D D Home was accused of being a werewolf?!

In a section dealing with nineteenth-century Spiritualism in Chasing the Dark: Encounters with the Supernatural (2025), Ben Machell makes the startling claim about the medium Daniel Dunglas Home that “among other things he faced accusations of being a werewolf” (p. 30).  He does not elaborate, and as there are no references in the book he does not indicate where he obtained this information.

However, the section detailing which books and online resources he found useful cites Deborah Blum’s Ghost Hunters: William James and the Search for Scientific Proof of Life After Death (2006) as a major source for his information on the early years of the Society for Psychical Research.  In it, Blum refers to “a proposal by an anthropologist that Home was actually a werewolf ‘with the power of acting on the minds of sensitive spectators’” (p. 46).

Like Machell, she does not name the source or the anthropologist, but she was referring to an 1872 article in Nature by Edward Burnett Tylor, ‘Ethnology and Spiritualism.  Tylor, who had sat with a number of mediums, including Home (see Stocking, 1971; Kalvig, 2017), was not someone likely to suggest that a human could literally transform into a werewolf.  So, what did he actually say?

‘Ethnology and Spiritualism’ was a tart reply to Alfred Russel Wallace’s review in The Academy (15 February 1872) of Tylor’s two-volume Primitive Culture (1871).  Wallace had taken issue with Tylor’s discussion of werewolves.  In Primitive Culture, Tylor argued that what we would call paranormal beliefs – such as magic, witchcraft, animism, sorcery and mediumship – were not genuine supernatural events but misinterpretations of natural experiences.  He addressed the belief that humans could transform into creatures such as werewolves and suggested two explanations: it was consistent with notions of the transmigration of souls; alternatively, it was a delusion, individuals erroneously believing they had transformed into one:

“It may be noticed, however, that such a notion [i.e. of werewolves] is quite consistent with the animistic theory that a man's soul may go out of his body and enter that of a beast or bird, and also with the opinion that men may be transformed into animals; both these ideas having an important place in the belief of mankind, from savagery onward. The doctrine of werewolves is substantially that of a temporary metempsychosis or metamorphosis. Now it really occurs that, in various forms of mental disease, patients prowl shyly, long to bite and destroy mankind, and even fancy themselves transformed into wild beasts. Belief in the possibility of such transformation may have been the very suggesting cause which led the patient to imagine it taking place in his own person.” (Primitive Culture, vol. 1, p. 279)

Among other criticisms of the book, Wallace’s review argued that Tylor had overlooked the possibility of mesmerism, with mesmerists implanting the idea in susceptible individuals’ minds that they had seen werewolves.  Wallace wrote in The Academy:

“We find at times great looseness of statement when Mr. Tylor attempts to account off-hand for superstitions … A recognition of the now well-established phenomena of mesmerism would have enabled Mr. Tylor to give a far more rational explanation of were-wolves and analogous beliefs than that which he offers us. Were-wolves were probably men who had exceptional power of acting upon certain sensitive individuals, and could make them, when so acted upon, believe they saw what the mesmeriser pleased; and who used this power for bad purposes. This will explain most of the alleged facts without resorting to the short and easy method of rejecting them as the results of mere morbid imagination and gross credulity.” (p. 70)

In his reply, perhaps stung by the charge that his method was “short and easy” and insufficiently rational, Tylor dismissed Wallace’s suggestion as inadequate to meet his twin explanations, though he added that Wallace had helpfully addressed an aspect not dealt with in the book, in which Wallace was “possibly on the track of explaining much of the power belonging to sorcerers, savage and other.”  Tylor added that he had never disputed the role of mesmerism in medical practice; thus, he was not dismissing the reality of mesmerism per se.  He continued:

“Now, without committing myself to Mr. Wallace's idea, beyond saying that it is plausible and worth pursuing, I proceed to apply it somewhat farther. Granting that a were-wolf, in virtue of being a person capable of exerting mesmeric influence, can delude people, and even assemblies of people, into fancying that they perceive monstrous unrealities, the question arises, Was any one with this were-wolf-faculty present in the room when Mrs. Guppy made her celebrated aerostatic entrance? Is Mr. D. D. Home a were-wolf? Is a professional ‘medium’ usually or ever a person who has the power of acting on the minds of sensitive spectators, so as to make them believe they see what he pleases?”

Further on, he fairly jeers at Wallace’s contention:

“Mr. Wallace, as the most eminent scientific man who has taken up what are known as modern ‘spiritualistic doctrines,’ no doubt has the ear of all who hold these doctrines. I think it may bring about investigations leading to valuable results if Mr. Wallace will inform spiritualists with the weight of his authority that he believes in the existence of a class of men who, in his words, have exceptional power of acting upon certain sensitive individuals, and can make them, when so acted upon, believe they see what the mesmeriser pleases, and who use this power for bad purposes.”

Where in this dispute about werewolves did Home come in, not to mention Mrs Guppy’s famous “aerial transit”?  Wallace wanted mesmerism to be taken seriously when explaining extraordinary phenomena such as werewolves, crediting it with extensive capabilities.  Tylor was not describing the werewolf as someone undergoing a literal transformation, but rather as someone possessing the ability to exercise a massive mesmeric influence of the kind Wallace had indicated.  Could it, Tylor asked, be applied to the dramatic accounts of mediums like Home and Mrs Guppy to explain their alleged achievements?  Given he chose to publish his response in Nature, he would have been confident of his readers’ sceptical assessment of the proposition.

Tylor pushed Wallace’s approach to the point of absurdity: if one accepted the idea that mesmerism could account for extreme tales of werewolves, by the same logic one could treat the remarkable modern stories told about Home and Mrs. Guppy in the same way.   Obviously, he wasn’t accusing Home of being a werewolf, he was posing a rhetorical question and expecting the answer to be negative.  This would have included Wallace’s, as someone who considered mediums to be genuinely communicating with spirits, not making sensitive individuals believe they saw what the medium, or someone else present, pleased.  In Tylor’s view, Home could not possess the degree of mesmeric power necessary to account for the werewolf, therefore the explanation had to be found elsewhere.

Tylor’s Nature response defended his interpretation of werewolf beliefs having developed from ideas about soul-body transformations and delusions due to mental illness.  His analysis was based on individual psychology and cultural traditions that reflected a pre-scientific attempt to understand the world, rather than on mesmerism’s insufficient power to explain the phenomenon.  If mesmerism could not explain physical mediumship, it could not explain the werewolf.

