Stray Ghosts

———— Fragments from an Unpublished Memoir ————

Seán Manchester

22 extracts & photographs released

courtesy of Gothic Press 11.11.2003,

reduced to five extracts on 11.2.2004

The memoir remains locked away in

the safe of its publisher Gothic Press

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in

a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form whatsoever, or by any means,

electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the

prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any

form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without

a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The right of Seán Manchester to be identified as the Author of this Work has been

asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988.

Foreword

by Keith Maclean

I think that the inside is now on the outside, which is a trifle difficult, but probably all to the good. The esoteric, magical, weird and strange bother me, and I daresay my reaction to the case of the Highgate Vampire might have been catastrophically negative if I had never met Seán Manchester. I feel I must quote something which I think is from Thomas Hardy: ‘If a way to the better there be it entails a full look at the worst.’ The Hardy quote is very important in the context of Seán Manchester’s life, particularly with regard to his dealings with the occult and the malign supernatural.

The style in which he presents things is something I have not always understood, but the substance is another matter. Regarding that, I more or less surrender. But I know nothing of these things other than here is a man who seems to be aware of what is about to happen. This awareness is such that even when it is a letter I have not opened for twelve days, something he has mentioned in it happens the very next day after I read what he has written. Though human and fallible like the rest of us, he is nonetheless the only authentic genius I have ever met. I do not doubt that.

The attacks on him show more than anything what is wrong with a society lacking principles or beliefs. His more vociferous critics seem to arrogate unto themselves the right to sit in judgement for the merest detail which does not square with their own sterile idea of perfection. They want something tasteless and bereft of life; meanwhile seeking to destroy (and that is what they always do) the very thing that is full of life and could rescue them. In seeking order out of the very chaos that engulfs so many of us, Seán Manchester has acquired a sense of freedom which others only dream about.

His belief is that we shall all be judged in the end by a higher authority. His philosophy is that we should strive to become less flawed in the process of self discovery. He who sees guides others until they too find the Light within. Yet Seán Manchester has ever been an inspiration. One gets the feeling that those moments of enlightenment, when the scales briefly fall from one’s eyes, are in fact almost a permanent state of being for him. This memoir, which he concedes is only a fragment of an attempt to portray his journey, is a most welcome addition. I feel that I am just getting to know him after decades. There is much to discover …

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(click on title to select extract)

Introduction

A Byronic Legacy

London in the Fifties

Holy Quests and Sacred Union

Somewhere in Time

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Author’s Dedication:

Dedicated to

the Memory of

Arthur Allen &

Dorothy · R I P

From childhood’s hour I have not been

As others were; I have not seen

As others saw; I could not bring

My passions from a common spring.

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow; I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone;

And all I loved, I loved alone.

Then — in my childhood, in the dawn

Of a most stormy life — was drawn

From every depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still:

From the torrent, of the fountain,

From the red cliff of the mountain,

From the sun that round me rolled

In its autumn tint of gold,

From the lightning in the sky

As it passed me flying by,

From the thunder and the storm,

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view.

Edgar Allan Poe

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STRAY GHOSTS