Liber XVIII

                                
                                Part One


                         The Fountain of Hyacinth

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law
  
 I, Baphomet 666, wishing to prove the strength of my will and the degree of my 
courage have poisoned myself for the last two years and have succeeded finally 
in reaching a degree of intoxication such that withdrawal of the drugs (heroin 
& cocaine) produce a terrible attack of the "Storm Fiend". The acute symptoms 
arise suddenly, usually on waking up from a nap. They remind me of the "For 
God's sake turn it off" feeling of having an electric current passing through 
one, and of the "Super-structure" of the Baltoro Glacier. The psychology is 
very complex and curious: I think a detailed record of my attempt at breaking 
the habit will be interesting and useful.

Tuesday, Feb. 14, 1922

3:40 P.M.  Left Paris for Fontainbleau. Put up at Au Cadran Bleu. Walked before 
  dinner. No alcohol. Heroin & Cocaine at odd times till 8 P.M. Difficult to 
  sleet. [N.B. Part of my plan in coming here is to dig up the bitter memories 
  which have been killing me. I was so happy and hopeful here two years ago; 
  and now my little Poupe(ace)e has been dead over a year and her little 
  brother never came to birth; and my manhood in part is crushed]

Feb. 15. 

1 1/2 tablets -- Slept till 9:30. Cafe Croissant. Struggled hard to get up but 
  relapsed and slept till after 11. Delightful dreams.

12. Walked (lunch on warm milk) till about 3:30. Very tired. A nap. The breath 
  of the forest hit me like a club, the moment I left the town. I felt cured of 
  everything. I broke into a series of storms of sobbing; great relief.

4 P.M. "Storm-fiend" possessed me with terrible and unendurable violence.

4:4 A big sniff of heroin. Instant relief but very palsied. The residual 
  symptoms abated slowly and I was normal, nearly, at 4:17. From then I got 
  worse again slowly.

4:30 Small dose of heroin

4:40   "    "       "

5:15 Medium "       '

5:30 Big dose. I am not suffering. The excesses are that I want to be very fit 
  to write this record though I have practically finished for the present, and 
  that I may as well take plenty before curfew at 7, so as to make it less 
  difficult to do without it till Reveille at 1 PM tomorrow.

  I may find it wise to limit the number of doses during the "Open Season" or 
  to make it illegal to take a dose at all unless the "Storm-fiend" is actually 
  on the job.

  My general idea is to increase the Close Season daily by a space of one or 
  two hours thus automatically limiting the Open Season and reaching a point 
  when a whole physiological cycle of 24 hours. That, in my theory, would be 
  the critical point of the cure.

6:12 PM. It seems to be no effort at all to stop cocaine right away; one 
  returns to it from the moral impulse to "get going." This impulse appears to 
  depend on external circumstances. Accidental necessities to be at one's best. 
  (I am now, by the way, slightly intoxicated - by the 5 doses of the last 2 
  hours. I am combating my excess of hunger for the drug by Strychnine, doses 
  of 2 mgs - and by eating. The most important part of the treatment is to keep 
  the mind distracted. The attacks of hunger seem to be partly caused by the 
  mental obsession and prove transient of the attention is attracted in any way.

  I propose to deal with the most distressing symptoms which I have explained 
  hitherto, viz., inability to sleep at the proper hours (with tendency to 
  over-do sleep in the daytime) on the following principles.

  1. Use of the IX' formula.
  2. Hard physical exercise every day with a walk of at least half an hour 
     before dinner.
  3. Hydrotherapy if to be procured. In any case, hot bath with eau-de-cologne 
     rub on retiring. Cold ditto on waking.
  4. Alcohol on retiring.
  5. Soporific in full dose as well unless asleep within 30 minutes of lying 
     down.

  My plan for tomorrow is this:

  Forced wakening at 8:30. Breakfast. Bath. Walk. Lunch in forest. No heroin 
  till 1 PM. Doses at pleasure till curfew at 6 PM.

6:30. Medium dose Heroin. This was a real indulgence in the worst sense of the 
  word. It has occurred very frequently that I have taken a dose for reasons at 
  present utterly unfathomable. (This is a confession indeed, for me, who 
  claims to be the foremost living psychologist!) There is not the slightest 
  discomfort to be removed, or the faintest wish to reach some still superior 
  state. It is an absolutely perverse impulse. I can only compare it with 
  similar obfuscation -- phenomena common enough in the matter of sex. Part of 
  the explanation may be that I feel (rather there is a physiological instinct 
  in the animal) an absurd sense of injury. An indignant assertion that it has 
  a natural right to be active and pleasantly divorced(?) for a  certain 
  proportion of the 24 hours.

6:45. Small dose. Taken partly to prove to myself that I was not alarmed by the 
  reflection above set down.

  I note certain pathological points.

  1. Increased secretions, especially mucous, indicate the physical need of the 
     drug.
  2. Slight tendency to manifest the bronchitis which introduced me to heroin.
  3. I think my eyesight to be degenerated wholly since I began the experiment. 
     Occultist, however, will not admit this; they claim that I am "doing as 
     well as can be expected" or even a little better.
  4. There has been a constantly increasing indifference to matters of ordinary 
     health, cleanliness and vanity. I seem hardly to know what the state of 
     affairs is, as to defecation, etc.`
  5. There are numerous very alarming mental symptoms, but all really reduce to 
     one only, the feeling that nothing is worth while. It is a sort of 
     "philosophical laziness" rather like Falstaff's deafness "a scary 
     slackness".

6:55 PM Medium dose. Excuse, a perverted sense of duty. The clock had struck 7. 
  There are several audible clocks in the town and I wanted to assert my right 
  to take a last dose between the competing chimes.

  I am now "nice drunk" as Alostrael would say. The day had been one of 
  anguish. Poupee peeped from every alley in the forest. I think of her now 
  without the least tendency to emotion of any kind at all; it is even hard to 
  remember that I ever regretted her for an instant.

7:7 PM An extraordinary incident has occurred. I had put a "choice cigar" in my 
  mouth as the safest place intending to smoke it after dinner. In my mental 
  absorption, I lit it, discovering the fact only now when it is half smoked. 
  This sounds an absurd trifle; but it reveals a condition as serious as an 
  actor's who should unconsciously declaim "to be or not to be" in a scene or 
  so too early. I am economising these cigars as I cannot renew the supply in 
  this town.