If Tylor thought this was the end of the matter, he was mistaken, because Wallace replied in the 7 March 1872 issue of Nature (pp. 363-4).  He disputed the association of mesmerism and mediumship, distinguishing them in two respects.  Firstly, the person in a mesmeric trance was completely unaware of the physical surroundings and did not doubt the suggestions made by the mesmerist.  Unlike the “mesmerised patient,” however, “the assistants at the séances of Mr. Home or Mrs. Guppy are not in this state … they do not lose memory of the immediately preceding events; they criticise, they examine, they take notes, they suggest tests – none of which the mesmerised patient ever does.”  Secondly, the mesmerist could influence “certain sensitive individuals” (not “assemblies”), and these were few in number; but there was no such limit to those who could witness mediumistic phenomena: “The visitors to Mr. Home or Mrs. Guppy all see whatever occurs of a physical nature, as the records of hundreds of sittings demonstrate.”

The inference could be drawn that it was illegitimate to suggest, as Tylor had, that for mesmerism to account for the werewolf, it should be used as an explanation for the reported achievements of Home and Mrs Guppy, and that if it was not suitable in one case, the other could be dismissed.  Wallace could still argue that mesmerism explained the werewolf without having to concede that it had to account for the events reported to have occurred in the presence of Home and Mrs Guppy.

For some reason, Blum misunderstood what Tylor was saying when he referred to Home, and Machell followed suit without checking the original articles (which would have been easy to do), despite the assertion being bizarre.  Machell relied heavily on secondary sources and perhaps placed too much reliance on Blum for the nineteenth-century background, which led him to reproduce her error.  Home was credited with some remarkable feats, but was not accused of being a werewolf.

 

References

Blum, D. (2006) Ghost Hunters: William James and the Search for Scientific Proof of Life After Death. New York: Penguin Press.

Kalvig, A. (2017) ‘“Necromancy Is a Religion”: Tylor’s Discussion of Spiritualism in Primitive Culture and in His Diary’, in Tremlett, P-F., Harvey, G. and Sutherland, L.T. (eds.) Edward Burnett Tylor, Religion and Culture. London: Bloomsbury, pp. 49–64.

Machell, B. (2025) Chasing the Dark: Encounters with the Supernatural. London: Abacus Books.

Stocking, G.W. (1971) ‘Animism in Theory and Practice: E. B. Tylor’s Unpublished “Notes on Spiritualism”’, Man, 6(1), pp. 88–104.

Tylor, E.B. (1871) Primitive Culture: Researches into the Development of Mythology, Philosophy, Religion, Art, and Custom. 2 vols. London: John Murray.

Tylor, E.B. (1872) ‘Ethnology and Spiritualism’, Nature, 5(116), pp. 242–244.

Wallace, A.R. (1872) ‘[Review of Primitive Culture: Researches into the Development of Mythology, Philosophy, Religion, Art, and Custom, by Edward Burnett Tylor]’, The Academy, 15 February, pp. 69–70.

Wallace, A.R. (1872) ‘Ethnology and Spiritualism’, Nature, 5(121), pp. 363–364.

Letters to Fortean Times

Over the years I have written a number of letters to Fortean Times, not all of which have been published, and some of those which have were edited.  I have collected here all the ones I can find, in the form in which they were sent, in chronological order.  There are probably others I’ve missed; founding editor Bob Rickard is leading an indexing project which may throw up more letters when it is available; I certainly remember one I can no longer locate about the improbable sighting of a Buddhist in Triumph of the Will, which I identified as a bald man.  I have provided references where I have them.

The Guyra poltergeist

The panel on the Guyra poltergeist of 1921 accompanying the article on the Humpty Doo case in FT 116 was interesting, but did not mention the film made the same year, The Guyra Ghost Mystery, in which the Bowen family played themselves in a reconstruction, albeit with ‘comedy relief’.  Does this film still exist?  If so, it would certainly make a valuable addition to a Fortean archive.  Either way, I would appreciate a description of its contents if anybody is able to help.

The references in the Guyra section cite the Bord’s Modern Mysteries of the World, but I could find no mention of the case there.  What is the correct reference?

Submitted 21 October 1998, not used.

 

Book billing scam

Mr Hierophant mentions “an entirely new scam,” viz. billing relatives of the deceased for unordered books.  Far from being new, this was the modus operandi of the Depression-era con artists played by Ryan and Tatum O’Neal in the 1973 film Paper Moon.  In that case, the volume in question was The Bible.

Submitted 9 May 1999, not used.

 

Intelligent Design

I was disturbed at the tone of Vicki Ecker’s article in F.T. 154 on Intelligent Design (ID).  This disingenuous piece tries to give the impression that a new label on an old idea makes it radical and modern, whereas it is actually a warmed-over version of William Paley’s Argument from Design.

The writer vainly tries to distance ID from Creationism, clearly realising the intellectual bankruptcy of that mish-mash.  But apparent even-handedness, by including criticisms from what are termed “mainstream scientists”, is undermined by the effort to portray these faceless Darwinists as the implacable Establishment against whose “ideology” plucky pro-IDers are fighting for a fair hearing - after all, the article suggests, these are scientists too, and therefore without an axe to grind.  It is ironic that it is evolution which is under attack in the United States, particularly in the South, where right-wing fundamentalist religion is at its strongest, with pressure on state school boards to characterise evolution as controversial and give equal time to Creationism or some synonym.

What concerns proponents of evolution about Creationism is not so much its attempt to provide an alternative explanation for the natural world, but rather its intellectual dishonesty, the vacuous attitude to science it embodies, and the unsavoury political agenda which underpins it.  A disinclination to teach Creationism is not the expression of an arbitrary wish to exclude dissenting opinion from some prevailing orthodoxy, but a desire to keep religion out of science teaching.  The recommended reading which concludes the article consists entirely of pro-Creationist material, with no contrary opinions, which sums up the Creationist approach to teaching science.

The joy of F.T. is its iconoclastic approach, and from that point of view evolution is not immune from scrutiny, but it should be within a scientific framework, not as part of a covert anti-scientific attempt to bend evidence to pre-formed and rigid religious dogma.

A heavily abbreviated version was published alongside a number of letters on the topic in FT156, March 2002, p. 56.

 

Ghost Hunters

While it is always pleasant to see the early history of the Society for Psychical Research rehearsed (Deborah Blum’s The Ghost Hunters, FT219) it is even more pleasant when the facts presented are correct.

For a start, Catherine Crowe was not a Scottish writer: she was born at Borough Green in Kent, and although she moved to Edinburgh at some point between 1828 and 1838, from 1852 she divided her time between London and the Continent, moving to Folkestone in 1871.  Her most famous book, The Night Side of Nature, was published in 1848, which I make nearly 160 years ago rather than the 150 that Blum mentions.

More seriously, Blum says that no research “with any serious intent” was done for “almost 40 years” after the publication of Crowe’s book, until “the mid-1880s” with the formation of the SPR (actually 34 years and 1882 respectively, this vagueness does not fill one with confidence).  On the contrary there was a great deal of activity, largely stimulated by the growth of Spiritualism, which hit Britain in 1852.

