Tag Archive: Germany

This is the only portrait that exists of the Count of Saint-Germain.

Sent to Frankfurt to represent Louis XV, Marshal de Belle-Isle was so active there and displayed such magnificence, that the Germans were slightly stunned…  In all ways, Monsieur the Duke had shown himself to be worthy of Superintendant Fouquet, his temerarious and unfortunate father-in-law.  So much so that the King of Prussia had been unable to stop himself from saying:

“It must be agreed that Marshal de Belle-Isle is Germany’s legislator!”

Alas!  A sudden reversal of fortune favourises his old enemy Maria-Theresa of Austria, against whom, like Cato the Ancient stubbornly working on Carthage’s destruction, he had succeeded in launching Europe’s armies.  So, here is this great captain abandoned by the Prussians, locked up in Prague and ordered to sound the retreat…  The Golden Fleece bestowed upon him in Frankfurt by Karl VII, who owed him his throne, is this evening a very poor protection against the stormy weather!   Freezing cold in his retreat, the Marshal is also suffering from atrocious rhumatisms which are attacking his lumbar region and all of his members.  Bitten by icy cold rain, and by the Central European gales even in his bed, he lives drugged, surrounded by a perpetual ballet of mediocre doctors, despairing of ever seeing the gentle climate of France again…  Then, one evening, he hears of a man who says that he is related to the House of Hesse and who, having learnt of his problems, claims to be able to cure him in five days.  In the necessity in which he finds himself, Belle-Isle has to try and, his back pressed against the damask of an armchair – his last luxury! – he receives this magician.

The unknown man orders him to lie down.  He imposes his hands on the Duke’s body and makes circles over it with a white jade wand.

The man of war wants to know what these mummeries are and whether he is trying to tie his laces.

The man wittily replies:

“Even the devil couldn’t tie such a temperament…  from what I’ve heard!  You are going to stop eating and take only three spoonfuls per day of this orgeat.  It’s an extract of emerald mixed with a few follicles of sene.”

“You want to kill me, Monsieur de Saint-Germain!”

“Drink up!  The greatest princes have confidence in me, and have had for a long time!  Anyway, I leave you this as security…”

The unknown man, who has good manners and is dressed with as much care as simplicity, places a round lacquered box on a table, bows gracefully and disappears.  When the Duke opens the box, he discovers, astounded, the glittering flames of rubies, topazes, emeralds and diamonds, three or four of which are at least ten carats each…

A few months later, after having saved the essential of his reputation and his armies, Marshal de Belle-Isle is back at Versailles.  He is very happy to have his feet close to some burning logs, far from draughts, finally behind his coromandel screens;  while, on his sofas, marquises are teary-eyed at the story of his exploits…

But in this December 1744, terrible news spreads through Versailles.  Madame de Chateauroux, Louis XV’s  gracious favourite, is dying, poisoned by a dish of mushrooms.

The Duke sends a lackey to fetch the Count de Saint-Germain.

Belle-Isle had been so pleased with the treatment given to him one year previously by his mysterious visitor, that he had brought him back with him to Paris and installed him in the Marais, of which he has rapidly become the toast.  Each day that passes increases his popularity and good society continues to discover his talents, the depth of which blows their minds…

Despite his accent, Monsieur de Saint-Germain speaks the most careful French, and those who have tested him more deeply in the language domain have been able to see that he speaks as well Italian, Spanish, English and Portuguese with confounding purety.  It is also known that he excellently touches the clavecin, but when he plays the violin, he becomes absolutely prodigious…

People sometimes wonder whether it is only one violin that he is holding in his hands and not two or three!  He is able to produce such sonorities that he makes crystal objects explode if care has not been taken to remove them.  Philidor assures that this is great Art, and the great Rameau himself maintains that his Preludes are incomparable.

But the Count has other talents.  Firstly, he paints almost as well as Latour or Van Loo.  But his vast compositions, whose subjects are marvellously like the originals, bathe in colours, the secret of which he knows, and whose brilliance and permanence are those of precious stones.  He explains the success of this new technique by his knowledge of chemistry and physics, and highly educated people, like the father of Madame de Genlis, have to admit that, in these matters, his knowledge is much greater than theirs…

Stung, they have sent scholars to him, but they have only been able to incline before his knowledge of the exact Sciences.  Discovering along the way that Monsieur de Saint-Germain is also extremely well-versed in the language of Homer and Virgil, and that he writes and speaks Sanskrit, Chinese and Arabic with a perfection that makes his claim of having spent a lot of time in Asia and the Orient easily believable.  But his Science can also render him amiable.  To the pretty women of the Court, he offers magic boxes.  By exposing them to the fire’s heat, the agatha which decorates them fades and leaves in its place a shepherdess carrying a basket of flowers.  If the lid is again heated, the stone reappears…  He also knows how to make delicious sweets, which have the form of fruits, and book-bindings, which he constellates with little precious stones.  For precious stones seem to flow from the hands of this scintillating man…  He carries them on him, dissimulating them with exquisite taste under ribbons and laces.  Nonetheless, if he is asked, he doesn’t hesitate to show them.  The other day, during a gala at Versailles, his garters, his shoe-buckles, his snuff-box in gold encrusted with diamonds of the finest water, passed among all of the pretty hands and Monsieur de Gontaut could not help saying:

“But there’s more than two hundred thousand francs worth here!”

To be continued.


On 7 December 1958, Mr Kenneth Martin who lived in Oregon, USA, left home with his wife and four children to look for a Christmas tree in the forest. No-one ever saw them again...

The most popular hypothesis today about the disappearance of the four hundred men of the 5th Norfolk Regiment is that they were taken by a machine which had the form of a cloud.


UFOs in the form of clouds are not at all new.  The Bible, for example, mentions many times the apparition of luminous clouds which deposit or take away people…


So, it seems that the New Zealanders saw a fake cloud.  Their whole story leads to this conclusion.  Sapper Reichart speaks of a cloud “dense and fixed which was reflecting the sunlight”, then it suddenly rises and joins the others – which were above the hill and had been there since morning, immobile despite the wind…  After which, the whole group of these strange clouds moves towards the North and disappears…  Do any stratus or cumulus act in this way?…


Perhaps we are living in a work of science-fiction.  Charles Fort, the author of the Book of the Damned, writing about these mysterious disappearances of individuals or groups of individuals, said:  “We are being fished.”


