Confessions of Aleister Crowley

34 I am going beyond my subject, but I cannot refrain from telling the awful story of the meeting at Oban. The meeting at Oban consisted of a Mr. Cameron and his wife and the bedridden mother of one of the two, I forget which. Now as it is written "Wheresoever two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them", it was all very well: but two forms a quorum. Jesus will not come for less. This has never been disputed by any doctor of the Brethren. Wigram is clear on the point; if Darby had ever been clear on any point, it would have been on that. Kelly never denied it; even Stuart was sound in this matter, and Stoney himself (though reluctantly) gave his adhesion. To hold a meeting you must have two persons present . . . Well, I need hardly say that Mr. and Mrs. Cameron took opposite sides of the controversy. When the glad wires flashed the message that Mr. Raven in the meeting at Ealing had deliberately said with slow and weighty emphasis, "He that hath the Son hath eternal life", Mrs. Cameron almost wept for joy. When (the message continued) Major McArthy had risen to his feet and retorted, "He that hath the Son of God hath everlasting life", Mr. Cameron executed a Highland through funeral fling1. When Mr. Raven, stung to the quick, had shaken his fist at the major and yelled, "Brother, you're a sinful old man!" Mrs. Cameron "had always known there was something", and invented a ruined governess. But --- oh the laughter of her husband when the telegraph brought the major's retort, "Brother, have you no sin?" --- spoken with an accent of mildness which belied the purple of his face. In short, the meeting at Oban had split. Mr. Cameron had withdrawn from the Lord's supper!!! It was therefore absolutely necessary for both of them to assure themselves that the bedridden mother was of their way of thinking, or neither could hold the morning meeting; though I suppose either could preach the gospel --- morosa voluptas! Unhappily, that excellent lady was a hard case. She was quite deaf and {77} very nearly blind; while mentally she had never been remarkable for anything beyond a not unamiable imbecility. However, there was but one thing to be done, to argue her into conviction. They agreed to take eight-hour shifts; and for all I know, they are arguing still, and neither of the meetings at Oban can meet! As it happened, my mother took the minority view. This means that she cut herself off from every single intimate friend. On the strength of a text in one of the epistles, she refused to shake hands with anyone who was teaching false doctrine. The very few remaining were new friends. My associates could therefore be counted on the fingers of one hand and our only bond of sympathy was a detestation of our tyrants. My intellectual avidity was enormous, yet I was absolutely cutoff from literature. One or two books of Scott and Dickens were permitted. Ballantyne was approved, G. A. Henty winked at rather than openly tolerated. David Copperfield was barred because of Little Em'ly, for she was a naughty girl; besides, Emily was my mother's name, and to read the book might diminish my respect for her. One of my tutors brought down The Bab Ballads, one of which begins: Emily Jane was a nursery maid. My mother threw the book out of the house and very nearly threw him after it. Another tutor read "The Ancient Mariner" aloud after dinner one night and my mother, after delivering a stormy tirade, snatched me from the contamination of his presence. The reason was that when the Ancient Mariner saw the water snakes playing around the ship, he "blessed them unaware". An outrageously blasphemous act, for snakes are cursed in Genesis!