For example, Blum fails to mention the two-year inquiry of the London Dialectical Society, which issued its report in 1871.  Cromwell Varley, who introduced Crookes to Spiritualism, was active in this period, as was Edward Cox’s Psychological Society, and the individuals who would found the SPR were also making enquiries.  There may have been flaws in these endeavours, but they were all serious.

This is not of course to diminish the impact of the SPR – as Alan Gauld says in his classic account The Founders of Psychical research, “To pass from even the ablest of previous works to Phantasms of the Living is like passing from a mediaeval bestiary or herbal to Linnaeus’ Systema Naturae.”  But the SPR did not pop out of a vacuum, and Blum’s sketchy narrative distorts the development of psychical research in Britain.

An abbreviated version was published in FT221, April 2007, pp.70-71.

 

Bindelof group

Rosemarie Pilkington’s reply [FT226:74] to the comment that she could have subjected the phenomena produced by the Bindelof group to greater scrutiny, in my review of her book The Spirit of Dr Bindelof [FT222:63], is that she knew Gil Roller, who participated in the group, for thirty years; she interviewed many others who had been involved; and that Montague Ullman, also a group member, kept “impeccable records” (though these were not included in her book).

That does not constitute a scrutiny of the phenomena.  The first seventy pages of the book are a description of the group’s activities, ostensibly by Roller but ghost-written by Dr Pilkington, produced at some unspecified time after 1973, when the two first met (the phenomena ceased in 1934).  The rest is a basic overview of physical phenomena of various kinds, but not an analysis of the Bindelof group’s output.

Dr Pilkington thinks that “the majority of historians would consider me fair in my evaluation of [Richard] Hodgson”, which was that he was an “egomaniac” and “an incompetent researcher more interested in enhancing his prestige as an exposer of frauds than searching for scientific truth.”  On the contrary there are many commentators, during his lifetime and after, who have rated him highly as a researcher and as a person.

This might simply be a difference of opinion, and the character of someone who died in 1905 not be important, but it matters because if he was as bad as Dr Pilkington asserts, it does not say much for the judgement of the colleagues in the Society for Psychical Research and its American counterpart who valued his talents (Edmund Gurney to William James on Hodgson in 1887: “His qualities are absolutely invaluable; & psychical research ought to insure his life for about a million pounds.  His intellectual honesty is quite complete…”).

Also, Dr Pilkington indicates that I wrongly criticised her for failing to include Leonora Piper in the book, because Mrs Piper was a mental medium, not a physical one, and the book focused on physical phenomena.  The impression is left that I did not realise that, whereas I noted that Mrs Piper was a mental medium in my review, but I mentioned her because she caused Hodgson to move from general scepticism to belief in her phenomena.  Referring to Mrs Piper would have obliged Dr Pilkington to provide a more rounded picture of Hodgson.

I’m glad the book has found favour with both “neophytes” and “cognoscenti”, though perhaps not with ex-husband Nick, because as I said in my review, it has rescued the project from undeserved obscurity.  I simply felt that more could have been made of it with an examination of Roller’s and Ullman’s claims.  It seemed an opportunity lost.

Published in FT229, November 2007, pp. 74-75.

 

Harry Price

Richard Morris [FT231:72] unfairly takes me to task for accepting Harry Price’s Search for Truth at face value when discussing Price’s role in organising the Exhibition of Objects of Psychic Interest at London’s Caxton Hall in May 1925 [FT229:38-41].  However, I’m fully aware that Price could be unreliable and self-serving, and clearly took this into consideration when assessing his claims.

For example, Morris indicates that Price was capable of writing versions at different times that varied in tone, implying I had failed to realise this.  Yet I had specifically noted such variations between the report he submitted to the American Society for Psychical Research’s Journal shortly after the event, and the chapter devoted to the exhibition in the much later Search for Truth, which tended to be condescending, particularly when participants – including Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – were safely dead.  It was because of these inconsistencies that I checked contemporary accounts in Light, which covered the exhibition extensively.

The exhibition was held in conjunction with the London Spiritualist Alliance’s fund-raising grand bazaar and fête.  Morris suggests that Price did not need to curry favour with the LSA in order to house his National Laboratory of Psychical Research in their new building because he ‘had raised the possibility’ of sharing with the LSA as early as 1922.

Well, I actually did say that Price had used the LSA’s rooms when it was based in Queen Square, and that he saw the LSA’s proposed move to bigger premises as advantageous for his own organisation.  He did not occupy part of the LSA’s new headquarters until the end of 1925, so the success of the exhibition in May of that year, and his prominent involvement in it, would have stood him in good stead in his negotiations for space there.

Morris further says that Conan Doyle and the LSA’s General Secretary devised bazaar and fête.  This sounds like a rebuttal to a point not made, as I never claimed that Price devised, or indeed organised, them.  What I did say was that the exhibition was hitched to the already scheduled bazaar as a last-minute addition, inspired by Prices’ visit to Copenhagen to open J. S. Jensen’s exhibition, which subsequently formed the central portion of the Caxton Hall display.  The inclusion of the Jensen material, plus the presence of Jensen’s son during the London exhibition, are key pieces of evidence for Price’s role in its organisation.

Also, it is surely significant that it was Price who signed the foreword to the exhibition catalogue, and not Conan Doyle (LSA President at the time), who was never shy about writing in pursuit of spiritualistic aims, and whose name would have carried more cachet than Price’s.  I agree with Morris that Price was not consistent, but he was energetic, and it seems churlish to dismiss, as part of a wider effort to denigrate him, his major contribution to the clear success of the exhibition.

Finally, a sub-editor struck out the reference at the beginning of my article to the Fortean Times exhibition at Croydon in 1995, Of Monsters and Miracles, which I thought was similar in spirit to the 1925 affair.  It would be nice if the magazine could consider mounting another such exhibition, society bazaar optional.

Published in FT236, June 2008, p. 73.

 

Order of the Knights of St Edmund

I read Alan Murdie's piece in his Ghostwatch column on the cursing, by the 'Order of the Knights of St Edmund', of the new development on the site of Bury St Edmunds' cattle market (FT242:20-21) with interest, because what Alan fails to mention is that he has a vested interest in promoting this story, being a Knight himself.  A number of articles, including one in the Daily Telegraph in 2005, have featured him, as a spokesperson for the Order, telling journalists that unless the developers withdraw forthwith, the Knights would summon the curse of St Edmund to smite them and all others involved.

The results for which the group takes credit are listed in his FT article, including various aspects of the economic downturn and the death of a local councillor.  Whatever one feels about the validity of the Order's activities, Alan should have stated that he is involved personally in the campaign to which he devotes so much space.

Submitted 20 October 2008, don’t think it was used.