The question is by whom?  Extra-terrestrials?  Let us just say by people who come from somewhere else…  People from somewhere else who are interested in us.  Every year, in France alone, roughly twenty-five thousand people disappear.  What happens to these people?  There are suicides, perfect crimes, individuals who flee to a foreign land without contacting anybody, but these constitute only a small percentage:  10%, 20% perhaps.  This leaves 80% unexplained disappearances.  Or around fifteen thousand people.  And this has been going on for years.


Kidnapping a regiment can appear to be exceptional but it isn’t the only known case.  During the Second World War, a Japanese Division disappeared without a trace in New Guinea.  And there are entire families who have vanished during a walk in the forest, boat crews who have evaporated (the Mary Celeste comes to mind), automobilists who never arrived at their destinations and were never heard of again…  Some of these disappearances are absolutely astounding.  One day in November 1809, the caleche of Benjamin Bathurst, who was the Ambassador of Great Britain to the Court of Austria, arrives in a little German town, at Perlberg, and stops in front of an inn.  Bathurst alights to lunch.  When he has finished, he says goodbye to the innkeeper who is, with a few travellers, on the doorstep, and walks around his carriage to watch the changing of the horses…  He was never seen again…  And all of the searches undertaken to find him were in vain…


There was no other carriage in sight.  The road was absolutely empty.  There was no wall nor bush where the Ambassador could have hidden…  Here is another example:  around 1930, the American torpedo boat the Cyclops, which is navigating in calm weather on an oil-smooth sea, disappears without the specialists being able to give the slightest explanation.  There are hundreds of similar cases.


On 5 December 1945, five Avengers of the United States Air Force were patrolling off Florida, They disappeared without a trace.

Then there is the Bermuda Triangle.  In this region of the Caribbean Sea, just like a place situated to the East of Japan which is called the Sea of the Devil, boats and aeroplanes – despite our radio and radar equipment – mysteriously disappear without a trace.  The rare pilots who have time to send a last message explain, with horror in their voices, that they are surrounded by “something luminous”.  Then there is silence.  It seems that these boats and aeroplanes are in some way “sucked in” by something, somewhere…  As if someone situated outside our universe was having fun “fishing” humans, as Charles Fort said…


Apart from the 5th Norfolk Regiment, another extraordinary “fishing expedition” was almost seen.  It happened in 1909, in a farm near Brecon, Wales.  On Christmas Eve, Owen Thomas’ whole family was gathered around the fireplace in the company of two guests, the Pastor and the Veterinary Surgeon.  Just when they were about to sit at the table, Mrs Thomas asks her son Oliver, aged eleven, to go to the well to fetch some water.

The child puts on his galoshes, for it is snowing, takes a bucket and goes out of the house.  He has scarcely closed the door when he is heard to scream, then call for help.  They rush outside with a lantern.  They see nothing, but the child is now crying out:

” ‘They’ are holding me!  Help!  Help!”

These curious calls seem to be coming from the sky.  Rapidly, they diminish in intensity, as if the child was rising towards the clouds, then an anguished silence falls on the farm’s courtyard.  The Pastor, a lantern in his hand, follows the footsteps that Oliver has left in the snow.  It is then noticed that a few metres from the house, these footsteps suddenly stop as if the child had been lifted from the ground…  He was never found again…


So, where would these boats, these aeroplanes, these regiments, these families and these children go?  Perhaps they leave our Time or our Universe.  Most physicists admit today the existence of parallel universes coexisting with ours.  Numerous works have been published on this passionate subject.  In 1965, a Member of New York’s Science Academy, Doctor J. H. Christenson, published an article entitled Time Reversal in which he wrote [I am translating back into English from French]:

“An audacious hypothesis suggests that there exists a phantom universe resembling ours.  There is only a very weak interaction between these two universes, so we don’t see this other world:  it mixes freely with ours…”

Guy Breton, whose work I have translated, adds that, since 1965, the work of the physicists, in this domain, has advanced to the point that their prudent hypotheses have now been replaced by quasi-certitudes.


Could this be the After-Life of which we speak?


Physicists are prudent about the possibility of one day communicating with these parallel universes.  However, Guy Breton believes that human intelligence is limitless and that knowledge of these parallel universes will be Humanity’s most extraordinary discovery.  A discovery which means that the XXIst Century of our children will be nothing like the world, the science, the metaphysical conceptions and the mentalities that we know today…


H. G. Wells said:

“Parallel universes are closer to us than our hands and our feet…”


Gustav Meyrink

Meyrink himself recounted this strange story in My Awakening to Clairvoyance, where he reports extraordinary phenomena of which he has been the object…


The painter Hocker could not have been inspired either by the story which had appeared in Simplicissimus, or by any knowledge of the original rough copy because (1) Gustav Meyrink wrote everything by hand – he had no secretary;  (2) he showed his mauscripts to no-one;  (3) he did not throw out his rough copies, but kept them in a cupboard.  Finally, in admitting that this rough copy had been found, no-one would have been able to decipher it for Meyrink used, to write quickly, a system of abbreviations which was absolutely personal.


He would not have recounted his vision, for Meyrink was a person who verbally confided little about himself, only talking about himself in his books.


He gives no explanation for the phenomenon.  It is a total mystery.  There is by the way another mystery:  for what reason did Mr Hocker buy, almost against his will, the number of Simplicissimus which contained the story?  Meyrink writes:

“Spiritists would say that he had been prodded to it by ghosts”;

but it is quite evident that this explanation is not sufficient…


Saint-Yves d'Alveydre

Gustav Meyrink really believed that he had received a message.  He was not only a great cabalistic writer, but – if not an initiate – at least a man who knew a lot of things.  He had studied theology, Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism, etc.  He was Rose-Croix and belonged to several secret societies.  It has been said of him that he was a “prospector of the invisible”.  After having read Saint-Yves d’Alveydre’s book Mission de l’Inde, which revealed the existence of Agarttha, he studied the mysteries of Tibet.


Agarttha is an underground initiation centre which is supposed to be in Tibet, and which is apparently directed by a mysterious person called the King of the World to whom Rene Guenon consecrated a very curious and very enthralling work.  According to Saint-Yves d’Alveydre, this centre is supposed to be impregnable.  He writes:

“Calling the cosmic powers to their aid, the Agarttha confederates could, if need be, blow up part of the planet.”


In the period in which we live – this period of violence, this dark period that the Hindus call the Kali-Yuga – Agarttha is supposed to be fighting against the forces of darkness and suscitating, from time to time, spiritual chiefs and currents of thought capable of leading Humanity towards Knowledge and Light.


It is said that certain writers are inspired by Agarttha.


Agarttha is supposed to be fighting against those that Meyrink calls the Dugpas.


