Acting unprofessionally and out of character revisited

A few examples of people causing damage by acting unprofessionally and out of character have been given in the past; the time has now come to go into this phenomenon in a little more detail. 

The multi-level approach to finding explanations article mentions some of the influences that might cause people who are normally professional and efficient to behave uncharacteristically and make serious mistakes; this article revisits the issue, expands on these influences and includes some supporting material from previous articles.

The cases of interest here are those that occur at the third level down, the dimension where unseen influences such as energy vampires, people with witch-like personalities, psychic crime and psychological black magic operate.

There are questions to ask and possibilities to eliminate at each level before descending to the one below; there are also some points to be made before starting the exercise.

The definition of the problem
It is important to understand that examples of people doing something wrong are worth investigating only where two elements appear together i.e. when someone acts both unprofessionally and out of character. After all, some people will act unprofessionally because this is their usual mode of operation; not only that, a few of these incompetents might act out of character by doing a good, professional job for once! Neither of these groups is relevant here.

Acceptable margin of error
People are not machines; they sometimes have off days. Occasional errors will be made and should be allowed for, but an investigation into the cause is called for when so much damage has been done that the mistake cannot be overlooked, excused or explained away.

This is where the multi-level approach comes in.

Level 1: the person and the job
On this, the top, level, it is best to work systematically through a list of the most obvious and likely explanations for a damaging, out of character action. The possibilities fall into two groups: one is of factors in the life of the person who made the mistake and the other of common and typical problems with the job.

Charlotte Brontë and Jane Eyre: some 'coincidences' revisited

The 'coincidence' of Charlotte Brontë's childhood obsession with Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington and the subsequent appearance in her life of Arthur Bell Nichols was first mentioned in an article about being careful what you dwell on and again in an article featuring Jean Rhys.  

Another 'coincidence' in Charlotte Brontë's life that is worth highlighting and was also mentioned earlier is her accident involving a horse that echoes something that happened in Jane Eyre, which was published seven years before the event. 

Other people have noticed these connections. While they may assume that they are just interesting, but not particularly significant, coincidences, I thought at the time that certain unseen influences were at work, and I still think so.

Many years have passed since I first mentioned these two 'coincidences'. Since then, I have come across other examples of such coincidences and accidents. 

Something I recently read in Carole Angier's biography of Jean Rhys inspired me to take another look at the two incidents involving horses in the light of some of the later discoveries and produce an updated and enhanced version of events and my ideas about them.

Jane Eyre and the horse incident
The incident involving Jane Eyre and a horse occurs when she first encounters Mr Rochester. 

On the way to post a letter on a freezing winter's day, she sits on a stile for a while. She hears the sound of approaching hooves, then Mr Rochester comes into view on his black horse. Just as they are passing her, the horse slips on the ice and comes crashing down. Mr Rochester is hurt, so he asks Jane to catch the horse for him. This is not an easy task:

“I...went up to the tall steed; I endeavoured to catch the bridle, but it was a spirited thing, and would not let me come near its head; I made effort on effort, though in vain: meantime, I was mortally afraid of its trampling fore-feet.”

From Jane Eyre

The uncanny timing of an unwelcome letter

I have mentioned in the past a particular form of unconscious sabotage, one that involves timing. Madeleine L’Engle’s Zachary Grey for example is an expert at taking actions that might have been deliberately arranged to deplete or even wipe out his victim’s inner resources and reserves shortly before she needs to draw heavily on them. How could he have possibly known what was going to happen?

I have on several occasions been on the receiving end of such actions myself. The introductory article gives examples of letters that ‘by chance’ arrived at the worst possible time:

“Family letters were infrequent, so the timing of these two was very significant. It is amazing how these unconscious saboteurs can ensure that their victims are hit where and when it hurts most.”

Another such letter arrived out of the blue recently, just before I received some very depressing news. This time however I was not badly affected, just slightly annoyed. If this was yet another attempted attack, it fell very flat!

The unwelcome and unnecessary letter
A letter arrived in the post from a family member I have minimal contact with, offering to send someone round with anything I might need. This was completely unnecessary; I replied immediately that I had not got the coronavirus, had plenty of supplies, could easily get more and had people I could call on for assistance if required.