 

Radclyffe Hall

I was surprised to see Louise Marriott claim (FT245:72) that Radclyffe Hall was interred upright in her Highgate Cemetery tomb, her coffin facing that of her late partner Mabel Batten (Ladye).  It seems most unlikely that the cemetery authorities would approve such an act, but more to the point, Sally Cline’s excellent 1997 biography Radclyffe Hall: A Woman Called John is quite specific about the arrangements: Ladye, who had died in 1916, had been placed on the bench at the right of the tomb, and Radclyffe Hall’s coffin was placed horizontally facing the entrance.  Neither coffin was upright.  Also, Louise Marriott says that the tomb is at the end of the Egyptian Avenue but it is actually round the corner in the Circle of Lebanon.   If Radclyffe Hall should find herself in a vertical position, perhaps the Highgate Vampire is back at work.

Published in FT247, April 2009, p. 71.

 

Fairy photo

The 'fairy' shape in the photograph taken by Phyllis Bacon in her New Addington back garden (FT261:12) reminded me of an almost identical one in a picture taken at Fiddler’s Ferry Marina in Cheshire and sent to a paranormal research group called Para-Projects.

When the group visited the marina they found it swarming with mosquitoes, and test photographs confirmed that the fairy effect was caused by flash bouncing off an insect close to the lens. There were other illuminated insects in shot, as can also be seen in Mrs Bacon’s example. The report can be found on Para-Projects’ website: http://www.para-projects.com/Fiddlers_angel.html.

While New Addington is unlikely to harbour mosquitoes, it is highly probable that Phyllis Bacon’s photograph shows an insect of some kind, fairy rings in her garden notwithstanding.  However, a swarm of male gnats is called a ghost, so perhaps she has truly captured a ghost with her camera.

Published in FT263, June 2010, p. 70.

 

F Gwynplaine MacIntyre

I read the obituary of F Gwynplaine MacIntyre with interest, though it seemed strangely reminiscent of the article published by the New York Times on 10 September [2010].  There is one thing I would take issue with: that his review of Metropolis indicated he was saying goodbye.  The quote has been taken out of context to give it an elegiac feel, whereas actually it is matter of fact and gives no hint of what was to come.

If you read the review, he actually says at the beginning: "'Metropolis' is my all-time favourite movie, so I've saved this for the last review that I plan to write for this wonderful website IMDb. I've enjoyed sharing my experiences of the movies I've seen, but now I'm moving on to other passions."

He's not saying this is his last review ever, just for IMDb, as he has other interests to pursue.  And at the end, putting the quote in FT (and the NYT) in context, the whole paragraph reads: "Nitrate film stock doesn't last forever, and all good things come to a happy ending. This is my last review here. I'll keep watching movies, but other passions are important to me as well. Thank you, IMDb, and thank you to everyone who has read my reviews. I will happily rate 'Metropolis' a full 10 out of 10."

That doesn't sound like someone saying goodbye because he is about to kill himself.  Of course, this could all have been a bluff, which is not unlikely, but lifting a sentence from the review has distorted what he was saying.  In any case setting your apartment on fire hardly seems a happy ending by anyone's standards.  It's a shame the obituary didn't mention his controversial IMDb reviews of films that are probably lost but which he said he had seen in private collections, when he most likely cobbled together the pieces from contemporary trade periodicals he read in the New York public library.

An abbreviated version was published in FT270, January 2011, p.71.

 

Ramon Llull

David Hambling's article on Ramon Llull (FT339:14) describes Llull’s idea for an ars combinatoria, a 'portable encyclopaedia' that would allow access to all knowledge by means of the permutation of a field’s underlying principles.  He mentions Jonathan Swift's satirical description in Gulliver's Travels of a similar device used on Laputa (not Laputia) which produces random combinations of words, though sadly little sense.

Another, more successful, dystopian content generator that could have been included is the kaleidoscope in George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four.  It employs much the same technique to manufacture prolefeed, mindless entertainment churned out by rearranging existing approved materials without the need for any imagination or originality on the part of the operator.  Alas, Llull’s concept for creating knowledge has become the method by which programmers construct Saturday-night television entertainment.

Published in FT341, June 2016, p. 71.

 

The Hilton sisters

The 'Joined at the Hip' report (FT369:9) asserts that the Hilton sisters “earned $4,000 (£3,000) a week, about three times the average American salary.”  That would make the annual average salary in 1927 getting on for $69,000.

According to the website visualizingeconomics.com, the average annual salary was about $15k.  I think the report has compared their weekly earnings with the average monthly salary.

Published in FT371, October 2018, p. 75.

 

Romanian poltergeist case

Strange Continent in issue FT375, p. 22, has an item on the poltergeist case at Sohatu, Romania ('Stone-throwing polt').  Paul Cropper carried this story on his The Fortean blog in August as 'A Romanian Poltergeist'.  He has added a note dated December, so too late to have been seen by Ulrich Magin and Theo Paijmans, which indicates, based on information from a Bucharest-based group, that the most likely explanation was kids throwing stones (of course the investigators may be wrong).

Submitted 31 December 2018, not used.

 

Coordinating ufology

Jenny Randles highlights the lack of coordination of UK-based UFO investigation which instead, she argues, constitutes “random pockets of Internet activity” (FT417:31).  Surely the answer to this fragmentation was serendipitously staring at her on the opposite page, in Nigel Watson’s column.  It quotes Robert Moore, Vice-Chair of the Association for the Scientific Study of Anomalous Phenomena, stating his laudable ambition to broaden ASSAP’s UFO/UAP coverage.

Jenny had proposed the deployment of high-spec video cameras trained on the sky, particularly in areas known to be hot spots, but found no takers, hence her downbeat assessment of the state of UK ufology.  Now ASSAP has stepped up to fill the vacuum she identified.  This is a welcome development and promises significant advances in our understanding of the phenomena.

ASSAP is ideally placed to carry out the work suggested by Jenny.  It has the interest in the subject, the motivation, as indicated by Robert, and a national network of accredited researchers, many of whom will be interested in UFOs, already in place.  Also, the Association has stated that it is recognised by the government as the ‘professional body’ for paranormal investigators, so it has the official credentials to make the endeavour a success.

Robert sees ASSAP as a body that enables “cross-anomalies studies,” so following Jenny’s suggestion should provide an excellent testing ground for assessing possible explanations.  Such an undertaking will not be cheap, and will require a great deal of organisation, but I cannot think of a group better-placed to institute a campaign to secure funding and conduct this valuable project.

Published in FT420, July 2022, p. 68.

 

Ghostwatch

Stu Neville’s article commemorating the 30th anniversary of Ghostwatch (FT424) inevitably touches on the influence of the Enfield poltergeist case. In an interview with Neville, writer Stephen Volk downplays the connection, maintaining “the setting was about as far as it went.” Enfield investigator Guy Lyon Playfair would have disagreed with this statement, as he noted a strong resemblance.