These Dugpas are the ones who, through the intermediary of a group of which Louis Pauwels and Jacques Bergier spoke in Le Matin des Magiciens, are supposed to have suscitated Hitler and his swastika…


So, if we believe in the existence of these mysterious centres which lead the world, which of the two sent its vision to Meyrink?  Probably Agarttha, to reveal to him the role of the others and inspire him to write his “short story” on the occult causes of the war…


Gustav Meyrink died in 1932.  He was sixty-four years old.  He is the author of The Night of Walpurgis, of Green Face, and above all of The Golem which made him known throughout the world.


A Golem is a clay figure which is magically brought to life, a sort of automaton who personifies the human automatons created by modern society…


Why did the unknown painter Hocker have the same vision as Meyrink?  Perhaps so as to be able to confirm the Agarttha message to Meyrink, so that he did not have the slightest doubt about its provenance…  But this is only an hypothesis, for the plans of the Wise Ones are impenetrable…  And we are doubtless only pawns in a gigantic game which is being played in the Invisible and of which we know neither the rules nor the stakes…


Gustav Meyrink

One day in Autumn 1915, the German writer Gustav Meyrink, the author of the famous work of fiction The Golem, was at home in his armchair, near the fire, a newspaper on his knees.  He had just been reading the news from the Front and was reflecting on the profound causes of this world war in which Germany, France, Britain, Austria, Belgium, Italy, and now Serbia, Greece and Turkey, were involved, and which was going to cause the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people.

What obscure forces, he was thinking, push humanity to set off such killing sprees?

Suddenly, this man, whom a practice of yoga and certain Hindu techniques have led to superior states of consciousness, is seized with trembling;  his body becomes icy and he recognizes the strange feeling which announces clairvoyancy phenomena in him.

Almost immediately, he “sees” before him a person of an unknown race whom he would later describe like this:

“Six feet tall, extremely thin, beardless, a face with olive-skin tints, slanty eyes, extraordinarily wide-spaced.  The skin of the lips and face smooth like porcelain;  the lips sharp, bright red, and so strongly tight – particularly around the corners – like in an implacable smile, that one would have thought that they were painted lips.  He had on his head a curious red bonnet.”

This strange person holds in his hand a tuning-fork between the branches of which there is a little gilded hammer.  At his feet swarm insects which are going about mysterious business, without the least clash, the least aggressivity.  Suddenly, a strident sound rings out, coming doubtless from the tuning-fork that the man in the red bonnet is holding.  Then the insects, as if animated by a murderous folly, throw themselves on each other and kill each other.  The sight is appalling.  These little beasts who, the instant before, were trotting peacefully beside each other, are now devouring each other with unimaginable violence under the cold, amused gaze of the man in the red bonnet.  Then everything disappears.

Gustav Meyrink, in his armchair, is deeply impressed, for it appears to him that this vision is a symbolic answer to the question that he was asking himself on the subject of the profound causes of the war.

He knows, for having read numerous works on this subject, that according to Oriental occultists, there is apparently in Tibet a sect called the Dugpas, which is considered as a direct instrument of “demoniacal” forces of destruction.  This man in the red bonnet who starts war among the insects by a vibration could therefore represent one of these Dugpas.

Meyrink sees there a subject to develop.  He immediately goes to work and writes a short story entitled The Game of the Crickets, in which he exposes the occult causes of the war.

The following month, this story appears in the magazine Simplicissimus.  And, a few weeks later, the writer receives from a person unknown to him, a painter by the name of Hocker, the following letter:

“Dear Sir,

“I must first tell you that I am a man in perfect health and that I have never been subject to hallucinations or other abnormal states.  Yesterday, I was in my studio, seated at my table working.  Suddenly, I heard a metallic, musical sound.  In turning around, I noticed a tall man, of a race that I didn’t know, a curious red bonnet on his head, who was standing in the room.  I immediately realized that it was a psychical trouble.  The man was holding in his hand a sort of tuning-fork composed of two branches, with which he had produced the sound of which I spoke.  Between the two branches was a gilded hammer.  Immediately, I saw appear on the ground piles of fat white insects which were tearing each other apart in a rustling of wings whose deafening noise was becoming intolerable.  I still have this sound in my ears which is upsetting all my nerves.  When the hallucination was over, I immediately started to draw the scene with a stick of seria.  Then I went out to take some air.  In passing before a newspaper kiosque, an impulse that I am unable to explain, given that I don’t like this magazine, prodded me to ask for Simplicissimus.  As the salesgirl was giving me the last number, a decision just as inexplicable prodded me to say:  ‘No, not this number, the one before, please!’  Back home, in flicking through the magazine, I found to my great stupefaction your story The Game of the Crickets relating, give or take a few details, all that I had just experienced myself one hour beforehand:  the man with the red bonnet, the insects that were tearing each other apart, etc.  I beg you, dear Sir, to have the kindness, if you can, to explain to me how I should interpret this thing…”

And it is signed:  Hocker.

Having read this letter, Gustav Meyrink is annoyed.  Another one, he thinks, who wants to make hinself interesting.

For the writer there is no doubt, in fact, that this Mr Hocker is a fabulator who has imagined all this story after having read the short story in the magazine.

Meyrink goes to throw the letter into the waste-paper basket when suddenly, an idea troubles him.  He remembers that, in copying out his manuscript to send it to the magazine’s editor, he had modified a few details of his vision.

As he doesn’t remember very well any more which ones, he takes the number of Simplicissimus where his story is printed and that he has not re-read – for he hates re-reading his own works – and runs through the text.

He then comes across a modification that he had made at the last minute and which he had totally forgotten.  And this modification stuns him, for it obliges him to think that his correspondent is not – cannot be – a joker, and that he could not have been inspired by the story which had appeared in Simplicissimus to tell him that he had seen a man with a red bonnet carrying a tuning-fork between the branches of which was a little hammer, for the simple reason that this tuning-fork is not mentioned in the story.  Gustav Meyrink had replaced it at the last minute by another object.  On his first rough copy, he had firstly written:

“The man with the red bonnet was holding in his hand a tuning-fork with which he was emitting strange sounds…”

However, in re-copying it, it had seemed to him to be more striking, more fantastic, to write:

“The man in the red bonnet was holding in his hand a prism with which he was capting the sun’s rays…”

He had also transformed the “strident sound that the tuning-fork was making” into an “apocalyptic light which was blinding the insects and making them crazy”

Finally, he had written nowhere, not even in his rough copy, for the detail had not seemed significant to him, that the tuning-fork had a little gilded hammer between its branches.


To be continued.