An hour or two later, I got an email from a friend telling me that her father had died. I knew that he had been ill, but thought that he was recovering. He was an exceptionally nice and kind man; this was not a devastating, heart-breaking bereavement, but I felt very sad indeed to think that I would never see him again.

What a coincidence that the only communication apart from Christmas cards that I have received from this person for many years should arrive just before I had some very bad news, and, conversely, that the only very upsetting news of this kind I have received for many years should have been preceded by this unexpected and unwelcome letter.

More occult-related damage to August Strindberg’s family

This is yet another article in the series inspired by the Swedish playwright August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno.

As described here, Strindberg made two of his older children very ill when his attempt to influence his little girl by the use of psychological black magic missed its mark.  

This article highlights two more examples from Inferno of the harmful effects that occult activities had on his family.

The two dabblers in the occult

Inferno has many references to the occult and its practitioners.

It is not always clear what aspect of the occult Strindberg is talking about. He could mean mediums and spiritualism or even just metaphysical books rather than ill-wishing, cursing and other forms of black magic in the case of two women connected to him who ‘studied occultism’.

Strindberg says this about his mother-in-law and aunt:

“Both starting from a neutral point of view as regards religion had begun to study occultism. From that moment onwards they suffered from sleepless nights, mysterious accidents accompanied by terrible fears, and at last, attacks of madness. The invisible furies pursue their prey up to the very gates of the city of refuge—religion.”

Attacks of madness? This sounds remarkably like what happened to the friend of Strindberg’s youth and his family, not to mention Strindberg himself.

Sleepless nights, terrible fears and mysterious accidents? These come with the territory.

Being hounded by invisible furies is a very good description of what happens to people who attract the attention of malevolent forces.

Some people contaminate everything and everyone they touch. 

Were the two women’s unwise activities and the devastating results caused or influenced by bad energy and malign forces that surrounded Strindberg?

We can’t be sure, but it seems likely.

Some miscellaneous material from Strindberg’s Inferno

This is yet another article in the series inspired by Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to Swedish playwright August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno.

Included here are some miscellaneous incidents and details of yet another ‘friendship’ that ended badly. The material speaks for itself; it is all typical of Strindberg and his life; it is all typical of things that happen to people who use occult instead of natural methods to go through life and get what they want. 

The meal that backfired

This is a very small incident, but it is significant in terms of what happens to people who use psychological black magic.

Strindberg’s mother-in-law cooked what she said was his favourite dish; not only was it not at the top of his list, it was something he disliked more than anything else. He had to force himself to eat the revolting dish.

He got the exact opposite of what he expected.

The worst towns in Sweden

Strindberg said this:

“There are ninety towns in Sweden, and the powers have condemned me to go to the one which I most dislike.” 

The powers? He blamed ‘occultists and their secret powers’ for his many misfortunes when he himself was often the cause.

He moved on to another Swedish town:

“...I have made personal enemies here, and have contracted debts under circumstances which set my character in a dubious light... I have also here relations who ignore me, and friends who have left me to become my enemies. In a word, it is the worst place I could have chosen for a quiet residence; it is hell...”

So he ended up in the exact opposite of the peaceful refuge he wanted, with more former friends who had become his enemies and more debts. Same old same old...

Some afterthoughts about August Strindberg’s occult battles

I have had a few afterthoughts about the previously mentioned occult battles involving August Strindberg and his ‘friends’.

As described in the second article in the secret friend series, the theosophist made many threats when Strindberg refused to obey orders. In return, Strindberg threatened to use occult powers of his own. He warned his friend that what happened to someone who had tried to interfere with Strindberg’s destiny back in Sweden some years earlier could happen to him too.

Strindberg gives some details of his earlier encounter with this other man who, just as the secret friend would later do, tried to impose his will on Strindberg from a position of superiority.

I can see some common elements in his dealings with these two men. Some of my comments on Strindberg’s relationships with his mystery man and other people are relevant here too.

First approaches and negative responses

It was the other man who made the first move. Strindberg tells us:

“I received a letter from a friend of my youth inviting me and my children to stop with him for a year, he made no mention of my wife. This letter, with its affected style, its corrections and omissions, seemed to betray some hesitation on the part of the writer in the choice of the reasons which he alleged for his invitation. As I suspected some trap, I declined the offer in a few non-committal polite phrases.”