In an article in the SPR’s Paranormal Review, ‘The Enfield Saga: From This House is Haunted (1980) to The Enfield Haunting (2015)’ (issue 75, Summer 2015, pp. 26-7), Playfair says that an account of the Enfield poltergeist’s journey from page to screen would fill a book, and he sketches its contents. A chapter would be devoted to Ghostwatch.

He describes the consequences of the transmission in gleeful terms: “Chapter 3. The BBC shows Ghostwatch, a hoax ‘documentary’ rather obviously (in my opinion) based on my book [This House is Haunted] and infringing my copyright. Legal action is taken; I get an out-of-court settlement and a well-earned free holiday.” I’m surprised Neville didn’t think to challenge Volk on his claim.

Published in FT427, January 2023, p. 60.

 

Lajos Pap

I was envious of Ian Simmons’ trip to Paris to see the exhibition Phenomena: The Unexplained in the Face of Science (FT427:14-15), and it would be wonderful if something similar could be held in the UK. One comment I would take issue with though is the claim, presumably derived from a caption, that the Hungarian physical medium Lajos Pap produced séance room phenomena “even under the most stringent conditions.”

Certainly the principal investigator Ian names, Elemér Chengery Pap, was convinced by the performances, which were wide-ranging and yielded enough apports (objects supposedly transported into the séance room by paranormal means) to literally fill a museum. There were, however, others who reached different conclusions concerning Lajos Pap’s honesty. Their accounts indicate that conditions, far from being stringent, were often turbulent and enabled fraud to occur.

Theodore Besterman sat with Lajos Pap in Budapest during a four-month tour of the Continent in 1928, which he described in the SPR’s Proceedings. He became suspicious that the medium was generating phenomena by normal means, confirmed when he witnessed Lajos Pap holding the leg of a supposedly levitating table after a light was inadvertently switched on.

Then in 1935 Nandor Fodor brought Lajos Pap and Chengery Pap to London for a series of ten séances at the International Institute for Psychical Research, recounted in an entertaining report Fodor wrote for the IIPR, The Lajos Pap Experiments. Again, there was overwhelming evidence that Lajos Pap cheated and Chengery Pap, acting in good faith, had been hoodwinked. Fodor concluded that ‘none of the phenomena produced in London can be considered supernormal; some of them were definitely fraudulent, others highly suspicious.’

In a similar vein, more recently Michael Nahm concluded in his lengthy analysis ‘Out of Thin Air? Apport Studies Performed between 1928 and 1938 by Elemér Chengery Pap’ that his “research approach contained remarkable loopholes.” Any statement suggesting that Lajos Pap could not have cheated must be treated with scepticism as, contrary to the impression given in the Paris exhibition, his behaviour precluded strict controls being imposed.

Published in FT430, April 2023, p. 65.

 

Memories of Fortean Times

I clearly remember the first time I saw FT: at the Society for Psychical Research, when it was based in Adam & Eve Mews, Kensington.  It was 1987 and I had recently joined.  I read the magazine in the library before becoming a subscriber with issue 51 (Winter 1988/9).  Gradually I obtained the reprint collections covering the first 50.  I quickly began sending in clippings (which I still do), and from issue 69 (June/July 1993) to my pleasant surprise I was listed as a special correspondent.  Later I contributed the occasional article and review.  FT has been part of my life for a long time now.

In addition to the pleasure the magazine has given me, I have fond memories of the UnConventions, and the Of Monsters and Miracles exhibition held at Croydon Clocktower in 1995.  What I particularly like about FT is that it is never predictable, and those who read the magazine from cover to cover are exposed to the broadest range of strange phenomena.  Working through it is a highlight of the month, so here’s to the next 50 years.

Published in FT438, December 2023, p. 63. (Readers were invited to write in to celebrate the 50th anniversary.)

 

The Penyffordd Polt

Stu Neville’s television column discussing the BBC’s Paranormal: The Girl, the Ghost and the Gravestone, about the Penyffordd Farm/Brother Doli case (FT437:61), includes presenter Sian Eleri’s observation that Rose-Mary and David Gower were not Welsh speakers.  This implied they could not have been responsible for the appearance of Welsh words in the house.

However, Michael Daniels, the psychologist responsible for investigating the case, states in his lengthy report, published in the Journal of the Society for Psychical Research, that they owned a Collins Gem Welsh Dictionary, so the manufacture of Welsh words was not beyond them.  Daniels also points out that words appeared in isolation, not in sentences which would be harder for a non-Welsh speaker to achieve convincingly.

He adds that spelling errors found in the wall writings would be unlikely to be made by a Welsh-speaker but were consistent with a non-Welsh speaker possessing poorish eyesight misreading the dictionary’s small font.  He does not say so in the article but it can be seen from the programme that Rose-Mary Gower was a spectacle wearer.

Sian Eleri knew all this because she had access to Dr Daniels’ records including his article in JSPR, a copy of which she can be seen holding in one shot (though any reference to the SPR is conspicuously absent in the programme).  Yet she omitted to mention the possession of a Welsh dictionary, an important piece of evidence in assessing the wall writings.

In fact, there was much information missing necessary to reach a balanced conclusion, not least that David and Rose-Mary Gower had been SPR members and would therefore have had some knowledge of hauntings and poltergeists, useful to someone contemplating a hoax.  Despite being structured as such, the programme was not a serious reinvestigation, and Penyffordd Farm, billed in the publicity as ‘the most haunted house in Britain,’ did not live up to the hype.

Published in FT441, February 2024, p. 67.

 

Kenneth Cope

Reading Andrew T Smith's excellent examination of Granada Television's lost 1967 Coronation Street spin-off Turn Out the Lights (FT454), I was interested to see that Kenneth Cope co-wrote the first and third episodes.  He had recently finished his stint on Corrie as Jed Stone, and not long afterwards he appeared in what probably remains his best-known role as Marty Hopkirk, the dead half of the detective duo in Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased).

He had acting credits in other films and television programmes with a science fiction/fantasy aspect – X the Unknown, an episode of One Step Beyond, Night of the Big Heat, and a couple of episodes of The Avengers – but Turn Out the Lights was his only such credit as a writer.

Submitted 18 February 2025, not used.

 

Steve’s ghost photograph

When I read Rob Gandy's ‘Bridges, Bridges and Spacemen’ article (FT389) back in 2020, I thought the ghost photo taken by 'Steve' of a figure he called Emily looked very much like a standard ghost app composite.  These used to plague researchers but are less common now because the style is so familiar, and therefore unconvincing, so I was surprised to see the same photo pop up again in Rob's recent article on Shugborough Hall (FT457:38).

I checked the gallery on the very useful Facebook page 'Ghost photo app database debunking library' and quickly found this image.  It shows the same figure, as indicated by the shape of the hair and headdress, the left sleeve, and the decoration on the front of the dress which in Steve’s version looks like a continuation of the ivy, enhancing the impression of transparency.  It can be concluded that the account given by Steve to his friend Karen and passed on to Rob is a fabrication.