Etienne Claviere

Duchanteau and Claviere followed only the vulgar path of alchemy.  For the true initiates, the making of gold is only a mask, which hides much more precious treasures than the yellow metal:  the perfection of a soul which is purifying itself, the triumph of truth and virtue, therefore an ABSOLUTE, of which gold is only the symbol…


Our two alchemists are the children of a century where science and techniques are appearing, the century of scepticism, of Voltaire and of Diderot, where Reason – in appearance – triumphs.  But at the same time as they are rejecting religion, they are enthusiastically welcoming the marvellous, as long as it presents itself in new clothes.  The XVIIIth Century is also the century of occultism, the social and political role of which is becoming immense, as Valery says.  The century in which Cagliostro and the immortal Count of Saint-Germain triumph, while the Masonic Lodges – there are 500 of them in France in 1771, 154 of them in Paris – exalt the taste for symbolic thought and curiosity for the magical arts and the hermetic sciences.  Helvetius, Voltaire, Chamfort, Condorcet, Franklin, the flower of French thought is there, and elsewhere, in England and Scotland, where Free Masonry was born, its development is even more prodigious.  It is not surprising therefore that Claviere is able to be both a Revolutionary banker and a convinced alchemist.


The Philaletes was a secret society which proposed, like others, to reform the social man in depth.  It was founded by German occultists whose role is essential in the formation of the European initiatic societies.  It was a branch of the Rose-Croix, whose success across the Rhine is also considerable at this time.  Goethe, the greatest German writer, is Rose-Croix, and just for good measure, he adheres in 1783, with his friend the philosopher Herder, to the sect of the Illuminated in Bavaria…


Duchanteau and Claviere belonged to the Lodge of the United Friends.

This craze can be explained by the fact that all of these associations are really “sounding boards” for the new ideas.  Each can finally claim freedom of speech within the fraternity.  Each can also rub shoulders with the hermetism masters and with the alchemists that are welcomed into these places.  These are in fact the first enclaves of liberty after centuries of absolutism, and the bourgeois, like the great minds and the enlightened princes, attached themselves to them because it was there that what would be the constitutional regime was already being outlined…


It is true that, because of the failure of the Churches and the established powers, in which there is no longer belief, the marvellous also comes galloping back…  Magicians, cabalists and pseudo-alchemists, whose fantsmagoria are very much appreciated by marquises, are slithering everywhere.  Feminine Lodges are also founded, “The Order of the Honey Flies”, that of the “Nymphs and Chevaliers of the Rose” whose adepts parody the men and indulge in dissipation with them, before going to vibrate against Mesmer’s Baquet.  But the taste for the irrational does not explain everything.  These societies are also Opposition powers, where the debating of ideas will lead to political action.  Therefore, they need money.  The rich, nobles or commoners, are particularly well received and rewarded with grand grades and titles, among others:  “Great Chosen One of the Holy Vault”, “Sublime Mason of the 14th Degree”, “Great Pontiff of the Celestial Jerusalem” or “Sovereign Prince of the White and Black Eagle”.

In Germany, a certain Samuel Richter founds an occult society which receives the mission of preparing the philosophical stone.  Its circles spread everywhere and group real and false scholars who make, on demand, golden fleece and extracts of eau de jouvence [youth water].  The most cultured men of Europe believe in it, and Kaiser Frederic-Wilhelm of Prussia, himself, wants to be received as “Rose-Croix d’Or”.  “Ormesus Magnus” is the title created for him, and three minds, those of Leibnitz, Marcus-Aurelius and the Grand Elector come to collect him at the brotherhood’s doors.  In this climate, it is understandable that our two “alchemists” were able to indulge in such shocking deviations…


Nicolas Flamel

Only a physiologist could decide whether Duchanteau’s prowesses are possible.  What is true is that the proximity of gold has always provoked an incredible exaltation among men.  Not only by cupidity.  But because it was the first metal known to men – even though they could not make tools or weapons with it – also because it is the metal that is the most difficult to exploit and it is inalterable, it is charged, from the beginning, with a primordial symbolic value.  From one end of the planet to the other and throughout History, it has always been synonymous of perfection and, in the Occident, as in the Vedic texts of India, it is also the sign of immortality.  Chinese Ho Hung assures that the Elixir, pure matter or Philosophical Stone, can “cure” ordinary metals and transform them into gold.  The alchemists of the Occident included Man in this “maturation” which they compared to a medicine which, making the impureties of the metal disappear, is also able to wash away those of the body and prevent its decline.  “The Philosophical Stone heals all illnesses” proclaims the great alchemist Arnold de Villanova.  And Thomas d’Aquin, who believes in alchemy, and Roger Bacon who affirms that it is able to prolong life by several centuries, along with Nicolas Flamel, who doubtless succeeded in performing the transmutation, are inspired by Aristotle, for whom physical bodies all issue from one fundamental substance which over time has taken different forms or qualities.  It is possible, assures the philosopher who inspired all the scientific thought of the Occident, to go back from any body whatsoever to this “primary matter”, to start from any metal, to arrive, after refining, at the final transmutation…  Thesis which has singularly modern accents.

This unity of matter, reposing on the union of contraries:  water-fire, sulphur-mercury, and the differenciation of its components, water, air, fire, earth, has been fully rehabilitated by nuclear physics…


Emblem of the work on the philosophical stone performed by alchemists.

Alchemy is still alive today, just like yesterday…  There are those who pursue the Great Work inside sophisticated laboratories, and whom we call hyperchemists, like Tiffereau and Jollivet-Castellot.  Those are only attached to the chemical nature of the transmutation, founding the most serious hopes on the spontaneous transmutations of radioactive bodies and the modification of the atom by the bombardment of particles…

Then there are the others, who also exist, Eugene Canselier, disciple of the mysterious Fulcanelei, who was doubtless a direct descendant of the Valois, Armand Barbauld, maker of philosphers and poets, who perpetuates the alchemical ideal by endlessly recounting to himself the Golden Legend, of a soul that refines and embellishes itself.


Making gold is not impossible.  To succeed, Man must first refine himself.


Warriors circulating in the sky have been signalled at all epochs and in all countries.

Captain Bennett, a British Member of Parliament and Minister as well as a war correspondent for the Times in 1914-1918, investigated at this period in Crete.  He collected a great number of witness statements which confirm that the phenomenon occurs regularly in this uninhabited site of southern Crete, in just the way that we have described, usually at the end of Spring.  It is so well-known there, that few Cretans disbelieve it…


On 17 May 1928, Bennett went to the Drosulite beach and set up a camp there with the help of four military policemen lent by the Governor of the island.  As his means were not unlimited, he was unable to remain there after 30 May…

During these two weeks he saw nothing.  But three days after he had struck camp, the Men of the Dew manifested themselves with exceptional vigour…

To affirm that all the witnesses that Bennett met are liars or suffered hallucinations, would be much more stupid than just to believe in the veracity of the phenomenon.

