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diff --git a/44108-0.txt b/44108-0.txt index 54869e6..9b544c4 100644 --- a/44108-0.txt +++ b/44108-0.txt @@ -1,4 +1,4 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44108 *** +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44108 *** THE INFERNO @@ -4957,5 +4957,4 @@ THE END End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inferno, by August Strindberg - *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44108 *** diff --git a/44108-0.zip b/44108-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9d0b642..0000000 --- a/44108-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/44108-h.zip b/44108-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 516d391..0000000 --- a/44108-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/44108-h/44108-h.htm b/44108-h/44108-h.htm index 738e26d..d6f02a2 100644 --- a/44108-h/44108-h.htm +++ b/44108-h/44108-h.htm @@ -94,9 +94,9 @@ v:link {color: #800000; text-decoration: none; } </style> </head> <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44108 ***</div> -<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44108 ***</div> <h1>THE INFERNO</h1> @@ -5090,7 +5090,7 @@ and expanded extract.</p> -<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44108 ***</div> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44108 ***</div> </body> </html> diff --git a/44108.json b/44108.json deleted file mode 100644 index a0cd2e2..0000000 --- a/44108.json +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5 +0,0 @@ -{
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- "CREDIT": "Produced by Marc D'Hooghe"
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diff --git a/old/44108-0.txt b/old/44108-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 45cbc30..0000000 --- a/old/44108-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5342 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inferno, by August Strindberg - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Inferno - -Author: August Strindberg - -Translator: Claud Field - -Release Date: November 5, 2013 [EBook #44108] -Last Updated: February 28, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INFERNO *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org - - - - -THE INFERNO - -BY - -AUGUST STRINDBERG - - -AUTHOR OF "THE BONDWOMAN'S SON," "COUNTESS JULIA," - -"THE DANCE OF DEATH," ETC. - - -TRANSLATED BY - -CLAUD FIELD - - -G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS - -NEW YORK AND LONDON - -The Knickerbocker Press - -1913 - - - - -CONTENTS - - - - INTRODUCTION - - I. THE HAND OF THE INVISIBLE - II. ST. LOUIS LEADS ME TO ORFILA - III. PARADISE REGAINED - IV. THE FALL AND PARADISE LOST - V. PURGATORY - VI. HELL - VII. BEATRICE - VIII. SWEDENBORG - IX. EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF A DAMNED SOUL - X. THE ETERNAL HAS SPOKEN - XI. HELL LET LOOSE - XII. PILGRIMAGE AND PENANCE - XIII. THE DELIVERER - XIV. TRIBULATIONS - XV. WHITHER? - EPILOGUE - - - - -THE INFERNO - - - - -INTRODUCTION[1] - - -An American critic says "Strindberg is the greatest subjectivist of -all time." Certainly neither Augustine, Rousseau, nor Tolstoy have -laid bare their souls to the finest fibre with more ruthless sincerity -than the great Swedish realist. He fulfilled to the letter the saying -of Robertson of Brighton, "Woman and God are two rocks on which a man -must either anchor or be wrecked." His four autobiographical works, -_The Son of a Servant, The Confessions of a Fool, Inferno_, and -_Legends_, are four segments of an immense curve tracing his progress -from the childish pietism of his early years, through a period of -atheism and rebellion, to the sombre faith in a "God that punishes" of -the sexagenarian. In his spiritual wanderings he grazed the edge of -madness, and madmen often see deeper into things than ordinary folk. -At the close of the _Inferno_ he thus sums up the lesson of his life's -pilgrimage: "Such then is my life: a sign, an example to serve for the -improvement of others; a proverb, to show the nothingness of fame and -popularity; a proverb, to show young men how they ought _not_ to live; -a proverb--because I who thought myself a prophet am now revealed as a -braggart." - -It is strange that though the names of Ibsen and Nietzsche have long -been familiar in England, Strindberg, whom Ibsen is reported to have -called "One greater than I," as he pointed to his portrait, and -with whom Nietzsche corresponded, is only just beginning to attract -attention, though for a long time past most of his works have been -accessible in German. Even now not much more is known about him than -that he was a pessimist, a misogynist, and writer of Zolaesque novels. -To quote a Persian proverb, "They see the mountain, but not the mine -within it." No man admired a good wife and mother more than he did, -but he certainly hated the Corybantic, "emancipated" women of the -present time. No man had a keener appreciation of the gentle joys of -domesticity, and the intensity of his misogyny was in strict proportion -to the keenness of his disappointment. The _Inferno_ relates how -grateful and even reverential he was to the nurse who tended him in -hospital, and to his mother-in-law. He felt profoundly the charm of -innocent childhood, and paternal instincts were strong in him. All his -life long he had to struggle with four terrible inner foes--doubt, -suspicion, fear, sensuality. His doubts destroyed his early faith, -his ceaseless suspicions made it impossible for him to be happy in -friendship or love, his fear of the "invisible powers," as he calls -them, robbed him of all peace of mind, and his sensuality dragged -him repeatedly into the mire. A "strange mixture of a man" indeed, -whose soul was the scene of an internecine life-long warfare between -diametrically-opposed forces! Yet he never ceased to struggle blindly -upwards, and Goethe's words were verified in him: - - "Wer immer strebend sich bemüht - Den Können wir erlösen."[2] - -He never relapsed into the stagnant cynicism of the out-worn -debauchee, nor did he with Nietzsche try to explain away conscience -as an old wife's tale. Conscience persistently tormented him, and -finally drove him back to belief in God, not the collective Karma -of the Theosophists, which he expressly repudiated, nor to any new -god expounded in New Thought magazines, but to the transcendent God -who judges and requites, though not at the end of every week. It -seems almost as if there were lurking an old Hebrew vein in him, so -frequently in his later works does he express himself in the language -of psalmists and prophets. "The psalms of David express my feelings -best, and Jehovah is my God," he says in the _Inferno_. - -At one time he seems to have been nearly entering the Roman Catholic -Church, but, even after he had recovered his belief, his inborn -independence of spirit would not let him attach himself to any -religious body. His fellow-countryman, Swedenborg, seems to have -influenced him more deeply than anyone else, and to him he attributes -his escape from madness. - -His work _Inferno_ may certainly serve a useful purpose in calling -attention to the fact, that, whatever may be the case hereafter, there -are certainly hells on earth, hells into which the persistently selfish -inevitably come. Because our fathers dealt with exaggerated emphasis -on unextinguishable fires and insatiable worms, in some remote -future, some good folk seem to suppose that there is no such thing as -retribution, or that we may sow thorns and reap wheat. Strindberg knew -better. He had reaped the whirlwind, and we seem to feel it sometimes -blowing through his pages. - -In the _Blue Books_, or collections of thoughts which he wrote towards -the end of his life, the storm has subsided. The sun shines and the -sea is calm, though strewn with wreckage. He uses some very strong -language towards his former comrades, the free-thinkers, whom he calls -"denizens of the dunghill." One bitterness remains. He cannot forgive -woman. She has injured him too deeply. All his life long she has been -"a cleaving mischief in his way to virtue." He married three times, and -each marriage was a failure. His first wife was a baroness separated -from her husband, whom he accuses of having repeatedly betrayed him. -His second wife was an Austrian. In the _Inferno_ he calls her "my -beautiful jaileress who kept incessant watch over my secret thoughts." -His third was an actress from whom he parted by mutual consent. -All his attempts to set up a home had failed, and he found himself -finally relegated to solitude. One of his later works bears the title -_Lonely_. His solitude was relieved by visits from his children, and -he was especially fond of his younger daughter, giving her free use of -his library. On May 14, 1912, he died in Stockholm, after a lingering -illness, of cancer, an added touch of tragedy being the fact that his -first wife died, not far away, shortly before him. - -He was an enormous reader, and seems to have possessed a knowledge -almost as encyclopædic as Browning's. While assistant librarian in the -Royal Library at Stockholm he studied Chinese; he was a skilled chemist -and botanist, and wrote treatises on both these sciences. He was a -mystic, but had a certain dislike of occultism and theosophy. A German -critic, comparing him with Ibsen, says that, whereas Ibsen is a spent -force, Strindberg's writings contain germs which are still undeveloped. -He is a lurid and menacing planet in the literary sky, and some time -must elapse before his true position is fixed. To the present writer -his career seems best summed up in the words of Mrs. Browning: - -"He testified this solemn truth, by frenzy desolated, -Nor man nor nature satisfies whom only God created"; - -or in those of Augustine: "Fecisti nos ad Te, Domine, et irrequietum -est cor nostrum donec requiescat in Te." - -C.F. - - -[1] Reprinted by permission from _The Spectator_. - -[2] "Who never ceases still to strive, - 'T is him we can deliver." - - - * * * * * - - - "Courbe la tête fier Segambre; adore ce qui tu as brûlé; - brûle ce qui tu as adoré!" - - - - -I - -THE HAND OF THE INVISIBLE - - -With a feeling of wild joy I returned from the northern railway -station, where I had said good-bye to my wife. She was going to our -child, who was ill in a distant place. The sacrifice of my heart -was then fulfilled. Her last words, "When shall we meet again?" and -my answer, "Soon!" echoed in my ears, like falsehoods which one is -unwilling to confess. A foreboding said to me "Never!" And, as a matter -of fact, these parting words which we exchanged in November, 1894, were -our last, for to this present time, May, 1897, I have not seen my dear -wife again. - -As I entered the Café de la Régence, I placed myself at the table where -I used to sit with my wife, my beautiful jail-keeper, who watched my -soul day and night, guessed my secret thoughts, marked the course of my -ideas, and was jealous of my investigations into the unknown. - -My newly-won freedom gave me a feeling of expansion and elevation -above the petty cares of life in the great capital. In this arena of -intellectual warfare I had just gained a victory, which, although -worthless in itself, signified a great deal to me. It was the -fulfilment of a youthful dream which all my countrymen had dreamed, -but which had been realised by me alone, to have a play of one's -own performed in a Paris theatre. _Now_ the theatre repelled me, as -everything does when one has reached it, and science attracted me. -Obliged to choose between love and knowledge, I had decided to strive -for the highest knowledge; and as I myself sacrificed my love, I forgot -the other innocent sacrifice to my ambition or my mission. - -As soon as I returned to my poor student's room in the Latin Quarter, I -rummaged in my chest and drew out of their hiding-place six saucepans -of fine porcelain. I had bought them a long time ago, although -they were too dear for my means. A pair of tongs and a packet of -pure sulphur completed the apparatus of my laboratory. I kindled a -smelting-furnace in the fireplace, closed the door, and drew down the -blinds, for only three months after the execution of Caserio it was -not prudent to make chemical experiments in Paris. - -The night comes on, the sulphur burns luridly, and towards morning -I have ascertained the presence of carbon in what has been before -considered an elementary substance. With this I believe I have solved -the great problem, upset the ruling chemical theories, and won the -immortality grudged to mortals. - -But the skin of my hands, nearly roasted by the strong fire, peels -off: in scales, and the pain they cause me when undressing shows me -what a price I have paid for my victory. But, as the alone in bed, -I feel happy, and I am sorry I have no one whom I can thank for my -deliverance from the marital fetters which have been broken without -much ado. For in the course of years I have become an atheist, since -the unknown powers have left the world to itself without giving a sign -of themselves. - -Someone to thank! There is no one there, and my involuntary ingratitude -depresses me. - -Feeling jealous about my discovery, I take no steps to make it known. -In my modesty I turn neither to authorities nor to universities. While -I continue my experiments, the cracked skin of my hands becomes worse, -the fissures gape and become full of coal-dust; blood oozes out, and -the pains become so intolerable that I can undertake nothing more. I am -inclined to attribute these pains which drive me wild to the unknown -powers which have persecuted me for years, and frustrate my endeavours. -I avoid people, neglect society, refuse invitations, and make myself -inaccessible to friends. I am surrounded by silence and loneliness. It -is the solemn and terrible silence of the desert in which I defiantly -challenge the unknown, in order to wrestle with him, body with body, -and soul with soul. I have proved that sulphur contains carbon; now I -intend to discover hydrogen and oxygen in it, for they must be also -present. But my apparatus is insufficient, I need money, my hands are -black and bleeding, black as misery, bleeding as my heart. For, during -this time, I continue to correspond with my wife. I tell her of my -successes in chemical experiments; she answers with news about the -illness of our child, and here and there drops hints that my science is -futile, and that it is foolish to waste money on it. - -In a fit of righteous pride, in the passionate desire to do myself an -injury, I commit moral suicide by repudiating my wife and child in -an unworthy, unpardonable letter. I give her to understand that I am -involved in a new love-affair. - -The blow goes home. My wife answers with a demand for separation. - -Solitary, guilty of suicide and assassination, I forget my crime under -the weight of sorrow and care. No one visits me, and I can see no one, -since I have alienated all. I drift alone over the surface of the sea; -I have hoisted my anchor, but have no sail. - -Necessity, however, in the shape of an unpaid bill, interrupts my -scientific tasks and metaphysical speculations, and calls me back to -earth. - -Christmas approaches. I have abruptly refused the invitation of a -Scandinavian family, the atmosphere of which makes me uncomfortable -because of their moral irregularities. But, when evening comes and I am -alone, I repent, and go there all the same. - -They sit down to table, and the evening meal begins with a great -deal of noise and outbursts of hilarity, for the young artists who -are present feel themselves at home here. A certain familiarity of -gestures and attitudes, a tone which is anything but domestic, repels -and depresses me indescribably. In the middle of the orgy my sadness -calls up to my inner vision a picture of the peaceful home of my wife: -the Christmas tree, the mistletoe, my little daughter, her deserted -mother. Pangs of conscience seize me; I stand up, plead ill-health as -an excuse, and depart. - -I go down the dreadful Rue de la Gaieté in which the artificial mirth -of the crowd annoys me; then down the gloomy silent Rue Delambre, which -is more conducive to despair than any other street of the Quarter. I -turn into the Boulevard Montparnasse, and let myself fall on a seat on -the terrace of the Lilas brewery. - -A glass of good absinthe comforts me for some minutes. Then there fall -on me a set of cocottes and students who strike me on the face with -switches. As though driven by furies, I leave my glass of absinthe -standing, and hasten to seek for another in the Café François Premier -on the Boulevard St. Michel. Out of the frying-pan into the fire! A -second troop shouts at me, "There is the hermit!" Driven forth again I -fly home, accompanied by the unnerving tones of the mirliton pipes. - -The thought that it might be a chastisement, the result of a crime, -does not occur to me. In my own mind I feel guiltless, and consider -myself the object of an unjust persecution. The unknown powers have -hindered me from continuing my great work. The hindrances must be -broken through before I obtain the victor's crown. - -I have been wrong, and at the same time I am right, and will maintain -it. - -That Christmas night I slept badly. A cold draught several times blew -on my face, and from time to time the sound of a jew's-harp awoke me. - - * * * * * - -An increasing prostration comes over me. My black and bleeding hands -prevent my dressing myself and taking care of my outer appearance. -Anxiety about my unpaid hotel bill leaves me no peace, and I pace up -and down my room like a wild beast in a cage. I eat no longer, and the -hotel manager advises me to go to a hospital. But that is no help to -me, for it is too dear, and I must pay my bill here first. - -The veins in my arm begin to swell visibly; it is a sign of -blood-poisoning. This is the finishing stroke. The news spreads among -my countrymen, and one evening there comes the kind-hearted woman, -whose Christmas dinner I had so abruptly left, who was antipathetic to -me, and whom I almost despised. She finds me out, asks how I am, and -tells me with tears that the hospital is my only hope. - -One can understand how helpless and humiliated I feel, as my eloquent -silence shows her that I am penniless. She is seized with sympathy -at seeing me so prostrate. Poor herself, and oppressed with daily -anxieties, she resolves to make a collection among the Scandinavian -colony, and to go to the pastor of the community. - -A sinful woman has pity on the man who has deserted his lawful wife! - -Once more a beggar, asking for alms by means of a woman, I begin to -suspect that there is an invisible hand which guides the irresistible -logic of events. I bow before the storm, determined to rise again at -the first opportunity. - -The carriage brings me to the hospital of St. Louis. On the way, in -the Rue de Rennes, I get out in order to buy two white shirts. The -winding-sheet for the last hour! I really expect a speedy death, -without being able to say why. - -In the hospital I am forbidden to go out without leave; besides, my -hands are so wrapped up that all occupation is impossible to me; I -feel therefore like a prisoner. My room is bare, contains only the -most necessary things, and has nothing attractive about it. It lies -near the public sitting-room, where from morning to evening they smoke -and play cards. The bell rings for breakfast. As I sit down at the -table I find myself in a frightful company of death's-heads. Here a -nose is wanting, there an eye; there the lips hang down, here the cheek -is ulcered. Two of them do not look sick, but show in their faces -gloom and despair. These are "kleptomaniacs" of high social rank, who, -because of their powerful connections, have escaped prison by being -declared irresponsible. - -An unpleasant smell of iodoform takes away my appetite. Since my hands -are muffled I must ask the help of my neighbour for cutting bread and -pouring out wine. Round this banquet of criminals and those condemned -to death goes the good Mother, the Superintendent, in her severe black -and white dress, and gives each of us his poisonous medicine. With -a glass holding arsenic I drink to a death's-head who pledges me in -digitalis. That is gruesome, and yet one must be thankful! That makes -me wild. To have to be thankful for something so petty and unpleasant! - -They dress me, and undress me, and look after me like a child. The kind -sister takes a fancy to me, treats me like a baby, calls me "my child," -while I call her "mother." - -But it does me good to be able to say this word "mother," which has not -passed my lips for thirty years. The old lady, an Augustine nun, who -wears the garb of the dead, because she has never lived, is mild as -resignation itself, and teaches us to smile at our sufferings as though -they were joys, for she knows the beneficial effects of pain. She does -not utter a word of reproof nor admonition nor sermonising. - -She knows the regulations of the ordinary hospitals so well that she -can allow small liberties to the patients, though not to herself. -She permits me to smoke in my room, and offers to make my cigarettes -herself; this, however, I decline. She procures for me permission to -go out beyond the regulated limits of time. When she discovers that -I am actively interested in chemistry, she takes me to the learned -apothecary of the hospital. He lends me books, and invites me, when I -acquaint him with my theory of the composite character of so-called -simple bodies, to work in his laboratory. This nun has had a great -influence on my life. I begin to reconcile myself again to my lot, and -value the happy mischance which has brought me under this kindly roof. - -The first book which I take out of the apothecary's library opens of -itself, and my glance fastens like a falcon's on a line in the chapter -headed "Phosphorus." The author states briefly that the scientific -chemist, Lockyer, has demonstrated by spectral analysis that phosphorus -is not a simple body, and that his report of his experiments has been -submitted to the Parisian Academy of Science, which has not been able -to refute his proofs. - -Encouraged by this unexpected support, I take my saucepans with the not -completely consumed remains of sulphur, and submit them to a bureau -for chemical analysis, which promises to give me their report the next -morning. - -It is my birthday. When I return to the hospital I find a letter from -my wife. She laments my misfortune, and she wants to join me, to look -after me and love me. - -The happiness of feeling myself loved in spite of everything awakes -in me the need of thankfulness. But to whom? To the Unknown, who has -remained hidden for so many years? - -My heart smites me, I confess the unworthy falsehood of my supposed -infidelity, I ask for forgiveness, and before I am aware of it, I write -again a love-letter to my wife. But I postpone our meeting to a more -favourable time. - -The next morning I hasten to my chemist on the Boulevard Magenta, -and bring his analysis of my powder in a closed cover back to the -hospital. When I come to the statue of St. Louis in the courtyard of -the institution, I think of the Quinze-Vingt,[1] the Sorbonne, and the -Sainte Chapelle, these three buildings founded by the Saint, which I -interpret to mean--"From suffering, through knowledge, to repentance." - -Arrived at my room, I shut the doors carefully, and at last open the -paper which is to decide my destiny. The contents are as follows; -"The powder submitted to our analysis has three properties--_Colour_: -grey-blacky leaves marks on paper. _Density_: very great, greater -than the average density of graphite; it seems to be a harder kind -of graphite. The powder burns easily, releasing oxide of carbon and -carbonic acid. It therefore contains carbon." - -Pure sulphur contains carbon! - -I am saved. From henceforth I can prove to my friends and relations -that I am no fool. I can establish the theories which I propounded a -year ago in my _Antibarbarus_, a work which the reviews treated as that -of a charlatan or madman, making my family consequently thrust me out -as a good-for-nothing, or Cagliostro. My opponents are pulverised! My -heart beats in righteous pride; I will leave the hospital, shout in the -streets, bellow before the Institute, pull down the Sorbonne!... But my -hands remain wrapped up, and when I stand outside in the courtyard, the -high encircling walls counsel me--patience. - -When I tell the apothecary the result of the analysis, he proposes to -me to summon a commission before whom I should demonstrate the solution -of the problem by experiment publicly. I, however, from dislike to -publicity, write instead an essay on the subject, and send it to the -_Temps_, where it appears after two days. - -The password is given. I am answered from all sides; I find adherents, -am asked to contribute to a scientific paper, and am involved in a -correspondence which necessitates the continuance of my experiments. - - * * * * * - -One Sunday, the last of my stay in the purgatory of St. Louis, I watch -the courtyard from the window. The two thieves walk up and down with -their wives and children, and embrace each other from time to time with -joyful faces, like men whom misfortune draws together in closer bonds. - -My loneliness depresses me; I curse my lot and regard it as unjust, -without considering that my crime surpasses theirs in meanness. The -postman brings a letter from my wife, which is of an icy coldness. My -success has annoyed her, and she pretends that she will not believe it -till I have consulted a chemical specialist. Moreover, she warns me -against all illusions which may produce disturbance of the brain. And, -after all, she asks, What do I gain by all this? Can I feed a family -with my chemistry? - -Here is the alternative again: Love or Science. Without hesitation I -write a final crushing letter, and bid her good-bye, as pleased with -myself as a murderer after his deed. - -In the evening I roam about the gloomy Quarter, and cross the St. -Martin's canal. It is as dark as the grave, and seems exactly made -to drown oneself in. I remain standing at the corner of Rue Alibert. -Why Alibert? Who is he? Was not the graphite which the chemist found -in my sulphur called Alibert-graphite? Well, what of it? Strangely -enough, an impression of something not yet explained remains in my -mind. Then I enter Rue Dieu. Why "Dieu," when the Republic has washed -its hands of God? Then Rue Beaurepaire--a fine resort of criminals. -Rue de Vaudry--is the Devil conducting me? I take no more notice of -the names of the streets, wander on, turn round, find I have lost my -way, and recoil from a shed which exhales an odour of raw flesh and bad -vegetables, especially sauerkraut. Suspicious-looking figures brush -past me, muttering objurgations. I become nervous, turn to the right, -then to the left, and get into a dark blind alley, the haunt of filth -and crime. Street girls bar my way, street boys grin at me. The scene -of Christmas night is repeated, "Væ soli."[2] Who is it that plays -me these treacherous tricks as soon as I seek for solitude? Someone has -brought me into this plight. Where is he? I wish to fight with him! - -As soon as I begin to run there comes down rain mixed with dirty snow. -At the bottom of a little street a great, coal-black gate is outlined -against the sky. It seems a Cyclopean work, a gate without a palace, -which opens on a sea of light. I ask a gendarme where I am. He -answers, "At St. Martin's gate." - -A couple of steps bring me to the great Boulevard, which I go down. The -theatre clock points to a quarter-past seven. Business hours are over, -and my friends are waiting for me as usual in the Café Neapel. I go on -hurriedly, forgetting the hospital, trouble, and poverty. As I pass -the Café du Cardinal, I brush by a table where someone is sitting. I -only know him by name, but he knows me, and at the same moment his eyes -interrogate me: "You here? You are not in hospital then? Then it was -all gossip?" - -I feel that this man is one of my unknown benefactors, for he reminds -me that I am a beggar, and have nothing to do in the café. Beggar! that -is the right word, which echoes in my ears, and colours my cheek with a -burning blush of shame, humiliation, and rage. Six weeks ago I sat here -at this table. My theatre manager sat opposite me, and called me "Dear -Sir"; journalists pestered me with their interviews; photographers -asked for the honour of selling portraits of me--and, to-day--what am I -to-day? A beggar, a marked man, an outcast from society! - -Lashed, tormented, driven, like a night-tramp, I hurry down the -Boulevard back to the plague-stricken hospital. There at last, and -only there, in my cell, I feel at home. When I reflect on my lot, -I recognise again that invisible Hand which scourges and chastises -without my knowing its object. Does it grant me fame and at the same -time deny me an honourable position in the world? Must I be humbled in -order to be lifted up, made low in order to be raised high? The thought -keeps on recurring: "Providence is planning something with thee, and -this is the beginning of thy education." - -In February I leave the hospital, uncured, but healed from the -temptations of the world. At parting I wished to kiss the hand of the -faithful Mother, who, without speaking many words, has taught me the -way of the Cross, but a feeling of reverence, as if before something -holy, kept me back. May she now in spirit receive this expression of -thanks from a stranger, whose traces have been lost in distant lands. - - -[1] Hospital for the Blind. - -[2] "Woe to the solitary." - - - - -II - -ST. LOUIS LEADS ME TO ORFILA - - -Through the whole winter I continue my chemical experiments in a -modestly furnished room, remain all day at home, and go to my evening -meal in a restaurant where artists of different nationalities meet. -Afterwards I visit the family, whose society, through a momentary fit -of puritanism, I had abjured. The whole noisy set of artists are there, -and I am compelled to put up with what I would fain avoid--free and -easy manners, loose morals, deliberate and fashionable irreligion. -There is much talent and quickness of wit among these people, together -with a flow of wild spirits which has won them a sinister reputation. -At any rate, I am in a domestic circle; they are kind to me and I am -grateful to them, although I shut my eyes and ears to their little -affairs which, after all, have nothing to do with me. Had I avoided -these people out of unjustifiable pride, it would have been logical to -punish me for it, but as my avoidance of them sprang from a desire to -purify myself and to deepen my spiritual life in self-communion, I do -not understand the ways of Providence, for I am a man of such pliable -character, that out of pure sociability and fear of being ungrateful, -I accommodate myself to my surroundings whatever they are. But after I -had been banished so long from society, through my misfortune and the -shame of my poverty, I was glad to find a shelter for the long winter -evenings, although the lubricous conversation annoyed me. - -Now that the existence of the invisible Hand, which guides me over -rough paths, has become a certainty to me, I no longer feel solitary, -and keep a careful watch over my words and actions, although, it must -be confessed, I am not always successful. But whenever I slip, I am -at once arrested and punished with such punctuality and exactness, -that I have no doubts left regarding the interposition of a judicial -power. The Unknown has become for me a personal acquaintance with whom -I speak, whom I thank, whom I consult. Very often I compare Him in -my mind with the "demon" of Socrates, and the consciousness that the -unknown powers are on my side lends me an energy and confidence which -impel me to unwonted efforts of which I was formerly incapable. - -A bankrupt as regards society, I am born into another world where no -one can follow me. Things which before seemed insignificant attract my -attention, my nightly dreams assume the form of premonitions, I regard -myself as a departed spirit, and my life proceeds in a new sphere. - - * * * * * - -After having demonstrated the presence of carbon in sulphur, I have to -demonstrate the presence of hydrogen and oxygen which, according to -analogy, ought to be found in it. - -Two months pass in calculations and surmises till the apparatus -necessary for making the experiments is exhausted. A friend advises me -to go to the Sorbonne laboratory, where strangers are admitted. But my -timidity and shyness of crowds does not permit me to think of it; I -suspend my experiments and take a rest. - -One fine spring morning I wake up in good spirits. I walk through the -Rue de la grande Chaumière to the Rue de Fleurs, which leads to the -Jardin du Luxembourg. The small, pretty street is quiet, the great -avenue of chestnut trees is cheerful and green, broad and straight as -a racecourse. Quite in the background the statue of David rises like a -boundary mark, and high over all the dome of the Pantheon, surmounted -by a golden cross, seems to touch the clouds. I remain standing, -delighted with the significant spectacle, when accidentally on my -right my eyes fall on a dyer's shield at the end of the Rue de Fleurs. -Painted on the window of the dyeing-house stand over a silver cloud the -initials of my name A.S., and over them is arched a rainbow. - -_Omen accipio!