A few words from a Celtic exorcist

The thought-provoking proposition that people of Celtic origin are particularly open to certain unseen influences was first mentioned in an article about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's novella The Parasite.

A list of writers of interest with Celtic connections followed, and there are references to this heritage in a few other articles.

The Reverend Dr. Donald Omand, a Scotsman and a Church of England exorcist, is another example of someone who attributes his psychic powers to his Celtic origin.

From his book Experiences of a Present Day Exorcist (1970):

“...the gift of ‘second sight’, so prevalent among people of Celtic origin...”

“Ferguson was a strange mixture of devil and saint, as is so often found in Celtic peoples.“

“Being called on so often to counter the machinations of Black Magicians, I have learned how they achieve their ends. If I did turn from Jekyll to Hyde, I should be more dangerous than most through the feyness which has been passed on to me by my Celtic forebears, I am afraid to think uncharitably of people, even of those who may wish to harm me, for I know what the result may be.”

It is lucky then for everyone he encountered that Dr. Omand always used his powers for good rather than evil!

He has some amazing stories to tell and much to say about topics such as witchcraft, ill-wishing and curses in his book:

Conan Doyle's Magic Door: great minds think alike!

This article might never have existed if I hadn't decided at the last minute to 'pull' the article about books, reading and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in favour of one about Jonathan Stroud's Lockwood & Co. books, which was next in the queue and all ready to go.

The Conan Doyle article was originally scheduled to be published on April 7th, but I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable because two of the quotations in it had no source. They are widely attributed to Conan Doyle, but without any indication of where they originally came from.

I had a strong feeling that I should dig deeper to find the origin of these quotations: it just didn't seem right to release the article before I had done all that I could to find the sources.

I guessed that they might have come from Conan Doyle's letters, but eventually found them in Through the Magic Door (1907), a collection of essays about books, writers and reading. 

I thought that this title was a good coincidence: the Magic Door leads to a world of books, and I had said in the Conan Doyle books and reading article that my first books had magical titles and opened a door to new worlds.

I took a very quick look at Through the Magic Door; I saw immediately that it contained enough coincidences, references to familiar topics and other relevant material to inspire at least one article. Some of the content would have been suitable for the books and reading article, but I decided to publish this in its original form after just adding the quotations' source and to forget the Magic Door until I had finished some work in progress.

Ever since I read that dropping existing activities when something new and exciting comes along is a sign of emotional immaturity, I have been trying not to do this!

I wanted to give Through the Magic Door my undivided attention, which meant first getting some outstanding work out of the way. I returned to the book after completing a few half-finished articles; this post is the result of giving it a much closer look.

Something about Through the Magic Door
The Magic Door is a portal to another world, one that is entered by reading. Conan Doyle gives a tour of his library to an imaginary visitor; he introduces his favourite books and authors and gives his views on many of them. Some of his comments and references stand out because they are similar to material in various articles on here, including the Conan Doyle books and reading one.  

This is quite a coincidence considering that not only had I not read Through the Magic Door until after I had posted the material that we have in common, I had never even heard of it!

Something about Rachel Ferguson and The Brontës Went to Woolworths

I first heard about Rachel Ferguson's novel with the intriguing title some years ago, but only recently got around to reading it.

The title is a little misleading: the Brontës appear only briefly in the book and then only in ghost form. 

I found The Brontës Went to Woolworths to be of interest more for the connections and coincidences than for the characters and story.   

The book, which was first published in 1931 and is set in the London of the time, features a bohemian, eccentric family consisting of a widowed woman and her three daughters. They all participate in an ongoing game in which they make up stories about and have imaginary relationships and conversations with real people they have never met. 

This game and the effect that it has on their lives will be covered in a future article; first comes some miscellaneous material of interest.

The Celtic connection 
The last name of the family in The Brontës Went to Woolworths is Carne. The three daughters are Deirdre, Katrine and Sheil.

All of these names have Celtic connections.

Carne is a name of Gaelic origin; it means a pile of stones or a cairn.

Deirdre is an Irish name; Katrine and Sheil are Scottish place names. The girls' father was born on the Isle of Skye.

The Celtic heritage might explain why the girls can see ghosts and their father could see nature spirits.

Ferguson is also a name of Gaelic origin, and ghosts appear in some of Rachel Ferguson's other books.

Brontë connections and the Carne coincidence 
Like many other writers featured on here, May Sinclair for example, Rachel Ferguson was very interested in the Brontës and produced works about and/or inspired by them. She probably got the idea of siblings who share an imaginary world from Brontë biographies. 

May Sinclair, Jean Rhys, L. M. Montgomery and the Brontës

After producing some articles about May Sinclair's novella The Flaw in the Crystal, I decided to investigate her background in the hope of finding some more material of interest. 