  I am now not only "nice drunk" but "very drunk", not far short of "bloody 
  drunk". My eyes are swimming, my senses singing: I feel "floppy" and I 
  radiate beatitude of the most beatific blessedness. My middle name is 
  Benedict; they call me Felix for short. Instead of Bildred and his friends, I 
  am surrounded by my cronies, Sat, Chit and Ananda. I am enjoying a formless 
  ecstasy, unsurpassed by anything in my experience. Yes: the day has been a 
  success. I never drank a better bottle of nectar. It is all to the good that 
  I can put no name to my rejoicing.

10:10 PM. The dinner, all unpleasing as was the menu, proved excellent. I had a 
  glass of Noirs, perfect; and a Vieux Marc ditto. I went to No. 4 & No. 6 to 
  look for a female primate. The best of the banal bunch was a short, sturdy 
  creature called Paulette. I hardly feel justified in robbing Pierrete to pay 
  her! I drank a Vieux Marc and a Cointreau -- I feel wonderfully well and 
  deliciously tired: I am not even annoyed at the rain. I shall not be sorry to 
  go out and get soaked to the skin and skip about in the slimy slush of the 
  sodden forest. I am terribly sleep and have nothing on my mind. Except this: 
  my ambition to make this record "read well" may persuade my animal to 
  simulate all sorts of unnecessary tortures! Shame! I thought I had overcome 
  that last infirmity of noble mind! Well, let me go to sleep over the 
  "Bourgeois gentilhomme. I seem, by the way, to be the total antithesis of M. 
  Jourdain. A am noble, poor, and totally disillusioned on all points. I have 
  even ceased to protest against the fact that every step in evolution is 
  inseparable from spasms of stupid agony: and I don't "want" anything. My will 
  is at last -- so it seems -- free from all lust of result.

10:26. I compose myself to Moli(acg)ere.

Feb. 16. 

1:00 A.M. 1/2 tablet dichlenel(?) and a glass of wine. My Moli(acg)ere became 
  illegible within 10 minutes. Yet I am awake still, bar a doubtful half-nap of 
  a few minutes.

  The mechanism of my insomnia is extremely interesting.

  Tonight conditions for sleeping were all advisable. The bed is comfortable; 
  my fatigue is great; and normal in all respects. My body is entirely at east 
  and my mind far from preoccupation. I cannot recall having any thoughts of 
  any special kind, such as worries, contemplations, plans. There has been no 
  "train of thought". What happens is this: I feel myself sinking into sleep 
  and am at the same instant impelled to some slight physical movement, 
  actually to seek a more comfortable position, or to scratch. The action is 
  sufficient to remove me from the frontier of sleep. If I refuse to yield to 
  the physical impulse it passes off; but when I again feel the sensation of 
  approaching the Gates, it seems, not necessarily or even usually in the same 
  shape but with increased intensity.

1:20 AM. Feeling my mental activity to have become very great. I take a second 
  1/2 tablet of Dial(?). This episode must have recurred dozens of times in the 
  2 1/2 hours of insomnia. The only identifiable thought, by the way, in that 
  period is the wish to observe and record the phenomena in question.

1:25. I return to Moli(acg)ere.

  [afterthought -- Despite the conditions, I feel very much rested, perhaps 
  more so that if I had slept deeply throughout and been awakened accident. 
  While writing these last entries I have felt a curious wish to confide the 
  secret of this whole experiment to T--E-- on his arrival in the forest. I 
  must think out why this should be.

9:12 A.M. slept all night after only 3 or 4 repetitions of the torture called 
  Vigilium; and that despite a beginning of an asthma attack which is "my 
  animal's" way of asking for cocaine -- Heroin which stops my bronchitis at 
  once does not touch my asthma -- leaves it worse than before if anything.
  I feel fully rested, mind & body; lazy indeed but without irritation or 
  fatigue. And I feel no temptation to take heroin in order to acquire strength 
  enough to get up. Things could hardly seem more favorable but of course they 
  may be the prelude to all sorts of horrors--

12:00. Awake at last after several relapses.

3:00. Very dull damp and depressing. Crawled up the Roches D'Avon (?) -- no 
  enthusiasm, no vigor, no courage.

  I note that the important part of the treatment is to increase the period of 
  abstinence and as heroin postpones sleep the best plan would be to be very 
  ---- about curfew and allow a little latitude to Reveille.

3:5. Small sniff

3:44. Big do. (N.B. This is my "bad day" as to cocaine and the weather, etc., 
  etc., -- all combine to depress me.

4:18. Medium sniff.

4:27. Symptoms so far unsatisfactory. There is a dull malaise, combined lack of 
  any interest in anything and the knowledge that cocaine would put me right at 
  once. Cocaine is barred altogether of course. The reason is this: The hunger 
  for it is strictly moral and a man ought to be able to master his moral 
  passions -- Physical torture, on the other hand, simply throws the moral 
  apparatus out of gear; one cannot blamed for committing suicide or doing any 
  other foolish act when the pain is so strong as to prevent the manifestation 
  of the Will altogether.

  I was slightly enthusiastic, by the way, during my whole walk today -- but I 
  felt no temptation to take any cocaine on that score. I am tempted strongly 
  now, though, for I resent the tedium of my state. I want to smoke, eat, read, 
  write, drink and sleep all at once; and I cannot settle to any one of these 
  with the least enjoyment. The feeling resembles that of subconscious worry. 
  But I am unable to worry about anything. My affairs, Leah, old memories, 
  nothing seems to matter. I want to be able to get into some positive state of 
  mind, no odds on what subject, and I can't. Only cocaine could help me and I 
  won't take it.

4:59. Medium dose. My feeling is that the safest course is to arrange a mild 
  jag; sufficient to overcome my general lassitude, which is beginning to make 
  me open to violent suggestion to throw the whole cure overboard.

5:15. Heavy with sleep and on the verge of a "nice drunk".

5:28 Small. I did not want this dose, but I want to take 7 in the 3 hours so as 
  not to diminish the ration too quickly. I want to take 6 doses tomorrow for 
  prudence's sake and yet to take one less than on the previous day. If I took 
  6 today and 6 tomorrow, I might feel that I was failing to make progress; 
  while tomorrow it might well be that 5 were not enough to carry me over till 
  Saturday.

5:49. Small -- Routine -- no impulse.

6:00. Medium.