_ and am reminded of the passage in Genesis, "I have set -my bow in the clouds to be a sign of the covenant between me and the -earth." - -I seem no longer to touch the ground, but to float in air, and -with winged feet enter the garden, which is now quite empty. In -this early morning hour I am the exclusive possessor of this park, -with all its glory of roses, and I know all my flowers in their -beds--chrysanthemums, verbenas, and begonias. - -Going down the racecourse I reach the boundary mark, pass through the -trellised gate to the Rue Soufflot, and turn to the Boulevard St. -Michel, where Blanchard's antiquarian book-shop attracts my attention. -Casually I take up an old chemical work by Orfila, open it at haphazard -and read, "Sulphur has been classified among the simple bodies. Davy -and Berthollet, however, have endeavoured to prove by their able -experiments that it contains hydrogen, oxygen, and a third basal -element which has not yet been distinguished." - -One may imagine my almost religious ecstasy at this well-nigh -miraculous discovery. Davy and Berthollet had demonstrated the presence -of hydrogen and oxygen, and I of carbon. It rests, therefore, with me -to lay down the formula for sulphur. - -Two days later my name was entered on the list of the scientific -faculty of the Sorbonne (founded by St. Louis!), and I received -permission to work in the laboratory. The first morning I went there -was for me a solemn occasion. I was under no illusions as regards the -professors, who had received me with the cold politeness due even to a -foreign intruder. I knew that I should never be able to convince them, -but I felt simultaneously a calm still joy, and the courage of a martyr -who faces a hostile crowd, because for me at my age youth was the -natural enemy. - -As I crossed over the square before the little church of the Sorbonne, -I found the door of it open and entered it, without any definite -reason; the Virgin Mother and Child smiled at me in a friendly way; the -Cross left me, as always, cold and without comprehension of its meaning. - -My new acquaintance, St. Louis, the friend of the poor and -plague-stricken, receives the homage of young theologians. Can it be, -after all, that he is my patron, my guardian angel, who drove me to the -hospital, so that I, purified by the fire of mental suffering, should -win again that glory which leads to dishonour and contempt? Was it -he who directed me to Blanchard's book-shop and hither also? See how -superstitious the atheist has become! - -As I survey the memorial tablets which record successful experiments, I -vow, in the case of my success, to receive no worldly honour. - -The hour has struck, and I run the gauntlet of the young students who -regard my undertaking with scorn and prejudice. - - * * * * * - -About fourteen days have passed, and I have discovered incontrovertible -proofs that sulphur is a threefold combination of carbon, oxygen, and -hydrogen. I thank the Director of the laboratory, who, as it appears, -takes no interest in my affairs, and leave this new purgatory full of -deep, unspeakable joy. - - * * * * * - -In the mornings when I do walk in the churchyard of Montparnasse, I -visit the park of the Palais Luxembourg. A few days after my departure -from the Sorbonne I discover, in the centre of the churchyard, a -monument of classical beauty. A white marble medallion shows the noble -features of an old man of science, whom the inscription on the pedestal -describes as "Orfila: Chemist and Physiologist." It was my friend and -protector who, in later years, has so often guided me through the -labyrinth of chemical experiments. - -A week later, passing through the Rue d'Assas, I stop to admire a house -which looks like a convent. A large shield on the wall informs me that -it is "Hôtel Orfila." - -Again and again Orfila! - - - - -III - -PARADISE REGAINED - - -The summer and autumn of the year 1895 I count, on the whole, among the -happiest stages of my eventful life. All my attempts succeed; unknown -friends bring me food as the ravens did to Elijah. Money flows in; I -can buy books and scientific instruments; among them a microscope, -which reveals to me the secrets of life. - -Dead to the world, as I have renounced the vain delights of Paris, -I remain in my quarter, where every morning I visit the dead in the -churchyard of Montparnasse, and thence descend to the Luxembourg Garden -to greet my flowers. Sometimes one of my fellow-countrymen on his way -through Paris visits me in order to invite me to breakfast on the -other side of the river, and to go to the theatre with him. I decline, -because the right bank is forbidden to me; it is the so-called "world," -the world of the living and of vanity. - -Although I cannot formulate it distinctly, a kind of religion has -been forming in me. It is rather a condition of the soul than a view -of things based on dogmatic instruction; a chaos of sensations which -condense themselves more or less into thoughts. - -I have bought a Catholic prayer book, and read it with a collected -mind; the Old Testament comforts and chastens me in a somewhat obscure -fashion, while the New leaves me cold. This does not prevent a -Buddhistic book having a stronger influence on me than all other sacred -books, because it ranks positive suffering above mere abstinence. -Buddha shows the courage when in full possession of vital energy and -enjoyment of married happiness to renounce wife and child, while Christ -avoids every contact with the permitted joys of this world. - -For the rest, I do not brood much over the sensations which spring up -in me; I keep myself indifferent and let them come and go, approving -for myself the same freedom which I owe to others. - -The great event of the Paris season was Brunetière's war-cry, "The -bankruptcy of Science." Dedicated from my childhood to the natural -sciences, and later on a disciple of Darwin, I had discovered how -unsatisfactory the scientific method is, which accepts the mechanism -of the universe without presupposing a Mechanician. The weakness of -the system showed itself in the gradual degeneration of science; it -had marked off a boundary line over which one was not to step. "We," -it said, "have solved all problems; the world has no more riddles." -This presumptuous lie had annoyed me already in 1880, and during the -following fifteen years I occupied myself with a revision of the -natural sciences. In 1884 I doubted the supposed composition of the -atmosphere. The nitrogen of the air is not identical with the nitrogen -obtained by analysis of a nitrogenous body. In 1891 I visited the -Scientific Institute in Lund in order to compare the spectrum analyses -of these two sorts of nitrogen whose difference I had discovered. Do I -need to describe the reception which the learned scientists gave me? -Now in this year, 1895, the discovery of argon has confirmed my former -hypotheses, and given a fresh impulse to my investigations which had -been interrupted by a foolish marriage. It is not Science which is -bankrupt, only the antiquated, degenerate science, and Brunetière was -right although he was wrong. - -While all acknowledged the identity of matter and called themselves -Monists, without being so really, I went further and drew the extreme -logical inferences of the theory by obliterating the boundaries -between matter and so-called spirit. Thus, in 1894, in my treatise -_Antibarbarus_, I had dealt with the psychology of sulphur by -explaining it through "ontogeny," that is, the embryonic development of -sulphur. - -Anyone who is interested in the subject may be referred to the work -_Sylva Sylvarum_, which I composed in the summer and autumn of 1895, -with a feeling of pride in my perspicuity at having divined the secrets -of creation, especially in the vegetable and animal kingdoms. He may -further consult my _Churchyard Studies_, which show how in loneliness -and sorrow I was brought back to a wavering apprehension of God and -immortality. - - - - -IV - -THE FALL AND PARADISE LOST - - -Guided into this new world in which no one can follow me, I conceived -an aversion to social intercourse, and have an unconquerable desire to -free myself from my surroundings. I therefore informed my friends that -I wished to go to Meudon to write a book which required solitude and -quiet. - -At the same time insignificant disagreements led to a breach with the -circle which met at the Restaurant, so that one day I found myself -entirely isolated. The first result was an extraordinary expansion -of my inner sense; a spiritual power which longed to realise itself. -I believed myself in the possession of unlimited strength, and pride -inspired me with the wild idea of seeing whether I could perform a -miracle. - -At an earlier period, in the great crisis of my life, I had observed -that I could exercise a telepathic influence on absent friends. In -popular legends writers have occupied themselves with the subjects of -telepathy and witchcraft. I wish neither to do myself an injustice, -nor altogether to acquit myself of wrong-doing, but I believe that -my evil will was not so evil as the counterstroke which I received. -A devouring curiosity, an outbreak of perverted love, caused by my -frightful loneliness, inspired me with an intense longing to be -re-united with my wife and child, both of whom I still loved. But how -was this to be brought about, as divorce proceedings were already on -foot? Some extraordinary event, a common misfortune, a thunderbolt, a -conflagration ... in brief, some catastrophe which unites two hearts, -just as in novels two persons are reconciled at the sick-bed of a -third. Stop! there I have it! A sick-bed! Children are always more or -less ill; a mother's fear exaggerates the danger; a telegram follows, -and all is said. - -I had no idea of practising magic, but an unwholesome instinct -suggested I must set to work with the picture of my dear little -daughter, who later on was to be my only comfort in a cursed existence. - -Further on in this work I will relate the results of my manoeuvre, -in which my evil purpose seemed to work with the help of symbolical -operations. Meantime the results had to be waited for, and I continued -my work with a feeling of undefined uneasiness and a foreboding of -fresh misfortune. - - * * * * * - -One evening, as I sat alone before my microscope, an occurrence -happened which made all the deeper impression on me because I did -not understand it. For four days I had let a nut germinate, and now -detached the germ. This had the shape of a heart, not much larger than -the core of a pear. Standing between two cotyledons it looked like -a diminutive human brain. One may imagine my surprise when I saw on -the glass-slide of the microscope two tiny hands, white as alabaster, -folded as if in prayer. Was it a vision, an hallucination? Oh, no! It -was a crushing reality which made me shudder. The little hands were -stretched out towards me, immovable, as if adjuring me. I could count -the five fingers, the thumb shorter than the others--real woman's or -child's hands. - -I made a friend, who surprised me watching this astonishing sight, -witness it also. He required to be no clairvoyant in order to see two -clasped hands which besought the sympathy of the beholder. - -What was it? Nothing but the two first rudimentary leaves of a -walnut tree, the _Juglans regia_--nothing else. Yet the fact was -undeniable that ten human fingers were clasped in a beseeching gesture -as if expressing, "De profundis clamavi ad te." But as a still too -incredulous empiric, I passed by the occurrence callously. - - * * * * * - -The fall has happened. I feel the mercilessness of the unknown powers -weigh heavily upon me. The hand of the invisible is lifted and the -blows fall thickly upon my head. - -In the first place, my anonymous friend who has supported me hitherto, -feels insulted and deserts me, because I had written him a presumptuous -letter. So I am left without means. - -Moreover, when I receive the proofs of my work _Sylva Sylvarum_, I -find the text in complete confusion. Not only are the pages mixed and -wrongly numbered, but the different parts are confused, so that in an -ironical way they represent the great disorder which rules in nature. -After endless hesitations and delays, the pamphlet is at last printed, -but when the printer sends me the bill, I find that it amounts to -more than double the sum originally agreed upon. I am obliged, to -my regret, to pawn my microscope, my black suit, and some remaining -ornaments, but, at any rate, my work is printed, and I have for the -first time in my life the conviction that I have said something -original, great, and beautiful. In a mood of exultation, easy to -understand, I carry the packet to the post, and making a contemptuous -gesture towards the hostile heavens, I throw it in the letter-box with -the thought, "Listen, Sphinx, I have solved thy riddle, and defy thee!" - -On my return to the house the hotel bill is handed to me. Irritated by -this unexpected stroke, for I have already lived a year here, I begin -to notice trifles which I had formerly overlooked. For instance, in -three adjoining rooms pianos are being played. I am convinced it is a -plot of some Scandinavian ladies whose company I have avoided. - -Three pianos! and I cannot leave the hotel, for I have no money. -Cursing heaven, these ladies, and my fate, I go to sleep. The next -morning I am awoken by an unexpected noise. They are hammering nails in -the room which is near my bed; then more hammering begins on the other -side. A silly trick quite in keeping with the character of these female -pianists, nothing more! But when after supper I lie down to sleep as -usual, there ensues such a din overhead that some of the plaster falls -from the ceiling on my head. - -I go to the landlady and complain about the other lodgers. She declares -that she has heard nothing, but, for the rest, is very polite, and -promises to turn out anyone who dares to disturb me, for she is anxious -to keep me in her hotel, which is not prospering very well. - -Without attaching much credit to the word of a woman, I still believe -she means to treat me well in her own interests. None the less the -noises continue, and I come to the conclusion that these ladies--stupid -people!--want to make me believe that there are "rapping spirits" in -the house. At the same time my companions in the restaurant alter their -behaviour towards me, and a concealed hostility shows itself in their -envious looks and innuendoes. Weary of the struggle, I bid farewell -to the hotel and restaurant, and depart, plundered to my last shirt, -leaving behind my books and other things. On February 21, 1896, I -entered the Hôtel Orfila. - - - - -V - -PURGATORY - - -Hôtel Orfila has a monastic appearance, and is a boarding establishment -for Catholic students. It is superintended by a quiet, amiable Abbé, -and peace, order, and morality prevail here. What especially comforts -me after so many annoyances is, that women are not admitted here. The -house is old, the rooms are low, the passages dark, and the wooden -staircases wind and twist hither and thither as if in a labyrinth. -There is an air of mysteriousness about the whole building, which for -a long time has attracted me. My room looks out on a _cul-de-sac_, so -that standing in the middle of it, one sees nothing but a moss-grown -wall with two small round windows in it. But when I sit at my table -close to the window, I have an uncommonly pleasant look-out. Under me -there is a circular wall overgrown with ivy surrounding a courtyard, -where young girls walk under plane trees and acacias. In the centre -there stands a charming Gothic chapel. Somewhat farther on one sees -high walls with numerous little barred windows, which remind one of a -convent. Still farther away are old, half-hidden houses crowned by a -forest of chimneys, and in the extreme distance one sees the tower of -Notre-Dame des Champs surmounted by a cross and weathercock. In my room -there hangs a faded likeness of St. Vincent de Paul, and a picture of -St. Peter looks down on my bed. St. Peter, the opener of the gates of -heaven. What an ironical situation for me, who some years ago threw -ridicule on the Apostle in a fantastic drama! - -Quite contented with my room, I sleep well the first night. I edify -myself by reading the book of Job, and arrive at an ever clearer -conviction that the Eternal has handed me over to Satan to be tried. -This thought comforts me again, and suffering seems to me a mark of -confidence on the part of the Almighty. - -Now things begin to happen which cannot be explained without the -co-operation of the unknown powers. From this point I use the entries -in my journal, which have gradually become very numerous, giving them -in a condensed form. - - * * * * * - -For a long while my chemical studies have lain in abeyance. In order to -revive my interest, and to make a decisive stroke, I resume the study -of the problem of making gold. The starting-point of the investigation -consists in the question: Why does sulphate of iron in a solution of -choloro-aurate of sodium precipitate gold? The answer is, because iron -and sulphur are essential constituents of gold. The proof is that all -natural compounds of sulphur and iron contain more or less gold. So I -begin to experiment with solutions of sulphate of iron. - -One morning I awoke with the idea of making a trip into the country, -though it is quite against my tastes and my habits. When I, more by -accident than design, reach the station of Montparnasse, I take the -train for Meudon. I go into the village itself, which I visit for the -first time, traverse the main street, and turn to the right into a -narrow alley confined by walls on both sides. Twenty steps before me I -see half-buried in the ground the figure of a Roman knight in grey iron -armour. It looks very well modelled, but, as I approach, I see that it -is only rough metal-smelting. - -But I hold my illusion fast, since it pleases me. The knight looks -towards the wall, and following the direction of his gaze I notice -something written on the mortar with a piece of coal. It looks like the -letters F and S interlaced, which are the initials of my wife's name. -She loves me still! The next moment I see, as by a flash, that it is -the chemical symbol for ferrum (iron) and sulphur, and the secret of -gold lies revealed before my gaze. I search the ground and find two -leaden seals fastened together by a string. One displays the initials -V.P., the other, a king's crown. Without committing myself to a further -interpretation of this adventure, I return to Paris with the lively -impression of having experienced something bordering on the marvellous. - - * * * * * - -In my fireplace I burn coals which, because of their round and regular -shape, are called "monks' heads." One day when the fire is nearly -extinguished I take out a mass of coal of fantastic shape. It resembles -a cock's head with a splendid comb joined to what looks like a human -trunk with twisted limbs. It might have been a demon from some mediæval -witches' sabbath. - -The second day I take out again a fine group of two gnomes or drunken -dwarfs, who embrace each other while their clothes flutter in the -wind. It is a masterpiece of primitive culture. - -The third day it is a Madonna and Child in the Byzantine style, of -incomparable beauty of outline. After I have drawn copies of all three -in black chalk, I place them on my table. A friendly painter visits me; -he regards the three statuettes with growing curiosity, and asks who -has "made" them. In order to try him, I mention the name of a Norwegian -sculptor. "No," he says, "I should rather be inclined to ascribe them -to Kittelsen, the famous illustrator of the Swedish legends." - -I do not believe in demons, and yet I wish to see the impression which -my little figures make on the sparrows who generally take their crumbs -from my window-sill. So I place them there. The sparrows are frightened -and remain aloof. There is then some likeness in the figures which they -can distinguish, and some reality in this conjunction of dead material -and fire. - -The sun, as it warms my little figures, makes the demon with the cock's -head collapse. This reminds me of the country-people's saying that if -the dwarfs wait too long till sunrise, they die. - - * * * * * - -Things happen in the hotel which disquiet me. The morning after my -arrival I find on the board where the keys of the rooms are hung up, on -the ground-floor, a letter addressed to a Mr. X., a student, who has -the same name as my wife. The postmark is "Dornach," the name of the -Austrian village where my wife and child live. But since I am certain -that there is no post-office at Dornach, the matter remains mysterious. -This letter, placed in such a conspicuous position as to challenge the -eye, is followed by others. The second bears the postmark "Vienna," and -is addressed to a Dr. Bitter; the third displays the Polish pseudonym, -"Schmulachowsky." - -The Devil certainly has a share in this game, for this name is a -false one, and I understand well for whom the letter is intended--for -a deadly enemy of mine who lives in Berlin. At last there arrives a -letter with the postmark "Vienna," which, according to the printed -envelope, comes from the chemical bureau of Dr. Eder. So they are -trying to spy out my gold-making experiments! Without doubt a plot is -on foot here, but the Devil has mixed these sharpers' cards. These -duffers do not consider that I keep my eyes open towards all quarters -of the compass. - -I have made inquiries of the waiter regarding Mr. X., but he gives me -in all simplicity to understand that he is an Alsatian--nothing more. -One fine morning I return from my work and see in the letter-rack quite -close to my keys a post card. For a moment I feel tempted to solve the -riddle by looking at the post card, but my good angel paralysed my -hand, just as the young man came out of his hiding-place behind the -door. I look him in the face and am startled; he is exactly like my -wife. We greet each other silently, and each goes his way. - -I have never been able to unravel this conspiracy, since I did not know -the actors in this drama. Moreover, my wife has neither brothers nor -cousins. This undefined threatening spectre of a continuous vengeance -tortured me for half a year. I bore it like everything else as a -punishment for known and unknown sins. - - * * * * * - -At the New Year a stranger turned up in our restaurant. He was an -American artist, and came exactly at the right time to put new life -into our depressed society. But though he was an active and bold spirit -with cosmopolitan ideas and good company too, he inspired me with -an undefined mistrust. In spite of his confident air his demeanour -revealed to me his real position. The crash came quicker than one -expected. - -One evening the unfortunate man came into my room and asked for -permission to remain there a short time. He looked like a lost man, and -such in fact he was. His landlord had driven him out of his studio, his -grisette had left him, he was head over ears in debt, and his creditors -were dunning him; he was insulted in the streets by the supporters of -his unpaid models. But what depressed him most of all was that the -cruel landlord had retained his picture intended for the Champ de Mars -Exhibition. The originality of its subject had given him good grounds -to hope for its success. It displayed an "emancipated woman" crucified -and cursed by the mob. - -Since he was also heavily in debt to the restaurant, he had to go -about the streets, hungry. Among other things he confessed that he had -taken morphia enough to kill two people, but death apparently did not -yet want him. After an earnest discussion, we agreed to go to another -quarter, and there eat our meals in some obscure cook-shop. I said I -would not desert him, and that he should pluck up new courage and -begin a new picture for the exhibition of independent artists. - - * * * * * - -This man becomes now my sole companion, and his misfortunes cause me a -double share of suffering, so closely do I identify myself with him. -I do so in a spirit of defiance, but presently gain an interesting -experience thereby. - -He reveals to me his whole past. He is a German by birth, but partly -because of family disagreements, partly because of a lampoon for -which he had been brought into court, he has spent seven years in -America. I discover in him intelligence above the average, a melancholy -temperament, and unbridled sensuality. But behind this mask of a -cosmopolitan I begin to divine another character which disquiets me, -and the full discovery of which I postpone to a favourable opportunity. - -Thus pass two months, while I live in union with this stranger and -with him go through all the troubles of an unfortunate artist over -again, without remembering that I am a made man, yes, and rank among -the dramatic celebrities of Paris, though, as a chemical discoverer, -I think little of it now. Moreover, my companion loves me only when I -conceal my successes. If I am obliged to refer to them in passing, -he is annoyed, and assumes the rôle of an unfortunate nonentity, so -that at last, out of sympathy, I put on the air of an old decayed -wreck. This imperceptibly depresses me, while he, who has his future -still before him, elevates himself again at my expense. I am like a -corpse buried at the root of a tree which sucks nutriment out of the -decomposing life, and grows upwards. - -At this time I study Buddhist books, and wonder at the self-denial with -which I mortify myself for another. But good works deserve a reward, -and mine did not remain wanting. - -One day the _Revue des Revues_ comes with a likeness of the American -prophet and empiric doctor, Francis Schlatter, who in the year 1895 -cured five thousand sick persons and then disappeared without ever -being seen again. Now this man's features resembled in a remarkable -way those of my new companion. To confirm my supposition, I show the -_Revue_ to a Swedish sculptor with whom I have an appointment in the -Café de Versailles. He notices the resemblance at once, and reminds me -of a remarkable coincidence of circumstances. Both the doctor and my -friend were Germans by birth, and worked in America. Still further, the -disappearance of Schlatter coincided with the appearance of our friend -in Paris. Since I am initiated a little into the use of occultist -expressions, I start the hypothesis that Francis Schlatter is the -"double" who leads an independent life, without being aware of it. - -When I mentioned the word "double" my sculptor was startled, and -drew my attention to the fact that our friend always occupied two -houses, one on the right and the other on the left bank of the river. -Moreover, I learn that my mysterious friend lives a double life in -this sense, that, after he has spent the evening in half-philosophic, -half-religious discussions with me, he is always seen late at night in -Bullier's dancing-saloon. - -There is a sure means of proving the identity of these two "doubles," -as the _Revue des Revues_ contains a facsimile letter of Francis -Schlatter. "Come to dinner to-night," I suggested. "I will dictate to -him Schlatter's letter; if the two handwritings, and especially the -signatures, resemble each other, it will be a proof." - -At dinner the same evening everything is confirmed, the handwriting and -signatures are identical. A little surprised, the artist submits to our -examination; at last he asks: "What is your object in this?" - -"Do you know Francis Schlatter?" - -"I have never heard the name." - -"Don't you remember that doctor in America last year." - -"Oh, yes! that quack!" - -He remembers, and I show him the portrait and facsimile. - -He laughs sceptically, and remains quite calm and indifferent. That is -all. - - * * * * * - -Some days later I am sitting with my mysterious friend, with our -glasses of absinthe, on the terrace of the Café de Versailles, when a -fellow in workman's clothes, with a malicious aspect, suddenly stops -before the café, then rushes through the customers, and bawls at my -friend in his loudest voice: "At last I have you, you sharper, who -fleeced me! What is the meaning of it? First of all, you order a cross -for thirty francs, and then you disappear. Son of a dog! Do you think a -cross like that makes itself?" - -He continued to rage. The café waiters vainly attempted to remove him; -he threatened to fetch the police, while the unfortunate accused, -motionless, dumb, and prostrate, like a condemned man, remained -exposed to the gaze of a circle of artists who all knew him more or -less. When the commotion was over, I asked him with a bewildered mind, -as if I had witnessed a witches' sabbath: "What cross worth thirty -francs? I don't understand a word of the business?" - -"It was a model of Joan of Arc's cross which I was going to use for my -picture of the crucified woman." - -"He certainly was a devil, that workman." - -After a pause, I continue: "It is odd, but one does not play unpunished -either with the Cross or with Joan of Arc." - -"You believe in them?" - -"I don't know!--But the thirty pieces of silver!" - -"Enough! Enough!" he exclaims in a tone of vexation. - -From this evening a certain coldness ensues between us. Our -acquaintance had now lasted four terrible months. My companion had -studied in quite a new school, and had time to strike out new paths in -his art, so that he could finally throw aside "the crucified woman" -as an old toy. He had learned to regard suffering as the only real -joy in life, and so had attained to resignation. He was a hero in his -poverty. I admired him when twice in the same day he measured on foot -the distance between Montrouge and the Market Halls with boots worn -down at the heel, and without food. In the evening, when he had visited -the offices of seventeen illustrated papers, and sold three drawings, -without however being paid for them at once, he quickly swallowed two -sous' worth of bread and hurried to the Bal Bullier. - -At last, in silent agreement, we dissolved the partnership we had -entered on for mutual help. We both felt that it was enough, and that -our destinies must go on to separate fulfilments. When we exchanged our -last farewells, I knew that they were our last. I have never seen the -man again, nor heard what has become of him. - - * * * * * - -In the course of the spring, while I was feeling depressed by my own -and my friend's untoward destiny, I received a letter from the children -of my first marriage, informing me that they had been very ill in -hospital. When I compared the time of their illness with my mischievous -attempt at magic, I was alarmed. I had frivolously played with hidden -forces, and now my evil purpose, guided by an unseen Hand, had reached -its goal, and struck my heart. I do not excuse myself, and only ask -the reader to remember this fact, in case he should ever feel inclined -to practise magic, especially those forms of it called wizardry, or -more properly witchcraft, and whose reality has been placed beyond all -doubt by De Rochas.