Several inhabitants from the neighbouring village of Thymi gave him a description very similar to that of Guthrie…


Bennett also interviewed a pope who was living alone in a little cottage near the ruined castle.  He answered his questions with a lot of reticence, as much through fear of encouraging the superstitions as of seeing his retreat invaded by the inquisitive.  The good Father had seen the Drosulites several times and had even spoken of them to the Archbishop of Crete.  Who had gone to the beach and seen the reality of the phenomenon.  He confirmed that the “spectres” were parading in arms, and that sometimes even the form of their standards and ensigns was distinctly visible.  That they could be seen from either side of the invariable itinerary which they took, and that they effectively appeared only at the setting or the rising of the sun…


It is possible that these apparitions are connected to a natural phenomenon.  However, some observers never see the Drosulites while others, who are watching beside them in the same conditions, see them perfectly…  The Bishop of Rethymo remained for twenty days on the Franco Kastelli beach at the same epoch as the Archbishop, and saw nothing…


Louis Pauwels is of the opinion that only those endowed with mediumnic faculties are able to see them, in some circumstances.  If it is only a question of doubles or reflections, where are the originals?  Mirages sometimes reflect objects which are very far away, but which exist in the instant when the light, unequally refracted in the layers of unequally hot air, projects them onto the horizon.  Even supposing that such a troop is marching somewhere on the island or even off it, how can the weapons and the costumes, that all witnesses agree are from Antiquity, be explained?…


In the XIVth Century, these ships floating in the clouds frightened the inhabitants of a Breton town for a whole morning.

On 4 June 1928, a Greek officer, very well-known at the time, General Hadjimichalis, who did not live on the island, saw the Drosulites very distinctly.  He had been told about them by a woman who had come to Crete for the harvests and who, when she saw them, at first described them as being harvesters.  Guthrie and his companions also saw them, so the phenomenon cannot be some sort of collective hallucination seen only by the Cretans…


Around 1905, one of the Governors of Crete, Mr Psyllakis, who had seen the shades, verified that no folkloric parade or commemoration of a battle in Antiquity was taking place in May or June in any neighbouring town or village…


The beach at Franco Kastelli is completely enclaved by the White Mountains which culminate at 2,500 metres.  Mirages have never been seen to be transported over such obstacles…


Although this is a very singular phenomenon, it is not unique…  Far from it.  History relates many visions of ghostly troops, at all epochs.

A Conservator of the Bibliotheque nationale, Jean Pierre Seguin, indicated in an article which appeared in Le Monde, in July 1967, they he had at his disposal a good hundred publications mentioning the apparition of armed troops, but also animals, human figures and diverse frightening objects, sometimes projected in the sky.  For example, at Sarlat, on Monday 11 September 1587, two armies, equipped from head to foot, delivered a long battle above the Parish of Carsac.

In 1895, a German magazine which was much-read at the time, the Hausfreund, published the following story supported by numerous proofs and witness statements:  at the beginning of 1795, some things occurred near Ujest in Upper Silesia which were much talked about throughout the whole of Germany.

On 27 January of that year, between 3 and 4 o’clock in the afternoon, around fifty people working in the fields suddenly saw a body of infantry disposed in three ranks and preceded by two officers carrying red flags, marching towards them.  At a certain point, these troops stopped and the first line fired in the direction of the peasants, who did not however hear any noise.  Very thick smoke immediately rose from the ranks and when it disappeared, hussards on horseback had replaced the infantry.  The hussards disappeared just as suddenly as the infantry had appeared.

On 3 February, around 8 o’clock in the morning, 400 peasants this time, again saw, at the same place, the same soldiers.  A “hot-head” leaped on a horse and galloped towards them;  but when he arrived he saw no trace of them, while the spectators who had remained behind, were seeing him in the midst of ghostly soldiers wearing diverse uniforms.  On 15 February, the scene occurred again in front of thirty people.  General von Sass, immediately told of the apparition, then sent a detachment of soldiers to the place.  As soon as these soldiers arrived, the ghostly soldiers, who had disappeared, reappeared.  The officer who was commanding the detachment, spurred his horse and took off in this direction;  immediately, an officer on horseback also rode out from the ranks of the ghosts and went to meet him.  They both saluted each other.  But when the Prussian officer asked the other who he was and what he was doing there, he obtained no answer.  He then seized his pistol and was going to fire, when everything suddenly disappeared.

Perhaps the most inexplicable thing about this is that there was a contact between the living and the spectres…


To be continued.

This soldier has just been killed. He will think that he is still alive for a little while.

The next part of Johnson’s message came a few days later:

O. K., it’s working.  I’m fine.  I would so much like to finish my story.  Good, well, as I was saying, Sandy appeared inspired, I can’t find another word, and suddenly, he’s the one who seems to be our leader;  on his side, the Captain was conscienciously obeying his orders.  As the forms around me gradually became more distinct, I was losing contact with the living;  the dead were looking more real to me.  Then there was the attack from the Boschs who seized the gun, but we weren’t touched.  A German went through us, without appearing either to see us, or hear us, unlike us who even had the smell of his sweat in our nostrils.  This smell suddenly appeared so repugnant to me, although it was familiar, that I felt almost ill.  Then I saw that Sandy and the Captain had moved away.  I got Jock up and said to him:

“Above all, let’s not lose those two, otherwise we’ve had it.”

Jock agreed, but once we were standing, I discovered that we couldn’t keep our feet on the ground.  It was laughable and it was difficult for us to advance.  Jock and I were sort of floating.  I proposed:

“What if we hold hands to stay on the ground”,

with the result that we floated even more.  It took us ages to catch up with Sandy and the Captain.  They weren’t paying any attention to us anyway, as they were totally occupied with someone who had joined them.  The stranger was not wearing a uniform and, for a few seconds, I asked myself how a civilian had been able to get here.  He looked Arab.  When he turned toward me and looked at me, I felt as if I had been re-created by him.  I kneeled and murmured:


with all the respect of a child.

“No, not Christ, but one of his messengers”

said the man before whom I was bowed.

“He wants you.”

He wanted me!

“But why?”

I asked in a wobbly voice.  He raised his eyes toward the others, but as for me, I saw nothing more than a glorious light.  It filled my head and burned something that was holding me in this place.  Then the voice made itself heard again:

“By your sacrifice, you have reached the crown of fortitude.”