This reminds me of what happened years later when Strindberg received the first letter from his secret friend. He took offence at its tone and sent a discouraging reply.

August Strindberg and some suspicious deaths

August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno is inspiring post after post. It is full of material relevant to this blog.

It took three articles to cover the story of the relationship between August Strindberg and his secret friend, the man who was determined to make Strindberg admire the works of Madame Blavatsky and become a theosophist.

The relationship operated on three levels: it can be looked at in terms of two men quarrelling and falling out, a cult member attacking a target who refused to be recruited and two black magicians having an occult battle.

There is something more to say the black magic aspect. This article will cover some suspicious deaths that Strindberg mentions in connection with the battle and its aftermath, the battle that took place only in their letters and on other dimensions as they never met in real life.

The first two deaths

Two prominent men just happened to die shortly after something relevant by Strindberg had been published, and the secret friend believed that Strindberg had caused the deaths.

In Strindberg’s own words:

“By a diabolical chance during our paper war, the following incident takes place: L'Initiation publishes an article by me which criticises the current astronomical system. A few days after its appearance Tisserand, the head of the Paris observatory, dies. In an access of mischievous humour I trace a connection between these two things, and mention also that Pasteur died the day after I published Sylva Sylvarum.

My friend, the theosophist, does not know how to take a joke, and being superstitious above the average, and perhaps, more deeply initiated in black magic than I, gives me clearly to understand that he regards me as a wizard.”

So Strindberg thought that the two deaths were just coincidences, but his secret friend blamed him for them. When it comes to the attribution of sinister occult powers, it is a case of the pots calling the kettles black. The two men really did deserve each other!

A very good definition of a witch

I found a very good definition of a witch recently, from a writer I had never previously heard of:

“Perhaps I am the only person who, asked whether she were a witch or not, could truthfully say, ‘I do not know. I do know some very strange things have happened to me, or through me.’"
 From Bless This House by Norah Lofts

This is independent confirmation of something I have been thinking and writing about for many years. Strange things, both good and bad, do indeed happen to, through and around some people; the speaker above is far from being the only person to experience strange phenomena.

Synchronicity, very good or very bad timing and amazing coincidences are often involved, and so are what might be called blessing and, its opposite, cursing. The same person may be able to perform both actions:

“’Blessings be on this house,’ Granny said, perfunctorily. It was always a good opening remark for a witch. It concentrated people's minds on what other things might be on this house.”

From Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett

Terry Pratchett’s witch books are very amusing, with occasional serious comments and thought-provoking ideas about magic and witches. 

“There were really only four types of people in the world: men and women and wizards and witches.”

From I Shall Wear Midnight by Terry Pratchett

August Strindberg and the mystery man

Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to the Swedish playwright August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno have inspired many articles. This one describes Strindberg’s involvement with a mysterious man, the artist previously introduced as his ‘former American friend’.

Strindberg generously took this man into his life for a while, only to be met with envy and a refusal to acknowledge his successes. Strindberg changed for the worse, both inwardly and outwardly, during the time that this man was his close and sole companion.

Was this relationship merely one that was typical of the time, the place and the people involved, or were unseen influences at work?

There are certainly a few familiar metaphysical elements in the case.

How it all began

Strindberg tells of how a stranger, an American artist, turned up in a Paris restaurant that he and his circle liked to visit.

Although this man seemed like an active and bold spirit and was like a breath of fresh air, Strindberg experienced some vague feelings of mistrust. He sensed that the confident demeanour was just a façade and all was not well below the surface.

His instincts were correct. Just about everything in this man’s life that could go wrong had gone wrong. He soon approached Strindberg for help:

“One evening the unfortunate man came into my room and asked for permission to remain there a short time. He looked like a lost man, and such in fact he was. His landlord had driven him out of his studio, his grisette had left him, he was head over ears in debt, and his creditors were dunning him; he was insulted in the streets by the supporters of his unpaid models…

Since he was also heavily in debt to the restaurant, he had to go about the streets, hungry. Among other things he confessed that he had taken morphia enough to kill two people, but death apparently did not yet want him.”

In other words, he and his life were in a complete mess.

Strindberg’s string of misfortunes: Part V

Previous articles in the series inspired by Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to an episode in August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno cover some of the misfortunes that Strindberg brought upon himself by deliberately using occult techniques in an attempt to influence his family remotely.