[1] - -One Sunday before Easter I went very early through the Jardin de -Luxembourg, crossed the street, and passed under the arcades of the -Odeon; I stood still before an edition of Balzac in a blue binding, -and by chance picked out his novel _Séraphita_. Why just that one? -Perhaps it is an unconscious recollection of reading a criticism of my -book, _Sylva Sylvarum_, in the periodical _Initiation_, in which I was -called "a countryman of Swedenborg." When I got home I opened the book, -which was almost entirely unknown to me, for so many years had passed -between my first acquaintance with it and this second reading. It was -like a new work to me, and now my mind was prepared for it, I swallowed -down the contents of this extraordinary book wholesale. I had never -read anything of Swedenborg, for in his own native land and mine he -passed for a charlatan, dreamer, and quack. But now I was seized with -enthusiastic admiration, as I heard this heavenly giant of the last -century speak by the mouth of such a genial French interpreter. - -I read now with religious attention, and found on page 16 the 20th of -March given as the day on which Swedenborg died. I stopped, considered, -and consulted the almanac; it was exactly the 20th of March, and also -Palm Sunday. It was then that Swedenborg entered into my life, in -which he was to play such a great part as judge and master, and on the -anniversary of his death he brought me the palm, whether of the victor -or the martyr--who could say? - -_Séraphita_ became my gospel, and caused me to enter into such a close -connection with the other world, that I felt sick of life, and an -irresistible homesickness for heaven seized me. Doubtless, I was being -prepared for a higher existence. I despised the earth, the impure -earth, its inhabitants and their doings. I felt like a perfectly -righteous man, whom the Eternal was testing, and whom the purgatory of -this world would soon make fit for deliverance. The courage produced -by the consciousness of my confidential relation to the powers was -always increased, when I saw my scientific experiments crowned with -success. According to my computations and the observations of the -metallurgists, I had succeeded in making gold, and I believed I could -prove it. I sent my proofs to Rouen to a friendly chemist. He opposed -me with counter-arguments, and for eight days I could find no flaw in -them. Then turning over by chance the _Chemistry_ of my Master Orfila, -I learned the secret of my mistake. - -This old, forgotten, and despised chemical treatise of 1830 helped me -at the critical moment, and became my oracle. My friends Orfila and -Swedenborg protected, encouraged, and chastised me. They did not appear -to me in dreams or waking visions, but in small daily occurrences -showed me that they did not leave me alone in the vicissitudes of my -life. The spirits had become naturalistic like the times, which were no -longer content with visions. - -The following, for instance, cannot be explained by the word, -"coincidence." - -I had succeeded in producing spots of gold on paper, and I wished now -to do the same on a large scale in the furnace. A couple of hundred -experiments failed, and I laid the blow-pipe aside in despair. One -morning, I walked to the Observatory Avenue, where I often used to -admire the group of the four quarters of the world, for the secret -reason that the most graceful of the female figures resembled my wife. -It stood under the armillary sphere and the sign Pisces, and a pair -of sparrows had built their nest behind her back. At the foot of the -monument I found two pieces of cardboard cut in an oval shape, one -stamped with the number 207, the other with the number 28. These are -the signs for the atomic weight of lead, and of silicium. I made a note -of the discovery, and when I got home began a series of experiments -with lead, leaving silicium for another time. As I was aware, from -my knowledge of metallurgy, that lead refined in a furnace, fed with -bone-ashes, always produces a recognisable amount of silver, and this -silver, a little gold, I drew the conclusion that phosphate of lime, -being the chief constituent of bone-ashes, must be an important element -in the gold produced from lead. - -And, as a matter of fact, molten lead poured upon a deposit of chalk -containing phosphate of lime, also assumed on its under-side a -golden colour. The powers, being unpropitious, did not allow me to -finish my experiments. A year later, in Lund, a sculptor, who made -experiments in his own potteries, gave me some glaze composed of lead -and silicium, by means of which I for the first time produced in the -furnace mineralised gold of great beauty. Out of gratitude, I showed -him the two pieces of cardboard numbered 207 and 28. Is one to call it -"accident" or "coincidence," this sign of an irrefragable logic? - - * * * * * - -I repeat that I have never been plagued by visions, but actual objects -sometimes seem to me to assume a human shape in a grandiose style. -Thus, one day the cushion which my head has been pressing during a -mid-day siesta, looks like a marble head carved in the style of Michael -Angelo. One evening when I return home in the company of the "double" -of the American empiric doctor, I discover, in the half-shadow of the -alcove where my bed is, what looks like a gigantic Zeus reposing on it. -Before this unexpected sight my friend remains seized with an almost -religious fear. His artistic eye comprehends at once the beauty of the -outline. "There is a great forgotten art," he says, "born again! That -is where we ought to learn drawing!" - -The more one looks at it, the more lifelike and terrible it appears. -Obviously, the spirits have become realists like the rest of us -mortals. It is no mere accident, for on certain days the cushion takes -the shape of terrible monsters, such as Gothic dragons and serpents; -and one night after I have spent a hilarious evening, I am greeted -on my return by a mediæval demon, a devil with horned head and other -appurtenances. I was not at all frightened; it looked so natural, -but it also made on my mind the impression of something abnormal and -unearthly. - -When I invited my friend the sculptor to look at it, he was not at -all astonished, and called me into his studio, where a pencil sketch -hanging on the wall surprised me by its grace of outline. - -"Where have you got that from?" I asked. "A Madonna, is n't it? - -"Yes, a Madonna of Versailles, copied from the floating plants in a -Swiss lake!" - -A new-discovered art of nature! Naturalistic clairvoyance! Why blame -naturalism when it introduces a new art full of capacities of growth -and development. The old gods return, and the watchword of the poets -and artists, "Back to Pan!" has roused such a strong echo that nature -has awoken from her long sleep of centuries. Nothing can exist on earth -without the concurrence of the powers. Now naturalism did once exist, -therefore it ought to be, and what ought it obviously to be--a new-born -harmony of matter and spirit. - -The sculptor is a seer. He tells me that he has seen Orpheus and Christ -side by side in a block of stone, and adds that he intends to return -there and use them as models for a group for the Salon. - -As I went down the Rue de Rennes one evening with the same seer, he -drew my attention to a book-shop window where coloured lithographs were -exhibited. They represented fantastic scenes with human bodies whose -heads were replaced by pansies. In spite of my botanical observations, -I had never before seen the likeness between the pansy and the human -face. My friend seemed greatly surprised at it. - -"Only think!" he said. "When I came home last evening the pansies in -my window-box looked at me like so many human faces. I thought it was -a hallucination of my overexcited nerves. And here are these pictures -drawn a long time ago. It is then a fact and no illusion, for this -unknown artist has made the same discovery before me." - -We make progress in the art of vision, and this time it is I who -discover a Napoleon with his marshals on the cupola of the dome of the -Hôtel des Invalides. When one comes from Montparnasse to the Boulevard -des Invalides, one sees above the Rue Oudinot the cupola, the corbels, -and cornices of the substructure of the cupola displayed in the full -light of the setting sun, and apparently assuming human forms which -appear more or less distant according to the point of observation from -which they are viewed. There are Napoleon, Bernadotte, Berthier, and my -friend copies them, "after nature." - -"How would you explain this phenomenon?" he asks. - -"Explain? Has one ever explained anything by replacing one heap of -words with another heap of words?" - -"You don't think, then, that the architect has worked according to a -hidden plan?" - -"Listen, my friend. Jules Mansard, who built the dome in 1706, could -not well have foreseen the silhouette of Napoleon who was born in 1769. -That is a sufficient answer!" - - * * * * * - -Often I have dreams at night, and these dreams prognosticate my future, -warn me against dangers, and reveal to me secrets. For instance, a -long-deceased friend appears to me in a dream, and shows me a piece of -money of uncommon size. On my asking where this remarkable piece came -from, he answers, "From America," and disappears. - -The next day I receive a letter from America from a friend whom I -had heard nothing of for twenty years, informing me that an order in -connection with the Chicago Exhibition had been following me in vain -all over Europe. It carried with it an honorarium of 12,000 francs, an -enormous sum for me in my desperate circumstances, which I could very -easily find use for. This 12,000 francs would have secured my future, -and no one besides myself would have guessed that the loss of this -money was a punishment for an evil deed which I had committed out of -anger at the treachery of a literary colleague. - -In another dream of wider significance I saw Jonas Lie,[2] with a gilt -bronze clock curiously ornamented. Some days later, when I went to walk -on the Boulevard St. Michel, a watch-maker's shop-window attracted my -attention. "Jonas Lie's clock!" I exclaimed aloud. - -It was indeed the same. It was crowned by a celestial globe on which -two female figures leaned; the works were supported by four pillars, -and on the globe a date-indicator pointed to the 13th of August. In a -future chapter I will explain what the fateful 13th of August brought -with it. This and other occurrences took place during my stay in the -Hôtel Orfila between 6th February and 19th July, 1896. Concurrently -with them a larger adventure pursued its often interrupted course till, -with my exit from the hotel, a new section of my life began. - -Spring has returned; the valley of tears and sighs under my window -is green and blossoming. Foliage hides the bare ground and its -unsightliness. The Gehenna has turned into a Vale of Sharon full of -lilies, lilacs, and acacias. I feel very melancholy, but the merry -laughter of the girls who play unseen beneath the trees, reaches me and -rouses me again to life. Life hurries by and old age approaches: Wife, -children, home, dispersed and wrecked; without is spring, within is -autumn. - -The Book of Job and the Lamentations of Jeremiah comfort me, for, at -any rate, there is a certain resemblance between Job's lot and mine. Am -I not smitten with incurable boils? Am I not visited with poverty and -forsaken by my friends? "I go blackened, but not by the sun; I am a -brother to dragons and a companion to ostriches; my skin is black and -falleth from me, and my bones are burned with heat. My harp is turned -to mourning, and my pipe unto the voice of them that weep." - -Thus Job. And Jeremiah with two words fathoms the depth of my sadness: -"I forgat prosperity." - -In this mood I sit one oppressive afternoon bent over my work, when, -all of a sudden, behind the foliage of the garden in front of me, I -hear the playing of a piano. Like a war-horse at the sound of the -trumpet, I prick up my ears, straighten myself, and in a great state -of excitement struggle for breath. Someone is playing Schumann's -_Aufschwung_; and what is more, _he_ is playing--he, my Russian friend, -my pupil who called me "Father," because he owed all his culture to me, -my assistant who called me "Master" and kissed my hands, whose life -began where mine ended. He has come from Vienna to Paris to ruin me, -as he ruined me in Vienna--and why? Because Fate has arranged that his -present wife, before he knew her, was my sweetheart. Was it my fault -that matters so fell out? Surely not, and yet he hated me with a -deadly hatred, hindered my plays from being accepted, wove intrigues, -and deprived me of the barest means of subsistence. Then, in a fit of -rage, I reversed the spear and struck him, indeed, in such a brutal and -cowardly way, that it made me feel like a murderer. The fact that he -has come to kill me comforts me, for death alone can deliver me from my -pangs of conscience. - -It was he, then, who lurked behind those letters with false addresses -which I always saw near the porter's lodge. Well, let him strike! I -will not defend myself. For he is right, and my life is nothing to me. -He continues to play the _Aufschwung_, which no one can play so well. -He plays invisible behind the green wall, and his magic harmonies rise -above its blossoming creepers like butterflies flying towards the sun. - -But why is he playing? Is it to inform me of his coming to frighten -me and drive me to flight? Perhaps I shall find out in the restaurant -where the other Russians have long been talking about the arrival of -their countryman. - -I go for my evening meal there, and already at the doorway encounter -hostile glances. The whole company, informed of my conflict with the -Russian, has turned against me. In order to disarm them, I open fire -myself. - -"Popoffsky is in Paris?" I ask. - -"No, not yet," one of them answers. - -"Yes," says another, "he has been seen in the office of the _Mercure de -France_." - -They disagree with each other, and at the end I am as wise as before, -but I pretend to believe all I am told. But the obvious enmity with -which I am regarded in the restaurant makes me swear not to go there -again. I am sorry, for some of them were really congenial to me. Thus, -once more, this cursed enemy drives me into loneliness and exile. My -hatred against him is again aroused, and torments and poisons me. I -don't look forward to death now! Shall the hand of an inferior man -crush me? The humiliation for me and the honour for him would be too -great. I will accept the challenge and defend myself. In order to -obtain clear information I go to find a Danish painter, a friend of -Popoffsky, in the Rue de la Santé behind the Val de Grâce. Six weeks -before he had come to Paris, and, although formerly a friend of mine, -had at our first meeting greeted me in almost a hostile way. The next -day, however, he visited me, invited me to his studio, and said so -many kind things to me that I could not help doubting the genuineness -of his friendship. When I asked him about Popoffsky, he answered -evasively, but confirmed the rumour of his being about to come shortly -to Paris. - -"In order to murder me," I added. - -"Yes; take care!" - -On the morning on which I wished to return the Dane's visit, by a -curious chance I found my way barred by an enormous Danish dog, which -reposed in all its hideousness on the ground of the courtyard. For a -moment I hesitated, then I turned back, and on arriving at home thanked -the powers for their warning, for I had certainly escaped some unknown -danger. - -Some days afterwards, when I wished to repeat my visit, on the -threshold of the open door there sat a child with a playing-card in its -hand. I glanced at the card superstitiously; it was the ten of spades. -"They are playing an evil game in this house," I said to myself, and -turned back again. - -In the evening, after the scene in the restaurant, I was almost -determined to carry out my plan, in spite of dog and card, but fate -willed it otherwise. In the restaurant of the Lilas brewery I met my -man. He was delighted to see me, and we sat down on the terrace. We -recalled our common experiences in Vienna; he seemed to be the same -good friend that he was before, narrated his stories with enthusiasm, -forgot our former small disagreements, and confessed the truth of -some things which he had before publicly denied. Suddenly he appeared -to remember his duty or some promises which he had given; he became -taciturn, cold, hostile, and obviously vexed that he had been betrayed -into disclosing secrets. He answered my direct question whether -Popoffsky was in Paris with a brief "No," which was plainly false, and -we parted. - -Here I must remark that the Dane had been Frau Popoffsky's lover before -me, and that from the time she had given him up on my account, he -cherished a grudge against me. Now he played the rôle of family friend -with Popoffsky, who knew nothing of his former relation with his wife. - - * * * * * - -Schumann's _Aufschwung_ sounds over the deep-leaved trees, but the -musician remains invisible and leaves me doubtful as before as to the -exact house in which he lives. For a whole month the music continues -from four to five in the afternoon. - -One morning, as I go down the Rue de Fleurs, in order to comfort myself -by looking at my rainbow in the dyer's window, and enter the Jardin de -Luxembourg, which, with all its trees in blossom, is as beautiful as a -fairy-tale, I find on the ground two dry twigs which have been broken -off by the wind. They formed the two Greek letters "p" and "y," the -first and last letters of Popoffsky. He _was_, then, persecuting me, -and the powers wished to guard me against the danger. I felt uneasy in -spite of these signs of grace from the unseen. I invoked the protection -of Providence, I read the imprecatory psalms, I hated my enemy with an -Old Testament hatred, while I lacked the courage to use the black magic -which I had recently studied. "Make haste O God, to deliver me; make -haste to help me, O Lord. Let them be ashamed and confounded that seek -after my soul. Let them be turned back and put to confusion that desire -my hurt. Let them be turned back as a reward of their shame that say, -'Aha! Aha!'" - -This prayer seemed to me at that time right, and the mercy inculcated -in the New Testament like cowardice. To what unknown power my -iniquitous prayer found its way I do not know. The sequel of this -narrative will, at any rate, show that it was heard. - - - -EXTRACTS FROM MY JOURNAL - -1896 - -_May_ 13_th_.--A letter from my wife. She has learned from the papers -that a Mr. S. is about to journey to the North Pole in an air-balloon. -She feels in despair about it, confesses to me her unalterable love, -and adjures me to give up this idea, which is tantamount to suicide. -I enlighten her regarding her mistake. It is a cousin of mine who is -risking his life in order to make a great scientific discovery. - -_May_ 14_th_.--Last night I had a dream. A head which had been cut off -was set on the trunk of a man who looked like an actor come down in the -world through drink. The head began to speak. I was frightened, and -knocked my bed-screen down while I, as I thought, pushed a policeman -before me to protect me from the madman's attack. - -_May_ 17_th and the following days_.--The glass of absinthe at six -o'clock, and the terrace of the Brewery of Lilas behind the statue -of Marshal Ney, are my only remaining sin and delight. There, -after finishing the day's work, when soul and body are exhausted, I -refresh myself with the green drink, a cigarette, the _Temps_, and -the _Débuts_. How sweet is life after all, when the mist of a mild -intoxication casts its veil over the miseries of existence. Probably -the powers envy me this hour of a visionary happiness, for from this -evening onwards it is disturbed by a series of annoyances which cannot -be attributed to chance. On May 17th, I find my place, which has been -reserved for me daily for nearly two years, occupied; all the other -chairs are also taken. Deeply annoyed, I have to go to another café. - -_May_ 18_th_.--My old corner in Lilas is again vacant, and I am again -under my chestnut behind the Marshal, feeling contented, even happy. My -well-concocted absinthe is there, my cigarette lighted, and the _Temps_ -spread out. Then a drunken man passes; a hateful-looking fellow, whose -mischievous, contemptuous air annoys me. His face is red, his nose -blue, his eyes malicious. I taste my absinthe, and feel happy not to be -like this sot.... There! I don't know how, but my glass is upset and -empty. Without sufficient money to order another, I pay for this and -leave the café. Certainly it was again the Evil One who played me this -trick. - -_May_ 19_th_.--I don't venture to go to the café. - -_May_ 20_th_.--I have slunk round the terrace of the Lilas, and at last -found my corner unoccupied. One must fight the evil spirits and begin -the war oneself. The absinthe is made, the cigarette glows, and the -_Temps_ has important news. Then (I speak the truth, reader), a chimney -of the café over my head takes fire! There is a universal panic. I -remain sitting, but a stronger will than mine directs a cloud of soot -with such a good aim on me, that two large flakes settle on my glass. -Disconcerted, but as unbelieving and sceptical as ever, I depart. - -_June_ 1_st_.--After long abstinence, the longing for my chestnut again -awakes. My table is occupied, and I sit down at a vacant one standing -somewhat apart. Then there comes a middle-class family, and sits near -me. There seems to be no end of them. Women push against my chair, -children do their little businesses before my eyes, young men take away -my matches without asking leave. Thus I sit in the midst of a noisy, -shameless throng, but do not waver nor yield. Then occurs something -which, without any doubt, shows the skilful hand of the unseen, for -there is no room for suspecting these people to whom I am entirely -unknown. - -A young man lays with an unmistakable gesture a sou on my table. A -stranger, and alone among a crowd of people, I let it happen, but, -blind with anger, I seek for an explanation. - -He gives me a sou, as if to a beggar! Beggar! that is the dagger which -I drive into my breast. Beggar! for thou deservest nothing, and---- - -The waiter offers me a more comfortable place, and I leave the money -lying. What a disgrace! He brings it after me, and informs me politely -that the young man had found it under my table, and thought it was -mine. I feel ashamed, and in order to calm my anger, order another -absinthe. - -The absinthe comes, and I feel quite comfortable, when a pestilential -smell of ammonia almost stifles me. Again a miracle or some evil -purpose! An escape-pipe flows out at the edge of the pavement, exactly -where my seat is. I begin to understand that the good spirits wish -to heal me of a sin, which at last leads to the madhouse. Blessed be -Providence which has saved me! - -_May_ 25_th_.--In spite of the regulations of the house which exclude -women, a family has taken up its quarters next my room. For a day and a -night crying babies afford me much pleasure, and remind me of the good -old times when I was between thirty and forty and life was pleasantest. - -_May_ 26_th_.--The family quarrel together and the children howl. How -similar it is, and yet how pleasant it is for me--_now_! - -_May_ 29th.--A letter from the children of my first marriage informs -that a telegram had come for them bidding them to be present in -Stockholm at the farewell feast which was to celebrate my departure for -the North Pole. They understand nothing about it, and I just as little. -What a fatal error! - -_June_ 2_nd_.--In the Avenue de l'Observatoire I find two pebbles -shaped exactly like hearts. In the evening, in the garden of a Russian -painter, I found a third heart of the same size, exactly like the two -others. The playing of Schumann's _Aufschwung_ has ceased, and I am -again calm. - -_June_ 9_th_.--I visit the Danish painter in the Rue de la Santé. -The great dog has disappeared; the entrance is free. We go to dine -on a terrace in the Boulevard Port-Royal. My friend is cold and -uncomfortable, and as he has forgotten his overcoat I lay mine over -his shoulders. At first this quiets him; he feels himself dominated by -me, and does not struggle against it. We are agreed on all points; -he does not venture any more to oppose me. He admits that Popoffsky -is a scoundrel, and that all my misfortunes are due to him. Suddenly -a strange fit of nervousness takes hold of him; he trembles like a -medium under the influence of the hypnotiser, gets excited, shakes -off the overcoat, stops eating, lays his fork on one side, stands up -and goes off. What is the meaning of it? Does he feel my coat to be a -Nessus robe? Has my nervous fluid become stored up in it, and through -its opposite polarity subjugated him? Does Ezekiel, chap. xiii., ver. -18, refer to something similar? "Woe to you that sew pillows upon all -armholes, and make kerchiefs for the heads of persons of every stature, -to catch souls.... I will tear your kerchiefs, and I will deliver my -people out of your hand, and they shall no more be in your hand to be -hunted; and ye shall know that I am the Lord." - -Have I become a wizard without knowing it? - -_June_ 7_th_.--I visited my Danish friend in order to look at his -pictures. When I arrived he seemed well and cheerful, but after half -an hour he had a nervous attack, which increased so much that he had -to undress and go to bed. What was the matter with him? Had he a bad -conscience? - -_June_ 14_th, Sunday_.--In the Jardin du Luxembourg I found a fourth -heart-shaped pebble, like the three former ones. The stone has a piece -of gold tinsel adhering to it; altogether it remains a puzzle, but -seems to foreshadow something. I compare the four stones together -before the open window, as the bells of St. Sulpice begin to ring; then -the great bell of Notre-Dame commences, and through these usual sounds, -there comes a heavy solemn peal, as though it issued from the bowels of -the earth. I ask the waiter who brings my letters what it is. He says, -"The great bell of the Church Sacré Cœur of Montmartre." - -It is then the festival of the Sacred Heart? And I contemplate these -four hard stone hearts, curiously moved by this striking coincidence. - -In the direction of Notre-Dame des Champs I hear a cuckoo, and yet it -is impossible; or have my ears become so extra-sensitive that they can -hear as far as the wood of Meudon? - -June 15_th_.--I go to the city to change a cheque into bank-notes -and gold. To my astonishment, the Quai Voltaire sways under my feet; -certainly the Carrousel Bridge trembles under the weight of the carts. -But to-day, this movement continues past the Tuileries to the Avenue -de l'Opéra. There is always vibration in a town, but in order to notice -it one must have very sensitive nerves. - -The other side of the river is, for us dwellers in Montparnasse, a -foreign world. It is nearly a year since I visited the Lyons Bank, -or the Café de la Régence. On the Boulevard des Italiens, I felt -homesick, and I hurried back to the river, where the sight of the Rue -des Saints Pères revived me. Near the Church St. Germain des Prés I -met a funeral, and after that, two colossal Madonnas, which were being -carried on a cart. One of them, with folded hands and eyes directed -heavenwards, made a deep impression on me. - -_June_ 16_th_.--On the Boulevard St. Michel I bought a paper-weight -adorned with a glass globe containing the Madonna of Lourdes in her -famous grotto; before her kneels a veiled woman. When I place the -figure in the sun, it casts strange shadows. On the back of the grotto -the plaster has accidentally formed a head of Christ, though evidently -unintended by the artist. - -_June_ 18_th_.--My Danish friend rushes in, in a state of excitement -and trembling all over, into my room. Popoffsky has been arrested -in Vienna on the charge of having murdered his paramour and two -illegitimate children. After I recover from the first surprise, and my -first feeling of sincere sympathy for a man who at any rate had once -been my intimate friend, a deep peace settles on my spirit, which had -been tortured for months with long-continued threats. Unable to conceal -my real selfishness, I give free vent to my feelings. It is dreadful, -and yet I am relieved when I think of the danger from which I have -escaped. - -What was his motive for the crime? We conjecture as a reason the -jealousy which his lawful wife felt against the illegitimate family, -and the expense which they involved. Perhaps also.... - -"What?" - -"Perhaps his bloodthirsty instincts have recently been able to find no -outlet in Paris, and have sought for satisfaction in some other way, no -matter upon whom." To myself I say: "Was it possible that my earnest -prayers had averted the dagger, and turned it against the murderer -himself?" Then, giving up guessing, I conclude magnanimously like a -victor: "Let us at any rate save our friend's literary reputation. I -will write an essay on his merits as an author; you draw a flattering -portrait, and we will send both to the _Revue Blanche_." - -In the Dane's studio (the dog guards it no more) we stand and -contemplate a picture of Popoffsky painted two years ago. It represents -only his head, with a cloud below it. Underneath are a pair of -cross-bones like one sees on tombstones. The decapitated head makes us -shudder, and the dream of May 14th steals into my memory like a ghost. -"How did you come to think," I asked, "of representing him with a head -only?" - -"That is hard to say; but there seemed to be a fate brooding over -this fine mind, with marks of genius, which dreamed of fame without -being willing to pay the price for it. Life lets us choose one of two -things--the laurel or luxury." - -"You have at last discovered that!" - -_June_ 23_rd_,--During these last days since the news of the Russian's -arrest, a fresh disquiet seizes me. It appears to me as though someone -somewhere were meddling with my destiny, and I tell the Danish painter -my suspicion that the hate of the imprisoned Russian makes me suffer -like the electric fluid from a dynamo. - -There are moments in which I foresee that my stay in Paris will soon -be at an end, and that a revolution in my circumstances is at hand. - -The weathercock on the cross of Notre-Dame des Champs seems to me to -flap its wings as though it wished to fly northwards. Anticipating -my speedy departure, I hastily conclude my studies in the Jardin des -Plantes. A zinc bath in which I make experiments in alchemy shows on -its inner sides a landscape formed by the evaporation of iron salts. I -understand it is a presage, but I cannot guess where this landscape is. -Hills covered with forests of firs; lying between them, plains covered -with fruit trees and cornfields; everything indicates the neighbourhood -of a river. One of the hills with precipices of stratified formation is -crowned with the ruins of a stately castle. I cannot make out more, but -I shall not remain long in uncertainty. - -June 20th.--We receive an invitation from the head of the scientific -occultists, the editor of the _Initiation_. As the doctor and I arrived -at Marolles en Brie we received three pieces of bad news: A weasel had -killed the ducks; a servant girl was ill; the third I forget. - -On the evening of our return to Paris, I read in a paper the famous -history of the haunted house in Valence en Brie. Brie? I begin to -fear that the occupants of my hotel will become suspicious, hear of -my excursion to Brie, and in consequence of my experiments in alchemy -suppose that I have set on foot that humbug or witchcraft. - -I have bought myself a rosary. Why? It is pretty, and the evil spirits -fear the Cross; besides, I don't worry any more about the motives -of my actions. I act, as the humour takes me, and life is much more -interesting. There is a sudden change as regards the Popoffsky case. -His friend the Dane begins to doubt his having committed the crime, -and says the accusation against him was refuted at the inquest. The -publishing of my article is put off, and I feel as cold towards him as -before. At the same time the monstrous dog reappears--a hint for me to -be on my guard. - -As I am writing in the afternoon at the table near my window, a -thunderstorm bursts. The first drops of rain fall on my manuscript -and blot it in such a way that from the obliterated letters the word -"Alp"[3] is formed, and also a blot in the shape of an enormous face. I -preserve this; it resembles the Japanese god of thunder as portrayed -in the _Atmosphère_ of Camille Flammarion. - -June 28_th_.--I have seen my wife in a dream; her front teeth were -missing. She gave me a guitar, which looked like a Danube boat. This -dream threatened me with imprisonment. - -In the afternoon I rub together on a piece of paper quicksilver, tin, -sulphur, and chlorate of ammonia. When I took off the mixture, the -paper retained the impression of a face, which had an extraordinary -resemblance to that of my wife in the dream of the past night. - -July 1_st_.