Then I don’t remember anything.  That was my last moment on Earth.  I would like certain fellows to know how we go.  It’s marvellous.

I’m tired now and I can’t finish.  Thank you.



The cover of Lord Dowding's book.

We cannot talk about these messages as if they were ordinary texts.  The means by which they have come to us (automatic writing) is not accepted by everybody and their readers are divided into two categories:  those who snigger and those who are troubled.  The first declare that these “communications” come from Mrs Gascoigne’s subconscious.  And they could be right.  The others, on the other hand, think that they are prodigious documents on what awaits us in the immediate After-Life.  And it could be that they are not wrong…


These texts were published by the most famous person in the Royal Air Force, Air Chief Marshal Lord Dowding (of whom it has been said that he was the Churchill of the Air) in a work entitled Many Mansions.


All those who met Mrs Gascoigne and her daughter affirmed that they were very intelligent, cultured and full of common sense.


It is possible that they were prone to fabulation.  But knowing that they were in good mental health, that they did not make a business of their activity, that they sought neither publicity, nor notoriety, we could ask with what aim they would have invented all this.


It is true that many people are animated by pulsions which remain incomprehensible to common mortals…  But if we accept this hypothesis, there remains to explain how these two women, who lived in England, could have had knowledge of things which had often unfolded thousands of kilometres from their home and of which there was confirmation sometimes long after the war.


Without knowing it, Group Captain Peter Townsend, here in his Spitfire, must have followed flight patterns and combat methods which came from the After-Life.

Lord Dowding absolutely believed all that Mrs Gascoigne and her daughter recounted.  It must be said that he had himself been in contact with pilots who had died during the Battle of Britain…

Lord Dowding openly talked about it.  He even wrote a book on the subject, prefaced works dealing with spiritism and confessed in an interview that he had been helped in his combat against Germany by British pilots who had been killed by the Luftwaffe.

Lord Dowding declared to the journalist Jean Potter in 1963 [I have translated back to English from the French version, so a few words might differ]:

“I entered into contact more than twenty times with pilots who had died during the Battle of Britain.  They recounted to me how they had been brought down and I drew lessons from their stories to give advice to my fighter crews.  I was able to avoid the death of a lot of my men in this way.  This is what contributed to the final victory!”


Messerschmitt pilots would have been astonished to learn that their RAF adversaries were guided by ghosts.

Lord Dowding had these dialogues with dead pilots through the intermediary of the wife of a Wimbledon doctor, who was a medium.  The messages that he obtained through her, offer numerous points of similarity with those received by Mrs Gascoigne and her daughter.

“Thanks to my conversations with my invisible correspondents, I was able to get an idea of the life that they led in the After-Life.  Death came so suddenly that they didn’t know how it had happened.  Still in a state close to the Earth, wandering between a physical state and an astral state, they didn’t realize that they were dead.  For these poor boys, the situation was terrible.  They saw people in the streets, tried to stop them, but the passers-by continued to walk in the midst of them.”

And he added:

“Ghosts that the Earth retains try to obtain help to liberate themselves from the Earth.  This is why they try to communicate by all means available to them”…

With the aim of helping them, Lord Dowding created a little circle of spiritists, but was himself unable to hear or see anything whatsoever.  On the other hand, the female medium saw the dead who came to them and described them to him.

“Our first task was to talk to them as if they were alive.”

And he adds with humour:

“How can you tell a boy:   I’m sorry old man, but you’re dead?”…


Lord Dowding tells us, speaking about those who came, attracted by his medium:

“After a while, they had the impression that we were disappearing.  They asked:  ‘Why are you glowing with a little shimmering light?’  This was a good sign.  It meant that they were going away from the Earth and that they had stopped seeing our physical bodies, to see only our astral bodies.  Our task had ended.”

Sometimes, Lord Dowding was obliged to use subterfuge so that the pilots understood their new state.

“I asked them to give me a slap on the back.  Of course, their hand passed through me and they started to understand…”


Lord Dowding and his medium were able to identify some of their correspondents.  The young woman described the uniforms, the badges, the insignia which corresponded to those of the pilots of missing aeroplanes.  She also gave details about their physical appearance, indicated the colour of their hair and their eyes and left out no distinctive sign.  All of these precisions were later verified and all were recognized to be exact.


Sometimes the “ghosts” gave their names, and the medium carefully noted them.  Which allowed Lord Dowding to know before everybody else that one of his bombers had been shot down and that the seven members of its crew had just died in Germany.


Suspecting that certain people in his entourage might think that he was a bit “strange”, he declared one day with humour:

“It’s not so bad to be a bit ‘cracked’;  sometimes, it lets the light in”…


Out-of-body travelling

Algiers where the painter Parsus was asleep when he was transported on board a sinking ship.

The writer and researcher Aime Michel who is interested in extraordinary phenomena was told the following story by the painter Parsus.

“I was staying at the Abdel-Tif Villa in Algiers at the time, in a little apartment with my wife.

“One night while asleep I see a glaucous glimmer.  Slowly this glimmer takes form.  I then feel myself transported into a narrow corridor.  A weak light is falling from above and all the bottom is invaded by water.

“All at once I have the impression that the corridor is starting to sway…  No!  More rolling and pitching…  I’m still asleep but I understand:  I’m in a ship that’s sinking!

“Suddenly a tall man appears.  He’s stumbling.  He seems exhausted.  His hair, his shirt, largely open on his chest, are dripping with water.  Now, he advances with difficulty towards me or rather he seems to climb the narrow corridor which is slanting sharply, holding onto the walls.  I have the impression that he’s going to collapse any moment.

“Now he stops.  He hides his face in his hands.  He turns his head toward me, his hands slide and on his face I can read infinite distress.  Then suddenly I recognize him.  Yes, it’s him!  It’s really him, my friend N… that I’d left in Paris a few weeks ago.  His face is now haggard and violaceous.  He’s panting, it’s frightening to watch.

“I let out a terrible cry and wake up…  I wake up but I have to make an immense effort to persuade myself that I’m not dreaming.  For the tragic vision persists.  I’m still at the end of this gangway where the water is mounting and I scream

‘It’s him, it’s him!…  he’s on the Rollon, it’s sinking!’

“I am however sitting on my bed and my wife has just woken up with a start.

“Terrified, she sees me get up for, although awake, I’m still one of the people in the scene.

“Now I rush to my friend’s aid.  I have the time to take three steps…  the vision effaces itself completely and I find myself standing, completely awake, but exhausted and trembling.  My wife is very upset to see me like this.

“I find the strength to say to her:

‘I saw N… in his boat, the Rollon, which was sinking!’