  Programme for tomorrow

  Reveille not before 2 PM.
  Curfew 5 PM.
  In case of early sleep or waking -- which may the Gods grant - I force myself 
   to walk to Melon(?) or at least to Bois-le-Rio -- 

10:40 P.M. Before dinner I went to Thibault to get a small commonplace printing 
  job done. The ignorance, stupidity and obstinacy of the specialist nearly 
  drove me insane. At dinner I was dropping with sleep, an absolute agony of 
  desire. Coffee and 2 Vieux Marcs revived me and I took my walk in perfectly 
  normal circumstances not in the least intoxicated but feeling as I used to in 
  1896 on a bright May morning in a new suit strolling Trinity Street.

  I then went to the Cafe and had 3 Mandarins (I do not mean that I committed a 
  felony on the persons of three Chinamen of high official rank!). I practiced 
  billiards. I have not touched a cue for two years, or been in good form for 
  8. I was amazed to find myself doing better than I have ever done in my life. 
  All classes of stroke seemed equally easy. I was not trying particularly to 
  do my best yet I ran off a break of 22 from a leave of no remarkable promise. 
  Astounding! At this moment I feel quite normal and not a day over thirty!

  I wish to note (before I forget it) that one of the nuisances connected with 
  the legends current as to the effects of drug-taking is that one is apt to 
  attribute any and every unpleasant symptom to addiction or abstinence. Just 
  as the man who fell downstairs while reading George Eliot and broke his leg 
  jumped to the conclusion that the fracture of the femur was due to the fall, 
  so I, after a bad night and a weary walk in wet weather, wonder whether my 
  asthma, depression and other unpleasant phenomena are due to a) lack of 
  cocaine b) too much cocaine c) too much heroin d) too little heroin e) my 
  Freudian attitude toward drugs f)my reaction against said attitude g) etc. 
  h) etc.

  The fundamental trouble about drugs is then that they tend to obsess me, just 
  as in the days of Christianity people always referred anything that happened 
  to the prophecies in Daniel, Matthew XXIV, or the Apocalypse!
   
  These considerations, however, have this effect at least: that I am no longer 
  in the least anxious about my alleged addition, my imminent insomnia, or 
  anything else. There is yet, I regret to say, one super-subtle whisper: "Is 
  not your freedom from apprehension a `devise of the Devil' to induce you to 
  disdain your manifold precautions and to go on the loose in order to show 
  your superiority to the whole situation?"
   
  Just so: This is a case for putting into practice by old rule -- "When in 
  doubt, stick to the letter of your resolution and never mind the spirit." I 
  may be free from all danger of being enslaved by drugs; I may be making 
  myself absurd by going on with my "cure" but I shall keep my rules for the 
  sake of keeping them -- without lust of result.

11:11 P.M. Well, that's off my chest. (I wish the phlegm was!). I shall need 
  some -------- till I happen to go to sleep -- Goodnight everybody!

Feb. 17. 

  I slept at once, woke at 3 for a few minutes, woke back up at 5:15, slept 
  again till nearly 12. There has been a lot of violent sweating. I am now very 
  slack still, despite the length of the rest.

2:10. Medium. Had been feeling very badly, chilled, empty etc. some relief -- 
  not complete.

2:24 P.M. Big. This put me at ease but I was aware of an absurd wish to let 
  myself go. The wish had no rational basis, positive or negative -- it seemed 
  principally due to the spirit of revolt against restriction.

2:25. T--- E--- not at station -- I began the walk along the crest back to 
  Fountainbleu.

3:05. Medium.

4:00    "    No need but I don't want to risk the loss of prestige involved in 
  having to go back on my programme.

4:21. I now feel in first class shape all round. I walk briskly, blithely and 
  have a ridiculous feeling I must be "looking my best"--

4:32 Small.

4:55 Big -- The result of this dose was (apparently) that I was suddenly 
  overcome with somnolence. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I must lie down.

5:00 No: the feeling passes off to some extent.

  Tomorrow programme

  Reveille -- 1:30 PM
  Curfew -- 4 PM
  Doses -- 5

  I know that I am not diminishing very rapidly. But I have organized and 
  restricted the business. Last night's natural sleep was a big stride! I find 
  the mirror justifies my impression that I am looking like an exceptionally 
  handsome winner of the Diamond Sculls, whose love is returned by the 
  loveliest lady alive -- 

6:15. I'm not quite "nice drunk". This is as it should be.  A few more nights 
  like last night ought to clear up the worst of the nervous exhaustion. N.B. 
  The cigar episode of Wednesday repeated itself!

8:38 After dinner walk cut short by a  very severe fit of shivering -- the 
  worst I have had since malarial --------- was my long suit. I refuse to admit 
  that a little heroin would put me right.

10:50. Slept instantly but woke about 10:30 with fierce thirst, skin dry and 
  burning, etc.

11:58. Nearly asleep -- sweating heavily.

Feb. 18. 

7:00 A.M. Woke fresh & fit though very uncomfortable the bed and my sheet being 
  drenched with sweat! had no idea -- despite much experience of malaria in 
  such places as Rangoon that such quantities of perspiration could be produced 
  by so small a person! The quality offers no prospect of my betting a contract 
  with Houbignet.

12:00. I slept off and on all morning while my sheet dried on the radiator.

1 & 1:34. Big- A tremendous relief, though I can hardly say from what! It seems 
  as if my symptoms were becoming uniform. I have had dyspepsia, fever, 
  bronchitis, asthma, rheumatic pains, tendency to headache, etc. The trouble 
  is that if it were not for knowing about heroin I should have accepted any 
  one of these as the natural lot of mankind and treated it accordingly. As it 
  is, I suspect "suppression" to be at the root of anything abnormal.

2 & 2:01. Medium. Heavy rain: it would be stupid to go out walking as I have 
  not a Barberry or a change of clothes and in view of two nights of violent 
  fever. Yet I suspect myself of exaggerating the rain as an excuse for 
  relaxing my regime. This is all absurdly over-honest; the good point is the 
  proof that I am taking the cure seriously, the bad one that it shows a 
  tendency to scare. But in a case of this port it is an error on the right 
  side to be slow to make excuses.