--I expect an eruption, an earthquake, a thunderbolt -somewhere or other. Nervous as a horse when wolves are near, I scent -danger, and pack my box ready for Hight without being able to decide on -it. The Russian has been liberated from prison for want of proofs; his -friend the Dane has become my enemy. The customers in the restaurant -persecute me. We had our last meal in the courtyard on account of -the heat. The table was placed between the dustbin and the lavatory. -Over the dustbin hung the picture of the crucified woman by my former -American friend. They had revenged themselves so severely upon him -that he had disappeared without paying his debts. Near the table the -Russians have placed a statuette, a warrior with the conventional -scythe, possibly to frighten me! A young fellow belonging to the house -goes behind my back to the lavatory with the thinly concealed purpose -of annoying me. The court is as narrow as a mineshaft, and admits no -sunlight over the high walls. The women who live in the different -storeys make obscene remarks over our heads. Domestic servants come -with their baskets full of rubbish in order to empty them into the -dustbin. It is hell itself! Moreover, my two neighbours, notoriously -immoral characters, try, with their disgusting talk, to entangle me in -a quarrel. - -Why am I here? Because loneliness compels me to seek human society and -to hear human voices. Just as my mental suffering reaches its highest -pitch, I discover some pansies blooming in the tiny flower-bed. They -shake their heads as though they wished to warn me of a danger, and one -of them with a child's face and large eyes signals to me, "Go away!" I -rise and pay; as I go out the young fellow mentioned above greets me -with concealed contempt, which irritates me. But I remain quiet. - -I feel pity for myself and shame for the others. I forgive the -offenders as though they were demons, who must now fulfil their duty. -Meanwhile, the disfavour of the powers is all too obvious, and I begin -in my room to total up the debit and credit side. Hitherto, and that -was my comfort, I have never been able to bow myself before others, -but now, crushed by the hand of the invisible, I am anxious to own -myself wrong, and fear lays hold upon me when I carefully think over -my behaviour during the last weeks. My conscience exacts my confession -ruthlessly and pitilessly. I had sinned through conceit, through -ὕβρις, the one sin which the gods do not forgive. Encouraged -by the friendship of Dr. Popus, who had praised my experiments, I -imagined that I had solved the riddle of the Sphinx. An imitator of -Orpheus, I assumed it as my rôle to reanimate nature, which had been -done to death by the scientists. Confident of the favour of the powers, -I flattered myself that I was invincible as regards my foes, and forgot -the most ordinary rules of modesty. - -This is the right point at which to insert the history of my secret -friend who has played a decisive rôle in my life as mentor, counsellor, -comforter, judge, and, not least, as a reliable helper in various -times of need. As early as 1890 he wrote to me about a book which I -then published. He had found points of contact between my ideas and -those of the theosophists, and wished to hear my opinion of the Occult -Doctrine and the priestess of Isis, Madame Blavatsky. The aggressive -tone of his letter annoyed me, and I did not conceal this annoyance in -my answer. Four years later I published my _Antibarbarus_, and received -at the most critical juncture of my life a second letter from this -unknown friend, in which, in an elevated and almost prophetic style, -he foretold for me a future fraught with suffering and glory. At the -same time he explained to me that he had resumed this correspondence, -because he guessed that I was just now in the throes of a spiritual -crisis in which a word of comfort might be opportune. Finally, he -offered me material aid, which I, jealous of my miserable independence, -declined. - -In the autumn of 1895 I resumed the correspondence by offering him my -natural history studies for publication. From that time we kept up the -most intimate and friendly correspondence, with the exception of a -small disagreement which occurred, when he once took upon himself to -instruct me in an insulting way about matters which I knew very well, -and preached to me proudly about my want of modesty. After we had made -it up again, I imparted to him all my observations, and gave him more -of my confidence than was perhaps wise. I confessed to this man, whom -I had never seen, everything, and let him admonish me seriously, for I -regarded him more as an idea than a person; he was for me a messenger -of Providence, my good angel. - -Then there occurred between us a strong difference of opinion which -led to very lively discussions, without, however, leading to any -bitterness. As a theosophist, he preached "Karma," _i.e._, an abstract -total of human destinies which balance each other so as to result in -a kind of Nemesis. He was accordingly a champion of the mechanical -view of the universe, a representative of the so-called materialistic -school. To me, on the other hand, the powers had revealed themselves -as concrete, living, individual personalities, who guide the course of -the world and the destinies of men, as self-conscious entities or, as -the theologians say, as "hypostases." The second difference of opinion -was regarding the denying and putting to death of one's own self, which -always seemed to me perfectly foolish, and seems so still. - -Everything, _i.e._, the little which I know, goes back to the Ego as -its central point. Not the cultus, indeed, but the culture of this Ego -seems, therefore, the highest and ultimate aim of existence. My final -and constant answer to his objections, therefore, was: "The killing of -the Ego is self-murder." - -Moreover, before whom should I bow myself? Before the theosophists? -Never! But before the Eternal, the Powers, Providence, I seek to subdue -my evil propensities daily as much as possible. To combat for the -preservation of my ego, against all influence which a sect or party, -from love of ruling, may bring to bear upon me, _that_ is my duty -enjoined on me by conscience; the guide which the grace of my divine -protector has given me. - -Nevertheless, because of the qualities of this unseen friend, whom I -felt drawn to love and admire, I put up with his admonitions when he -often addressed me in a presumptuous way as his inferior. I always -answered him, but did not conceal from him my dislike for theosophy. - -Finally, however--it was during the Popoffsky episode,--he assumed -such a domineering tone, and became so intolerable in his tyranny, -that I feared he took me for a fool. He called me "Simon Magus, the -necromancer," and recommended me to take Madame Blavatsky as my -teacher. I wrote back to him that I had no need of the lady, and that -no one had anything to teach me. Thereupon what did he threaten me -with? That he would bring me back to the right path with the aid of -stronger powers than mine. Then I asked him not to meddle with my -destiny, which the hand of Providence had always so well protected and -guided. And in order to further impress upon him my conviction by means -of an example, I related to him the following incident out of my life, -which has been so rich in providential occurrences, premising at the -same time that by relating this very incident I feared lest I should be -challenging Nemesis. - - * * * * * - -It was ten years before this time, during the most stormy period of my -literary life, when I was raging against the feminist movement, which, -with the exception of myself, everyone in Scandinavia supported. The -heat of the conflict hurried me on, so that I so far overstepped the -bounds of propriety that my countrymen considered me mad. - -I was just then staying with my wife and the children of my first -marriage in Bavaria, when I received a letter from a friend of my -youth inviting me and my children to stop with him for a year, he -made no mention of my wife. This letter, with its affected style, its -corrections and omissions, seemed to betray some hesitation on the part -of the writer in the choice of the reasons which he alleged for his -invitation. As I suspected some trap, I declined the offer in a few -non-committal polite phrases. - -Two years later, after my first divorce, I went to him of my own accord -and found him living on a little island off the coast of the Baltic Sea -as an inspector of customs. His reception of me was friendly, but his -whole manner embarrassed and equivocal, and our conversation was more -like a police examination. After giving a wakeful night's consideration -to the matter, I understood it. This man, whose self-love I had wounded -in one of my novels, in spite of his display of sympathy, was not -really my well-wisher. An absolute tyrant, he wanted to interfere with -my destiny, to tame and subdue me, in order to show me his superiority. - -Quite unscrupulous in his choice of means, he tormented me for a week -long, poisoned my mind with slanders and stories invented to suit every -occasion, but did it so clumsily that I was more and more convinced -that he wished to have me incarcerated as a person of unsound mind. - -I offered no special resistance, and left it to my good fortune to -liberate me at the right time. - -My apparent submission won my executioner's favour, and there alone, -in the midst of the sea, hated by his neighbours and subordinates, he -yielded to his need to confide in someone. He told me, with incredible -frankness for a man of fifty, that his sister during the past winter -had gone out of her mind, and in a fit of frenzy had destroyed all her -savings. The next morning he told me, further, that his brother was in -a lunatic asylum on the mainland. - -I asked myself, "Is that why he wants to see me confined in one, in -order to avenge himself on fate?" After he had thus related to me his -misfortunes, I won his complete confidence, so that I was able to leave -the island, and hire a house on a neighbouring one, where my children -joined me. Four weeks later a letter summoned me to my "friend," whom -I found quite broken down because his brother in a fit of mania had -shattered his skull. I comforted my executioner, and his wife whispered -to me with tears that she had long feared lest the same fate should -overtake her husband. A year later the newspapers announced that my -friend's eldest brother had taken his life under circumstances which -seemed to indicate that he was out of his mind. Thus three distinct -blows descended on the head of this man who had wished to play with -lightning. - -"What a strange chance!" people will say. And stranger, and more -ominous still, every time that I relate this history, I am punished for -doing so. - - * * * * * - -The fierce July heat broods over the city; life is intolerable, and -everything is malodorous. I expect a catastrophe. In the street I find -a scrap of paper with the word "marten" written on it; in another -street a similar scrap with the word "vulture" written by the same -hand. Popoffsky certainly has a resemblance to a marten as his wife has -to a vulture. Have they come to Paris to kill me? He, the murderer, is -capable of everything after he has murdered wife and children. - -The perusal of the delightful book _La joie de mourir_ arouses in me -the wish to quit the world. In order to learn to know the boundary -between life and death, I lie on the bed, uncork the flask containing -cyanide of potassium, and let its poisonous perfume stream out. The man -with the scythe approaches softly and voluptuously, but at the last -moment someone enters or something else happens; either an attendant -enters under some pretext, or a wasp flies in through the window. - -The powers deny me the only joy left, and I bow to their will. - - * * * * * - -At the beginning of July the house is empty; the students have gone -for their holidays. All the more is my curiosity aroused by a stranger -who has taken the room on that side of mine where my writing-table is -placed. The Unknown never speaks; he appears to be occupied in writing -on the other side of the wall which divides us. Curiously enough, -whenever I move my chair, he moves his also, and, in general, imitates -all my movements as though he wished to annoy me. Thus it goes on for -three days. On the fourth day I make the following observations: If I -prepare to go to sleep, he also prepares to go to sleep in the next -room; when I lie down in bed, I hear him lie down on the bed by my -wall. I hear him stretch himself out parallel with me; he turns over -the pages of a book, then puts out the lamp, breathes loud, turns -himself on his side, and goes to sleep. He apparently occupies the -rooms on both sides of me, and it is unpleasant to be beset on two -sides at once. Absolutely alone, I take my mid-day meal in my room, and -I eat so little that the waiter pities me. For eight days I have not -heard the sound of my own voice, which begins to grow feeble for want -of exercise. I have n't a sou left, and my tobacco and postage stamps -run out. Then I rally my will power for a last attempt: I _will_ make -gold, by the dry process. I manage to borrow some money and procure the -necessary apparatus: an oven, smelting-saucepans, wood-coals, bellows, -and tongs. The heat is terrific and, like a workman in a smithy, I -sweat before the open fire, stripped to the waist. But sparrows have -built their nests in the chimney, and smoke pours out of it into the -room. I feel like going mad over this first attempt, my head-aches, -and the frustration of my efforts; for everything goes wrong. I have -smelted the mass of metal in the fire and look inside the saucepan. -The borax has formed within it a death's-head with two glowing eyes -which seem to pierce my soul with uncanny irony. Not a grain of gold is -there, and I give up all further effort. I resume my seat, and read the -Bible just where I happen to open it: "None calleth to mind, neither -is there knowledge nor understanding to say, I have burned part of it -in the fire; yea, also, I have baked bread upon the coals thereof, I -have roasted flesh and eaten it; and shall I make the residue thereof -an abomination? Shall I fall down to the stock of a tree? He feedeth on -ashes; a deceived heart hath turned him aside, that he cannot deliver -his soul nor say, Is there not a lie in my right hand. Thus saith the -Lord, thy Redeemer, and he that formed thee from the womb, I am the -Lord that maketh all things, that stretcheth forth the heavens alone, -that spreadeth forth the earth; who is with me? that frustrateth the -tokens of the liars and maketh diviners mad; that turneth wise men -backward, and maketh their knowledge foolish." - -For the first time I despair of my scientific experiments. If they are -all folly, then I have sacrificed my happiness and that of my wife and -children to a phantom. Alas for my delusion! There is a gaping abyss -between my parting from my family and this moment. A year and a half -has elapsed, and so many painful days and nights have been spent for -nothing. But no! it cannot be, it is not so. - -Have I lost myself in a dark wood? The good spirit has guided me on -the right way to the island of the blessed, but Satan tempts me. I -am punished again. I sink relaxed on my scat, an unwonted depression -weighs upon my spirits. A magnetic fluid streams from the wall, and -sleep nearly overcomes me. I pull myself together, and stand up, in -order to go out. As I pass through the passage, I hear two voices -whispering in the room adjoining mine. Why are they whispering? In -order that I may not overhear them. I go through the Rue d'Assas to the -Jardin du Luxembourg. I drag myself wearily along, feeling lame from my -loins to my feet, and sink on a seat behind the group of Adam and his -family. - -I am poisoned! That is my first thought. And Popoffsky, who has -murdered his wife and children with poisonous gases, is here. He has -copied the famous experiment of Pettenkofer, and discharged a stream of -gas through the wall. What shall I do? Go to the police? No! for if I -can adduce no proofs they will shut me up as a lunatic. - -Væ soli! Woe to the solitary, the sparrow upon the housetop! Never -was my misery greater, and I weep like a forsaken child that fears the -dark. - -In the evening I dare not remain sitting at my table for fear of a new -attack, and lie on the bed without venturing to go to sleep. The night -comes and my lamp is lit. Then I see outside, on the wall opposite to -my window, the shadow of a human shape, whether a man or a woman, I -cannot say, but it seems to be a woman. When I stand up, to ascertain -which it is, the blind is noisily pulled down; then I hear the Unknown -enter the room, which is near my bed, and all is silent. For three -hours I lie awake with open eyes to which sleep refuses to come; then -a feeling of uneasiness takes possession of me; I am exposed to an -electric current which passes to and fro between the two adjoining -rooms. The nervous tension increases, and, in spite of my resistance, I -cannot remain in bed, so strong is my conviction: "They are murdering -me; I will not let myself be murdered." I go out in order to seek the -attendant in his box at the end of the corridor, but alas! he is not -there. They have got him to go away; he is a silent accomplice, and I -am betrayed! - -I go down the stairs, and hasten through the corridors in order to -rouse the director of the _pension_. With a presence of mind, of which -I would not have thought myself capable, I tell him that I have a -sudden attack of indisposition, caused by the evaporations from my -chemicals, and ask for another room for the night. Thanks to a wrathful -Providence, the only vacant room is directly under that of my enemy. I -open the window and inhale full draughts of the fresh air of a starry -night. Above the roofs of the Rue d'Assas, and the Rue de Madame, the -Great Bear and Pole-star are visible. To the North, then! I take the -omen! - -As I draw back the curtain of the alcove where my bed is, I hear my -enemy overhead get out of bed and place some heavy object in a box -which he locks. He is concealing something then! Perhaps the electric -machine. - - * * * * * - -The next morning, which is a Sunday, I pack up and give out that I am -going to the seacoast. I tell the coachman to drive to the St. Lazare -Station, but when we get opposite the Odeon, I alter the route and bid -him drive to the Rue de la Clef, near the Jardin des Plantes. I wish -to remain here incognito, in order to complete my studies before my -departure for Sweden. - - -[1] _L'extériorisation de la sensibilité_. - -[2] Famous Norwegian novelist. - -[3] Nightmare. - - - - -VI - -HELL - - -At length a pause ensues in my sufferings. For hours at a time I sit -in the open space before the summer-house, watch the flowers, and -think over the recent events. The peace of mind, which I find after my -flight, convinces me that I have not been suffering from the delusions -of disease, but have been persecuted by real enemies. I work during -the day and sleep quietly at night. Delivered from the squalor of my -former residence, I feel myself rejuvenated among the roses of this -garden--the favourite flower of my youth. The Jardin des Plantes, this -wonder of Paris unknown to the Parisians themselves, has become my -park. This epitome of creation confined within a narrow circuit, this -Noah's Ark, this Paradise Regained in which I wander without danger -among wild beasts--it is too much happiness. Beginning with stones, I -proceed to the vegetable and animal kingdoms, till I come to man, and -behind man I discover the Creator--the great Artist who develops as -he creates, sets on fool designs which He rejects later on, resumes -plans which have failed, and completes and multiplies primitive forms -endlessly. All is the work of His hand. Often in the discovery of -methods He makes enormous leaps, and then Science comes and ascertains -the extent of the gaps and the missing links, and imagines that it has -found the intermediary forms which have disappeared. - - * * * * * - -As I now consider myself safe from my persecutors, I send my address to -the Pension Orfila in order to resume my correspondence with the outer -world, but no sooner have I lifted the mask of my incognito than my -peace is interrupted. All kinds of things disquiet me, and my former -discomfort returns. - -To begin with, articles whose use I cannot understand are being -stored away in the room which adjoins mine on the ground-floor, and -which hitherto was vacant of furniture. An old gentleman, with grey, -malicious eyes, carries empty boxes, strips of metal, and other -mysterious objects into it. At the same time the noises over my head -recommence. They file and hammer as though they were constructing some -infernal machine. - -Moreover, the landlady, who at first appeared pleased at my taking -up my abode here, alters her demeanour; she tries to ferret out my -affairs, and vexes me by her manner of greeting me. Besides this, the -lodger who occupies the first floor above me, leaves the house. He was -a quiet old gentleman, whose heavy footfall was familiar to me. In his -place comes a reserved-looking tenant who has lived in the house for -years. He has not changed his lodgings but only his room. Why? - -The servant-maid who looks after my room, and brings my meals, has a -serious air and casts sympathetic glances at me. - -All at once a wheel begins to turn over my head, and continues to -do so the whole day long. I am condemned to death! That is my firm -conviction. By whom? By the Russians, the Pietists, Catholics, Jesuits, -Theosophists? As what?--A wizard or practiser of black arts? Or perhaps -it is by the police as an anarchist? That is a very plausible pretext -for removing personal enemies. - -At the moment that I write this, I do not know what was the real nature -of the events of that July night when death threatened me, but I will -not forget that lesson as long as I live. - -If the initiated believe that I was then exposed to a plot woven by -human hands, let me tell them that I feel anger against no one, for -I know now that another stronger Hand, unknown to them, guided those -hands against their will. - -On the other hand, if there was no plot, I must suppose that my own -imagination conjured up these chastising spirits for my own punishment. -We shall see in the sequel how far this supposition is probable. - - * * * * * - -On the morning of my last day (as I suppose) I rise in a resigned frame -of mind, which might be called religious; I have no more ties binding -me to life. I have put my papers in order, written necessary letters, -and burnt what had to be burnt. Then I go to bid farewell to the world -in the Jardin des Plantes. - -The Swedish block of lodestone before the mineralogical museum gives -me a greeting from my native land. I greet the acacias, the cedars -of Lebanon, and the monuments of great epochs when botany was still -a living science. I buy bread and cherries for my old friends. The -old bear knows me well, for I am the only one who brings him cherries -morning and evening. I give bread to the young elephant, who spits in -my face after he has eaten it--the young, faithless ingrate! - -Farewell, ye vultures who had to exchange the sky for a dirty cage! -Farewell, bison and behemoth, thou chained demon! Farewell, ye loving -pair of sea-birds whom wedded love consoles for the loss of ocean -and its wide horizon! Farewell, stones, plants, flowers, trees, -butterflies, birds, snakes, all creatures of a good God! And you great -men, Bernadin de Saint-Pierre, Linnæus, Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, Haüy, -whose names shine in gold on the front of the temple--farewell! but we -meet again. So I part from this earthly Paradise, and Séraphita's noble -words come to my mind, "Adieu, pauvre terre! adieu!" - -When I re-enter the hotel garden, I become aware of the presence of -a man, who must have come in my absence. I do not see him, but feel -him. What increases my confusion is the visible alteration which the -adjoining room has undergone. A cloth hung over a rope obviously -conceals something. On the mantelpiece are metal projections isolated -by wooden panels, and on each there lies a photograph album or some -other book, in order to give these diabolical machines, which I am -inclined to think are accumulators, an innocuous appearance. Moreover, -on a roof in the Rue Censier, exactly opposite my summer-house, I see -two workmen. I cannot make out what they are doing, but they seem to -have an eye on my glass-door and are busy with objects which I cannot -distinguish. - -Why do I not escape? Because I am too proud, and must bear the -inevitable. I therefore prepare myself for the night. I take a bath, -and am especially careful to wash my feet, for my mother has told me -when a child, that there is something disgraceful in dirty feet. I -shave and perfume myself, and put on the underclothes which I bought -three years ago in Vienna for my wedding--the toilet of a man condemned -to die. I read the psalms in the Bible in which David invokes the wrath -of the Eternal upon his enemies. I do not read the penitential psalms. -I have no right to remorse, for it is not I who have guided my destiny. -I have never requited evil with evil, except when I had to defend -myself. To be remorseful is to criticise Providence, which imposes sin -on us as a suffering, in order to purify us through the disgust with -which each evil deed inspires us. - -The summing up of my reckoning with life is as follows: If I have -sinned, on my word of honour, I have been sufficiently punished. That -is certain. As to the fear of hell, I have wandered through a thousand -hells, without trembling, and have experienced enough of them to feel -an intense desire to depart from the vanities and false joys of this -world, which I always despised. Born with a heavenly homesickness, -I wept as a child over the filthiness of life, and felt strange and -homeless among relations and friends. From childhood onwards I have -sought for God and found the Devil. I have borne the cross of Christ in -my youth, and have denied a God who delights to reign over slaves who -love their tormentor. - - * * * * * - -As I let down the curtains of my glass-door, I see a number of ladies -and gentlemen sitting at their champagne in the private drawing-room. -They seem to be strangers just arrived this evening. But they are not a -merry company; their faces are all serious, they discuss, seem to form -plans, and speak in an undertone with each other, as though it were a -conspiracy. To intensify my mental torture, they turn round on their -chairs, and point with their fingers in the direction of my room. About -ten o'clock I extinguish my lamp, and go to sleep quietly, resigned as -a dying man. - -I wake up. A clock strikes two; a door is fastened, and--I am out of -bed, as though someone had applied an air-pump to my heart and drawn -me out _so_. At the same time an electric stream strikes my neck, and -presses me to the ground. I rise again, seize my clothes and rush, my -heart beating violently, into the garden. When I have dressed myself, -my first clear thought is to go to the police and have the house -searched. But the front door is shut, and so is the porter's box. I -grope my way on, open a door on the right, and step into the kitchen, -in which a lamp is burning. I upset it, and stand in pitch darkness. - -Fear restores me to my senses, and I return to my room with the -thought: "If I make a mistake, I am lost." I drag a chair out into -the garden, and, sitting under the starry sky, I reflect on what is -happening. Am I ill? Impossible: for until I disclosed my incognito, I -was quite well. Is it an attack? Yes, because I saw the preparations -for it going on. For the rest, I feel better here outside in the -garden beyond the power of my enemies, and my heart beats quite -regularly. While reflecting thus, I hear someone cough in the room -adjoining mine. It is at once answered by a low cough from the room on -the other side. Doubtless it is a signal, just like the one I heard my -last night in the Pension Orfila. I try to open forcibly the glass-door -of the ground-floor room, but the bolt holds. - -Wearied by the useless fight against invisible powers, I sink on -a garden seat. Sleep has pity on me, so that under the stars of a -beautiful summer night I fall asleep among the roses whispering in the -warm airs of July. - - * * * * * - -The sun awakes me, and I thank Providence which has saved me from -death. I pack my things, and mean to go to Dieppe to find shelter with -some friends, whom I have neglected as I have all others, but who are -considerate and generous towards the fallen and shipwrecked. When I ask -to speak to the directress of the house, she is not visible, and sends -a message to say she is unwell. I might have expected that she would be -involved in the plot against me. I leave the house with a curse on the -head of my knavish enemies, and call on heaven to send down fire on -this den of robbers--whether rightly or wrongly, who knows? My Dieppe -friends were alarmed, when they saw me mounting the hill of their town -with my bag heavy with manuscripts. - -"Where have you come from, poor fellow?" - -"I come from death." - -"I doubt it, for you look as if you had not been dug out yet." - -The kind, good-hearted lady of the house takes me by the hand and leads -me before a looking-glass, that I may see myself. I certainly look a -pitiable object; my face blackened by smoke from the engine, my cheeks -fallen in, my hair grown grey, my eyes staring wildly, and my linen -dirty. - -But when I was left alone in the dressing-room by my kind hostess, -who treated me like a sick, deserted child, I examined my face more -closely. There was an expression in my features which alarmed me. -It was not fear of death or wickedness, but something else, and had -I at that time known Swedenborg, he would have explained to me the -impression made by the evil spirit on my soul, and the occurrences -of the last weeks. Now I felt ashamed and angry with myself, and my -conscience pained me on account of my ingratitude towards this family, -which had proved a harbour of refuge for me, as for so many other -shipwrecked voyagers. As a punishment, I shall be driven hence also -by the furies. Here is a beautiful artistic home, ordered domestic -economy, married happiness, with charming children, cleanness and -comfort, boundless hospitality, charitable judgment, an atmosphere of -beauty and goodness which dazzles me--a paradise, in short, and I in -the midst of it, all like a lost soul. I see spread out before my eyes -all the happiness which life can offer, and all that I have lost. - - * * * * * - -I occupy an attic room looking out on a hill where there is an asylum -for old people. In the evening I observe two men looking over the wall -of the institution towards our villa, and pointing at my window. The -idea that I am being persecuted by means of electricity again takes -possession of me. - -The night between the 25th and 26th of July, 1896, comes on. We have -searched together all the attic rooms near mine, and the loft itself, -so as to satisfy me that no one with evil intentions could be lurking -there. Only in a lumber-room an object of no significance in itself has -a depressing effect upon me. It is only the skin of a polar bear used -as a rug; but the gaping jaws, the threatening teeth, I lie sparkling -eyes irritate me. Why should this creature lie just now, just there? -Without taking off my clothes, I lie down on the bed, determined to -wait for the fateful hour--two o'clock. - -While I am reading, midnight approaches. One o'clock strikes, and -the whole house is wrapped in slumber. At last two o'clock strikes! -Nothing happens. Then in a dare-devil spirit, or perhaps only with the -intention of making a physical experiment, I rise, open both windows, -and light two candles. Then I sit at the table behind them, expose -myself with bared breast as a mark, and challenge the unknown: "Attack, -if you dare!" - -Then I feel, at first only faintly, something like an inrush of -electric fluid. I look at my compass, but it shows no sign of wavering. -It is not electricity then. But the tension increases; my heart beats -violently; I offer resistance, but as if by a flash of lightning my -body is charged with a fluid which chokes me and depletes my blood. I -rush down the stairs to the room on the ground-floor, where they have -made up for me a provisional bed in case of necessity. There I lie for -five minutes and collect my thoughts. Is it radiating electricity? -No; for the compass has not been affected. Is it a diseased state of -mind induced by fear of the fatal hour of two o'clock? No; for I have -still the courage to defy attacks, but why must I light the candles -and attract the mysterious fluid? In this labyrinth of questioning I -find no answer, and try at last to go to sleep, but a new discharge -of electricity strikes me like a cyclone, forces me to rise from bed, -and the chase begins afresh. I hide myself behind the walls, lie down -close to the doors, or in front of the stove. Everywhere, everywhere -the furies find me. Overmastered by terror, I fly in panic from -everything and nothing, from room to room, and finish by crouching -down on the balcony. The grey-yellow light of dawn begins to break, -the sepia-coloured clouds assume fantastic and monstrous shapes, which -increase my despair. I repair to my friend's studio, lie down on the -carpet, and close my eyes. After barely five minutes' quiet, a rustle -awakes me. A mouse looks at me and seems to wish to come nearer. I -drive it away; it comes back with another one. Good Heavens! Have I -got delirium tremens, though I have been quite temperate the last -three years? (In the daytime I find that there are really mice in the -studio. It was a coincidence, then, but who caused it, and what is his -object?) I change my place, and lie down on the hall carpet. Merciful -sleep descends upon my tortured spirit, and for about half an hour I -lose consciousness of my sufferings. Then a distinct cry "Alp!" makes -me suddenly start up. "Alp!" That is the German for nightmare. "Alp" -is the word which the rainstorm caused to be formed on my paper in -the Hôtel Orfila. Who uttered that cry? No one, for the whole house -is asleep. Is it a devil's game? That is a poetical expression which -perhaps contains the whole truth. - -I mount the steps to my attic. The candles have burnt to their sockets; -deep silence reigns. The Angelus rings out. It is the day of the Lord. -I open my breviary and read "De Profundis clamavi ad Te, Domine!" That -comforts me, and I sink down on the bed like a corpse. - -_July_ 26_th, Sunday_.--A cyclone devastates the Jardin des Plantes. -The papers contain items which I find especially interesting. To-day, -Andrée's balloon is to ascend for its voyage to the North Pole, but -the occasion is not propitious. The storm has hurled down several -balloons, which have ascended at various points, and killed many -aeronauts. - -The next morning I leave Dieppe, uttering a benediction on the house, -over whose well-deserved happiness my sadness had cast a shadow. - -Since I do not wish to believe in the interference of supernatural -powers, I imagine that I am the victim of a nervous illness. -Accordingly, I make up my mind to go to Sweden and see a physician who -is a friend of mine. - -As a memorial of Dieppe, I take a piece of iron-ore which has a -trefoil shape like a Gothic window, and is marked with the sign of -a Maltese cross. A child has found it on the shore, and tells me -that these stones fall from the sky and are cast by the waves on the -land. I believe him willingly, and keep the gift as a talisman, the -significance of which is hidden from me. (On the coast of Brittany -the coast-dwellers are accustomed after storms to collect stones -shaped like crosses, with a gold-like shimmer. These stones are called -"staurolites.") - - * * * * * - -The little town to which I now betook myself lies in the extreme south -of Sweden, on the seacoast. It is an old pirates' and smugglers' -haunt, in which exotic traces of all parts of the world have been -left by various voyagers. My doctor's house looks like a Buddhist -cloister. The four wings of the one-storeyed house form a quadrangle, -in the centre of which the dome-shaped wood-shed resembles the tomb of -Tamerlane at Samarcand. The style of which the roof is built and faced -with Chinese bricks recalls the Farther East. An apathetic tortoise -crawls over the pavement and disappears in a Nirvana of innumerable -weeds. In the garden is a pagoda-shaped summer-house completely -overgrown by clematis. - -In the whole of this cloister, with its countless rooms, there lives -only one person, the director of the district hospital. He is a -widower, solitary and independent, and from the hard discipline of life -has derived that strong and noble contempt of men which leads to a deep -knowledge of the vanity of all things, oneself included. - -The entrance of this man into my life occurred in such an unexpected -manner, that I am inclined to assign it to the dramatic skill of a -_Deus ex machina_. - -At our first greeting, on my arrival from Dieppe, he looks at me -inquiringly, and suddenly asks, "You have a nervous illness! Good! But -that is not all. You look so strange that I do not recognise you. What -have you been after? Dissipation, crime, lost illusions, religion? Tell -me, old fellow!" - -But I tell him nothing special, for my first thought is one of -suspicion. He is prejudiced against me, has made inquiries about me -in some quarter, and wants to have me confined. I tell him about my -sleeplessness, nervousness, and bad dreams, and then we talk of other -things. - -In my room my attention is arrested by the American bed, with its four -legs topped by four brass balls, which look like the conductors of an -electric machine. Add to this an elastic mattress with copper springs, -resembling Ruhmkorff induction coils, and one can easily imagine my -rage at this diabolical coincidence. Besides, it is impossible to ask -for another bed, as I might be suspected of being mad. In order to -assure myself that nothing is concealed above me, I mount into the loft -overhead. There is only one object there, but it drives me almost to -desperation. An enormous wire-net rolled together stands immediately -over my bed. One could not wish for a better accumulator. If there is a -thunderstorm, such as is frequent here, the wire network will attract -the lightning, and I shall be lying on the conductor. But I do not -venture to say a word. - -The first thing that disturbs me is the noise of a machine. Since I -have quitted the Hôtel Orfila I have a roaring in my ears like the -sound of a water-wheel. Doubting the objective existence of this noise, -I ask the cause of it, and learn that it is the printing-press close -by. The explanation is plausible, and, though little satisfied, I do -not wish to excite myself. - -The dreaded night comes on. The sky is covered with clouds; the air is -close; we expect a thunderstorm. I do not venture to lie down to sleep, -and write letters for two hours. At last, overcome with weariness, I -undress myself and creep into bed. The lamp is extinguished; a terrible -stillness reigns in the house. I feel that someone is watching me in -the darkness, touches me and feels for my heart in order to suck my -blood. Without waiting any longer, I spring out of bed, fling open -the window and jump into the courtyard--but I have forgotten the -rose-bushes, whose sharp thorns pierce me through my night-shirt. -Scratched and streaming with blood, I grope about the courtyard. -Gravel-stones, thistles, and nettles lacerate my feet; unknown objects -trip me up. At last I reach the kitchen, which adjoins the doctor's -sitting-room. I knock. No answer. Suddenly I discover that it is -raining all the time. O misery of miseries! What have I done to deserve -these tortures? It is hell. Miserere! Miserere! - -I knock repeatedly. It is strange that no one is at hand when I am -attacked. Always this solitude! Does it not point to a plot against me -in which all are implicated? - -At last I hear the doctor's voice, "Who is there?" - -"It is I: I am ill. Open, or I die!" - -He opens the door. "What is the matter?" - -I begin my report by giving an account of the attack in the Rue de -la Clef, which I ascribe to enemies, who persecute me by means of -electricity. - -"Stop, unhappy man! Your mind is affected!" - -"The devil it is! Test my intelligence; read what I write daily and -what is printed----" - -"Stop! not a word to anyone! These stories of electricity are frequent -in asylum reports." - -"All the better! I care so little for your asylum reports that in order -to clear the matter up, I am willing to be examined to-morrow in the -asylum at Lund." - -"Then you are lost! Not a word more now! Lie down and sleep." - -I refuse to do so, and insist on his hearing me; he refuses to listen. - -When I am alone, I ask myself, "Is it possible that my friend, an -honourable man, who has always kept aloof from dirty transactions, at -the close of a blameless career should succumb to temptation? But who -has tempted him?" I have no answer to this question, but many surmises. -"Every man has his price," says the proverb, but a large sum must -have been necessary to bribe this strong character. But one does not -pay very highly for an ordinary piece of revenge. Therefore he must -have a strong interest in the matter himself. Stop! I have it! I have -made gold; the doctor has half-accomplished it also, although, when -asked, he denies having repeated the experiments regarding which I had -corresponded with him. He denies it, and yet as I stepped across the -pavement of the courtyard last evening I found proofs that he had been -experimenting. Therefore he is lying. Moreover, in conversation the -same evening, he enlarged on the sad consequences which the possible -manufacture of gold would entail upon mankind. Universal bankruptcy, -universal confusion, anarchy, ruin. "One would have to kill the -discoverer of the process," he concluded. - -Moreover, I know the fairly modest private means of my friend. I am -astonished to hear him speak of his intended purchase of the ground on -which his dwelling stands. He is in debt, must even economise, and yet -means to be a landowner. Everything combines to render me suspicious of -my good friend. - -Grant that I am suffering from persecution-mania, but what smith forges -the links of these hellish syllogisms? - -"The discoverer would have to be killed." This is the thought with -which my mental torment subsides into sleep about the time of sunrise. - - * * * * * - -We have commenced a cold-water cure. I have changed my room, and have -fairly quiet nights now, although not without relapses. - -One evening the doctor sees the breviary lying on my table, and becomes -angry and excited. "Always this religion! That is also a symptom, don't -you know?" - -"Or a necessity like other necessities!" - -"Enough! I am no atheist, but I think the Almighty does not wish to be -addressed in such intimate terms as formerly. These flatteries of the -Deity belong to the past, and personally I agree with the Mohammedans, -who only ask for the gift of resignation in order to support the burden -Destiny imposes upon them with dignity." - -Significant words, from which I extract some grains of gold for myself. -He carries away my breviary and Bible, and says: "Read indifferent -matters of secondary interest, world histories, or mythologies, and -leave idle dreaming. Above all things, beware of occultism, that -caricature of science. It is forbidden to us to spy out the Creator's -secrets, and woe to them who seek to do so!" - -On my objecting that the occultists in Paris form a whole body by -themselves, he only says, "All the worse for them." In the evening he -brings me, without any ulterior purpose, I am sure, Victor Rydberg's -_German Mythology_. - -"Here is something to send you to sleep, standing. It is better than -sulphonal." - -If my good friend had known what a spark he was throwing into a keg of -powder, he would rather---- - -The _Mythology_ which he put into my hands is in two volumes, has -altogether a thousand pages, and opens, so to speak, of itself. My eyes -are arrested by the following lines which are imprinted in letters of -fire on my memory:--"As the legend relates, Bhrign, having out-grown -his father's teaching, became so conceited, that he believed he could -surpass his teacher. The latter sent him into the underworld where, in -order to humble him, he had to witness countless terrible things, of -which he had never had a conception." - -That means: "My conceit, my pride, my ὕβρις, has been -punished by my father and teacher. And I am in hell, driven thither by -the powers. And who is my teacher? Swedenborg." - -I turn over more leaves of this wonderful book: "One may compare with -this the German myth of the fields of thorns which tear the feet of the -unrighteous." - -Enough! Enough! Thorns, too! That is too much! No doubt of it--I am in -hell! And in fact, real occurrences support this idea so powerfully, -that I must at last believe it. - -The doctor seems to me to be struggling with conflicting emotions. At -one time he seems prejudiced against me, looks at me contemptiously, -and treats me with humiliating rudeness; at another he seems himself -unhappy, and soothes and comforts me as though I were a sick child. But -then, again, it seems to give him pleasure to be able to trample under -his feet a man of worth for whom he has formerly had a high regard. -Then he lectures me like a pitiless tormentor. I am to work, but not -to give way to exaggerated ambition; I am to fulfil my duties to my -fatherland and family: "Leave chemical speculations alone," he says; -"they are a chimera. There are so many specialists, authorities, and -professional scientists well versed in their own branches." - -One day he proposes to me to write for the newest Stockholm society -paper. A fine idea, indeed! I answer him that I do not require to -write for the newest Stockholm paper, since the leading paper of Paris -and of the whole world has accepted my manuscripts. Then he plays the -incredulous, and treats me as a braggart, although he has read my -articles in the _Figaro_, and has himself translated my first one in -_Gil Blas_. - -I am not angry with him; he only plays the rôle assigned to him by -Providence. I forcibly suppress the growing hatred which I feel -towards this unexpected tormentor, and curse the fate which changes -what might have been thankfulness towards a generous friend into -unnatural ingratitude. - - * * * * * - -Trifling occurrences ceaselessly arouse my suspicions regarding the -doctor's evil intentions. To-day he has deposited in the garden -verandah an entirely new set of axes, saws, and hammers. What does -he want with them? In his sleeping-room are two guns and a revolver, -and in a corridor a collection of axes which are much too heavy for -merely domestic purposes. What a Satanic coincidence that I should have -these implements of execution and torture before my eyes! For I cannot -explain to myself what they mean, and why they are there. My nights now -pass fairly quietly, while the doctor has taken to roaming about at -night. Once at midnight I am startled by the sudden report of a gun. -Out of politeness I pretend not to have heard it. The next morning he -explains that a covey of woodpeckers had flown into the garden and -disturbed his sleep. Another time, at two o'clock at night, I hear the -hoarse voice of the house-keeper, and on another occasion I hear the -doctor sigh and groan and invoke "the Lord." Is this house haunted? -Who has brought me here? - -I cannot suppress a smile when I see how the nightmare with which I -have been oppressed now takes possession of my gaoler. But my malicious -joy is promptly punished. I have a terrible nervous attack. My heart -seems to stop beating, and I hear two words, which I have noted in my -diary. An unknown voice calls out, "Luthardt: Druggist." Druggist! Are -they slowly poisoning me with alkaloids such as hyoscyamin, hashish, -digitalis, and stramonin, which cause delirium? - -I don't know, but from that time my suspicion is doubled. They do not -dare to murder me, but they are trying to drive me mad by artificial -means, in order to make me disappear in an asylum. Appearances are -stronger and stronger against the doctor. I find out that he has -discovered my process of making gold, and that perhaps he knew it -before I did. Everything which he says contradicts itself the next -moment, and when confronted by a liar my imagination takes the bit -between its teeth and rushes beyond all reasonable bounds. - -On the morning of the 8th of August I go for a walk before the town. On -the high road a telegraph post is humming: I step up to it, lay my ear -on it, and listen as if bewitched. At the foot of the post there lies -by chance a horse-shoe. I pick it up and carry it away as an omen of -good luck. - -_August_ 10_th_.--The behaviour of the doctor during the last few -days has disquieted me more than ever. By his strange aspect I see -that he has struggled with himself; his face is pale; his eyes seem -dead. During the whole day he sings or whistles; a letter which he has -received has excited him much. - -In the afternoon he comes home with bloody hands from an operation, and -brings a two months' old fœtus with him. He looks like a butcher, -and talks in a hateful way: "Let them kill the weak, and protect the -strong! Down with pity, for it degrades men." I hear him with alarm, -and secretly watch him, after we have wished each other good-night on -the threshold which divides our rooms. First of all, he goes in the -garden, but I cannot hear what he does. Then he steps into the verandah -adjoining my sleeping-room and stops there. He busies himself with some -fairly heavy object, and winds up a piece of clock-work which, however, -belongs to no clock. Half-undressed, I await, standing motionless, the -result of these mysterious preparations. - -Then once more the well-known electric fluid streams through the -wall on my bed, seeks my breast, and under it, my heart. The tension -increases: I seize my clothes, slip through the window, and do not -dress till I am outside the house. There I am again in the street, on -the pavement, my last refuge and only friend behind me! I wander onward -without a definite aim; but when I come to myself I go direct to the -chief physician of the town. I have to ring and wait, and prepare what -to say so as not to injure my friend. - -At last the doctor appears. I excuse myself for paying such an -untimely visit on the plea of sleeplessness, palpitations, and want of -confidence in my own doctor, who, I said, treated me as a hypochondriac -and would not listen to me. The doctor invites me inside, as though he -had been expecting me, asks me to take a seat, and offers me a cigar -and a glass of wine. I breathe freely at finding myself once more -treated as a respectable man, and not a wretched idiot. We chat for two -hours, and the doctor turns out to be a theosophist to whom I can tell -everything, without compromising myself. At last about midnight I rise -in order to find an hotel; the doctor, however, advises me to return -home. - -"Never! he is capable of murdering me!" - -"But if I accompany you?" - -"Then, indeed, we should meet the enemy's fire together. But he would -never forgive me!" - -"All the same, let us venture." - -So I return to the house. The door is shut, and I knock. When my friend -enters after a minute, it is I who am seized with compassion, he, the -surgeon, who is accustomed to witness suffering without emotion, he, -the advocate of deliberate murder, is an object of pity indeed. He -is pale as death, trembles, stammers, and at the sight of the doctor -standing behind me seems on the point of collapse, so that I feel more -panic-struck than ever. Is it conceivable that this man intended a -murder and now feared detection? No, it is not; I reject the thought; -it is wicked. After insignificant and on my part really ridiculous -remarks, we go to our bedrooms. - - * * * * * - -There occur in life such terrible incidents that the mind refuses to -retain the memory of them for a moment, but the impression remains and -becomes irresistibly alive again. Thus there comes to my mind something -which took place in the doctor's waiting-room during my night visit. -He went to fetch wine; left alone I contemplated a cupboard with carved -panels of walnut or alderwood, I forget which. As usual, the veins in -the wood formed figures in my imagination. Among them I saw in lively -presentment a head with a goat's beard, and immediately turned my back -upon it. It was Pan in person, as depicted by the ancients and as -metamorphosed later into the Devil of the Middle Ages. I content myself -by noting the fact; the owner of the cupboard, the doctor, would be -doing occult sciences a great service if he would allow the panel to be -photographed. In the _Initiation_ for November, 1896, Dr. Marc Haven -has treated of this phenomenon, which is common in all the kingdoms of -nature, and I recommend the reader to regard attentively the face on -the shell of the tortoise. - - * * * * * - -After this adventure, open hostility breaks out between my friend and -me. He gives me to understand that I am an idler, and that my presence -is superfluous. To this I rejoin that I must wait for the arrival of -important letters, but that I am ready at any time to go to an hotel. -He now plays the rôle of the injured party. As a matter of fact, I -cannot leave for want of money. For the rest, I anticipate that a -turning-point in my destiny is at hand. My health is now restored -again; I sleep quietly and work diligently. The wrath of Providence -seems to have spent itself, for my exertions are crowned with success -in all quarters. If I take a book at haphazard out of the doctor's -library, it always gives the explanation I was looking for. Thus I find -in an old chemical treatise the secret of my process for making gold, -and I can now prove by metallurgic calculations and analogies that I -have made gold, and that gold has always been obtained when one has -gone to work in the same way. An essay on matter which I have written -and sent to a French review is immediately published. I show the -article to the doctor, who betrays his annoyance, since he cannot deny -the fact. Then I say to myself, "How can that man be my friend, who is -vexed at my _success_?" - -_August_ 12_th_.--I buy an album at the book-shop. It is a kind -of note-book with a gilt leather cover. The design on it attracts -my attention, and constitutes, strange as it may sound, a kind of -prophecy, the interpretation of which will appear in the sequel. It -is as follows: On the left is the waxing moon in the first quarter, -surrounded by a branch in blossom; three horses' heads (trijugum) -project from the moon; above is a branch of laurel; beneath three -pillars; on the right hand, a bell out of which flowers appear; a wheel -like a sun, etc. - -_August_ 13_th_.--The day announced by the clock on the Boulevard St. -Michel has arrived. I wait for something to happen, but in vain; none -the less. I am certain that somewhere something is happening, the -result of which I shall hear in a short time. - -_August_ 14_th_.--On the street I pick up a leaf out of an old office -calendar; in large type there is printed on it "August 13th" (the same -date which was on the clock). Underneath in smaller type is a sentence, -"Do nothing secretly which thou canst not do also openly." - -_August_ 15_th_.--A letter from my wife. She bewails my lot; she still -loves me, and with our child is waiting for a change in the melancholy -situation. Her parents, who formerly hated me, are full of sympathy -for my sufferings, and what is more, they invite me to visit my little -angel of a daughter, who lives with her grandparents in the country. -That calls me back to life. My child, my daughter is more than my wife. -Only to think of embracing the harmless, innocent creature, whom I -wished to injure,[1] to ask her forgiveness, to brighten her life by -little paternal attentions, after having longed for years to show the -love which has been repressed! I live again, wake up as if out of a -long bad dream, and revere the stern will of the Lord, whose hard but -wise hand has smitten me. "Blessed is he whom God chastens." Blessed, -for he does not trouble about others. - -While it is still uncertain whether I shall meet my wife on the Danube, -a matter to which, because of an undefined grudge against her, I am -quite indifferent, I prepare for my pilgrimage, perfectly aware that it -is a penance, and that new mortifications await me. - -After thirty days of misery, at last the doors of my torture-chamber -open. I part from my friend--my executioner--without bitterness. He has -only been the scourge in the hand of Providence. Behold, blessed is the -man whom the Lord chasteneth. - -[1] See above, page 38. - - - - -VII - -BEATRICE - - -In Berlin, I drive from the Stettin to the Anhalt Station. The -half-hour's drive becomes a real way of thorns for me, so many are -the memories which painfully revive in me. At first we pass through -the street in which my friend Popoffsky, as an unknown, but yet -misunderstood, man fought his first battles with poverty and passion. -Now his wife and child are both dead; they died in this house on the -left; and our friendship has turned into bitter hatred. - -Here, on the right, are the restaurants frequented by artists and -authors, the scenes of so many intellectual and erotic orgies. Here is -the Cantina Italiana, where I used to meet with my fiancée three years -ago, and where the first honorarium I received from Italy was spent in -Chianti. There is the Schiffbauerdamm with the Pension Fulda, which we -lived in when a young married pair. Here is my theatre, my book-seller, -my tailor, my chemist. - -What unhappy instinct leads the cabman to drive me through this _via -dolorosa_ full of buried memories, which at this late hour of the night -rise again like ghosts? Why does he choose just the street in which -is the restaurant, the "Black Pig," well known as a favourite resort -of Heine and E.T.A. Hoffmann? The restaurant keeper himself stands -on the steps under the grotesque sign-board. He looks at me without -recognition. For a second the candelabrum within darts coloured rays -through the numerous bottles in the window, and makes me live again a -year of my life which abounded in grief and joy, friendship and love. -At the same time, I feel keenly that it is all over, and must be buried -to make place for something new. - -I spent the night in Berlin. The next morning a deep rose-red flush in -the East greeted me over the roofs. I remember having seen this rosy -colour in Malmö on the evening of my departure. I leave Berlin, my -second home, where I have spent my "second spring," that is, my last. -At the Anhalt Station, full of these memories, I give up all hope of -the renewal of a spring and a love which can never return. - -After a night in Tabor, whither the rosy glow followed me, I travel -through the Bohemian mountains to the Danube. There the railway ends, -and I traverse the Danube plain, which extends to Grein, in a carriage. -We pass between orchards of apple and pear trees, cornfields and green -meadows. At last, on a hill on the other side of the river, I discover -the little church in which I never was, but which I know well as the -central point of the landscape which extends before the house where my -child was born. It is now two years since that unforgettable month of -May. I pass through villages and convents; along the road there rise -innumerable penitential chapels, hills crowned with crucifixes, votive -pictures, monuments, reminding one of accidents and sudden deaths -by lightning, and in other ways. At the end of my pilgrimage there -certainly await me the twelve stations of the Cross. Every hundred -paces the Crucified meets me with His crown of thorns, and instils into -me courage to bear scourging and crucifixion. I painfully convince -myself beforehand, that _she_, as I might have known, will not be there. -Now, since my wife can no more divert the domestic storm, I must -expect tit-for-tat from the old parents, whom I left under unpleasant -circumstances, though against my will. I come accordingly for the sake -of peace to be punished, and when I have passed the last village and -the last crucifix, my feelings are something like those of a condemned -man awaiting execution. - - * * * * * - -I had left an infant six weeks old, and I found a little girl of two -and a half. She turned on me a searching look, but not one of dislike, -as though she wished to find out whether I had come for her own or her -mother's sake. After she had assured herself of the former, she let -herself be embraced, and put her little arms round my neck. I am in a -mood like Faust's when he exclaims, "the earth has me again," but more -tender and purer. I am delighted in taking the little one on my arm, -and feeling her heart beat against mine. Love for a child turns a man -into a woman; it is sexless and heavenly, as Swedenborg says. This -is the beginning of my education for heaven. But I have not yet done -penance enough. - -Briefly put, the situation is as follows: My wife is staying with her -married sister, for her grandmother, who is in possession of the family -property, has vowed that our marriage shall be dissolved, so intensely -does she hate me, on account of my ingratitude and other matters. -So I with my child remain as a welcome guest of my mother-in-law, -and contentedly accept the hospitality offered me, under present -circumstances, for an indefinite time. My mother-in-law, with the -placable and submissive mind of a deeply religious woman, has forgiven -me all. - -_September_ 1_st_.--I occupy the room in which my wife has spent her -two years of separation. Here she has suffered, while I suffered in -Paris. Poor, poor woman! Are we so severely punished, because we have -trifled with love? - -During the evening meal the following incident happens. In order to -help my little daughter, who cannot yet help herself, I touch her hand -quite gently and kindly. The child utters a cry, draws her hand back, -and casts at me a glance full of alarm. When her grandmother asks what -is the matter, she answers, "He hurts me." In my confusion I am unable -to utter a word. How many persons have I deliberately hurt, and hurt -still, though without intending it. At night I dream of an eagle which -tears at my hand for some unknown crime. - -In the morning my daughter visits me; her manner is gentle and coaxing. -She drinks coffee with me, and remains standing by my writing-table -while I show her pictures. We are already good friends, and my -mother-in-law is glad that she has someone to help her in educating the -little one. In the evening I accompany her going to bed, and hear her -prayers. She is a Catholic, and when she bids me pray and make the sign -of the cross, I remain silent, for I am a Protestant. - -_September_ 2_nd_.--Everything is in confusion. My mother-in-law's -mother, who lives not far from here on the bank of the stream, intends -to have an expulsion order made out against me. She wants me to go -at once, and threatens if I disobey to disinherit her daughter. My -mother-in-law's sister, a good woman, who is separated from her -husband, invites me to stay with her in the neighbouring village till -the storm has blown over. She comes herself to fetch me. From the top -of a hill about a mile off, one looks into a circular valley, like the -crater of a volcano, out of which rise many smaller hills covered with -pines. In the middle of this crater lies the village with its church, -and above, on a precipitous height, a castle built in the mediæval -style; between, lie fields and meadows watered by a stream which rushes -into a ravine below the castle. - -This peculiar and unique landscape makes a strange impression on me, -and the thought arises: "I must have seen it somewhere before, but -where, where?" - -In the zinc bath in the Hôtel Orfila, traced out in oxide of iron! -Without question, it is the same landscape! - -My aunt goes down with me into the village, where she owns a -three-storeyed house. The capacious edifice also contains a baker's and -butcher's shop, and a restaurant. It has a lightning-conductor, because -the store was a year ago struck by lightning. When my good aunt, who is -as rigidly religious as her sister, conducts me to the room assigned -for my use, I remain fixed on the threshold as if arrested by a vision. -The walls are painted a rose-colour, which reminds me of the flush of -the dawns which accompanied me on my journey. The curtains are also -rose-coloured, and the windows so full of flowers that the daylight is -subdued by them. Everything is spotlessly clean, and the bed with its -canopy supported by four pillars is like that of a maiden. The whole -room with its appurtenances is a poem, and speaks of a soul which only -half lives upon earth. The Crucified is not there, but the Blessed -Virgin is, and a vessel of holy water guards the entrance against evil -spirits. - -A feeling of shame seizes me, and I fear to sully the ideal of a pure -heart which has erected this temple to the Virgin over the grave of her -only love, who has been dead ten years, and in confusion I attempt to -decline the kindly offer. But the good lady insists: "It will do you -good, if you sacrifice your earthly love to the love of God, and of -your child. Believe me, this thornless love will preserve your peace of -mind and cheerfulness of spirit, and under the protection of the Virgin -you will sleep quietly." - -I kiss her hand as a sign of gratitude for her sacrifice, and consent -with a feeling of humility of which I had not thought myself capable. -The powers seem to be gracious to me, and to have arranged the -sufferings they have ordained for my improvement. Still, for some -reason or other, I wish to sleep another night in Saxen, and put off -my change of residence till the next day. So I return with my aunt to -my child. Looking at the house from the street, I discover that the -lightning-conductor is fastened exactly above my bed. - -What an infernal coincidence! It makes me think again that I am the -subject of a personal persecution. I also notice that my window -commands a pleasant prospect, looking out as it does on a poorhouse -occupied by released criminals and sick people, among whom several are -dying. A sorry spectacle truly, to have continually before one's eyes! - -In Saxen I pack my things and prepare for departure. I part with sorrow -from my child, who has become so dear to me. The cruelty of the old -woman, who has succeeded in separating me from wife and child, enrages -me. Angrily I shake my fist against a painting of her which hangs -over my bed, and utter an imprecation against her. Two hours later a -terrible storm breaks over the village. One lightning flash succeeds -another, the rain pours in torrents, the sky is pitch dark. - -The next day I am in Klam, where the rose-coloured room awaits me. Over -my aunt's house there hangs a cloud in the shape of a dragon. They tell -me that a house quite close by has been struck by lightning, and that -the torrents of rain have injured haystacks and carried away bridges. - -On the 10th of September a cyclone has devastated Paris, and that under -most extraordinary circumstances. Without any warning, it suddenly -rises behind St. Sulpice in the Jardin de Luxembourg, grazes the -Théâtre du Châlet and the police station, and disappears behind the -St. Louis hospital, after it has torn up iron gratings for fifty yards -round. Regarding this cyclone and the one in the Jardin des Plantes, my -theosophical friend asks me, "What is a cyclone? Is it an ebullition of -hatred, the eruption of some passion, the effluence of some spirit?" - -It must be a coincidence, or rather, more than a coincidence, that in -a letter which crosses his, I have asked him as one initiated in the -occult doctrines of the Hindus, "Can the philosophers of Hindustan -cause cyclones?" - -I began to suspect the adepts in magic of persecuting me on account of -my gold-making or my obstinacy, and of wishing to bring me in complete -subjection to their society. In the _German Mythology_ of Rydberg and -in _Wärend och Widarne_ of Hilten-Cavallius, I had read that witches -were in the habit of appearing in a storm or in short and violent gusts -of wind. I mention this to show my mental condition before I fell in -with Swedenborg's teaching. - - * * * * * - -The sanctuary shines in white and rose, and the saint will soon join -his disciple, who summons him from their common fatherland in order -to revive the memory of the man who was more highly equipped with -spiritual gifts than any born of woman in these modern times. France -sent Anskar[1] in the early middle ages to baptise Sweden; a thousand -years later Sweden sent Swedenborg to re-baptise France by means of -his disciple Saint-Martin. The Martinist orders, who know the rôle -they have to play in the founding of a new France, will not undervalue -the purport of these words, and still less the significance of the -above-mentioned millennium. - - -[1] French missionary (801-865 A.D.). - - - - -VIII - -SWEDENBORG - - -My mother-in-law and my aunt completely resemble each other in -character, tastes, and inclinations, and each sees in the other her -counterpart. On the first evening of my stay I narrate to them my -mysterious adventures, doubts, and sufferings. They both exclaim, -with a certain look of satisfaction in their faces, "You are where -we have already been." Both starting from a neutral point of view -as regards religion had begun to study occultism. From that moment -onwards they suffered from sleepless nights, mysterious accidents -accompanied by terrible fears, and at last, attacks of madness. The -invisible furies pursue their prey up to the very gates of the city -of refuge--religion. But before they have got so far the protecting -angel reveals himself--and that is Swedenborg. The good ladies wrongly -suppose that I have a thorough acquaintance with the writings of my -fellow-countrymen. Astonished at my ignorance, they give me, with a -certain air of reserve, however, an old volume in German, saying, "Take -it, read, and don't be afraid." - -"Afraid? Why should I be?" I answer. - -Returning to the rose-coloured room, I open the book at haphazard and -read. The reader may conceive my astonishment when my eyes fall on the -description of one of Swedenborg's hells which exactly reproduces the -landscape of Klam, as I saw it in the zinc bath. The crater-shaped -valley, the pine-crowned hill, the ravine with the stream, the heaps of -dung, the pig-sty--they are all there. - -Hell? But I have been brought up in the profoundest contempt of the -doctrine of hell, as one consigned to the rubbish-heap of out-worn -ideas. And yet I cannot deny the fact--and that is the novelty in -this exposition of the doctrine of so-called eternal punishment--we -are already in hell. Earth, earth is hell? the dungeon appointed by -a superior power, in which I cannot move a step without injuring the -happiness of others, and in which others cannot remain happy without -hurting me. Thus Swedenborg depicts hell, and perhaps without knowing -it, earthly life, at the same time. - -The fire of hell is the wish to rise in the world; the powers awaken -this wish and allow the damned souls to get all they want. But as -soon as the goal is reached, and the wish is fulfilled, everything is -seen to be worthless and the victory is null and void. Oh, vanity of -vanities! Then, after the first disappointment, the powers rekindle -the flame of ambition and desire; and satisfied greed and satiety are -still a worse torment than unquenched appetite. Thus the Devil suffers -everlasting punishment, for he gets all he wants at once, so that he -cannot enjoy it. - -When I compare the Swedenborgian hells with the punishments described -in the _German Mythology_, I find an obvious likeness, but for me the -bare fact that both these books have fallen into my hand exactly at -the right moment is the essential point. I am in hell, and damnation -weighs upon me like a heavy burden. When I go over my past, my -childhood already appears to me like a prison house or torture chamber. -In order to explain the sufferings inflicted upon innocent children, -one has only to suppose an earlier existence, out of which we have -been cast down in order to bear the consequences of forgotten sins. -With a docile mind, which is my chief weakness, I receive a deep and -sombre impression from my reading of Swedenborg. And the powers let -me rest no more. Walking along the little brook in the neighbourhood -of the village, I reach the so-called ravine path between the two -mountains. The entrance between fallen and precipitous rocks has a -wonderful attraction for me. The almost perpendicular hill, crowned by -the deserted castle, forms the gate of the ravine, in which the stream -drives a water-mill. A freak of nature has given the rock the form of -a Turk's head, a fact well known in the neighbourhood. Underneath, the -miller's shed leans against the wall of rock. Upon the latch of the -door hangs a goat's horn smeared over with fat, and by it stands a -broom. This is certainly quite natural and ordinary, yet I cannot help -asking myself what devil has put these two symbols of witchcraft, the -goat's horn and the broom, just this morning in my way? I press farther -on up the damp, dark, and uneven path, and come to a wooden building, -the strange aspect of which makes me stop. It is a long, low erection, -with six openings like oven doors. Oven doors! Ye gods, where am I then? - -The image of Dante's hell, the red-glowing tombs of the heresiarchs, -rises before me--and the six oven doors! Is it a bad dream? No, -commonplace fact, for a frightful stench, a stream of dirt, and a -chorus of grunting reveals to me immediately that I have a pig-sty in -front of me. - -Between the miller's house and the hill, just under the Turk's head, -the path contracts to a narrow passage. As I go farther along it, -I find myself confronted by a large, wolf-coloured Danish dog, a -counterpart of the monster which guarded the studio in the Rue de la -Santé in Paris. I retreat two steps, but immediately remember Jacques -Cœur's motto, "To a brave heart nothing is impossible," and press -onward into the ravine. Cerberus appears not to notice me, and so I -pursue the path which now winds between low and gloomy houses. On one -side, a black, tailless fowl with a red comb is running about, on the -other a woman wearing a red crescent-shaped ornament on her forehead -comes out of a house. She looks beautiful at first, but as she comes -nearer, I see that she is toothless and ugly. - -The waterfall and the mill combined make a noise like that roaring in -the ears which I had during my first period of disquiet in Paris. The -white-powdered miller's men, who control the machinery, look like -angels or executioners, and the never-ceasing stream of water rushes -from under the great never-resting wheel. Then I reach the smithy -with its bare-armed, blackened workmen armed with tongs, choppers, -screw-vices, and hammers; amid the flames and sparks of the furnace -there lie red-glowing iron and molten lead. There is a frightful din, -which makes my brain vibrate and my heart leap. Farther on groans the -great saw of the saw-mill, and tortures with gnashing teeth the giant -tree-trunks which lie on the block, while the sawdust trickles down on -the damp ground. - -The ravine-path, terribly devastated by cyclones and storms, continues -along the stream; the subsiding overflow has left a greyish-green layer -of mud behind, covering the sharp pebbles on which my feet continually -slip. I wish to cross the water, but since the little bridge has been -swept away, I halt under a precipice whose overhanging rock threatens -to fall on an image of the Virgin, who seems to support the sinking -hill on her tender shoulders. - -Meditating on this combination of coincidences, which, taken together, -without being supernatural, form a remarkable whole, I return home. - - * * * * * - -Eight days and eight quiet nights I spend in the rose-coloured room. My -peace of mind returns with the daily visits of my little daughter, who -loves me, and whom I love. By my relations I am treated like a sick, -spoilt child. The reading of Swedenborg occupies me during the day and -depresses me by the realism of its descriptions. All my observations, -feelings, and thoughts are so vividly reflected there, that his visions -seem to me like experiences and real "human documents." It is no -question of blind faith; it is enough for me to read his experiences -and to compare with them my own. The book I have is only an extract; -the chief riddle of the spiritual life will be solved for me later on -when his _Arcana Cœlestia_ falls into my hands. In the midst of my -reflections, which lead to the newly-won conviction that there is a God -who punishes, some lines of Swedenborg comfort me, and immediately I -begin to excuse myself and yield to my old pride. In the evening I take -my mother-in-law into my confidence, and ask her, "Do you think I am a -damned soul?" - -"No; although I have never seen any human destiny like yours; but you -have not yet found the right way to lead you to the Lord." - -"Do you remember Swedenborg and his _Principia Cœli_, how he -describes the stages of spiritual progress? First, an elevated -ambition. Now, my ambition has never led me to strive after honour, nor -to try to impress people with a sense of my ability. Secondly, love of -happiness and money, in order to profit people. You know that I seek -no gain and despise money. As regards my gold-making, I have sworn in -the presence of the powers that any profits I made should be used for -humanitarian, scientific, and religious objects. Finally, wedded love. -Need I say that from my youth I have concentrated my love of woman -on the idea of marriage, of the family, and the wife. What in actual -experience befell me that I should marry the widow of a man who was -still alive, is an irony of fate which I cannot explain, but which -cannot be regarded as a serious misdemeanour when contrasted with the -irregularities of ordinary bachelor life." - -After some moments of reflection, my mother-in-law replied: "I cannot -dispute your assertion; for I have found in your writings a spirit -of aspiration and endeavour, whose efforts have been involuntarily -frustrated. Certainly, you must be doing penance, for sins which you -committed before your birth. You must in your former existence have -been a blood-stained conqueror, and therefore you suffer repeatedly the -terrors of death without being able to die. Now be religious inwardly -and outwardly." - -"You mean that I should become a Catholic?" - -"Yes." - -"Swedenborg says it is forbidden to quit the religion of one's fathers, -for everyone belongs to the spiritual territory on which he is born." - -"The Catholic religion receives graciously everyone who seeks it." - -"I will be content with a lower position. In case of need I can find a -place among the Jews and Mohammedans, who are also admitted to heaven. -I am modest." - -"Grace is offered you, but you prefer the mess of pottage to the right -of the first-born." - -"The right of the first-born for the _Son of a Servant_![1] Too much! -Too much!" - - * * * * * - -Restored to self-respect by Swedenborg, I regard myself once more as -Job, the righteous and sinless man, whom the Eternal tries in order -to show the wicked the example of a righteous man enduring unjust -sufferings. - -My pious vanity is tickled by the idea. I am proud of the distinction -of being persecuted by misfortune, and am never weary of repeating, -"See! how I have suffered." Before my relatives I accuse myself of -living in too much luxury, and my rose-coloured room seems to me to -be a satire upon me. They notice my sincere repentance, and overwhelm -me with kindnesses and little indulgences. In brief, I am one of the -elect; Swedenborg has said it, and confident of the protection of the -Eternal, I challenge the demons to combat. - - * * * * * - -On the eighth day which I spend in my rose-coloured room the news -arrives that my mother-in-law's mother, who lives on the bank of the -Danube, is ill. She has a pain in the liver accompanied with vomiting, -sleeplessness, and attacks of palpitation at night. My aunt whose -hospitality I enjoy is summoned thither, and I am to return to my -mother-in-law in Saxen. To my objection that the old lady has forbidden -it, they reply that she has withdrawn her order of expulsion, so that -I am free to arrange my residence where I like. This sudden change of -mind astonishes me, and I hardly dare to attribute it to her illness. -The next day she gets worse. My mother-in-law gives me in the name -of her mother a bouquet as a sign of reconciliation, and tells me in -confidence that, besides other wild fancies, the old lady thinks she -has a snake in her body. The next news is that she has been robbed of -1000 gulden, and suspects her landlady of stealing them. The latter -is enraged at the unjust suspicion and wishes to bring an action for -libel. The old lady, who had retired hither to die quietly, finds her -domestic peace completely destroyed. She is continually sending us -something--flowers, fruit, game, pheasants, poultry, fish. - -Is the old lady's conscience troubled at the prospect of judgment? Does -she remember that she once had me put out on the street, and so obliged -me to go to hospital? Or is she superstitious? Does she think she is -bewitched by me? Perhaps the presents she sends are meant as offerings -to the wizard, to still his thirst for vengeance. - -Unfortunately, just at this juncture, there comes a work on magic -from Paris containing information regarding so-called witchcraft. The -author tells the reader that he must not regard himself as innocent, -if he merely avoids using magic arts; one must rather keep watch over -one's own evil will, which by itself alone is capable of exercising an -influence over others in their absence. - -The results of this teaching on my mind are twofold. In the first -place, it arouses my scruples at the present juncture, for I had -raised my fist in anger against the old lady's picture and cursed her. -Secondly, it reawakens my old suspicions that I myself am the victim -of mal-practices on the part of occultists or theosophists. Pangs of -conscience on one side, fear on the other! And the two millstones begin -to grind me to powder. - - * * * * * - -Swedenborg describes Hell as follows: The damned soul inhabits a -splendid palace, leads a luxurious life there, and regards himself as -one of the elect. Gradually the splendours disappear, and the wretched -soul finds that it is confined in a wretched hovel and surrounded by -filth. This is parallelled in my own experience. - -The rose-coloured room has disappeared, and as I remove into a large -chamber near that of my mother-in-law, I feel that my stay here will -not be of long duration. As a matter of fact, all possible trifles -combine to poison my life and to deprive me of the necessary quiet -for work. The planks of the floor sway under my feet, the table -wobbles, the chair is unsteady, the articles on the washing-stand clash -together, the bed creaks, and the rest of the furniture moves whenever -I cross the floor. The lamp smokes, the ink-pot is too narrow so that -the pen-holder gets inky. The farmhouse smells of dung and manure, -ammonia, sulphuretted hydrogen, and sulphuric acid. The whole day there -is a noise of cows, swine, calves, cocks, turkeys, and doves. Flies -and wasps worry me by day, and gnats by night. At the village shop -there is nothing to be had. Because there is no other sort, I must use -rose-coloured ink. Strange, too! In a packet of cigarette papers which -I buy there is a single rose-coloured one among a hundred white. It is -a miniature hell, and I, who am accustomed to bear great sufferings, -suffer inexpressibly from these needle-pricks, all the more that my -mother-in-law believes that I am not satisfied by her kind attentions. - - * * * * * - -_September_ 17_th_.--I awake at night and hear the church clock of the -village strike thirteen. Immediately I feel the electric band encircle -me, and think I hear a noise in the attic above me. - -_September_ 19_th_.--I search the attic and discover a dozen distaffs, -the wheels of which remind me of electric machines. I open a large -box; it is empty; only five staves painted black, the use of which is -unknown to me, lie in the form of a pentagram at the bottom of the box. -Who has played me this trick, and what does it mean? I do not venture -to ask anything about it, and the riddle remains unsolved. - -Between midnight and two o'clock a terrible storm breaks out. As a rule -a storm exhausts itself and soon subsides; this one, however, remains -raging for two hours over the village. Every lightning flash is a -personal attack on me, but none of them strike me. - -In the evening my mother-in-law relates to me the history of the -district. What a monstrous collection of domestic and other tragedies, -consisting of adulteries, divorces, lawsuits between relatives, -murders, thefts, violations, incests, slanders. The castles, the -villas, the huts are occupied by unhappy people of all kinds, and I -cannot take my walks without thinking of Swedenborg's hells. Beggars, -imbeciles of both sexes, sick persons and cripples line the high roads -or kneel at the foot of a crucifix, a Madonna, or a martyr. At night -the wretched creatures try to escape their sleeplessness and their -bad dreams by wandering about in the meadows and woods in order to -fatigue themselves, and to be able to sleep. Members of good society, -well-educated ladies, even a pastor, are among them. - -Not far from us is a convent which serves as a penitentiary and rescue -home. It is a real prison, in which the strictest rules prevail. In -the winter when the thermometer registers twenty degrees of frost, -the penitents must sleep on the cold stone pavement of their cells, -and their hands and feet, which they cannot warm, are covered with -chilblains. - -Among the others is a woman who has sinned with a priest, which is -a deadly sin. Tortured by pangs of conscience, she flies in her -despair to her confessor, who, however, refuses her absolution and -the sacrament. A deadly sin entails damnation. Then the wretched -creature loses her reason, imagines that she is dead, wanders from -village to village and implores the priests to be merciful and to bury -her in consecrated ground. Shunned and driven away everywhere, she -wanders about, howling like a wild beast, and those who see her cross -themselves and exclaim, "She is damned!" No one doubts but that her -soul is already in hell, while her shadow, a wandering corpse, wanders -about as a terrible warning. - -They tell me of a man who, possessed by the Devil, has so altered his -personality that the Evil One can make him utter blasphemies against -his will. After long search they discover a suitable exorcist in a -young Franciscan monk of acknowledged purity of life. He prepares -himself by fast and penance; the great day comes, and the possessed man -makes his confession in church before the people. Thereupon the young -monk sets to work and succeeds, after prayers and conjurations which -last an entire day, in driving out the Devil. The alarmed spectators -have not ventured to relate the details of the affair. A year later -the young monk dies. These and still more tragic narratives confirm -me in my conviction that this district has been marked out as a place -for penance, and there must be some mysterious connection between this -neighbourhood and Swedenborg's hell. Has he perhaps visited this part -of upper Austria, and, just as Dante describes the region south of -Naples, drawn from nature in his account of hell? - - * * * * * - -After a couple of weeks have passed in work and study I am again -unsettled, as with the setting in of autumn my aunt and mother-in-law -wish to live together in Klam. We therefore break up our camp. In order -to preserve my independence, I hire a cottage consisting of two rooms, -so as to be quite close to my little daughter. - -The first evening after settling in my new quarters I am overcome -by a terrible depression, as though the air were poisoned. I go to -my mother-in-law: "If I sleep up there you will find me dead in bed -to-morrow. Shelter a pilgrim for this night, my good mother!" - -The rose-coloured room is at once placed at my disposal, but, good -heavens! how it has altered since my aunt's departure! There is black -furniture in it; the empty pigeon-holes of a bookcase gape like so many -jaws; a tall iron oven, ornamented with ugly devices of salamanders -and dragons, confronts me like a spectre. In a word, there reigns such -a disharmony in the room as makes me feel poorly. Moreover, every -irregularity upsets my nerves, for I am a man of ordered habits who -does everything at stated hours. In spite of my efforts to conceal my -dissatisfaction, my mother-in-law reads my thoughts. - -"Always dissatisfied, my child?" - -She does her best to allay my discontent, but when the spirit of -dissension is once aroused, everything is in vain. She tries to -remember my favourite dishes, but everything goes wrong. There is -nothing I dislike more than calf's head with brown butter. - -"Here is something nice," she says to me, "expressly for you," and -sets calf's head with brown butter before me. I understand that -it is an unconscious mistake on her part, but can only eat with -scarcely-concealed repugnance and simulated appetite. - -"You are not eating anything!" - -It is too much! Formerly I attributed these annoyances to feminine -malice; now I acquit everyone and say, "It is the Devil!" - - * * * * * - -From my early days I am accustomed to plan out the day's work during -my morning walk. No one, not even my wife, has ever been allowed to -accompany me on it. And, as a matter of fact, in the morning my mind -rejoices in a feeling of harmony and happy elevation which borders on -ecstasy. My corporeal part seems to have disappeared, my griefs to have -fled; I am all soul. The early morning is my time of self-collection, -my hour of prayer, my matins. - -Now I must sacrifice it all, and give up my most innocent pleasure. The -powers compel me to renounce this last and purest enjoyment. My little -daughter wishes to accompany me. I embrace her tenderly, and tell her -why I wish to be alone, but she does not understand it. She cries, and -I have not the heart to sadden her to-day, but make a firm resolve not -to allow her again to misuse her rights. She is certainly thoroughly -fascinating as a child, with her originality, her cheerfulness, her -gratitude for trifles, that is, when one has leisure to be occupied -with her. But when one is absent-minded and distracted, it is intensely -annoying to be plagued with endless questions and changes of mood about -mere nothings. - -My little one is as jealous as a lover about my thoughts; she seems to -watch for the exact opportunity to destroy a carefully-woven web of -thought with her prattle--but no, it is not she who does it; she is -only an instrument, but I seem to be the object of deliberate attacks -by a poor little innocent. I go on with slow steps; I don't seek to -escape any more, but my soul is a prisoner, and my brain exhausted -by the effort of continually having to descend to a child's level. -What, however, pains me intensely is the deep, reproachful look she -casts at me when she thinks I find her a nuisance, and imagines that I -love her no longer. Then her open joyous little face falls, her looks -are averted, her heart is closed to me, and I feel myself bereft of -the light which this child had brought into my dark soul. I kiss her, -take her on my arm, look for flowers and pretty pebbles for her, cut -a switch for her, and pretend to be a cow which she is driving to the -meadow. She is contented and happy, and life smiles at me again. - -I have sacrificed my morning hour. So do I atone for the evil which in -a moment of madness I had wished to conjure down on this angel's head. -What a penance--to be loved! Truly the powers are not so cruel as we -are! - - -[1] The title of Strindberg's first autobiography. - - - - -IX - -EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF A DAMNED SOUL - -_October, November_, 1896 - - -The Brahmin has fulfilled his duty as regards life when he has begotten -a child. Then he goes into the desert, to dedicate himself to solitude -and asceticism. - - * * * * * - -_My mother-in-law_.--"What have you done in your former human existence -that Fate deals so hardly with you?" - -_I_.--"Think! Remember a man who was first married to another man's -wife, like myself, and who separated from her in order to marry an -Austrian, like myself! Then his little Austrian is torn from him, as -mine has been from me, and their only child is kept in the Bohemian -mountains as mine is. Do you remember the hero of my romance, _On the -Open Sea_, who commits suicide on an island----" - -_M_.--"Enough! Enough!" - -_I_.--"You don't know that my father's mother was called Neipperg----" - -_M_.--"Stop! Unhappy man!" - -_I_.--"And that my little Christina resembles the greatest murderer -of the century to a hair. Only look at her, the little tyrant, the -man-tamer at two and a half!" - -_M_.--"You are mad." - -_I_.--"Yes! And what sins have you women formerly committed, since your -lot is still harder than ours? See how justly I have called woman our -evil angel. Each has his or her deserts." - -_M_.-"To be a woman is a twofold hell." - -_I_.--"And so woman is a twofold devil. As regards reincarnation, -that is a Christian doctrine which has been maintained by some of the -clergy. Christ said that John the Baptist was Elijah reborn on earth. -Is that an authority or not?" - -_M_.--"Yes, but the Roman Church forbids inquiry into secrets." - -_I_.