‘But you know that he’s not on his boat at the moment!…  Right now, he’s surely in Paris.’

“I sit back down on the bed, convinced that what I’ve just seen, I mean “lived”, is something more than a dream:  I had such an impression of being on board this boat myself!…

“Over the following days, I try to forget about it.

“Three weeks later, I’m sitting at the terrace of a cafe.  Beside me someone is reading a newpaper.  The title of an article reads:

‘The disappearance of the Rollon is confirmed.’

“I borrow the newspaper from my neighbour and read that my friend’s boat has disappeared off Sardaignia.  The probable day of the sinking is also that of my ‘hallucination’.”

Did Parsus dream?  Did he have a simple hallucination?…  Or is it a phenomenon of a completely different nature?  Here is a second story.  It will hardly clarify the question.

During a storm in the China Sea, Saint Francis Xavier was seen both on his own boat and at the helm of a boat in danger.

It is a story that is in the dossiers of Duke University which specialises in parapsychological things.

One afternoon in 1947, a young American girl, whom we shall call Pat, was in England at the home of her boyfriend Allen’s mother.  Pat had met Allen in Germany and at the time this happens, he is still there, a soldier of the Allied Army of Occupation.

In the middle of a conversation, Pat is suddenly troubled and becomes very pale.  Allen’s mother says:

“You don’t look at all well, my little Pat!”

The young girl exclaims, in prey to great anxiety:

“Oh!  Quickly, quickly!  Quickly, something terrible is going to happen to Allen…  he’s in a jeep…  he’s in a jeep on a road with trees…  I know this road well.  Oh!  Quickly…  I have to go there…  I’m going there, I’m going there!”

She leaps from her chair, desperately gesticulating…  then sits down almost immediately.  Uncomfortable, she smiles and says:

“Excuse me!  It’s silly…  I really don’t know what happened to me!…”

Two days later, she receives a letter.  Allen asks her with vivacity if she had come on Wednesday to Germany and what clothes she was wearing that day.  She writes a very kind letter in which she reassures him, and indicates that she hadn’t left England and that she had been at his mother’s that afternoon.

Two days later, another letter from Allen.  He writes:

“Listen to me, Pat.  Something unheard-of has happened to me.  Last Wednesday I was in a jeep on the M. road between O. and D.  We have often taken it together…  I wasn’t alone in the jeep.  I was beside the driver, a German, and in the back there were three people:  two fellow soldiers on either side of a German prisoner we were taking to D.  The soldier sitting behind me was Gerry, whom you know.

“We were following a truck with a trailer on the part of the road that has a lot of trees.  All at once, just when we were going to pass it, you erupted from a little track on the right and you rushed at the jeep waving your arms.

“The driver braked and, excuse me for saying this, called you a ‘nutcase’.

“It was as fast as lightning, but Gerry and I perfectly recognized you before you disappeared.  Gerry even yelled:  ‘Look!  It’s Pat!’  And I answered:  ‘So it is!  I thought that she was still in England!’  At that same moment the heavy trailer disconnected from the truck, zigzagged for a few metres, then crashed on the bank of the ditch.  Just at the entrance to the track from which you had appeared!

“It’s certain that if the driver hadn’t braked when he saw you, if he’d continued passing the truck, we would certainly have crashed onto the trailer.”

Duke University made a careful enquiry into this case.  It had Allen, Gerry, the second soldier, the German prisoner and the driver interrogated separately.  All of them were able to describe Pat precisely.  They all identically described the clothes that she was wearing…  the clothes that she was wearing that Wednesday afternoon, while she was in England, one thousand kilometres from there.

Where was Pat really that day?  In England or on a little forest road in Germany?


To be continued.

Elisabeth and Franz-Josef at Cap Martin in 1894.

The third observation which can be made about Crown Prince Rudolf, Archduke of Austria’s death at Mayerling in the night of Tuesday 29 to Wednesday 30 January 1889, is that the dossier given by Emperor Franz-Josef to Count Taafe, the Prime Minister – and his childhood friend – has also disappeared in a suspicious fire at his castle.  The copy of this dossier, deposited with a lawyer of the imperial family, was stolen.

Fourthly, Herr Frederic Wolf, a carpenter in the village of Alland, near Mayerling, has recounted that his father, also a carpenter, was called to clean up the hunting pavillion two days after the drama.  Herr Wolf had always said that the bedroom had been the scene of a terrible combat.  The furniture had been knocked over and broken, there were bullet impacts on the furniture and in the walls.  There were traces of blood everywhere and, in particular, an enormous puddle of it near the bed.  To make it go away, his father had had to plane the floor-boards.  He added that the bedroom window was broken and that a ladder was leaning against the outside wall.

Crown Prince Rudolf, Archduke of Austria.

Fifthly, Archduchess Maria-Theresa, the widow of Archduke Karl-Louis, who was one of Emperor Franz-Josef’s brothers, had certified that Rudolf had said to her husband:

“I am going to be assassinated.”

Rudolf was alluding to a European conspiracy which was aiming to depose Franz-Josef from Hungary’s throne and place his liberal son in his place.  According to Empress Zita, Austria’s last empress and last Queen of Hungary, in her 1983 newspaper interview, Rudolf had refused to participate in the plot against his father.  He had said to his uncle Karl-Louis:

“I would have no scrupules in revealing this conspiracy but if I do, I will be killed.”

Sixthly, Archduchess Maria-Theresa saw Rudolf dead and touched his hands.  She declared to Empress Zita:

“The gloves had been stuffed with cotton, for his hands were broken.”

This remark can be connected to the statement by Prince Xavier de Bourbon-Parme (Empress Zita’s brother) published in the December 1982 number of the magazine Historia:

“I have it from a reliable source, believe me, because it is from the mouth of an official person who had entered the bedroom of the drama when the body of Maria Vetsera had just been removed, that Archduke Rudolf’s right wrist had been severed by a blow from a sabre.”

Seventhly, Doctor Karl Georg von Boroviczeny, a Berlin doctor and grandson of the Princess of Lowenstein, whose sister had married Don Miguel of Braganza.  Don Miguel was a great friend of Rudolf.  Invited to the hunt which was to take place on the morning of the drama, he had declined the invitation at the last moment.  But he recounted later to his family that Rudolf had said to him:

“I am going to be assassinated.  I know too many things.”

Eighthly, when the Carmelites at the convent built near Mayerling are asked if they pray for the Archduke who committed suicide, they reply only that he is dead.  The 1983 Mother Superior declared that each new Carmelite is taught that the Archduke did not commit suicide but that he had been killed.

