc. Above all, a curious solemnity of spirit. I cannot interpret all this, and do not seriously try to do so.
1—Refers to the American edition of ‘Songs of Italy’ overseen by Jane Wolfe. 2—The Dean of Trinity College, Cambridge.
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