I found some very familiar biographical elements and other connections when reading about her life. I mentioned a blueprint for writers in an article in the Context and the Total Picture series; if I created a template for writers of interest, May Sinclair would tick many of the boxes.

I have seen, for example, the Celtic Connection in the biographies of many novelists, so it was no surprise to learn that May Sinclair had an Irish mother and a Scottish father.

It also came as no surprise when I found that she had some other things in common with Jean Rhys and L. M. Montgomery. May Sinclair too was interested in and inspired by the Brontës, whose works she may have first encountered in her father's private library rather than the local public library.

May Sinclair and Jean Rhys
May Sinclair was a very different person from Jean Rhys, but they had a few things in common:

They both wrote under assumed names. 

Both novelists lived for a while in Devon.

They both read voraciously as girls, partly for escape, and both later wrote Brontë-inspired books. 

They both had unsympathetic mothers who tried to force them to conform to the norm. They had some things to say about their childhood experiences that sound uncannily similar. 

Just as Jean Rhys's work is mostly autobiographical, so are some of May Sinclair's novels, Mary Olivier in particular. Mary Olivier's mother wants her to behave like a 'normal' girl:

“...you should try and behave a little more like other people.”

"You were different," she said. "You weren’t like any of the others. I was afraid of you.”

Jean Rhys, Jane Eyre and psychological black magic

Psychological black magic, the illegitimate use of subtle forces, is an unseen influence of particular interest. This blog is full of examples of and references to it. I have learned what to look out for over the years, and I have recently seen some material in Carole Angier's biography Jean Rhys: Life and Work that suggests to me that psychological black magic was at work in Jean Rhys's life.

This article covers a small coincidence involving names that reminds me of something similar in the life of Charlotte Brontë, with whose work Jean Rhys was very familiar.

First, some basic information.

Jean Rhys and Jane Eyre

Jean Rhys read Jane Eyre as a girl in Dominica. It made such an impression that decades later she wrote a prequel in the form of Wide Sargasso Sea, her most admired and commercially successful novel. 

I suspect that her imagination was particularly stirred when she read that Mr Rochester's wife also came from the British West Indies – Mr Rochester brought Bertha Mason home to England from Jamaica.

I also suspect that Jean Rhys wished that an English gentleman, someone similar to the romantic Mr. Rochester, would do the same for her! He would rescue her; he would take her away from her unsatisfactory life.

She was sent away from Dominica to school in England in 1907, the year of her 17th birthday. She hoped to find a feeling of belonging there. She may also have hoped to meet the English gentleman of her dreams there. As Mr Rochester says to Jane Eyre:

“...the mountain will never be brought to Mahomet, so all you can do is to aid Mahomet to go to the mountain...”

In memoriam: Nicholas Stuart Gray

The writer Nicholas Stuart Gray died on March 17th 1981, 40 years ago today. He was only 58 years old.

There are a few articles on here featuring characters from his books; here is another, more general, post to mark the occasion.

Nicholas Stuart Gray
Nicholas Stuart Gray was a very private person and there is little information available about his life, Much of the material that does exist can be found in a short Wikipedia entry and The Pied Pipers by Justin Wintle and Emma Fisher, which contains interviews with some influential creators of children's literature. 

Nicholas Stuart Gray was interviewed in 1974. He said something that I agree with very strongly. He said that he wrote plays -

“...to give the children a sense of magic. Nobody attends to this enough. They give them too much realism. They can see it all on the box, they can see frightful things there. They can read it in the papers. But they’re not being given a world to escape into…the world of the imagination...Children must have an escape line somewhere.”

Diana Wynne Jones, who was also of Celtic origin, had very similar views. She wrote about the uselessness and harmful effects of realistic children's books versus the beneficial effects of magic and fantasy. 

Both writers enhanced the lives of many children. They provided pathways into other worlds for children who needed to escape from something and escape to somewhere. They knew what this was like themselves; they both had awful mothers and as children they both made up stories to make their younger siblings' lives more bearable:

“From a young age, he (Nicholas Stuart Gray) made up stories and plays to amuse his brothers and sisters, and to try and escape his unhappy childhood.”

Stella Gibbons too created wonderful fairy tales that she told to her two younger brothers to help them escape from and temporarily forget their unhappy situation. 

Some writers with Celtic connections

The starting point for this article was a line in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novella The Parasite, which has been the subject of many articles.

Austin Gilroy thinks that the witch Helen Penclosa got her hooks deep into him because of his Celtic origin and that his colleague Charles Sadler got off lightly because of his phlegmatic Saxon temperament.