Submitted 26 April 2025, not used.

 

The photograph at the top is not me bashing out another letter to Fortean Times on my trusty Imperial typewriter, but sitting in the room at Bletchley Park which had been occupied by Alan Turing.

 

A note on Carl Jung’s refusal to commit a fashionable stupidity

For many years, the banner of the Society for Psychical Research’s website displayed a quotation by Carl Jung: “I shall not commit the fashionable stupidity of regarding everything I cannot explain as a fraud.”  Although no reference was provided, it was a natural assumption that it came from an SPR publication.  Numerous online sources attribute it to a paper he delivered to the SPR in 1919 which was printed as ‘The Psychological Foundations of Belief in Spirits’.  Jung did give an address to the SPR under that title.  The Council report in the October 1919 issue of the SPR’s Journal recorded that:

“The 159th General Meeting of the Society was held in the Robert Barnes Hall of the Royal Society of Medicine, 1 Wimpole Street, London, W., on Friday, July 4th, 1919, at 5.30 p.m.; DR. T. W. MITCHELL in the chair.

“Dr. C. G. JUNG (of Zürich) read a paper on ‘The Psychological Foundations of the Belief in Spirits’, which, it is hoped, will be published later in the Proceedings.”

When it appeared in Part 79 of Proceedings in May 1920, the title had been slightly amended to ‘The Psychological Foundations of Belief in Spirits’, rather than ‘the belief’.  The words “I shall not commit the fashionable stupidity of regarding everything I cannot explain as a fraud,” though, do not appear in that text, or indeed anywhere in the SPR’s Proceedings or Journal.  In fact, its only appearance in the Lexscien online library, which contains the publications of other organisations in addition to the SPR’s, is in a 1999 Journal of Scientific Exploration article by Ivor Grattan-Guinness, citing “Collected Works, Vol. 8, 317” as the source.

A glance at Volume 8 of Jung’s Collected Works, readily available in an online edition, reveals the quotation in an essay bearing the same title as that found in the SPR’s Proceedings.  However, the Collected Works essay shows marked differences to the version in Proceedings.  Fortunately, it also appears in a 2008 compilation of Jung’s writings on the paranormal, Psychology and the Occult, and the editors shed valuable light on the evolution of the paper:

“Originally translated by H. G. Baynes from a German manuscript and published in Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research (London), XXXI (1920), having been read at a general meeting of the Society on July 4, 1919. This translation was republished in Contributions to Analytical Psychology (London and New York, 1928). The German original was first published as ‘Die psychologischen Grundlagen des Geisterglaubens’, in Uber die Energetik der Seek (Psychologische Abhandlungen, II; Zürich, 1928), and was revised and expanded in Uber psychische Energetik und das Wesen der Traume (Zürich, 1948). The latter version is here translated, but the Baynes translation has also been consulted.—EDITORS.”

The translation matches that in the Collected Works, as the acknowledgements state: “‘The Psychological Foundations of Belief in Spirits’ and ‘The Soul and Death’ extracted from Volume 8, The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche, 2nd edn © 1969 by Princeton University Press.”  The lengthy paragraph containing the “fashionable stupidity” sentence has a footnote indicating the bulk of it was added to the 1948 edition, and the sentence is part of the new material.  It is therefore incorrect to say it was included in Jung’s address to the SPR; it only appeared in the expanded 1948 version.

This issue has cropped up a number of times in enquiries sent to the SPR.   Unsurprisingly, confusion occurs when those consulting its Proceedings cannot locate the quotation.  For those puzzled by the omission in Jung’s SPR paper, I hope this note will help.

The remaining puzzle is why this particular sentence appeared so prominently on the SPR website for so long.  It was a reductive characterisation even in 1919, and psychology has advanced considerably since then.  There can have been few people in recent years, however fierce their scepticism, prepared to argue that all phenomena they cannot explain must be fraudulent.  Its continued presence on the website was unnecessary; worse, it felt defensive.

One obvious explanation for its inclusion is that it highlighted the fact that such an eminent figure was connected to the SPR (Jung had joined in 1917), and having his name displayed so prominently bolstered the Society’s credentials.  Perhaps so, but it would have been preferable to have used a more positive sentence, and one actually present in the SPR’s publications, thereby avoiding subsequent head-scratching.

 

References

Grattan-Guinness, I. (1999) ‘Real communication? Report on a SORRAT letter-writing experiment’, Journal of Scientific Exploration, 13(2), pp. 231–256.

Journal of the Society for Psychical Research (1919) ‘General meeting’, 19(358), October, p. 95.

Jung, C.G. (1921) ‘The psychological foundations of belief in spirits’, Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research, 31 (Part 79, May 1920), pp. 75–93.

Jung, C.G. (1948) ‘Die psychologischen Grundlagen des Geisterglaubens’, in Über psychische Energetik und das Wesen der Träume. Zürich: Rascher.

Jung, C.G. (1969) ‘The psychological foundations of belief in spirits’, in Adler, G. and Hull, R.F.C. (eds.) The collected works of C.G. Jung, Volume 8: The structure and dynamics of the psyche. 2nd edn. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, pp. 390–411.

Jung, C.G. (2008) ‘The psychological foundations of belief in spirits’, in Psychology and the occult. London: Routledge, pp. 128–149.

 

The portrait is an AI-generated depiction of what Jung looked like in 1919.

 

Enid Brockies - Countess Hélène Magriska

Sunderland Echo, 4 December 1933

Enid Florence Brockies (1911-1943) was a well-known author in her time, under the flamboyant pen name Countess Hélène Magriska.  My interest stems from a family connection: she was my first cousin once removed.  Henry James Lockhart (1861-1905), the well-known elephant trainer, was her grandfather and my great-grandfather.  Despite her short life she was a prolific novelist of romantic melodramas, usually with foreign settings.

I have put together what information I can glean about her life and career, mostly from the British Newspaper Archive and Ancestry.com.  As well as biographical details the newspapers have proved useful in gauging the response to her books which, while never aspiring to high art, were popular, if not always appreciated by the critics.

Enid was born on 31 May 1911 in Thornton Heath, Surrey.[1]  Her father was Herbert Leonard Brockies (1878–1967), and her mother (my great aunt) was Ellen Lockhart (1886–1951).  Herbert and Ellen were both born in London, and they married in July 1910.  Enid was their only child.  In 1919 Herbert was an accountant, the family living at 8 Peel Street, Hull.[2]  At the time of the 1921 Census they were living at 19 The Terrace, Roker, Sunderland.  Herbert’s occupation was given as senior audit clerk for a firm of chartered accountants.  Ellen was a housewife.  Enid attended Sunderland High School for Girls.[3]

By the time the 1939 England and Wales Register was compiled they were living at 7 Park Parade, Roker, Sunderland.  Herbert gave his occupation as secretary to a transport company, Ellen was engaged in domestic duties, unpaid, and Enid gave her occupation as novelist.  She was unmarried.