--"And science permits it, as soon as science itself is tolerated." - - * * * * * - -The spirits of discord are abroad, and despite of the fact that we are -quite aware of their game and our freedom from blame in the matter, -our repeated misunderstandings leave a bitter wish for revenge behind -them. Moreover, both sisters suspect that my evil wishes caused their -mother's mysterious illness, and remembering that it is to my interest -to have my separation from my wife terminated, they cannot suppress the -fairly reasonable thought that the death of the old lady would cause me -joy. The mere existence of this wish makes me hateful in their eyes, -and I do not venture any more to ask how their mother is because I fear -to be regarded as a hypocrite. - -The situation is strained, and my two former friends exhaust themselves -in endless discussions regarding my person, my character, my feelings, -and the sincerity of my love for the little one. At one time they -regard me as a saint, and the scars in my hands as wound-prints. And -certainly the marks on my palms resemble large nail-holes. But in -order to put an end to all ideas of saintship, I designate myself the -penitent thief, who has come down from the cross and started on his -pilgrimage to Paradise. - -Another time, they try to solve the riddle by regarding me as Robert -the Devil. At that time many incidents occurred, sufficient to give -ground for fearing that I might be stoned by the inhabitants of the -place. Here is a simple fact. My little Christina has an extraordinary -dread of chimney sweeps. One evening, at supper, she suddenly begins to -scream, points at someone invisible behind my chair, and cries, "The -chimney sweep!" - -My mother-in-law, who believes in the clairvoyance of children and -animals, turns pale; and I become alarmed all the more as I see my -mother-in-law make the sign of a cross over the child's head. A dead -silence ensues, which puts a stop to all cheerfulness. - - * * * * * - -The autumn with its storms, heavy rains, and dark nights has come. -In the village and the poorhouse the number of the sick, dying, and -dead increases. In the night one hears the choir-boy ring the bell -before the Host. All through the day the church bell is tolling, and -one funeral follows another. Death and life have grown into a single -horror. My night attacks recommence. Prayers are said for me, beads -are told, and the holy water vessel in my room is filled by the priest -himself. "The hand of the Lord rests heavily on thee!" with these -words my mother-in-law crushes me. But slowly I recover myself. My -mental elasticity and an inborn scepticism free me again from these -black thoughts, and after the perusal of certain occult writings, I -believe myself to be persecuted by spirits of the elements, incubi and -Lamias[1] who wish to hinder me in the completion of my great work -on Alchemy. Instructed by the initiated in such matters, I procure a -Dalmatian dagger, and consider myself well-armed against evil spirits. - -In the village a shoemaker dies, who was an atheist and blasphemer. -He had a jackdaw, who now left to himself lives on the roof of a -neighbouring house. While watch is being kept by the dead, they -suddenly discover the jackdaw in the room without anyone being able -to explain how it got there. On the day of the burial, the black -bird accompanies the funeral procession, and perches on the coffin -in the churchyard before the ceremony. Every morning this creature -follows me in my walk, a fact which really disquiets me because of -the superstitious nature of the people. One day, which is destined -to prove its last, the jackdaw accompanies me with horrible screams -and words of abuse, which the blasphemer had taught him, through the -streets of the village. Then there come two little birds, a robin -and a yellow wagtail, and follow the jackdaw from roof to roof. The -jackdaw flies outside the village and perches on the roof of a cottage. -At the same moment a black rabbit springs up before the cottage, and -disappears in the grass. Some days afterwards we hear of the jackdaw's -death. It had been killed by the street boys because of its propensity -for stealing. - - * * * * * - -During the day I work in my little house. But for some time past it -seems that the powers are no longer well intentioned towards me. When -I enter the house I find the air thick, as if it had been poisoned, -and have to open doors and windows. Wrapped in a thick cloak, with -a fur cap on my head, I sit at the table and write, and resist the -so-called electric attacks which compress my chest and seize me in the -back. Often I feel as though someone were standing behind my chair. -Then I stab with the dagger behind me, and imagine I am fighting an -enemy. So it goes on till five o'clock in the afternoon. If I remain -sitting longer, the conflict becomes terrific, until, feeling wholly -exhausted, I light my lantern and go to my mother-in-law and my -child. On one occasion, as early as two or three o'clock, I find my -room full of the thick and choking atmosphere I have spoken of. But I -continue the struggle till six o'clock in order to finish an article on -chemistry. On a bunch of flowers sits a lady-bird marked with yellow -and black--the Austrian colours. It clambers about, gropes, and seeks -for a flying-off place. At last it falls on my paper, spreads out its -wings exactly like the weathercock on the church of Notre-Dame des -Champs in Paris, then crawls along the manuscript and up my right hand. -It looks at me, and then flies towards the window; the compass on the -table points towards the north. - -"Very well!" I say to myself, "to the north then; but not before I -choose; till I am summoned again, I remain where I am." - -Six o'clock strikes, and it is impossible to remain in this haunted -house. Unknown forces lift me from my chair and I must leave the place. - - * * * * * - -It is All Souls' Day, about three o'clock in the afternoon; the sun -shines and the air is clear. The villagers are going in a procession -led by the clergy, with banners and music, to the church-yard, to -greet the dead. The bells begin to ring. Then, without a warning, -without even one cloud appearing as precursor in the pale blue sky, a -storm breaks loose. The banners flap violently against the poles, the -festal robes of the men and women are a prey of the winds. Dust-clouds -rise and whirl; trees bend. It is a real wonder. - -I feel afraid of the next night, and my mother-in-law knows it. She has -given me a charm to wear round my neck. It is a Madonna and a cross -made out of consecrated wood--the timber of a church which is more -than a thousand years old. I accepted it as a valuable present offered -in good will, but a lingering respect for the religion of my fathers -prevents my wearing it round my neck. - -It is about eight o'clock, and we are having our evening meal; the -lamp burns and a weird stillness reigns in our little circle. Outside -it is dark; there is no wind in the trees; all is quiet. All at once -a single gust of wind blows through the crevices of the window with -a curious humming noise like that of a Jew's-harp. Then it is past. -My mother-in-law throws a look of alarm at me and folds the child -in her arms. In a second I interpret what her look means: "Leave -us, O damned soul, and do not bring avenging demons on our innocent -heads." Everything goes to pieces; my last remaining happiness, the -companionship of my little daughter, is taken from me, and in the -gloomy silence I mentally bid the world adieu. - -After the evening meal I withdraw to the once rose-coloured--now -black--room and prepare, since I feel myself threatened, for a -night-battle. With whom? I know not, but challenge the Invisible, -be it diabolic or divine, and will wrestle with It, like Jacob with -the angel. There is a knock at the door. It is my mother-in-law, who -forebodes a bad night for me, and invites me to sleep on the sofa in -her sitting-room. "The presence of the child will safeguard you," she -says. I thank her and assure her there is no danger, and that nothing -can frighten me so long as my conscience is untroubled. With a smile -she wishes me good-night. - -I put on my martial cloak, boots and cap again, determined to lie down -dressed and ready to die like a brave warrior who despises life and -challenges death. About eleven o'clock the air in the room begins to -grow dense, and a deadly fear masters my courageous heart. I open the -window. The draught threatens to blow out the lamp. I close it again. -The lamp begins to make a sound between a sigh and a moan; then all is -still again. - -A dog in the village howls. According to popular superstition, this -is a sign of death. I look out of the window; only the Great Bear is -visible. Down there in the poorhouse a light is burning; an old woman -is sitting bent over her work, as though she were waiting for her -release; perhaps she fears sleep and its dreams. Weary, I lie down -again on the bed, and try to sleep. At once the old game recommences. -An electric stream seeks my heart; my lungs cease to work; I must rise -or die. I sit down on a chair, but am too exhausted to be able to read, -and spend half an hour thus in listless vacancy. Then I resolve to go -for a walk till daybreak. I leave the house. The night is dark and the -village asleep, but the dogs are not. One attacks me, and then the -whole band surrounds me; their wide-open jaws and fiery eyes compel me -to retreat. - -When I open the door of my room and enter, it seems to me as though it -were full of hostile living creatures through whom I must force my way -in order to reach my bed. Resigned, and resolved to die, I throw myself -upon it. But at the last moment, when the invisible vulture is about -to stifle me under its wings, someone lifts me up, and the pursuit of -the furies is at an end. Conquered, hurled to the earth, beaten down, I -quit the scene of an unequal battle and yield to the invisible. I knock -at the door on the other side of the passage. My mother-in-law, who -is still at prayer, opens the door. The expression of her face as she -looks at me makes me feel afraid of myself. - -"What do you wish, my child?" - -"I wish to die, and then to be burnt, or rather, burn me alive!" - -She does not answer. She has understood me, and sympathy and pity -conquer her fear, so that she prepares the sofa for me with her own -hand. Then she retires to her own room where she sleeps with the -child. Through a chance--always this Satanic chance!--the sofa stands -opposite the window, and the same chance has willed that it has no -curtains, so that the black window opening gapes at me. Moreover, it is -the very same window through which the wind gust came when we were at -supper. With all my powers exhausted, I sink on the sofa. I curse this -ever-present, unavoidable "chance" which persecutes me with the obvious -purpose of making me fall a victim to persecution-mania. For five -minutes I have rest, while my eyes are fastened on the black square -of the window; then an invisible something glides over my body, and I -stand up. I remain standing in the middle of the room like a statue for -hours, half-conscious, turned to stone, I know not whether awake or -asleep. - -Who gives me the strength to suffer? Who denies me the power, and -delivers me over to torments? Is it He, the Lord of life and death, -Whose wrath I have provoked, when, influenced by the pamphlet _The -Joy of Dying_, I tried to die, and considered myself already ripe for -eternal life? Am I Phlegyas doomed to the pains of Tartarus for his -pride, or Prometheus, who, because he revealed the secret of the powers -to mortals, was torn by the vulture? - -(While I am writing this, I think of the scene in the sufferings of -Christ when the soldiers spit in His face, some buffet Him and others -strike Him with rods and say to Him, "Tell us, who is he that smote -thee?" - -Perhaps my old companions in Stockholm remember that orgy when the -author of this book played the rôle of the soldier?) - -Who has struck thee? A question without an answer. Doubt, uncertainty, -mystery--there is my hell! Oh that my enemy would reveal himself, that -I might do battle with him, and defy him! But that is just what he -avoids doing, in order to afflict me with madness and make me feel the -scourge of conscience, which causes me to suspect enemies everywhere, -enemies, i.e., those injured by my evil will. Indeed, my conscience -smites me every time that I come on the track of a new foe. - - * * * * * - -Awoken the next morning after a few hours' sleep by the prattle of my -little Christina, I seem to forget all, and go to my usual work, which -is not unsuccessful. Everything that I write is immediately accepted -and printed--a proof that my senses and understanding are unimpaired. - -Meanwhile the papers spread the report that an American scientific man -has discovered a method of converting silver into gold. This saves -me from being suspected of being an adept in the black art, a fool, -or a swindler. My theosophical friend, who has hitherto furnished me -with the means of livelihood, tries to enrol me in his sect. He sends -me one of Madame Blavatsky's occult treatises and ill conceals his -anxiety that I should pronounce a favourable verdict upon it. I also am -embarrassed, for I see that the continuance of our friendly relations -will depend upon my answer. - -Madame Blavatsky's _Secret Doctrine_ is plagiarised from all the -so-called occult theories; it is a hash-up of all ancient and -modern scientific heresies. Her book is worthless as regards her -own presumptuous claims, interesting through its quotations from -little-known authors, repellent through its conscious or unconscious -fabrications regarding the Mahatmas. It is the work of a mannish woman, -who, in order to put man to shame, undertook to overthrow science, -religion, and philosophy, and to set a priestess of Isis on the altar -of the Crucified. - -With all the reserve and moderation which is due to a friend, I let -my friend know that the collective god, Karma, does not please me, -and that it is impossible for me to belong to a sect which denies -a personal God, Who alone can satisfy my religious needs. It is a -confession of faith which is demanded from me, and although I know that -my answer entails a breach in our friendship, and the cessation of my -means of support, I speak it out freely. - -Then my faithful friend turns into a demon of vengeance. He hurls -an excommunication against me, threatens me with occult powers, -tries to intimidate me by vulgar accusations, and storms at me like -a heathenish sacrificial priest. Finally, he summons me before an -occultist tribunal, and swears to me that I shall never forget the -13th of November. My situation is painful; I have lost a friend and -am nearly destitute. By a diabolical chance during our paper war, the -following incident takes place: _L'Initiation_ publishes an article by -me which criticises the current astronomical system. A few days after -its appearance Tisserand, the head of the Paris observatory, dies. In -an access of mischievous humour I trace a connection between these two -things, and mention also that Pasteur died the day after I published -_Sylva Sylvarum_.[2] My friend, the theosophist, does not know how to -take a joke, and being superstitious above the average, and perhaps, -more deeply initiated in black magic than I, gives me clearly to -understand that he regards me as a wizard. - -One may imagine my consternation when, after the last letter of our -correspondence, the most famous of the Swedish astronomers dies of -a fit of apoplexy. I am alarmed, and with reason. To be accused of -witchcraft is a very serious matter, and "even after death one will not -escape punishment." - -Further calamities follow. In the course of a month about five -well-known astronomers die, one after another. I fear my fanatical -friend, whom I credit with the cruelty of a Druid and with the power of -the Hindu yogis who can kill at a distance. - -Here is a new hell of anxieties. From this day onwards I forget the -demons, and direct all my attention to the unwholesome ranks of the -theosophists and their magicians, the Hindu sages, supposed to be -gifted with incredible powers. I now feel myself condemned to death, -and keep sealed my papers, in which, in case of my sudden death, I have -specified the murderers. Then I wait. - -A few miles eastward on the bank of the Danube, lies the little chief -town of the district Grein. There, I am told, a stranger from Zanzibar -has arrived at the end of November in midwinter. That is enough to -rouse doubts and dark thoughts in a morbid mind. I try to obtain -information regarding the stranger, whether he is really an African, -whence he has come, and what is his object? - -I can learn nothing; a mysterious veil envelops the unknown, who, like -a spectre, stands day and night before my anxious mind. I always find -my best comfort in the Old Testament, and I invoke the protection of -the Eternal and His vengeance against my enemies. The psalms of David -best express my soul's deepest needs, and Jehovah is my God. The 86th -Psalm has made a special impression on my mind, and I gladly repeat it. - -"O God, the proud have set themselves against me, and tyrants seek -after my soul, and have not thee before their eyes. Show me a token for -good; that all they which hate me may see it, and be ashamed; because -thou, Lord, hast holpen me, and comforted me." - -That is the "token" I ask for, and notice well, reader, how my prayer -will be heard. - - -[1] A kind of female vampire. - -[2] A botanical treatise. - - - - -X - -THE ETERNAL HAS SPOKEN - - -Winter, with its grey-yellow skies is here; no ray of sunlight has lit -up the sky for weeks. The muddy roads hinder us from taking walks; the -leaves fall from the trees and rot; all nature is dissolving in decay. - -The usual autumn butchery of dumb animals has begun. All day long the -cries of the victims rise against the dark vault of heaven; one steps -in blood and among corpses. It is terribly depressing, and I feel sad -for the two, good, kind-hearted sisters who tend me like a sick child. -Besides this, my poverty, which I must conceal from them, depresses me, -together with the futility of my attempts to avert approaching beggary. -For my own good they wish for my departure, since such a lonely life -is not good for a man; moreover, they believe that I need a doctor. In -vain I wait for the necessary money to be sent from Sweden, and prepare -to depart, even though I have to tramp the high roads. "I have become -like a pelican of the wilderness, and like an owl in the desert." My -presence is a trial to my relatives, and but for my love to the child, -they would have hurried me away. Now that mud or snow makes walking -difficult, I carry the little one along the paths on my arms, climb -hills, and clamber up rocks, so that both the old ladies say, "You will -make yourself ill, you will get giddy, you will kill yourself." - -"And a beautiful death that would be!" I reply. - - * * * * * - -On the 20th of November, a grey, gloomy, dreary day, we sit at the -mid-day meal. Altogether worn-out after a sleepless night and new -conflicts with the Invisible, I curse life, and lament that no sun -shines. - -My mother-in-law has prophesied that I will not be well till Candlemas -(February 2nd), when the sun returns again. "That is my only ray of -sunlight," I answer, pointing to my little Christina who sits opposite -to me. At this moment the clouds, which have been massed together for -weeks, part, and through the cleft a ray of light shines into the room -and illuminates my face, the table-cover, the glasses. - -"See, papa! see! there is the sun!" exclaims the child, and clasps her -hands together. I rise in confusion, a prey to the most conflicting -feelings. "A chance? No!" I say to myself. Is it the wonder, the sign -I prayed for? But that would be too much to grant to one fallen into -disfavour like me. The Eternal does not interfere in the little affairs -of earth-worms. And yet this ray of light abides in my heart like a -happy smile on a discontented face. During the couple of minutes which -I take in walking to my little house, the clouds have formed themselves -into strange-shaped groups, and in the east, where the veil has lifted, -the sky is as green as an emerald, or a meadow in mid-summer. I stand -in my room and wait in a state between reverie and mild compunction, -which has no fear in it, for something which I cannot exactly define. - -Then suddenly there is a single thunder-clap over my head. No flash has -preceded it. At first I feel alarmed, and wait for the usual rain and -storm to follow. But nothing happens; all is perfectly quiet, and it -is over. "Why," I ask myself, "have I not sunk down in humility before -the voice of the Eternal?" Because, when the Almighty with majestic -condescension allowed an insect to hear His voice, this insect felt -elevated and puffed up by such an honour, considering itself in its -pride to be possessed of some special desert. To speak freely, I felt -myself almost on a level with the Lord, as an integral part of His -personality, an emanation of His being, an organ of His organism. He -needed me in order to reveal Himself; otherwise he would have sent a -thunderbolt and struck me dead upon the spot. But whence springs this -monstrous arrogance in a mortal? Must I trace my origin to the primeval -Titans who revolted against a despot who delighted in ruling over -slaves? Is this why my earthly pilgrimage has become a mere running the -gauntlet, while the dregs of humanity delight to strike, spit on, and -defile me? There is no imaginable humiliation which I have not endured, -yet the more I am crushed the more my pride asserts itself. I am like -Jacob wrestling with the angel, and though a little lamed, maintaining -the conflict manfully; or Job, chastised, and yet steadily justifying -himself in the face of undeserved punishments. - -Attacked by so many conflicting thoughts, I relapse from my -megalomania, and feel so insignificant, that the incident dwindles down -to a mere nothing--a thunder-clap in November. - -But the echo of the thunder reverberates, and once more in a sort of -religious ecstasy I open the Bible at haphazard, and pray the Lord to -speak more plainly that I may understand Him. My eyes immediately fall -upon this verse in Job: "Wilt thou disannul my judgment? Wilt thou -condemn me that thou mayest be justified? Hast thou an arm like God? -_Or canst thou thunder with a voice like Him?_" - -I doubt no more. The Eternal has spoken! O Eternal! What demandest Thou -of me? Speak, for thy servant heareth! - -No answer! - -Good! I will humble myself before the Eternal Who has humbled Himself -to speak to His servant. But bow my knee before the mob and the mighty? -Never! - - * * * * * - -In the evening my good mother-in-law receives me with a manner that is -enigmatic. She casts a searching look at me sideways, as though she -wished to ascertain what sort of impression the stupendous occurrence -had made on me. "You have heard it?" she asks. - -"Yes, it is strange--a clap of thunder in November." She at any rate no -longer considers me damned. - - - - -XI - -HELL LET LOOSE - - -Meanwhile, in order to entirely bewilder me regarding the real nature -of my illness, a current number of _L'Événement_ contains the following -notice: - -"The unhappy Strindberg, who brought his misogyny to Paris, was quickly -compelled to take himself off. Since then his partisans are dumb and -confounded before the feminist flag. They do not wish to undergo the -fate of Orpheus, whose head was torn off by the Thracian Bacchanals." - -So they actually did lay a plot against me in the Rue de la Clef, -and the morbid symptoms from which I still suffer are the result of -that murderous attempt. Oh, these women! Certainly my articles on the -feminist pictures of my Danish friend were not calculated to please -them. But, at any rate, here is a fact, a tangible occurrence which -dissipates my terrible doubts regarding my mental soundness. - -I hasten with the good news to my mother-in-law. "You see that I am not -out of my mind!" - -"No, you are not, but only ill, and the doctor will recommend physical -exercise for you--wood-chopping, for instance." - -"Is that of any use against women, or not?" - -My too hasty retort makes a breach between us. I had forgotten that a -female saint is still a woman, _i.e._, man's enemy. - - * * * * * - -All is forgotten, the Russians, the Rothschilds, the dabblers in black -magic, the theosophists, and the Eternal Himself. I am the innocent -sacrifice, blameless Job, Orpheus whom the women want to kill, the -author of _Sylva Sylvarum_, the reviver of dead science. Lost in -a labyrinth of doubt, I abandon the new-born idea of providential -interposition with a spiritual purpose, and absorbed in the bare fact -that a plot has been laid against me, I forget to think of the original -Plotter. Thirsting for vengeance, I prepare to send notices to the -police-offices and papers in Paris, when a timely change of affairs -puts an end to the sorry drama, which would have degenerated into a -farce. - -One grey-yellow winter day, about an hour after the mid-day meal, my -little Christina insists on following me to my house, where I generally -have my afternoon siesta. I cannot resist her, and give way to her -request, When we get to my room Christina asks for pen and paper; then -she demands picture-books, and I must remain, show, and explain. - -"You must not go to sleep, papa!" - -Although feeling weary and exhausted, I obey my child, I don't know why -myself, but there is a tone in her voice which I cannot resist. - -Outside, before the door, an organ-grinder is playing a waltz tune. I -propose to the little one to dance with the nurse who has accompanied -her. Attracted by the music, the neighbours' children come, the -organ-grinder is invited into the kitchen, and we improvise a dance. -This goes on for an hour, and my sadness is dispelled. In order to -distract myself and to keep off sleep, I take the Bible, my oracle, and -open it at haphazard. "But the spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, -and an evil spirit from the Lord troubled him. And Saul's servants said -unto him, 'Behold now, an evil spirit from God troubleth thee. Let our -lord now command thy servants, which are before thee, to seek out a -man, who is a cunning player on the harp, and it shall come to pass -when the evil spirit from God is upon thee, that he shall play with his -hand, and thou shalt be well.'" - -An evil spirit! That is what I am always suspecting! While the children -are dancing, my mother-in-law comes in in order to fetch the little -one, and when she sees them, she stands still, astonished. Then she -tells me that just now, down in the village, a lady of good family has -been seized with an attack of frenzy. - -"What is the matter with her?" - -"She dances without stopping, has dressed herself as a bride and -fancies she is Burger's Lenore." - -"She dances, and then?" - -"She weeps in terror of death, who she believes will come and take her." - -What lends a darker shade to this tragedy is that the lady has occupied -the same house I live in now, and that her husband died in the same -room where the children are noisily dancing. - -Explain me that, O doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, or -acknowledge the bankruptcy of science! - -My little daughter has exorcised the evil spirit who, driven out by -her innocence, has entered into an old lady who used to boast of being -a free thinker. - -The death-dance lasts the whole night. The lady is guarded by friends, -who she says, are to ward off the attack of death. She calls it "death" -because she does not believe in the existence of evil spirits. And yet -she often asserted that her deceased husband tormented her. - - * * * * * - -My departure is postponed, but, in order to recruit my strength after -so many sleepless nights, I remove to my aunt's house on the other side -of the street, and leave the "rose-red" room. It is a curious fact that -in the good old times the torture chamber in Sweden was called the -"Chamber of Roses." - -At last I spend a night again in a quiet room. The walls are painted -white and covered with pictures of saints. Over my bed hangs a -crucifix. But when night comes the spirits begin their tricks again. - -I light the candles in order to kill the time with reading. There is -a weird stillness in which I can hear my heart beating. Then a slight -noise startles me, like an electric spark. - -What is that? - -A large piece of wax has dropped from the candle on the ground. Nothing -more, but the people here believe it is a sign of death! It may be, as -far as I am concerned. After reading for half an hour, I want to take -my handkerchief from under my pillow. It is not there, and when I look -for it, I find it on the ground. I stoop to pick it up. Something falls -on my head, and when I extricate it from my hair, I find it is another -piece of wax. Instead of being alarmed, I cannot help smiling; the -whole thing seems a piece of practical joking. - -Smiling at death! How could that be possible, were not life essentially -comic. Such a fuss about nothing! Perhaps in the depth of our souls -there lurks a shadowy consciousness that everything down here is all -humbug, a masquerade, a mere pretence, and that all our sufferings -afford mirth to the gods. - - * * * * * - -High over the hill on which the castle is built there towers another, -from which a more commanding view over the Inferno-like landscape can -be gained than from any other. The way thither lies through the remains -of an ancient oak forest, which, according to tradition, was a scene -of Druidic worship, and where mistletoe grows luxuriantly on the apple -and lime trees. Above this wood the path mounts steeply through pines. - -Several times I have tried to reach the summit, but something -unforeseen has always hindered me. One time it was a deer which broke -the silence with an unexpected leap, another time a hare, which -resembled no hare which I had ever seen, and yet another time a magpie -with its deafening chatter. But on the last morning, the day before -my departure, I pressed in spite of all hindrances through the dark -melancholy pine wood up to the summit, whence I obtained a splendid -view of the valley of the Danube and the Styrian Alps. I breathe -freely for the first time now that I have at last emerged from the -gloomy, funnel-shaped valley below. The sun illuminates the landscape -to the farthest horizon, and the white crests of the Alps melt into -the clouds. The whole scene is one of heavenly beauty. Does the earth -comprise at the same time heaven and hell, and is there no other place -of punishment and reward? Perhaps. Certainly, the most beautiful -moments of my life seem to me heavenly, and the worst, hellish. Has -the future still in reserve for me hours or minutes of that happiness -which can be won only by tribulation and a tolerably clean conscience? - -I feel little inclination to descend into the valley of sorrows again, -and walk about on the mountain plateau, wondering at the beauty of -the earth. On the summit is a rock shaped by nature like an Egyptian -Sphinx. On its gigantic head is a heap of stones in which stands a -stick bearing a white piece of linen attached, like a flag. Without -troubling myself about its significance, an uncontrollable desire to -seize the flag takes possession of me. Despising death, I clamber up -the steep rock, and lay hold of it. At the same moment the sound of a -bridal march sung by triumphant voices arises from the Danube below. It -is a marriage party; I cannot see it, but the musket shots customarily -fired on such occasions place it beyond a doubt. Childish enough and -unhappy enough to give a poetical colouring to the most ordinary -occurrences, I take this as a good omen. - -Reluctantly and slowly I descend again into the valley of sorrows, of -death, of sleeplessness, and of demons, where my little Beatrice awaits -me and the promised piece of mistletoe, the green branch in the midst -of the snow, which really ought to be cut with a golden sickle. - - * * * * * - -For a long time past the grandmother had expressed a wish to see me, -whether it were to bring about a reconciliation or for occultist -reasons, because she is a clairvoyante and visionary. I had postponed -the visit under various pretexts, but now that my departure was -resolved on, my mother-in-law obliged me to visit the old lady and bid -her farewell, probably for the last time on this side of the grave. -On November 26th, a cold, clear day, my mother-in-law, the child, and -I made the pilgrimage to the bank of the Danube, where the family -residence is. We alighted at the inn, and while my mother-in-law went -to announce my visit to her mother, I wandered through the meadows and -woods, which I had not seen for two years. Recollections overpowered -me, and in all of them was interwoven the figure of my wife. And now -everything is blighted by autumnal frosts; there is now not a single -flower, nor a green blade of grass where we both plucked all the -flowers of spring, summer, and autumn! - -After the mid-day meal I am taken to the old lady who occupies the -annex to the villa, the little house in which my child was born. Our -meeting is, considering the circumstances, a cold one; they seem to -expect that I should appear as the prodigal son, but I have no wish -to act that rôle. I confine myself to indulging in reminiscences of -our lost paradise. She and I had painted the door-and window-panels -in honour of the little Christina's arrival in the world. The roses -and clematis which adorn the front of the house were planted by my own -hands. I had cut out the path through the garden. But the walnut tree -which I planted the morning after Christina's birth has disappeared. -The "life-tree," as we called it, is dead. Two years, two eternities, -have elapsed since the farewell between her on the shore and me on the -ship, in which I went to Linz in order to proceed thence to Paris. - -Who has caused the breach between us? I, for I have murdered my own -love and hers. Farewell, my white house, where grew thorns and roses. -Farewell, Danube! I say to comfort myself, "You were a dream, short as -summer, too sweet to be real, and I do not regret it." - -The night comes. My mother-in-law and my child have, at my request, -taken up their quarters in the inn, in order to protect me against the -deadly attacks, which I forebode by means of a sixth sense which has -been developed in me during the six months of persecution which I have -suffered. - -About ten o'clock in the evening a gust of wind begins to shake the -door of my room, which is on the ground-floor. I make it fast with -wooden wedges; it is no use; the door shakes still more. The windows -rattle; there is a dog-like howling in the stove; the whole house reels -like a ship. I cannot sleep; at one time my mother-in-law groans, at -another the child cries. The next morning my mother-in-law, exhausted -by sleeplessness and something else, which she conceals from me, says: -"Depart, my child; I have enough of this hellish stench!" And I travel -northwards, a restless pilgrim, into the fire of a new purgatory. - - - - -XII - -PILGRIMAGE AND PENANCE - - -There are ninety towns in Sweden, and the powers have condemned me to -go to the one which I most dislike. First of all, I visit the doctors. -The first speaks of neurasthenia, the second of angina pectoris, the -third of paranoia, a mental disease, the fourth of emphysema. This is -enough to ensure me against being put into a lunatic asylum. Meanwhile, -in order to procure the means of livelihood, I am forced to write -articles