2:34. This is true, although at first sight silly; that all unpleasant 
  symptoms, diverse as they may be, depart unceremoniously on the arrival of 
  Heroin. The converse proposition (is it converse, obverse, contrapositive or 
  what? My logic is rusty) thus appears tenable: that the symptoms arise from a 
  single cause, the withdrawal of the drug. Why then do I not get more symptoms 
  still? Obviously enough: the action of the heroin is to prevent one's natural 
  tendencies to illness from manifesting. I can well understand (in this light) 
  the claim made for opium that addicts are practically immune from most types 
  of disease. If, then, one could be sure of not abusing such drugs, it might 
  be a tenable thesis that their use prolongs life (Excuse me if I distrust the 
  above remarks! May not such thoughts be the scouts of my soul's enemies?! I 
  might easily change my plan of campaign, aiming to limit my doses instead of 
  suppressing them. The next step would be to employ ---------- to enlarge the 
  limit, or at least to become careless so that I slid back into the way of 
  taking dose whenever I felt like it.

  I think it very important for humanity to set down all these subtleties; it 
  has never been properly done either by an artist or a psychologist. I am not 
  sorry that I undertook the experiment. These mental analyses have analogies 
  in other departments. They will be extremely useful to the young Yogi, for 
  example.

2 & 2:53. Medium. I must make a point of analyzing the precise motives that 
  operate the actual decision at any moment as to when and how much I take. I 
  observe, by the way, that the above entry is accompanied by a moral collapse. 
  Such analysis strikes me as damnable difficult; and I instinctively cry out 
  for a stenographer to save me the trouble of writing and a dose of cocaine to 
  brace me up to the intellectual fatigue.

2:58. I see one difficulty about this `cure' which reminds me of Russell and 
  his `zigazgginess'. Suppose I succeed in ------ moral tone. I am liable to 
  discover it to be my "duty" to spurn this campaign as selfish and trivial and 
  to sacrifice myself to humanity (or something pompous and piggish of the 
  kind) by going off to establish the Law aided by adequate doses. I can think 
  of about a million artful arguments of this kind. The sole rebuttal is -- as 
  in learning concentration of any sort -- to stick to the letter of the law 
  without lust of result. I must emphasize this danger to the utmost; I have 
  seen too often in the past how one can become obsessed by some ordered mass 
  of ideas which are utterly irrefutable and yet are the flimsiest falsehoods 
  when once they are set aside. The moral quality required to do so is Resolute 
  Stupidity; it is his possession of this that has made the Englishman master 
  of the world. It is the infiltration of the poison of intelligence that is 
  reducing him to a national rabbit. Tommy Adkins is immeasurably superior to a 
  Chink -- like Confucius; if not, by what right does Brittania rule the waves?

  I have made one gigantic stride toward recovery. I have regained my belief in 
  myself as a World Force. Despite the general indifference to things at large 
  which still leaves me without magnetism, I am genuinely interested in this 
  record and think it will prove one of the most important documents offered to 
  psycho-pathology.

3:26. I am calculating the best way to use my last two doses. I feel no need of 
  anything. As on previous days at this stage; and the reason in taking them is 
  as before. Yet I am haunted by the anguish of further diminution -- I think: 
  Hadn't I better take two big doses as late as possible, so as to suffer less 
  before Reveille tomorrow? As against this: hadn't I better advance the time 
  and diminish the amounts, so as to force myself to fight through as much 
  suffering as possible -- get used to it, like eels to being skinned? For as I 
  have hitherto managed to keep strictly to my programme, I am getting to feel 
  confident that my pride will help me out in a pinch.

  The final argument is this: let me be careful not to be overcareful. There is 
  danger in attaching too much importance to the matter. On the other hand, no 
  danger is so great as over-confidence; if I get careless, good-night! The 
  bottom of the business is the dear old occult bottom -- to work without lust 
  of result. One must act with all the ardor and integrity possible; yet with 
  indifference, as if one had no interest in the upshot.

3 & 3:38. Medium. I took this dose with very marked reluctance. I am tempted to 
  stop brutally. "To hell with the beastly stuff" is my reaction.

  I am quite uncertain whether to regard this attitude as a symptom of moral 
  convalescence or as a subtly false attempt of the subconscious craving to 
  trick me into rashness. It is certainly wise to repudiate both claims and to 
  maintain the letter of the Law.

  While wring this, I observe a powerful undertow of craving. The effect of the 
  dose seems to have been to make me eager to continue the drug with 
  enthusiasm. [This effect, by the way, is exceptionally well reached when 
  taking cocaine.] Now what may one deduce from this? Is it that the stimulus, 
  consciously resented, is subconsciously demanded?

  It seems that the gain in power, the return towards the normal, gives one 
  confidence in one's mastery of oneself? In other words, is one ----------
  there is a marked confusion of thought in my mind on this point. I feel 
  acutely that I am not expressing myself well and that I am not clear about 
  what I wish to express. This suggests that I must be "drilling near the 
  nerve" of some complex. My mind is simply bewildered. I don't know how to 
  formulate my question properly. I am aware of a sort of shame or 
  embarrassment. I seems as if my mind wanted to evade the analysis and take 
  refuge in deliberate obfuscation. This is, of course, what regularly happens 
  to the average man whenever confronted  by any moral problem. He thinks with 
  confused consternation on such subjects as religion, morality and disease 
  because his fear of what might happen to him is so vast and so vague -- this 
  inhibition has been responsible for all the (ignorance?) which has disgraced 
  the history of the race.

3:58. Medium. The final dose was taken with a certain anguish which I instantly 
  recognized as saying "all very well for today! but what about tomorrow when 
  the limit is 4 doses?" This sounds absurd as 3 doses have so far put me all 
  right. But I am thinking of the question of cumulative counter poisoning, and 
  I feel a passionate impulse to break down at this very moment, to "go on the 
  bust, regardless" -- Yet the thought of taking another dose is repugnant. The 
  last has not made me feel any better; it has simply dizzied me and fulled me 
  with querulous impatience. It has stopped raining, I think; I will go out and 
  if too wet, try what a Mandarin and an hour with a cue will do for me.

4:14. Just a note before going out -- I am not nearly "nice drunk" I am glad to 
  say -- But I am tremendously encouraged by the thought that this record will 
  be a model which may serve men to work out their own mastery of "habits" 
  without compulsion or assistance.