Ninthly, Rudolf’s faithful coachman, present on the night of the drama, repeated, without giving details:

“It’s not like they always say, it’s not a suicide.”

Tenthly, Empress Elisabeth’s daughter Gisela told Empress Zita that she had touched her brother’s head and that it was crushed, as if it had received a blow.  The official version claims that Rudolf had killed Maria Vetsera by applying the weapon to her left temple, the bullet having exited through the right temple.  However, on 7 July 1959, undertakers from Baden in the Viennese forest, near Mayerling, proceeded to the exhumation of the defunct girl, in the presence of a forensic doctor.  It was noted that

“the cranium presented an oval hole of seven centimetres”.

There was no hole through which a bullet could have exited.

Eleventhly, the physical elimination of the Prince, for political reasons, is perfectly conceivable.  Different hates were unleashed against the Habsburg family.  We have seen, for example, that of Bismarck, ceaselessly trying to weaken Austria.  There were many others.  Empress Zita affirms that some of the assassins were foreigners.  In the hypothesis of an assassination, Maria Vetsera would have been killed only because she was with Rudolf.  This is far removed from the “Romeo and Juliet” version.

Twelfthly, according to a letter conserved in the Royal Archives of Windsor Castle, the British Prime Minister is convinced that it is a double assassination.  This letter was written on 12 February 1889 by the Prince of Wales to Queen Victoria:

“You tell me that Lord Salisbury is certain that poor Rudolf and that unfortunate young girl were killed…”

This letter can be connected to another contemporary one addressed by the King of the Belgians, Leopold II (Rudolf’s father-in-law) to his brother in Brussels.  Telling him of the uncomfortable voyage to Vienna to attend the funeral, the Belgian monarch adds:

“It is sovereignly important that the suicide version be affirmed and maintained.  (…)  Suicide and madness were the only means of avoiding an unforgettable scandal the details of which I cannot confide in my letter, but which I shall narrate in all details Saturday.

Your brother, Leopold.”

This capital letter was found in the personal papers of Monsieur Paul Hymans, Belgian Minister of Foreign Affairs, one of the signatories of the Treaty of Versailles, after his death in 1942.

In light of these troubling elements, it is now impossible to blindly uphold the suicide thesis.  The possibility of assassination can no longer be systematically denied.  Doubt has always existed and is singularly reinforced by technical observations which give pause for thought.  Franz-Josef sometimes admitted:

“The truth is even more serious than anything than anyone one has ever said.”

More than a century after this drama, we are perhaps very close to the truth…


Denis Saurat.

Denis Saurat remembered that the two officers in his vision, from what he “perceived”, were connected to no campaign or battle.  It then came to him that he could have been witness to a scene of military occupation carried out in execution of a treaty.  He therefore sent his daughter again to the library to bring him back a Diplomatic History of Napoleon.  When he had the work, he attentively studied all the treaties.  He soon arrived at that of Tilsit and discovered that, by the terms of this treaty, Napoleon had obtained the right to militarily occupy Germany’s South, and that the troops of his allies, the Confederation du Rhin, had advanced as far as the Bohemian forest, precisely to Fichtel Gebirge.

The operation had been executed by the German troops of Rhenania, but was commanded by French officers.

At Tilsit, Napoleon had obtained from Alexander I the right to occupy Southern Germany.

Denis Saurat understood then that the two young officers in his vision had a mission of surveillance over the passages of the troops as far as the Naab, to the East of which, in all probability, other officers would take over.

He had therefore witnessed, in his vision, in 1939, a scene which had unfolded in 1808…


Denis Saurat reports this vision, in all its details, in one of his most fascinating books entitled:  L’Experience de l’Au-dela.  He was very interested in dreams;  not for their Freudian signification, nor for their interpretation through any sort of “key to dreams”, but in dreams as images of the future or the past perceived during sleep.


In this case, it was a sort of waking dream.  At the moment when Denis Saurat saw the scene that he recounted, he was in that intermediate state between waking and sleeping, where it is enough to just close one’s eyes to see images forming.  It’s a sort of little cinema that everyone knows and of which we usually only conserve a vague memory, or even, very often, no memory at all…


Denis Saurat’s vision seems to have been particularly long.  The people who studied this case generally think that the exceptional length of this vision could have been due to the febrile state of the writer.  We have said that he was in bed, with the ‘flu and a high temperature.  This fever could have made the vision more precise, clearer and more stable.  For he had the time to look attentively at the map and to fix its important details in his memory.


The Naab and its affluents.

Thinking that he may have seen the map on a previous occasion, he did some research on it.  Knowing that he had learnt Geography from a Vidal-Lablache atlas, he looked for this book and noticed that the course of the Naab is only just indicated, without its affluents…  Which is the case in most school atlases.  And pupils are hardly able to remember the Naab after having studied the Danube basin…  Denis Saurat had never had before his eyes any detailed map of this part of Germany.  It must therefore be concluded that, on this January morning in 1939, for inexplicable reasons, (a)  he had a precise vision of an object – in this case, a map of Germany’s South;  (b)  he had witnessed a scene connected to an historical context of which he knew nothing and which he was able to reconstitute by investigating it…  Which necessarily leads to this conclusion:  that an image of the past, surging from we don’t know where, appeared in front of his half-closed eyes, one feverish evening…


Certain biologists think that our genes are able to channel information, and possibly images, from the past…  This could be an explanation.  If this is true, some of our dreams could be retained as documents…  One day, perhaps, we will know how to see, sort, capture and use the millions and millions of images coming from the depths of the ages, which are sleeping inside us, and to which we attach no importance.  As Jung said,

“the History of the world is perhaps written in our memory”…


There is another hypothesis emitted by American psychiatrists who have studied this case:  it’s that Denis Saurat had been one of the two officers in a former life…  His vision would then be only a memory of a moment lived by him in 1808.  Eminent scholars like Ian Stevenson, Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Virginia, devote their careers to the exploration of the possibilities of reincarnation, and a “must-read” is the remarkable work by Isola Pisani, Mourir n’est pas mourir [Dying is not dying], on Mrs Grant-Kelsey and Doctor Kelsey who cure, in Pangbourne, in Berkshire, sixty kilometres from London, illnesses caused by a trauma suffered during a preceding life.  Dr Kelsey discovered that most psychoses and neuroses come from unconscious memories of past existences, and he evolved from this a revolutionary therapeutic method.  To put his clients into contact with images of their preceding lives, he uses hypnosis.  It could be thought that Denis Saurat found himself placed by fever in a state of consciousness close to that into which Dr Kelsey’s patients enter… 


%d bloggers like this: