were enunciated in respect of planetary evolution by Herbert Spencer and 
now generalised to cover all modes of being by the Law of Thelema. 
     But now let me begin to unleash my indignation. My job—the 
establishment of the Law of Thelema—is a most discouraging job. It is the 
rarest thing to find anyone who has any ideas at all on the subject of 
liberty. Because the Law of Thelema is the law of liberty, everybody's 
particular hair stands on end like the quills of the fretful porpentine; they 
scream like an uprooted mandrake, and flee in terror from the accursed 
spot. Because: the exercise of liberty means that you have to think for 
yourself, and the natural inertia of mankind wants religion and ethics 
ready-made. However ridiculous or shameful a theory or practice is, they 
would rather comply than examine it. Sometimes it is hook-swinging or 
Sati; sometimes consubstantiation or supra-lapsarianism; they do not 
mind what they are brought up in, as long as they are well brought up. 
They do not want to be bothered about it. The Old School Tie wins 
through. They never suspect the meaning of the pattern on the tie: the 
Broad Arrow. 
     You remember Dr. Alexandre Manette in A Tale of Two Cities. 
     He had been imprisoned for many years in the Bastille, and to save 
himself from going mad had obtained permission to make shoes. When he 
was released, he disliked it. He had to be approached with the utmost 
precaution; he fell into an agony of fear if his door was left unlocked; he 
cobbled away in a frenzy of anxiety lest the shoes should not be finished 
in time—the shoes that nobody wanted. Charles Dickens lived at a time 
and in a country such that this state of mind appeared abnormal and even 
deplorable, but today it is a characteristic of 95 per cent of the people of 
England. Subjects that were freely discussed under Queen Victoria are 
now absolutely taboo; because everyone knows subconsciously that to 
touch them, however gently, is to risk precipitating the catastrophe of 
their dry-rot. 
     There are not going to be many Yogis in England, because there will 
not be more than a very few indeed who will have the courage to tackle 
even this first of the eight limbs of Yoga: Yama. 
     I do not think that anything will save the country: unless through war 
and revolution, when those who wish to survive will have to think and act 
for themselves according to their desperate needs, and not by some 
rotten yard-stick of convention. Why, even the skill of the workman has 
almost decayed within a generation! Forty years ago there were very few 
jobs that a man could not do with a jack-knife and a woman with a hair-
pin; today you have to have a separate gadget for every trivial task. 
     If you want to become Yogis, you will have to get a move on. 
     Lege!   Judica!   Tace! 
     Love is the law, love under will.