5:40. It was too wet to walk. I call to witness the umbrellas of the 
  indigenous. I went book-buying and proof inspecting; in the shop I nearly 
  collapsed. Fresh air restored me. I went billiard playing and Mandarin 
  drinking. My billiards was again admirably astonishing. I was then overcome 
  by sleepiness; decided to go home & lie down. I had a violent impulse to 
  vomit; but after a --------- I felt perfectly well again and the somnolence 
  resumed its sway.

5:55. It is worthy of remark that my regiment seems to have restored my "drug-
  virginity" so called by writers on the subject. The fact is that most of the 
  fixed ideas about drugs are superstitious. I have long observed this fact 
  with regard to a great many. But the more I learn, the danger is the rubble-
  heap of accepted statements. For instance, with ether, hashish, mescal, 
  opium-smoking and morphine, I find no tendency to habit whatever. More still, 
  I am unable to force myself to use these drugs at all, except on the rarest 
  occasions. Yet I have nothing but the most pleasant and profitable 
  experiences in connection with them. With heroin & cocaine, on the contrary, 
  I have not much to thank them for; and there has been a good deal of 
  annoyance connected with them. Yet it is for these and these only that I 
  hanker. I begin to have a grave suspicion that there is a masochistic complex 
  at the bottom of all this: "a will to suffer", integral with the sense of 
  "sin" which accounts for the popularity of humiliating creeds such as 
  Christianity in all its forms among degenerate races -- (I include such 
  infantile wish-fulfillment phantasm reactions as "Christian Science' among 
  those morbid phenomenon.

6:30 I have been noticing in myself a tendency to irritability and 
  suspiciousness. It is not very acute or very persistent; but it is 
  sufficient to be evidence of a state of mind exceptionally foreign to my 
  assertion -- acquired habit of thought. It has appeared by fits and starts 
  during some months.

6:44. Programme for Sunday.

  Reveille 1:00 PM
  Curfew 3:00 PM
  Doses 4

  As adjuncts: strychnine appears of great use physically. I think I will try 
  emphasizing this in the two or 3 hours before Reveille. Alcohol is a decided 
  moral aid; but I suspect it of lessening physiological resistance unless one 
  is careful to restrict it scope to assisting appetite and digestion or 
  promoting sleep. I am somewhat astonished to notice how prolonged by lethargy 
  is. The impulse is to be alarmed; but Nature knows best. This is Her way, 
  presumably, of replenishing the resistance.

7:00. A curious incident took place before dinner. After leaving my room, I 
  thought of my supply of cocaine -- was it safe? I went back, assured myself 
  of its integrity -- and that of the servants thereof -- and put it back with 
  elaborate precautions against a grain of it reaching my anatomy. I now wonder 
  whether this action was dictated by the subconscious wish to take some.

8:8. I dined slowly on light food in great moderation and was instantly 
  impelled to violent and voluminous vomiting. Painless, almost pleasant. It 
  leaves me, like the previous entry -- doubtful as to whether this, too, is 
  not a "device of the demon. Yet there is ample explanation elsewhere -- I was 
  reading the life of Lord Russell of Killoween by R. Barry O'Brien. Perhaps 
  this sickness has saved my life.

8:50. I feel as if another shivering fit were about due, so I get to bed and 
  take 3 gr. Quinine.

9:50. The shivering was avoided. I feel generally washed out, neither tired, 
  sleepy, hungry nor anything else. My thoughts are similarly colorless. For 
  instance, I wonder, without interest, whether I might die before morning.

11:36. I now feel quiet and comfortable but rather bored.


Feb. 19. 

1:11 AM Throat congested, stomach irritated, sleep coy; will take 1/2 tablet 
  dialcura(?) 11:53 (?) a second 1/2 tablet then sleep till nearly 9 and dozes 
  till 11:30.

  Suffering acutely from dyspepsia, eyes watering, yawning, lassitude, etc. I 
  suppose this is the cumulative trouble: I have arrears of my daily ration to 
  make up. I must admit a very strong temptation to break my rules not by 
  artifice but by sheer weariness of the struggle. Shouldn't be surprised if 
  today was a severe test of the treatment. If I break down, it is obvious I 
  need alien aid. It upsets and weakens me that I have no news of 31-666-31.

1+ 1:1 PM. Lunch and strychnine helped out but I was glad when Reveille came. 
  Big 1.

2+ 1:21. Big. I didn't really want this but I'm "hopping mad clear through" 
  today about nothing. I had no letters. It is now cold weather. I am upset 
  about all sorts of things and I can't put names to them. I expect a brisk 
  walk would put me in good condition.

1:50. Feeling particularly well after a short stroll. Returned for my sweater 
  as it is very cold.

3+ 2:20.

4+ 3:00

4:44 Back from a really good long fast walk. Feeling very much better. By a 
  curious paradox I want to break the regimen so as to make better best! 
  However, I made certain considerations as follows: Having been busy reducing 
  the doses, I have not been able to extend the intervals. I wanted to advance 
  the hour of curfew so as to avoid heroin insomnia. But I may not go on the 
  other track. I will maintain curfew at 3 and make Reveille later.

e.g. [moon] Reveille 1:30 -- 3 doses

[mars] 2:40 -- 2 doses

[mercury] 3:0 1 dose.

  It is no plan of my plan to drop from one dose to none until I have reached 
  the interval of 48 hours. The only permissible alternative to making my one-
  dose days 25 hours long is this: to replace the heroin on alternate days by 
  cocaine. The objection to the whole scheme is this; that the hour of taking 
  the dose always approaches bedtime while it is most desirable (on the 
  contrary) for it to be as early as possible. Suppose, however, I extend the 
  two-dose period in this way: 1 dose on waking, the other at 3:00 PM and 
  extend the interval by advancing curfew to 2, 1, noon, and reducing to one 
  dose when the times coincide. This scheme has the advantage of changing the 
  physiological cycle which compensates (I think) for the temporary reduction 
  of the interval which it is desired to extend.

5:00 I may observe that I am recovering to a great extent my normal healthy 
  interest in ordinary affairs and also that I am not in the least suspicious 
  as to my motives in making the above entry. I feel, in fact, quite 
  considerable confidence in myself -- for the first time -- Indeed, I should 
  have little hesitation for my own sake in going on the loose entirely: I 
  refrain from doing so because it would apparently ------ my record.

8:42. Dined rather well; feel all right, bar a tendency to indigestion. But I 
  observe that my virile reaction to various matters is renewed like the 
  Eagle's and a pretty nasty tempered Eagle at that. I find myself wanting an 
  "eye for an eye" from certain people.

11:20. Heroin was (note from S. Roberts--he has either been drinking because 
  his handwriting begins to sprawl also he does not record taking anything) 
  originally prescribed for my bronchitis. It stops an attack in a few seconds. 
  Now I have spent this evening fighting the aforesaid malady with compresses 
  and pastilles, obtaining practically no relief.

  Am I morally justified in resorting to heroin out of business hours? If it 
  were a moral question the problem would be pertinent; but it is not: I am 
  making a purely scientific experiment with no moral implications soever; 
  there is therefore no difficulty whatever in deciding to abstain. I mention 
  this as an example of the astounding simplifications effected by referring 
  all questions of conduct to the Law of Thelema.

  There is nevertheless a `critical temperature': I should take the heroin if 
  not to do so would spoil the record in any case: for example, if the spasms 
  of coughing increased so as to endanger life. The use of drugs in such an 
  extremity would indeed form a pertinent episode in the experiment.


Feb. 20. 

12:20 AM I am making a regular St. Patrick's Night of it. Throat trouble with 
  phlegm standing like the Old Guard and fever, insomnia, etc. on top; my mind 
  surging with phantasms of projects of various sorts -- persistent, but 
  without alacrity or ability to hold my interest. There is no definite drug 
  hunger; but I suspect my quite indefinable symptoms to be in reality so many 
  "legal arguments" of the body, too cunning to complain frankly what it wants.

1:11 AM. Nothing for it but a Dialcuria(?) once more.

2 AM. One spasm follows another each ending in complete exhaustion. I have 
  tried inhaling eau de cologne: no good. I will make one last stand at Fort 
  Vaux.

2:31. Useless sacrifice of human life. Retire on second line. Ils me passeront 
  pas.

1+ Relief very slight.

2+ 2:36. Medium -- almost calm.

3+ 2:45. Medium

  I could almost certainly have cut short the attack with less trouble if I had 
  not let it go so far. I am "all in" from exhaustion, every muscle aching from 
  the strain -- breath still quick and laboured -- traces of phlegm still in 
  throat.

3:7. Practically "all better" though frightfully tired. A noticeable phenomena 
  is a keen ambition to write a play in French verse! (Suggested, probably, by 
  picking up my pocket Tartuffe).

3:18. I shall consider myself provisionally as having "borrowed" the three 
  doses due today and pay them back if practicable by total abstention till 
  Tuesday 2:30 PM. I thing also I shall go to Paris on Tuesday and ask Dr. E---
  G----- how best to combat these emergency attacks; it should be worth while 
  now that I know more or less what to expect.

5:2. Awoke with access of spasms more violent than before. As soon as I get 
  respite enough to control my muscles at all.

4+ Med. I have been asleep dreaming voluptuously and planning various projects 
  in my puppet show.

5+ 5:11 Med. Also I have been sweating violently.

6+ 5:23. Still in the woods.

9:00 AM. Woke very succinctly, my chest still raw and distressed, but a voice 
  in my ears, clear as ever came to me in my life and apropos of nothing: 
  NOTJZJB

  Now the Yi had indicated this before and I had found excuses to dodge it. I 
  don't like the idea even now since fully awake. But I have cleared up the 
  Fontainbleau formula about Poupe(ace)e, I think, with Mark Twain's story "The 
  Fine Loom of Life" (?) and NOTJZJP means (twitching my mantle blue?) "Weep no 
  more, gentle shepherd, weep no more." offers the best possible conditions for 
  the rest of my cure, including the IX' -- XI' remedy and is in all ways 
  rationally indicated. With my habitual prudence, ask Thelema for an oracle. I 
  bet VIII I.53. The applicability of the passage may or may not be discernible 
  by those who are not initiates of the VI' of O.T.O. It may involve my death, 
  as "an enchantment to unbind the bound."

9:36. I am a little calmer now I am sitting up in bed. By the way, I had a 
  strong "hunch" last night to play a libel action against Arnold Bennett for 
  the "Paris Nights" reference worked out in a friendly spirit to gain 
  publicity. On this point Thelema says CCXXX I.50 end of verse. Doubtful: the 
  suggestion seems to be no to let Bennett know what is going on.

  Mad with Leah for not having written. Went out about 10 and started for 
  forest before 11. Shored away from golf course. Exhausted by night's 
  struggle; much residual cough and soreness as well as fatigue. A fine day and 
  a fresh, cool invigorating wind; but I could hardly drag one leg after the 
  other -- I make no apology for

7+ 1:04 PM. Medium.

8+ 1:21 PM     "

9+ 1:36 PM     "

10+ 1:58 PM Small. Crawled in, still weak, about 2:30 PM.

11+ 3:22 PM Wire and letters from Leah.

3:40. eyes keep closing with sleep.

5:00 PM. A nap, interrupted by a fool bell and the waking hideous with a 
  bronchial clinch. I have so shame in going for it at once with old friend 
  cocaine -- partly as a change from the heroin and partly because it seems 
  possible that it will touch the spot better. The first small sniff does 
  indeed seem to clear the matter up remarkable; but I will go and see if the 
  chemist can find me some balm in Gilead.

1.2+ Two small cocaines. Note that in all this business there has not been the 
  slightest conscious "hunger and thirst for mightiness sake" but sheer 
  physical distress and believe me kid I know my -------- from my elbow by this 
  time.

  The two little cocaine sniffs have removed the lump from my chest and throat 
  for the first time in 15 hours or so. The sinister circumstance is that this 
  is "just a week today since my Coco went away and its all up with poor Tommy 
  now!" I shall put the case before Cros fully and meanwhile run along and ask 
  the chemist if he can suggest some patent pulmonary purgative and promise me 
  a purple plenitude of serene slumber, stainless of bronchial trouble, immune 
  from the perfidious and frustrating pangs of intercostal inhibition, of 
  respiratory reluctances. the bane of bronchial burdens, the curse of my 
  cantankerous(?) chest, (and please observe how instantly the cocaine settles 
  itself in my style. The last few phrases, redundant rubbish -- flagged. 
  Normally, I should have diagnosed that another dose was due, and loaded some 
  more alliterations and parenthesis on my ------- back!)

5:24. I do take a third; but that is only to complete the exodus to Boulevard 
  Reulet(?) from the impasse inferno. (Note - corrections and cross corrections 
  -- the rest is illegible) -- 

3+ 5:28. The Third Coco

  Interesting to note that just 23 years ago -- early in '99 I was saving Allen 
  Bennett from his cycle of asthma, opium, morphine, cocaine, chloroform, 
  exhaustion, asthma -- recurring, (it took from 1 to 2 months to make the 
  round trip) by sending him out to Ceylon. Perhaps I made some good Karma when 
  I saved my master's life (at the risk of my own as it happened) perhaps some 
  one I never thought of may be on the way to save mine.

4+ 5:35. To cap the pyramid.

8:38 PM. I had a long delightful talk with a charming little chemist, bought 
  some iodine to paint my chest and some ether in case of a bad night, played a 
  little billiards, read some more Nordmann, drank some hot milk, ate a small 
  piece of bread, wrote Nordmann and P.S. to plead my sanity -- and took 
  several 5+ more sniffs of cocaine and one of heroin! I did this dire deed 
  quite deliberately. I seemed not worth while to (?) my "fall from grace" but 
  to treat the situation frankly, get myself into a state of mind and body such 
  that I could look at it from the outside. Attempts to alternate the 
  assassination and trammel up his consequences would have been pitiful, 
  inviting insincerity. My plan is to begin again tomorrow, with the week's 
  experience to guide me as to what is wise. It is clear, for instance, that I 
  can cut out the cocaine completely without fear of being distressed and that 
  I can start with a two hour spell of 4 doses of heroin; having this 
  advantage, too, that I can make Reveille my time of waking which well ensure 
  early rising.

  I am quite satisfied with strychnine to avert collapse and to control 
  craving. I am confident of my ability to adjust the hours of "indulgence" 
  cleverly enough to keep the "Storm-fiend" from the door. I can rely on 
  quinine in case of fever. My one weak spot is the original emphysema -- 
  asthma -- bronchitis; and I must find a sure fortress against their ferocity, 
  which was solely responsible for the present "regrettable incident." E ---- 
  G ---- will probably be able to help there; and I dare say my own iodine and 
  other defenses may turn out impregnable. I am quite contented with my week's 
  work and proud that all moral attacks were detected and defeated. My sole 
  uneasiness is as to whether the severe physical assault had not a Freudian 
  basis. To that suggestion I reply with some conviction that fever and 
  vomiting were natural effects of the general strain ( as I have seen often in 
  past years) and that last night may well be set down to my imbecile conduct 
  in sitting on a damp log in an incipient drizzle after a long cold walk in a 
  heavy sweater to watch thirty "mudded oafs".

  I blame myself, however, for carelessness in (a) observing my physiological 
  state in several obvious ways (b) keeping the rules of hygiene and therapy, 
  even those formally laid down in this record (c) forcing myself to follow the 
  prescribed course when unwise, e.g. getting up and going out with a fever on 
  me.

  I am pleased with the frankness and conscientiousness of this record; I think 
  it full and free from all self-deception, stupidity, or cowardice. I think it 
  accesses justly the dangers, difficulties, and determination which apply to 
  the case. I feel that it has helped me and will help others to audit 
  accounts; and I am sure that the week's teaching shows a good profit, judged 
  either by the figures themselves or by my demeanor and appearance. 
  Unfortunately there are no figures for the week previous but my memory is 
  quite clear that I have been taking heroin continuously fro many weeks; three 
  or four doses to help me get up and others practically all day at short 
  intervals. As to cocaine, I must have had at least two or three prolonged 
  bouts of it every week, plus a few "hairs of the dog" on most of the "off 
  days". Most of my mental and moral powers were seriously affected in various 
  ways while I was almost wholly dependent on them for physical energy, in 
  particular for sexual force, which only appeared after unusual excesses, 
  complicated by abnormal indulgence in alcohol. My creative life had become 
  spasmodic and factitious -- I could not even take interest in any kind of 
  work; what I did was forced, feeble and ill sustained, dependent on drastic 
  drugging even at that. I could not even face the task of dictating important 
  letters and shrank from contact with business of all kinds. I could take no 
  pleasure even in eating or drinking except when more savagely spurred by the 
  stimulants that usual. I had become incapable of all human reaction, from 
  love and self respect to hatred and self preservation. I avoided washing, 
  dressing, shaving, as much as possible. I was unable to count money properly, 
  to inspect bills and so on; everything bored me. I could not even feel alarm 
  at obviously serious symptoms. My memory, though reliable, was very dull. I 
  refused to make any efforts.

  It strikes me as astonishing that so complete a cachexia as this should not 
  have been accompanied by the slightest psychical disturbance! I had no traces 
  of hallucination or persecution-mania, no tendency to duplicity or 
  concealment, no delusions or defects of judgment; not one (in short) of the 
  classical psychoses which occur normally in cases far less grave in other 
  ways than mine. This is especially strange in view of the fact that I had 
  been subjected to extreme mental worry of many kinds for many months and that 
  I had lost entirely the faculty of sleep which ensued only on (a) extreme 
  exhaustion, say after fifteen hours of painting and dictation, followed by 
  perhaps 6 hours sexual frenzy (b) hypnotics such as vernol. reinforced by 
  desperate determination to sleep or (c) heroic doses of strong alcoholic 
  drinks, absinthe, brandy, or hot rum.

  Yet I have not even had so much as one unpleasant dream. The only suspicious 
  symptom has been occasional feelings of irritation, disproportionate to the 
  exciting cause, and of undue anxiety to avoid allusions to subjects liable to 
  annoy me. That I should have been able to get back so nearly to normal good 
  health -- on all planes -- in a single week: this seems to me almost 
  miraculous by the sombre standards of the text books on drug neuroses.

10:40 PM. The above entry is a fair example of what I can do when thoroughly  
  drunk on a mixture of heroin and cocaine. But it should be compared with a 
  similar effort last month. Tonight I am clear, calm; not too verbose, 
  redundant, detailed or frenetic. The basis of the entry is mental and moral 
  health. I write what I want to write, without excitement or effort. The drugs 
  merely inhibit my inhibitions. On previous occasions, one may observe on 
  insane intensity, an impatient fury. There is a delirious outburst and I am 
  enraged at my slowness and my lack of mastery. Tonight there is none of this. 
  I fell myself in full control of my faculties. Also there is no impulse to 
  appeal to the drugs to "drive like the devil". I no longer crave to push on 
  from one piece of work to another. Before, I have "speeded up" Pegasus though 
  I have had no idea where I want to go. The result has been that I have often 
  spent a furious night with the Hounds of Hell, hunting some horrible hyena in 
  the dark across sterile sands; I have finished the work for the sake of which 
  I started drugging myself and gone on with some quite useless stuff like 
  "Limericks" or some shapeless, idealess ranting ruins of obscure and obscene 
  turgidity. Mine inmost identity says: To worship me take wine and strange 
  drugs whereof I will tell my prophet and be drunk thereof:" it is lawful to 
  do this, for to worship Him is to make him manifest, and so to fill the world 
  with Truth and Beauty. But I have erred in going to far; the worship has 
  become forced and fallen into fanatical frenzy which blasphemes Him. He bids 
  us also to "exceed by delicacy" to "drink by the eight and ninety rules of 
  art"; but I have exceeded by depravity and drunk by the three hundred and 
  ninety three rules of the toper. He gives his guarantee that this wine, these 
  drugs, will not harm me; but the condition is obviously that expressed above. 
  I must justify Him (and myself) by making myself unchallengable master of 
  these "means of grace". I must be as capable of using them, and as confident 
  in my capacity, as an engineer is of handling high explosives; and every 
  piece of work undertaken with the aid of these tools, must prove by its 
  perfection that his precepts and his promises are wrought by Righteousness 
  and tested by Truth.

  In the past, despite my errors and excesses, these Orgia have brought me 
  beyond all previous human attainments and I must not fear to follow the flag 
  and fight the good fight with all my might. But I must not get an arrow in my 
  eye, like Harold of Hastings, and so lose control of my English that they 
  break out of their lines, drunken with victory, fall into disorder, and 
  perish beneath the lances of the invaders.

  For the present, then, I must pursue my plan of suppressing the use of drugs 
  altogether. That duly done, I must lay down those "eight and ninety rules of 
  art" and keep them. I must be able to use heroin and cocaine as adequately 
  and masterly as Rembrandt used his paints. One should not swear a nocturne 
  with Rose Madder because one likes the colour!

  In practice, then, I go to bed instead of continuing this persistent prating.

11:53 PM. So yes proclaim altogether! (I will NOT disgrace this record by 
  giving it the title "Hero versus Heroin").


Feb. 21 

12:01AM I have painted my chest and throat with iodine. The last of the phlegm 
  seems to have come away. I don't expect to sleep soon with all this stuff in 
  me, in spite of last night's struggle and the shortness of the final sleep.

  But my programme for the day is this:

  on waking: Caf(ace)e and croissant
  the first even hour: Reveille
  Two hours later: Curfew
  Four doses of heroin. No cocaine.

  In case of physical trouble, treat symptoms as they arise without narcotics. 
  Walk in forest if fine.

  (Provided money arrives)

4:26 to Paris

  Dine with Laverne (?)

  Look for partner for IX': on no account have anything to do with 31-666-31 
  unless the magnetic conditions are totally reversed. Use partner aforesaid 
  when found. Sleep early: wake early and repeat Tuesday's programme: but 1 1/2 
  hours heroin in 3 doses.

Thursday ditto but 1 hour & 2 doses.

Friday ditto but 1 dose on waking.

Saturday ditto but 1 hour after waking.

Sunday ditto but 2 hours after waking.

Monday ditto but 3 hours after waking.

1+ 12:30 PM

2+ 1:00 PM Medium

3+ 1 (No entry)

4:44 PM. Vos(?) Paris. It has been a hard day. Chest never really free, moral 
  confusion, etc. Damp and dull. Had to use one or two extra heroin. Letter 
  form Algiers (?) Camille is there. What about journey? Last night I had 
  excited visions of your Epinal without reference to Camille, vague phantasms 
  of a marriage (suggested by seeing one yesterday) and playing chess (next two 
  lines gibberish)

  PARABASIS


March 6 

11:30 PM. Lea left last night for London. Awake till after 6 AM. Then deep 
  sleep (after much Nortyl) till 2 PM when Boucier(?) woke me with difficulty. 
  Heroin and a little cocaine. Vomited just before dinner. This whole period 
  since my return to Paris can be summarized "From Bad to Worse". Lea is a 
  violent spiritual poison to me. We love deeply and truly, we sympathize, we 
  do all we can to help each other; but we act on each other like cancer. It's 
  the formula of the independent growth in one flesh. Already I feel a new man; 
  I have even the direct sensation that I am "cured". I wrote to Dr. Edward 
  Cros last night telling him the whole story and asked him to call and fix a 
  sanatorium for me where I can direct my own treatment. To submit to medical 
  treatment would be to destroy my whole theory and blaspheme the Gods whose 
  chosen minister I am!

  I have been morally paralyzed by Leah's presence. I will now begin a new 
  diary describing the completion of my mastery of myself in the matter of 
  heroin and cocaine.


March 7. 

2:10 AM Sleep still coy. (The rest of this short entry is incomprehensible and 
  unimportant)

2:30 Impressed upon me strongly that I must "go to Epinol" i.e. by -------


March 8 (in pencil) 

3:21 AM. heard from ---- and --------- A foul means of filth from a Detroit 
  garbage-can. Evening with Aimee.

4:50 PM Couldn't sleep till after 6 AM. Woke now.

9:30 PM. Bright and lively till 8:30 then weighted down with weariness. Will take Nortyl till I sleeMust call on Edward Cros at 2:30 PM tomorrow.


March 9. 

  Saw Cros (Method: Nortyl, slept till 1:30 AM. Took more Nortyl and was 
  picked(?) up at 11 AM.) He prescribes luminal and Dicome - les - Bains (air) 
  near Geneva. Dr. Bornums(?) I feel better already!

(Last entry)

In back of book in A.C.'s hand:

February 12, 1922 Paris

  This is the last will and testament of me Edward Alexander Crowley. I revoke 
  all previous wills. I give and bequeath the whole of my property to Leah 
  Hirsig (of New York, N.Y. U.S.A. and Cefal(acg)u, Sicily) and I appoint her 
  my sole executrix.

  signed: Edwd. Alex. Crowley

  A note on flyleaf says: "In case I die before getting this will duly 
  executed, get two people who were in Paris on the date to sign as witnesses, 
  after finding out from a lawyer -- without explaining the circumstances -- 
  exactly how it should by done. 

                                93     93/93

                                    666