Enid possessed a good singing voice.  In May 1928, shortly before her 17th birthday, she competed in the North of England Musical Tournament in Newcastle and was placed second in the solo singing for girls (senior) category.[4]  In June 1931, she repeated her success at the North of England Musical Tournament, achieving a bronze medal for singing to her own piano accompaniment.[5]  She came first in the contralto section of the solo singing, open aria classes.[6]

Her success in competition enabled her to appear on the radio.  Later in June 1931, the North Mail printed a paragraph (with photograph) about her: “Miss Enid Brockies, who is to sing two groups of songs in the mid-day broadcast concert from Newcastle to-morrow, is well-known in the North.  She is a Sunderland girl who has a wonderful mezzo-soprano voice and has every prospect of a successful career as a vocalist.  She has already won silver and bronze medals in open competitions.”[7]  The schedule for the Northern regional programme appeared in the daily and regional press, billing her as a mezzo-soprano with the Northern Studio Orchestra, Newcastle studio.[8]

North Mail, 29 June 1931

She performed in Sunderland High School Old Girls’ Literary and Dramatic Society productions, notably The Yeoman of the Guard and Iolanthe.[9]  In 1929 she was “a capable Dame Carruthers” in The Yeoman of the Guard.[10]  In December 1933 the Sunderland Echo carried a photograph of her, announcing she would be performing the title role in Iolanthe.[11]  Reviewing the production favourably, the Sunderland Echo called her “a demure Iolanthe”.[12]

Attempting to turn her musical experience into paid employment, working at home, she placed an advertisement in the Sunderland Echo advertising as a “teacher of voice production, singing and pianoforte.”[13]  As this is the only reference to her offer of private tuition it may not have been a successful venture.  That seems to be the end of her career as a singer and teacher, and she diverted her considerable energies into authorship.  There may have been little pressure on her to find paid employment because in addition to her father’s income, in late 1933 her mother received a £500 inheritance from the estate of Ellen’s uncle, Sam Lockhart, who had died in May that year.[14]

In 1936 Enid’s first novel, The Girl from Moinette's appeared.  She adopted the grand pen name Countess Hélène Magriska, though it was not to protect her identity as she did not keep her real name secret.  As a marketing ploy it certainly made her stand out in a crowded field.  The book was published by Mellifont Press, which specialised in pulp titles and cheap reprints of classics.  Unfortunately, it does not seem to have been much noticed, and blurbs accompanying later books tended to ignore it.  But it launched her on her career, and though The Girl from Moinette’s does not seem to have been a success initially, a second edition appeared in 1940, presumably on the back of subsequent novels.

In her new guise she had a letter in Picturegoer Weekly.  Signed “(Countess) Hélène Magriska”, she wrote as “a regular reader of your wonderful film-paper”.  She proposed Otto Kruger as “the star whom I consider has the most musical speaking voice on the screen.”[15]  It is likely from her novels with a United States setting that she was an avid cinema patron, as there is no evidence she travelled outside the UK.

Her next book, Ten Poplars (1937), received much more attention than its predecessor, and it was clear that Enid had the support of her parents in her new venture as it was dedicated “to Marmee and Daddy in appreciation of their loving encouragement.”  Her relationship with the local press paid off as she received a warm notice in the Sunderland Echo.[16]  The ‘A Woman’s View’ column compiled by ‘Miss Gadabout’ announced the publication of the “first big book” of the “young Wearside novelist, known as a singer.”  Having reminded readers that Enid was well-known locally as a singer, it continued that she was having considerable success as a novelist.  As well as her achievements at the North of England Musical Tournament and appearances in Gilbert and Sullivan, it mentions that she “was for some time with Mr Henry Baynton’s Shakespearean Company.”

Henry Baynton (1892-1951) was an actor-manager of the old school, producing, and performing in, a wide repertoire drawn largely, though not confined to, the Shakespearian canon.  While he worked extensively in London, he put on seasons outside it.  His obituary states that he toured the provinces with his company until he disbanded it in 1930.[17]  While ‘was for a time’ implies Enid went on tour with him, it seems more likely that she acted with him while he was appearing locally.  He was frequently in Sunderland, putting on seasons at the Empire Theatre and Victoria Hall in 1923, 1924, 1927, 1928 and 1929.[18]  As he brought the principal actors with him, Enid was likely to have been a locally-recruited extra.  Her name does not appear in any of Baynton’s newspaper advertising.

‘Miss Gadabout’ refers to her circus connection, noting that her grandfather was elephant trainer Henry Lockhart, and her cousin was George Lockhart, ringmaster at Blackpool Tower.  Intriguingly, it states that Enid had only recently taken to writing, and although Ten Poplars was her “first big venture,” she had had “several small efforts published,” presumably short stories in magazines as well as The Girl from Moinette’s.

In all, Enid wrote fifteen novels which were published between 1936 and 1950, the final three posthumously.  Once she got into her stride she produced two novels a year, with a gap in 1942.  Some of her books appear to have made little impact, but a few titles were extremely popular; an advertisement in the Yorkshire Post announcing the publication of Polished Jade (1943) included the detail that Silken Sin was in its 160th thousand.[19]  The dust jacket of her final novel, The Scarlet Flame (1950), proclaimed that The Blonde Sinner was in its 165th thousand, and that “The sale of Countess Magriska’s novels now exceed one million copies!”  Perhaps the figure was an exaggeration, but her sales must have been decent enough; from 1939 all her books were produced by John Long Ltd, which would not have continued to publish an unsuccessful writer.  A review of And Then Onide Laughed (1941) referred to her as “a terribly popular author.”[20]  She knew her market, yet it is a sign of how ephemeral they were considered that most of her titles are now so hard to find.

Enid died on 2 July 1943 at 7 Park Parade, aged 31 and her death was registered the same day.  Her death certificate gives her occupation as “Spinster, a novelist, daughter of Herbert Leonard Brockies, a secretary, transport contractors”, so managing to say more about him than her.  The cause of death was given as cardiac failure, and toxic adenoma of thyroid.  The thyroid adenoma would have led to excessive thyroid hormone production, which in turn could have led to the heart issue which was the primary cause of death.  A brief obituary appeared in the Sunderland Echo the following day. ‘Died at Roker: Passing of Sunderland Novelist’.[21]  It included both her real name and her pen name, and gave a partial list of her novels.