This article will cover a few more incidents of particular interest. It describes some minor accidents and bizarre and offensive behaviour by random strangers that ruined Strindberg’s enjoyment when he visited a café and a restaurant.  

After describing one accident, Strindberg assures the reader that he is speaking the truth. I believe that Strindberg is indeed telling the truth in his accounts of all these incidents. You couldn’t make all this up! The small details are very convincing, and once again there are some familiar elements in his stories.

Strindberg and the café incidents

Not long after he had performed his evil action, Strindberg experienced a string of small but very annoying and sometimes amusing - although not to him - incidents every time he went to a certain Paris café. 

Strindberg’s main pleasure in life at the time was to sit with a glass of absinthe, a cigarette and some newspapers under a chestnut tree on the terrace of a café that he favoured. He would go in the early evening to relax for an hour or so after finishing his day’s work; he favoured a particular spot that he thought of as his place. Then it all started to go wrong:

“...this hour of a visionary happiness, for from this evening onwards it is disturbed by a series of annoyances which cannot be attributed to chance. ... I find my place, which has been reserved for me daily for nearly two years, occupied; all the other chairs are also taken. Deeply annoyed, I have to go to another café.”

He returned the next day, only for this to happen:

“My old corner ... is again vacant, and I am again under my chestnut behind the Marshal, feeling contented, even happy. My well-concocted absinthe is there, my cigarette lighted, and the Temps spread out.

Then a drunken man passes; a hateful-looking fellow, whose mischievous, contemptuous air annoys me. His face is red, his nose blue, his eyes malicious. I taste my absinthe, and feel happy not to be like this sot.... There! I don't know how, but my glass is upset and empty. Without sufficient money to order another, I pay for this and leave the café. Certainly it was again the Evil One who played me this trick.”

August Strindberg and his Inferno

Colin Wilson’s book The Occult provided the lead for a series of articles about the string of misfortunes that the playwright August Strindberg brought upon himself by consciously and deliberately using occult techniques in an attempt to influence his family remotely.

Although there are a few more misfortunes still to come, I have taken time out to cover a few associated points and issues. 

One very obvious question to ask is how much of what Strindberg wrote in his book Inferno is actually true. There is also the problem of the accounts of his experiences getting changed or lost in translation.

Problems with the Inferno book

Colin Wilson gives a good summary of some of the incidents; his account made me want to read the whole story for myself. I was delighted to find Inferno available in the public domain on Project Gutenberg. However, there are some drawbacks that other people interested in going to directly to the source should be aware of.  

August Strindberg was Swedish; he wrote Inferno in French; there are many different English editions and translations available, with a variety of introductions.

Inferno is a novel. It is autobiographical, but Strindberg’s stories about incidents in his life may have been invented, exaggerated or distorted, possibly for concealment or for dramatic purposes.

Strindberg jumps around in time and from place to place and country to country, so it is not always easy to see when and where an incident happened and whether or not it can be directly connected to his evil action against his family.

Strindberg sounds melodramatic and paranoid for much of the time. He frequently mentions a ‘Hidden Hand’ that he believes guides events and intervenes in his affairs, for good and evil. He was an absinthe drinker and is said to have suffered from schizophrenia. This makes it difficult to take some of his ramblings and ravings seriously; it also makes it difficult to determine whether or not something actually happened, and if so whether or not it had any real significance.

Strindberg’s string of misfortunes: Part II

The first article in the series inspired by Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to an episode in August Strindberg’s autobiographical book Inferno tells how Strindberg brought major trouble on himself by deliberately using occult techniques in an attempt to influence his family remotely.

This article will give more details of some of the misfortunes.

First, something about the unforeseen side effects of the evil procedure that Strindberg performed.

Off-the-mark magic

It is very common for psychological black magic to backfire or miss the mark in some way. Hitting the wrong target is what happened in Strindberg’s case. 

Strindberg hoped to get a telegram from his wife asking him to come at once because his little girl was ill. No telegram arrived; his devious plan to make his child fall ill to give him an opportunity to get back together with his family had failed.

However, his procedure had an unexpected side effect:

“In the course of the spring ... I received a letter from the children of my first marriage, informing me that they had been very ill in hospital.”