This made me wonder if people of Celtic origin really are more open to unseen influences than those of other ancestries. I have Irish connections on one side and Scottish on the other, so this topic is of great interest to me.

I remembered that some of the writers featured or mentioned in this blog had Cornish, Irish, Scottish or Welsh connections; I decided to do a quick investigation and list any more people on here who are known or appear to be of Celtic descent on one or both sides.

People of interest with Celtic connections
Conan Doyle may have been born in Edinburgh, but he had Irish Catholic parents.

Joan Aiken’s Canadian-born mother was a MacDonald, which suggests Scottish ancestors.

J. M. Barrie was a Scotsman.

Enid Blyton had an Irish grandmother on her father’s side.

Angela Brazil had a Scottish grandfather on her mother’s side.

The Brontës had an Irish father and a Cornish mother.

John Buchan was a Scotsman.

Taylor Caldwell was of Scottish origin on both sides. She was descended from the MacGregor clan on her mother’s side.

James Cameron has remote Scottish connections.

Andrew Carnegie, whose public libraries have inspired many writers, was a Scotsman.

The family of Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) had some Irish connections.

Eoin Colfer is Irish.

Marie Corelli’s real father was almost certainly the Scottish poet Charles Mackay.

David St. Clair’s string of misfortunes

I first learned about August Strindberg’s string of misfortunes from Colin Wilson’s book The Occult.

I found another case of interest in Beyond the Occult, where Colin Wilson gives a summary of the run of ’bad luck’ experienced by the American journalist David St. Clair.

This ‘curse or coincidence?’ case has inspired an article because of some familiar features and resemblance to other cases.

As with Strindberg’s troubles, there is an obvious starting point and an obvious - and metaphysical - cause. There is a difference in that Strindberg brought his trouble on himself whereas St. Clair was an innocent victim.

Both men experienced good patches in their lives immediately before the trouble started: Strindberg had a few good months in Paris, while David St. Clair lived a very pleasant life for eight years in Rio de Janeiro before everything started to go wrong.

Strindberg endured a long period of misfortunes, while St. Clair’s spell of bad luck did not last very long.

The misfortunes in summary

Just about everything that could go wrong in David St. Clair’s life did go wrong, and it all happened suddenly.

He was working on a book at the time, but he became stuck and his publisher rejected it.

An inheritance he had been expecting failed to materialise.

A love affair went wrong, and he fell ill with malaria.

His plans for moving to Greece had to be abandoned.

The cause and the culprit

A psychic friend stopped David St. Clair in the street and told him that someone had put a curse on him and that all his paths had been closed. This reminds me very much of the ‘closing all avenues’ feature I have mentioned a few times.

St. Clair took this diagnosis seriously; he came to suspect that the culprit was the maid who looked after his apartment.

Arthur Conan Doyle’s witch Helen Penclosa: Part I

While doing some research for an article about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s life in Southsea, I discovered that he had written a short novel about occult forces called The Parasite:

“…his dark tale of an evil woman possessed of such hypnotic powers that she is able to induce by remote control not only murder, but passionate love as well, in the mind of her chosen victim.”

From  A Study in Southsea: The Unrevealed Life of Doctor Arthur Conan Doyle by Geoffrey Stavert.

Stavert’s summary made the story sound very interesting indeed: I immediately thought of psychic crime and psychological black magic.

I found The Parasite on Project Gutenberg. The novella, which was first published in 1894, is only four chapters long; the plot is simple and there are only a handful of characters. The language is rather old-fashioned and melodramatic and the story a bit contrived, but I found The Parasite worth reading as a source of inspiration for an article or two. It contains some very familiar elements and provides yet more independent confirmation of some of my ideas.

The characters in summary

The two main characters are Miss Helen Penclosa, the evil woman, and Austin Gilroy, the chosen victim.

Miss Penclosa, who possesses strong hypnotic powers and can project herself into people’s bodies and take command of them, is middle-aged. She is small and frail; she has a pale, peaky face and light brown hair; she has a crippled leg. Her strange, grey-green eyes are both furtive and fierce. 

She is silent and colourless, retiring and lacking presence, except when she talks about and exercises her powers. She is unscrupulous; she has no ethical sense at all; she is evil. Conan Doyle calls her a parasite and a devil woman; I would call her an energy vampire and a witch.

Austin Gilroy is a professor, although he is only 34 years old. Physiology is his field. He is interested only in the material world, and has trained himself to deal only with facts, truth, logic and proof. Yet while he operates on pure reason, he is aware of his real self:

“…by nature I am, unless I deceive myself, a highly psychic man. I was a nervous, sensitive boy, a dreamer, a somnambulist, full of impressions and intuitions. My black hair, my dark eyes, my thin, olive face, my tapering fingers, are all characteristic of my real temperament…”