She was buried in Mere Knolls Cemetery, Torver Crescent, Fulwell, Sunderland.[22]  The Sunderland Ward of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints kindly provided a photograph showing that Enid does not have her own headstone.  Instead, she has a plaque, now considerably worn, placed haphazardly on the grave containing her father’s body.  Presumably this was intended to be a temporary marker while her grave settled, but it remains unclear why she was not given a permanent headstone, or at least had her name included on her father’s headstone when it was carved.  Conditions during the war were undoubtedly challenging, but her parents had ample time to rectify the situation after its conclusion.  The plaque is a rather sad spectacle.

Reproduced with the permission
of the Sunderland Ward of
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

Was she any good?  Reviewers often praised her inventiveness and characterisation, while noting far-fetched plots; others were dismissive, or suggested that readers knew exactly what they were going to get.  Judging by newspaper descriptions, she had a wide range, and while the United States was a favourite setting, she was adept at situating her narratives in a variety of locations, and including current events.  She could also mix genres: Ten Poplars is listed in both The Checklist of Science-Fiction and Supernatural Fiction, and Science Fiction and Fantasy Literature, indicating the science fiction element (the Z-Q-Ray machine which made faces look younger) in its love triangle.[23]  She was certainly not a first-rate stylist, but she had the ability to make her readers keep coming back for more.  Some of the reviews hint that she could be quite racy, and Silken Sin was banned in Australia until 1963 (the list of banned books was quite a long one).[24]

I would like to find out as much as possible about Enid, and track down her books.  Other than the British Newspaper Archive and Ancestry.com, information is hard to come by.  I approached Sunderland and Tyne and Wear archives, and Sunderland Antiquarians, but none had anything on her in their files.  After Ellen’s death, Herbert married Eleanor Auld Wilson Garraway in 1954.  He died in 1967 and she died in Darlington in 1993.  The Darlington archive had nothing on Brockies, Magriska or Garraway.

It does not look like Herbert and Eleanor had children together.  Enid’s papers were probably destroyed, as is so often the case, but it is possible they still exist.  If anybody has any information on Enid, or has any of her books for sale, I should be very happy to hear from them (tom.ruffles@yahoo.co.uk).

 

Footnotes

[1] UK Census, 1921.
[2] Kelly’s Directory, 1919.
[3] Sunderland Echo, 9 March 1937; Sunderland Echo, 3 July 1943.
[4] Yorkshire Post, 18 May 1928.
[5] North Mail, 3 June 1931.
[6] Sunderland Echo, 5 June 1931; Shields Daily News, 6 June 1931.
[7] North Mail, 29 June 1931
[8] Birmingham Gazette, Daily Express, Daily Herald, Liverpool Post, North Mail, The Times, 30 June 1931.
[9] Sunderland Echo, 3 July 1943.
[10] Sunderland Echo, 18 December 1929.
[11] Sunderland Echo, 4 December 1933.
[12] Sunderland Echo, 21 December 1933.
[13] Sunderland Echo, 21 April 1934.
[14] Royal Leamington Spa Courier, 1 September 1933.
[15] Picturegoer Weekly, 8 August 1936.
[16] Sunderland Echo, 9 March 1937.
[17] The Times, 4 January 1951.
[18] Sunderland Echo, 29 December 1923; Sunderland Echo, 18 December 1924; Sunderland Echo, 18 November 1927; Sunderland Echo, 7 April 1928, 20 April 1928; Sunderland Echo, 30 March 1929.
[19] Yorkshire Post, 15 January 1943.
[20] Liverpool Echo, 1 April 1942.
[21] Sunderland Echo, 3 July 1943.

[22] Mere Knolls Cemetery Index, http://www.sunderlandward.co.uk/mereknolls/mereknollsb4.htm (accessed 20 July 2025).
[23] The Checklist of Science-Fiction and Supernatural Fiction, by E F Bleilier, Glen Rock, New Jersey: Firebell Books, 1978; Science Fiction and Fantasy Literature, by Robert Reginald, Douglas Menville and Mary A Burgess, Detroit, Michigan: Dale, 1979.

[24] The Canberra Times, 2 August 1963, p. 7.

 

Appendix: Enid and Ellen - joint authorship?

While researching the Countess, I was struck by several thoughts.  Firstly, she was remarkably prolific, producing fifteen novels in about eight years and already displaying maturity as a writer in her mid-20s.  She may have been a prodigy, but it occurred to me that the extensive output in such a short period could be more easily explained if her mother Ellen had collaborated with her.

Ellen may also have helped with the American elements in some of the books.  Although she was born in London, her parents travelled extensively.  Her father, Harry, worked for the Ringling Brothers’ circus, which had its base in Baraboo, Wisconsin, and for Orrin Brothers circus, which toured the United States and opened a circus in Mexico City in 1894.  Ellen’s youngest sibling, my grandfather, was born in Chicago in 1896, and Harry died in Mexico City in 1905, when Ellen was 19.  It is highly likely that Ellen had travelled to the United States in her youth.  She was in a position to contribute local colour, supplemented by exposure to current Hollywood cinema and magazines.

Then there is the matter of the three titles published after Enid’s death.  Steve Holland attributes their delayed release to wartime paper shortages, but this is surmise.  Although paper rationing in the UK continued until 1954, it seems unlikely that the prepared manuscript of her final novel would have had to wait until 1950, especially as sales in her lifetime had been robust.  One would have expected her publisher, John Long, to prioritise it over the submissions of newer, less established, authors.

An alternative explanation is that, following Enid’s death in 1943, Ellen might have completed any unfinished manuscripts, and possibly written the final one herself, using the established Hélène Magriska brand to boost sales.  Ellen died in 1951, which would have brought the venture to an end.  Without documentation, I have no evidence to support this hypothesis, but it is an intriguing possibility.  Perhaps future textual analysis will be able to clarify the authorship of the Magriska corpus.

 

Novels by Countess Magriska

I have taken this list from Steve Holland’s Bear Alley blog post (8 May 2016) on Enid, which alerted me to her existence, and the family connection:

The Girl from Moinette's. London: Mellifont Press (3150), 1936, 2nd ed. 1940.

Ten Poplars. London: Constable & Co., 1937.

Love in Morocco. London: Fiction House (Piccadilly Novels 93), 1938.

Whirled Into Marriage. London: Fiction House (Piccadilly Novels 104), Dec 1938.

Egyptian Love. London: Fiction House (Piccadilly Novels 122), Sep 1939; London, Edward Foster, 1947.

Blonde Sinner. London: John Long, 1939.

Silken Sin. London: John Long, 1939.

Black Ballerina. London: John Long, 1940.

Dark Madonna. London: John Long, 1940.

Crimson Brocade. London: John Long, 1941.

And Then Onide Laughed. London: John Long, 1941.

The House of Caddalo. London: John Long, 1943.

Polished Jade. London: John Long, 1943.

The Devil Shed Tears. London: John Long, 1944.

Happily Ever After. London: John Long, 1945.

The Scarlet Flame. London: John Long, 1950.

 

(Updated 1 August 2025)