Strindberg believed that the illness of his older children was no coincidence. He was convinced that he had caused it with his special powers:

“At an earlier period, in the great crisis of my life, I had observed that I could exercise a telepathic influence on absent friends.”

“When I compared the time of their illness with my mischievous attempt at magic, I was alarmed. I had frivolously played with hidden forces, and now my evil purpose, guided by an unseen Hand, had reached its goal, and struck my heart.”

All this reminds me of what Joyce Collin-Smith said about the Maharishi Yogi, although the Maharishi appeared to get away with everything and suffered no backlash, no misfiring  and no side effects. 

Strindberg’s string of misfortunes: Part I

The Swedish playwright and essayist August Strindberg endured much bad luck and a long string of misfortunes, some serious, in 1896. Everything went wrong; his life became one long nightmare. It was as if he had been cursed. There were some strange events and uncanny coincidences in the case too.

I first learned about this episode in Strindberg’s life from The Occult by Colin Wilson, who got his information from Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno. This bizarre book, which can be found on Project Gutenberg, is based on the diary that Strindberg kept at the time. 

Strindberg believed that he had brought all his troubles on himself and attracted evil influences into his life by deliberately using his special powers in an attempt to practise psychological black magic.

There is much material of interest and some familiar features in this case. It will take more than one article to summarise even the most relevant and significant details of the nightmare episode, provide a commentary and make some connections.

We begin with some information about when and why the trouble started.

An obvious starting point

As described in many articles, there have been occasions in my life when, after going for days, weeks, months, even years without anything unusual to report, I suddenly experience a string of minor misfortunes. There is an obvious starting point to the incidents; they stand out in comparison with the preceding uneventful days.

It seems to me very significant that Strindberg was going through a good patch in his life just before it all went wrong. In his own words:

“The summer and autumn of the year 1895 I count, on the whole, among the happiest stages of my eventful life. All my attempts succeed; unknown friends bring me food as the ravens did to Elijah. Money flows in; I can buy books and scientific instruments...”

Then he did something that caused it all to go into reverse. There is an obvious starting point to his misfortunes, which stand out in comparison with his prior easy existence.

Arthur Conan Doyle’s witch Helen Penclosa: Part V

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s short novel The Parasite has inspired a whole series of articles, of which this is the last.

It is being published today to mark the 87th anniversary of Conan Doyle’s death: he died on this day, July 7th, in 1930. 

Although I had never even heard of The Parasite until a few weeks ago, many elements of the story seem very familiar. They have activated memories of things I have read in other books or experienced for myself; I have featured some of them in previous articles. Here are some more connections that I have noticed:

The Parasite and John Buchan

The Parasite reminds me a little of John Buchan’s story The Gap in the Curtain, in which people are trained to use the latent powers of their minds.

The volunteers are selected for their sensitive nervous systems and inability to cope well with the normal, physical world. This partly matches what Austin Gilroy says about himself: he calls himself a highly psychic, sensitive man.

The volunteers in The Gap in the Curtain are very different from Agatha Marden, whom Helen Penclosa successfully hypnotises as a demonstration of her power to control healthy, well-balanced people.

This makes me think of something that the eastern mystic and guru Kharáma says to the villain Dominick Medina in Buchan’s novel The Three Hostages: 

"The key is there, but to find it is not easy.  All control tends to grow weak and may be broken by an accident, except in the case of young children, and some women, and those of feeble mind."

"That I know," said Medina almost pettishly.  "But I do not want to make disciples only of babes, idiots, and women."

"Only some women, I said.  Among our women perhaps all, but among Western women, who are hard as men, only the softer and feebler."

Agatha Marden is hardly soft and feeble, but she is not hard enough to be able to resist being hypnotised. In any case, she was eager to try it out. Even so, it was quite an achievement for Helen Penclosa to be able to control someone that even the great Kharáma might have had trouble with!

There is a gap of 30 years and an intervening World War between the publication dates of The Parasite and The Three Hostages. There were probably many more ‘soft women’ around in 1894 than there were in 1924!

One trope that still worked is the use of mysterious, remote and exotic locations to account for someone’s powers: Helen Penclosa is West Indian; Kharáma is Indian.

Arthur Conan Doyle’s witch Helen Penclosa: Part IV

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novella The Parasite has inspired a series of articles. Part III described Helen Penclosa and her activities in detail. So what more is there to say about this sinister little story? There are still a few features to be highlighted, points to be made and warnings to be repeated.

Going into reverse

One feature in this and other examples of people ignoring red flags and getting carried away by exciting visions of the future is that not only do many of them not get what they want, but it all goes horribly wrong, into reverse even, and they find themselves in a much worse situation. Their ambition, scientific curiosity, gullibility, greed, arrogance, over-estimation of their powers, strength and resistance …whatever the cause of their involvement with negative metaphysical forces, they are lead to disaster.

Austin Gilroy gets the exact opposite of what he hoped for. He foresees a glorious future for himself; he thinks that his forthcoming paper on hypnotism might even get him made a Fellow of the Royal Society.  This will make Agatha accept that the game is worth the candle!  Unfortunately, it all backfires.

Instead of achieving further academic success, he loses his professorship; instead of feeling respect and admiration for him, Agatha feels concern because he looks so worried, worn and ill.

Life becomes a living hell

It is bad enough for Gilroy when he experiences the double consciousness, knowing full well that he is being controlled and made to speak and act against his interests but unable to do anything about it or to resist the compulsion to visit Helen Pensclosa when she summons him remotely; it is even worse when he is completely possessed by her and has no memory of what he has said and done while under her influence.

Knowing that he is being forced to ruin his professional career without even remembering the preposterous things he has said in his lectures is a torment to him.

Arthur Conan Doyle’s witch Helen Penclosa: Part III

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s occult novella The Parasite is a goldmine of supporting material for some of my ideas. It could be used as a teaching aid by people who are interested in informing – and warning - people about some types of unseen influences.

Part I of this series of articles introduced the main characters and outlined the plot; Part II described the effects that Helen Penclosa’s occult practices have on her victims. Part III gives more information about Miss Penclosa and her evil practices.

The source of Helen Penclosa’s powers

Where do Miss Penclosa’s powers come from?

By telling us that Helen Penclosa comes from Trinidad, Conan Doyle suggests that she has been involved with practices such as Voodoo or Obeah. He never states this explicitly, but there can be no other reason for his including this information.

It is a clue; it is a trope of the time; it is similar to saying that she has spent some time in Tibet: readers of the day would infer that she acquired her occult powers in a remote, mysterious and exotic place. It is a cop-out that saves him from trying to explain the inexplicable.

Austin Gilroy thinks that a natural force is at work.

Helen Penclosa could well be a natural witch; her powers could have developed because of her unhappiness, lack of options and inability to obtain what she wants in the normal way.

If the definition of black magic as the illegitimate use of the powers of the subconscious mind for one’s own purposes is accepted, then Miss Penclosa practices black magic.

The exercising of Helen Penclosa’s powers

Helen Penclosa is aware of her powers and uses them deliberately, unlike some of the unconscious witches I have written about.

She goes by the book by asking permission before she hypnotises someone. Agatha Marden says that she would love to be put under the influence!

Arthur Conan Doyle’s witch Helen Penclosa: Part II

The Parasite, a short novel about hypnotism by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, contains much material of interest. Part I introduced the main characters and outlined the plot; Part II will give some more details of the effects that Helen Penclosa’s occult practices have on her victims.

Conan Doyle tells us in this chilling little story how it looks and feels to be controlled by hypnotism, suggestion and even possession by this evil witch and energy vampire.

Under the influence: Agatha Marden

As a demonstration of her power, and proof that she can make people do things that they would never do of their own free will, Helen Penclosa hypnotises Austin Gilroy's young fiancée Agatha, ordering her to break off the engagement.

Agatha visits Gilroy and speaks her piece as commanded. She is not her normal self in any way. She looks pale and constrained. She speaks robotically; she repeats several times that their engagement is at an end.

“Her voice was cold and measured; her manner strangely formal and hard. It seemed to me that she was absolutely resolved not to be drawn into any argument or explanation.“

“…That Agatha, who of all women of my acquaintance has the best balanced mind, had been reduced to a condition of automatism appeared to be certain. A person at a distance had worked her as an engineer on the shore might guide a Brennan torpedo. A second soul had stepped in, as it were, had pushed her own aside, and had seized her nervous mechanism, saying: 'I will work this for half an hour.'" 

This invasion, or possession, is why Conan Doyle calls Miss Penclosa a parasite.

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…”