for a newspaper. But whenever I sit at the table to write, -hell is let loose. A new discovery comes to make me wild. Whenever I -take up my quarters in an hotel there breaks out a fiendish noise, -just as there did in the Rue de la Grande Chaumière in Paris; I hear -shuffling footsteps and the moving of furniture. I change my room, I -go into another hotel, and still there is the noise over my head. I -visit the restaurants, but as soon as I sit down to a meal the noise -begins there also. And it should be observed that whenever I ask those -present whether they hear the same noise too, they say "yes," and their -description of it tallies with mine. - -It is then no acoustic hallucination from which I suffer; everywhere -there are plots, I say to myself. But one day, as I go by chance into a -shoemaker's shop, the noise instantaneously breaks out. It is no plot, -then! It is the Devil himself! Hunted from hotel to hotel, pursued -everywhere by electric wires even to my bed, attacked everywhere -by electric currents which lift me from my chair, or out of bed, I -deliberately set about planning my suicide. The weather is terrible, -and in my depression I seek distraction in drinking bouts with friends. - -One dreary day, after such a bout, I have just finished my early -breakfast in my room. I turn round towards the table on which the -breakfast things are standing. A slight noise attracts my attention, -and I see that a knife has fallen on the ground. I lift it up and place -it so that it cannot do so again. The knife moves and falls. - -So it is electricity! - -The same morning I write a letter to my mother-in-law, and complain -of the bad weather and life in general. As I write the sentence, -"The earth is dirty, the sea is dirty, and dirt rains from the sky," -imagine my astonishment, as I see a clear drop of water fall upon the -paper. No electricity! A miracle! In the evening as I am still working -at the table, a noise from the washing-stand startles me. I look in -that direction, and see that a wax-cloth, which I use in my morning -ablutions, has fallen down. In order to get at the rights of the -matter, I hang it up, so that it cannot fall down again. - -It falls again! - -What is that? My thoughts now revert to the occultists and their secret -powers. I leave the town with my written indictment of them in my -pocket, and betake myself to Lund, where there are old friends of mine: -doctors, specialists in mental disease, and even theosophists on whose -aid I reckon. - -How have I come to settle down in this little university town, this -place of rustication and penance for the students of Upsala, when they -have lived too freely at the cost of their purses and their health? -Is this my Canossa, where I must retract my false doctrines before -the same set of youths who between 1880 and 1890 regarded me as their -standard-bearer? I understand my position exactly, and know well that -I am under the ban of most of the professors as a seducer of youth, and -that the fathers and mothers fear me like the Evil One himself. - -Moreover, I have made personal enemies here, and have contracted debts -under circumstances which set my character in a dubious light. Here -Popoffsky's sister-in-law and her husband live, and both of these, who -have an influential position in society, are able to stir up powerful -enemies against me. I have also here relations who ignore me, and -friends who have left me to become my enemies. In a word, it is the -worst place I could have chosen for a quiet residence; it is hell, but -a hell contrived with masterly logic and divine ingenuity. Here I must -drain the cup of humiliation, and reconcile the youth of Lund with the -alienated powers. By a picturesque accident, I buy myself a mantle with -cape and cowl, of a flea-brown colour, like a Franciscan's. Thus, after -a six years' banishment, I return to Sweden in a penitent's costume. - -About the year 1885 there was formed in Lund a Students' Association -called "The Old Boys," whose literary, scientific, and social programme -was best expressed by the word "Radicalism." It was coloured by -modern ideas; it was first socialistic, then nihilistic, and tended -finally to a general dissolution of society. It had besides a fin de -siècle flavouring of Satanism and decadence. The head of that party, -the most conspicuous of their champions, a friend of mine, whom I -have not seen for three years, pays me a visit. Dressed like myself -in a monkish-looking mantle of a grey colour, grown old, lean, with -melancholy aspect, he shows his history in his face. - -"You also?" I ask him. - -"Yes! It is all up with us." - -On my inviting him to take a glass of wine, he declares himself a -teetotaller. - -"How are the 'Old Boys'?" I ask. - -"Dead, come croppers, turned into Philistines and steady members of -society." - -"It is a case of Canossa, then!" - -"Canossa all along the line." - -"Then it is Providence Itself which has brought me here." - -"Providence! That is the right word." - -"Do they know the 'powers' in Lund?" - -"The 'powers' are preparing to return." - -"Do people sleep well here?" - -"No; they complain of nightmares, constrictions of the breast and -heart." - -"My arrival is appropriate, then; for that is precisely my case." - -We talk for some hours over the strange times we are living in, and my -friend relates to me some extraordinary occurrences which have recently -happened. Finally, he gives a brief account of the minds of the present -young generation, who are looking out for something new. - -People want a religion; a reconciliation with the "powers" (that is the -phrase), a new approach to the invisible. The fruitful and important -epoch of naturalism is past. One cannot say anything against it, nor -regret it, for the powers willed that we should pass through it. It was -an experimental epoch, the negative results of which have disproved -certain theories when they were put to the test. A God, unknown at -present, seems to be developing, growing, and revealing Himself from -time to time. In the intervals, so it seems, He leaves the world to -itself, like the farmer, who lets the tares and wheat grow together -till the harvest. Each epoch of revelation shows Him animated with -new ideas, and practically improving His methods. Thus Religion will -return, but under new aspects, for a compromise with the old religions -seems impossible. We do not await an epoch of reaction, nor a return -to out-worn ideals, but an advance towards something new. But of what -sort? Let us wait! - -At the end of our conversation a question escapes my lips like an arrow -which flies sky-wards, "Do you know Swedenborg?" - -"No; but my mother has his works, and has found wonderful things in -them." - -From atheism to Swedenborg is only a step! - -I beg him to lend me Swedenborg's works, and my friend, that Saul among -the young prophets, brings me the _Arcana Cœlestia_. Moreover, he -introduces a young man to me who has been highly gifted by the powers. -The latter relates to me events in his life which only too closely -resemble my own. When we compare our trials, we find a new light thrown -upon them, and we gain deliverance by the help of Swedenborg. I thank -Providence which has sent me into this small despised town to expiate -my sin and to be delivered. - - - - -XIII - -THE DELIVERER - - -When Balzac introduced me to my noble countryman, "The Buddha of the -North," by means of his book _Séraphita_, he showed me the evangelistic -side of the Prophet. Now it is the Law which encounters, crushes, and -releases. - -A single word suffices to illuminate my soul, and to scatter my doubts -and vain fancies regarding supposed enemies, electricians, black magic, -etc., and this single word is "Devastation."[1] All my sufferings I -find described by Swedenborg--the feelings of suffocation (angina -pectoris), constrictions of the chest, palpitations, the sensation -which I called the "electric girdle"--all exactly correspond, and -these phenomena, taken together, constitute the spiritual catharsis -(purification) which was already known to St. Paul, "Whom," he says -speaking of someone, "I have determined to hand over to Satan for the -destruction of the flesh, that the spirit might be saved in the day of -the Lord Jesus," and "Among whom are Hymenæus and Alexander, whom I -have delivered over to Satan, that they may be taught not to blaspheme." - -When I read the visions of Swedenborg belonging to the year 1744, the -year preceding his establishment of relations with the spiritual world, -I discover that the Prophet has endured the same nightly tortures as I -have, and what astonishes me still more is the complete identity of the -symptoms, which leave me no longer room for doubting the real nature of -my illness. In the _Arcana Cœlestia_, the mysterious occurrences of -the last two years are explained with such convincing exactness, that -I, a child of the renowned nineteenth century, am firmly convinced that -there is a hell--a hell, however, on earth, and that I have just come -out of it. - -Swedenborg explains to me the reason of my detention in the Hospital -St. Louis thus: - -"Alchemists are attacked by leprosy and scratch the scurf off like -fish-scales. It is an incurable skin disease." The apparition of the -chimney sweep which my daughter saw in Austria is also explained: -"Among the spirits, there is a kind called 'chimney sweeps,' because -they actually have faces blackened by smoke, and seem to wear -soot-coloured clothes.... One of these 'chimney sweep' spirits came -to me, and begged me earnestly to pray for his admission into heaven. -'I don't think,' he said, 'I have done anything on account of which I -should be excluded. I have often rebuked the inhabitants of earth, but -after rebuke and punishment, I have always given them instruction.' - -"The chastising, reforming, or instructing spirits approach a man from -the left side, lean on his back, consult his book of memory, and read -his deeds and even his thoughts in it. For when a spirit enters a man, -he first of all takes possession of his memory. If they behold an evil -deed or the intention to commit one, they punish him with a pain in the -foot or in the hand, or the neighbourhood of the stomach, and they do -this with unexampled dexterity. A shudder announces their approach. - -"Besides inflicting pains in the limbs, they employ a painful pressure -against the navel, which gives the sensation of being surrounded with -a prickly girdle; moreover, they sometimes cause constrictions of -the chest, which they intensify to a terrible degree; finally, they -inspire a disgust of all food except bread, which continues for days. - -"Other spirits try to convince their victims of the opposite to that -which the instructing spirits have said. These spirits of contradiction -were, during their earthly existence, men who had been expelled from -society on account of some crime. Their approach is heralded by a -flickering flame, which seems to hover about one's face; their place is -above the back, whence they make themselves felt to the extremities." -(These flickering flames or sparks have appeared to me twice, and both -times on occasions when I resisted my better self, and rejected all -apparitions as idle dreams.) - -"These spirits of contradiction tell men not to believe what the -instructing spirits have been commissioned by the angels to say, -and not to rule their lives accordingly, but to live in all licence -and wantonness as they choose. Usually the former come as soon as -the latter have gone. Men know what to expect from them, and do not -trouble much about them, but they learn through their assaults to -distinguish between good and evil. For the knowledge of good is first -gained through that of its opposite, just as every perception or idea -of a matter is obtained by carefully observing what distinguishes it -from its contrary." The reader may remember the faces like antique -sculptures which I saw formed by the white cover of my pillow in the -Hôtel Orfila. Swedenborg speaks regarding them as follows: - -"Two signs show that they (the spirits) dwell with a man; one is an old -man with a white face. This sign will signify to him that he is always -to speak the truth, and to act justly.... I myself have seen such an -antique human face. There are faces of pure whiteness and great beauty, -from which uprightness and modesty beam." - -(In order not to alarm the reader, I have purposely concealed the fact, -that all the above relates to the inhabitants of the planet Jupiter. -My surprise may be imagined when one spring morning they bring me a -French review containing a picture of Swedenborg's house in the planet -Jupiter, drawn by Victorien Sardou. Why on Jupiter? What a remarkable -coincidence! And has the master and doyen of the Théâtre Français -observed that the left façade of the building seen from a sufficient -distance forms an antique human face? This face is the same as that -which was formed by my cushion-cover. -But in Sardou's drawing there are more of such silhouettes formed by -the lines of the building. Has the master's hand been guided by another -hand, so that he produced more than he knew?) - -Where has Swedenborg seen his heaven and hell? Are they visions, -intuitions, inspirations? I hardly know, but the correspondence of his -hell to that of Dante, and of the Greek, Roman, and German mythologies, -leads to the idea that the powers have generally used similar means to -realise their purposes. And what are these purposes? The completion -of the human type; the production of the higher Man--the Superman, as -Nietzsche, that rod of chastisement prematurely used and cast into the -fire, has announced him. So the problem of good and evil is again set -up for us to solve, and Taine's moral indifference seems insipid before -these new demands. - -The belief in spirits follows as a natural consequence. What are -spirits? As soon as we admit the immortality of the soul, we see that -the dead are still alive and continue their relationships with the -living. "Evil spirits," then, are not evil, for their object is good, -and it would be better to call them, with Swedenborg, "corrective -spirits," than to abandon oneself to fear and to despair. Accordingly, -there exists no Satan, as an autonomous personality opposed to God, -and the undeniable apparitions of the Evil One in his traditional form -must be regarded as a scarecrow conjured up by Providence--Providence -the Supreme and Good, which carries on its government by means of an -enormous comprehensive staff, consisting of departed souls. - -Be comforted, and be proud of the grace bestowed upon you, all ye who -suffer from sleeplessness, nightmares, apparitions, palpitations, and -fears of death! _Numen adest!_ God is seeking for you! - - -[1] According to Swedenborg the name of a stage in the religious life. - - - - -XIV - -TRIBULATIONS - - -Interned in this little university town, without hope of getting out -of it, I engage in the terrible fight against my worst enemy--myself. -Every morning, when I go for a walk on the wall under the plane trees, -the large red lunatic asylum reminds me of the danger I have escaped, -and of that which still awaits me, if I relapse. Swedenborg, by -explaining to me the true character of my terrors during the last year, -has delivered me from the fear of electricians, "black" magicians, -wizards, the ambition of the gold-maker, and from madness. He has -pointed out the only way to salvation: to seek out the demons in their -dens within myself, and there to slay them by--repentance. Balzac, -the Prophet's assistant, has taught me in _Séraphita_ that "Pain of -conscience is a weakness which does not put an end to sin; repentance -is the only power which makes a decisive end of all." Very well, -let us repent! But is not that equivalent to criticising Providence, -which has chosen me for its scourge? and to saying to the powers: "You -have guided my destiny ill; you have made me and commissioned me to -chastise, to overthrow idols, to stir up revolt, and then you withdraw -your protection from me and disown me in an absurd way, telling me to -creep to the cross and repent!" - -Strange "circulus vitiosus," which I already foresaw in my twentieth -year, when I wrote my drama _Meister Olaf_, and which has constituted -the tragedy of my life. Why be tormented during thirty years in order -to be taught by experience what one had already foreboded? When young -I was sincerely pious, and you have made me a freethinker. Out of -the freethinker you have made an atheist, and out of the atheist a -religious man. Inspired by humanitarian ideas, I have been a herald -of socialism. Five years later, you have shown me the absurdity of -socialism; you have made all my prophecies futile. And supposing I -become again religious, I am sure that, in another ten years, you will -reduce religion to an absurdity. - -Ah! what a game the gods play with us poor mortals! And therefore, -in the most tormented moments of life, we too can laugh with -self-conscious raillery. - -How is it that you wish us to take earnestly what is nothing but a huge -bad joke? - -For whom was Christ the Saviour? Consider the most Christian of all -Christians, our pious Scandinavians, these amæmic, wretched, timid -creatures, who look as though they were possessed. They seem to carry -an evil spirit in their hearts, and observe how most of their leaders -have ended in prison as criminals. Why has their master delivered them -over to the enemy? Is religion a punishment, and Christ an Avenger? - - * * * * * - -The sun shines, everyday life proceeds on its usual course, the -cheerful bustle of business raises the spirits. Then one feels -rebellious, and challenges heaven with doubts. But when night, silence, -and loneliness reign, the heart beats, and the breast suffers from -constriction. Then one jumps out of window into a hedge of thorns, -and humbly begs a physician for help, and seeks someone to share the -sleeping chamber. - -Go again into your room, and you will find someone is there; he is -invisible, but you feel his presence. Then go to the asylum, and ask -the doctor; he will talk to you about neurasthenia, paranoia, angina -pectoris, and stories of that kind, but will never heal you. Whither, -then, will you go, all ye who, sleepless, wander through street after -street, waiting for the dawn? "The mills of the universe," "The mills -of God," are two expressions in common use. Have you had that roaring -in your ears which is like the noise of a water-wheel? Have you in -the solitude of night or in broad daylight observed how memories of -the past stir and arise, singly or in groups? Memories of all your -faults, crimes, and follies which make your ears tingle, your brows -perspire, your spine shudder? You re-live your life from your birth -to the present day, you suffer over again all the sorrows you have -endured; you empty again all the cups which you have drunk to the dregs -so often; you crucify your skeleton when there is no more flesh left to -crucify; you consume your soul when your heart is reduced to ashes! - -You know all that? - -Those are the "mills of God" which grind slowly but exceeding small. -You are ground to powder, and think it is over. But no! You are brought -again to the mill. Be thankful! That is hell upon earth, as Luther knew -it, and reckoned it a special grace to be pulverised on this side of -the grave. - -Think yourself happy and be thankful! - -What is one to do then? Humble oneself? - -If you humble yourself before men, you will arouse their pride, for all -will think themselves, no matter how guilty they may be, better than -you. - -Well, then, is one to humble oneself before God? But is it not -disgraceful to degrade the Highest by conceiving of Him as the overseer -of a slave plantation? - -Shall we pray? What! Presume to try to alter the will and decision -of the Eternal by flattery and crawling? I look for God and find the -Devil! That is my destiny! I have repented and reformed myself. - - * * * * * - -I renounce alcohol, and come about nine o'clock soberly home to drink -milk. The room is filled with all kinds of demons, who drag me out of -bed and try to stifle me under the blankets. But if I come home at -midnight intoxicated, I sleep like an angel and wake up strong as a -young god, and ready to work like a galley-slave. - -I live a chaste life, and am troubled by unwholesome dreams. I accustom -myself to think only good of my friends, entrust my secrets and my -money to them, and am betrayed. If I show offence at such treachery, it -is always I who am punished. - -I try to love mankind in the mass; I shut my eyes to their faults, -and with inexhaustible patience endure their meanesses and slanders, -and one fine day I find myself a sharer of their crimes. Whenever -I withdraw from society which I consider injurious, the demons of -solitude attack me, and when I look for better friends, I come on the -track of the worst. Yes, after I have conquered my evil inclinations -and through loneliness have attained to a certain degree of inward -peace, I am caught in the snare of self-satisfaction and despising -my neighbour. And self-conceit is the deadliest of sins, which is -instantly punished. - -How is one to explain the fact that every step of progress in virtue -gives rise to a fresh sin? - -Swedenborg solves the puzzle by declaring that sins are punishments -inflicted on men in requital for sins of the more heinous class. -Thus those who are greedy of power are condemned to the hell of the -Sodomites. Supposing this theory to be true, we must endure the -burden of our wickedness and rejoice at the pangs of conscience -which accompany it, as at the payment of fees at a toll-gate. To seek -virtue, accordingly, resembles an attempt to escape from prison and its -punishments. That is what Luther asserts in article xxix. against the -Romish bull, when he declares that "souls in purgatory sin continually, -because they seek for peace, and try to avoid torments." Similarly, -in article xxxiv., he says, "To fight with the Turks is equivalent to -rebellion against God, whose instrument the Turks are, in order to -punish our sins." It is therefore obvious "that all our good works are -deadly sins," and that "the world must become guilty before God, and -learn that no one is justified except through grace." - -Let us therefore suffer without hoping for any real joy in life, for, -my brothers, we are in hell. And do not let us accuse the Lord, when we -see our little innocent children suffer. No one knows why, but divine -justice gives us a ground for surmising that it is on account of sins -committed by them before their birth. Let us rejoice in our torments, -as though they were the paying off of so many debts, and let us count -it a mercy that we do not know the real reason why we are punished. - - - - -XV - -WHITHER? - - -Six months have passed, and I still go daily walking on the city wall -and survey the lunatic asylum, and catch glimpses of the blue sea in -the distance. Thence will the new epoch, the new religion, come of -which the world is dreaming. - -Gloomy winter is buried, the meadows are green, the trees are in -blossom, the nightingale sings in the garden of the observatory, but -a wintry sadness still weighs upon our spirits, for so many weird and -inexplicable things have happened, that even the most incredulous -waver. The general sleeplessness increases, nervous breakdowns are -common, apparitions are matters of every day, and real miracles happen. -People are expecting something. - - * * * * * - -A young man pays me a visit, and asks, "What must one do in order to -sleep quietly at night?" - -"Why?" - -"Upon my word, I cannot say, but my bed-room has become a terror to me, -and I give it up to-morrow." - -"Young man, atheist, naturalist, why?" - -"The Devil must be in it! When I open the door of my room at night and -enter, someone seizes me by the arms and shakes me." - -"Then there is someone in your room?" - -"No, when I light a candle there is no one to be seen." - -"Young man, there is someone who cannot be seen by candle-light!" - -"Who is that?" - -"The invisible, young man! Have you taken sulphonal, bromkali, -morphium, chloral?" - -"I have tried all." - -"And the invisible does not quit the field. Very well! You want to -sleep at night, and wish me to tell you how. Listen, young man, I -am neither a physician nor a prophet, I am an old sinner, who does -penance. Demand therefore neither preaching nor prophecy from an old -gallows-bird, who wants all his leisure time to preach to himself. I -have also suffered from sleeplessness and paralysis of the arms; I have -wrestled eye to eye with the invisible, and finally recovered sleep and -health. Do you know how? Guess!" - -The young man guesses my meaning, and casts his eyes down. "You guess -it! Go in peace, and sleep well!" - -Yes! I must be silent and let my meaning be guessed, for if I began to -play the preaching monk, they would turn their backs on me at once. - - * * * * * - -A friend asks me, "Whither are we going?" - -"I cannot say, but as regards myself personally, it seems that the way -of the Cross leads me back to the faith of my fathers." - -"To Catholicism?" - -It appears so. Occultism has played its part, by giving a scientific -explanation of miracles and demonology. Theosophy, the forerunner -of religion, has fulfilled its function, when it has revived belief -in a world-order which punishes and rewards, Karma will be replaced -by God, and the Mahatmas will be revealed as the new-born powers, -the chastising and instructing spirits. Buddhism in Young France has -preached renunciation of the world and the worship of sorrow, which -leads direct to Golgotha. - -As regards the homesick longing I feel for the bosom of the Mother -Church, that is a long story, which I may summarise as follows: - -When Swedenborg taught me that it is unlawful to quit the religion of -one's ancestors, he said that with reference to Protestantism, which is -treason against the Mother Church. Or, to put it better, Protestantism -is a punishment inflicted on the barbarians of the North. Protestantism -is the Exile, the Babylonish Captivity, but the Return seems near, the -Return to the promised land. The immense progress which Catholicism -makes in America, England, and Scandinavia seems to point towards a -great reconciliation, in which the Greek Church, which has already -stretched out her hand towards the West, is not to be forgotten. - -That is the dream of the socialists regarding the restoration of the -United States of the West, but taken in a spiritual sense. But I beg -you not to think that it is a political theory which takes me back -to the Roman Church. I have not sought Catholicism; it has found a -place in me, after following me for years. My child, who became a -Catholic against my will, has shown me the beauty of a cult which has -maintained itself unaltered from the first, and I have always preferred -the original to the copy. The considerable time I spent in my child's -native country gave me opportunity to observe and admire the sincerity -of the religious life there. I have been also influenced by my stay -in the St. Louis Hospital, and finally by the occurrences of the last -few weeks. After contemplating my life, which has whirled me round -like some of the damned in Dante's hell, and after discovering that my -existence in general had no other object but to humble and to defile -me, I determined to anticipate my executioner, and take in hand my -own torture. I determined to live in the midst of sufferings, dirt, -and death-agonies, and with this object I prepared to seek a post as -attendant on the sick in the Hôpital des Frères St. Jean de Dieu in -Paris. This idea occurred to me on the morning of April 29th, after -I had met an old woman with a head resembling a skull. When I return -home, I find _Séraphita_ lying open on my table, and on the right page -a splinter of wood, which points to the following sentence: "Do for God -what you would do for your own ambitious plans, what you do when you -devote yourself to your art, what you have done when you love someone -more than Him, or when you have investigated a secret of science! Is -God not Science Itself?..." - -In the afternoon the newspaper _L'Éclair_ arrived, and, strange to say, -the Hôpital des Frères St. Jean de Dieu is twice mentioned in it. - -On May 1st I read for the first time in my life Sar Peladan's _Comment -on devient un Mage_. - -Sar Peladan, hitherto unknown to me, overcomes me like a storm, a -revelation of the higher man, Nietzsche's Superman, and with him -Catholicism makes its solemn and victorious entry into my life. - -Has "He who should come" come already in the person of Sar Peladan. The -Poet-Thinker-Prophet--is it _he_, or do we wait for another? - -I know not, but after I have passed through these antechambers of a new -life, I begin on May 3rd to write this book. - -_May_ 5_th_.--A Catholic priest, a convert, visited me. - -_May_ 9_th_.--I saw the figure of Gustavus Adolphus in the ashes of the -stove. - -On May 14th I read in Sar Peladan: "About the year 1000 A.D. it was -possible to believe in witchcraft; to-day, as the year 2000 A.D. -approaches, it is an established fact that such and such an individual -has the fatal peculiarity of bringing trouble to those who come into -collision with him. You deny him a request, and your dearest friend -deceives you; you strike him, and illness makes you keep your bed; -all the harm you do to him recoils on you in twofold measure. But, say -people, that signifies nothing; 'chance' can explain these inexplicable -coincidences. Modern determinism sums itself up in the expression -'chance.'" - -On May 17th I read what the Dane, Jorgensen, a convert to Catholicism, -says about the Beuron convent. - -On May 18th a friend whom I have not seen for six years comes to Lund, -and takes a room in the house where I am staying. Who can picture -my emotion when I learn that he also has just been converted to -Catholicism? He lends me his breviary (I had lost mine a year ago), and -as I read again the Latin hymns and chants, I feel myself once more at -home. - -_May_ 21_th_.--After a series of conversations regarding the Mother -Church, my friend has written a letter to the Belgian convent, where he -was baptised, requesting them to find a place of refuge for the author -of this book. - -_May_ 28_th_.--There is a vague rumour in circulation that Mrs. Annie -Besant has become a Catholic. - - * * * * * - -I am waiting the answer from the Belgian convent. By the time this -book is printed, the answer will have arrived. And then? After that? A -new joke for the gods, who laugh heartily when we shed bitter tears. - -Lund, _May_ 3_rd_-_June_ 25_th_, 1897. - -[_Translator's Note_.--Strindberg never actually entered the Roman -Church.] - - - - -EPILOGUE - - -I had finished this book with the exclamation, "What humbug! What -wretched humbug life is!" But after some reflection I found the -sentiment unworthy, and struck it out. My mind swayed irresolute, and -at last I took refuge in the Bible, to find the explanation I needed. -And thus the Holy Book, more inspired with prophetic qualities than any -other, answered me: "And I will set my face against that man, and will -make him a sign and a proverb, and I will cut him off from the midst of -my people, and ye shall know that I am the Lord. And if that prophet -be deceived, I the Lord have deceived that prophet, and I will stretch -out my hand upon him, and will destroy him from the midst of my people -Israel."--Ezek. xiv., 8, 9. - -Such then is my life; a sign, an example to serve for the betterment -of others; a proverb to set forth the nothingness of fame and of -celebrity; a proverb to show the younger generation how they should not -live; yes! I am a proverb, I who regarded myself as a prophet, and am -revealed as a braggart. Now the Eternal has led this false prophet to -speak empty words, and the false prophet feels irresponsible since he -has only played the rôle assigned to him. - -Here you have, my brothers, the picture of a human destiny, one among -so many, and now confess that a man's life may seem--a bad joke! - - * * * * * - -Who is the Prince of this world, who condemns mortals to their -wickedness, and rewards virtue with the cross, the stake, -sleeplessness, and dreadful dreams? The Punisher of our unknown sins -committed somewhere else or forgotten? And who are Swedenborg's -reforming spirits, the guardian angels who protect us from the evil -ones? - -What a Babel-like confusion! - -St. Augustine pronounced it effrontery to doubt the existence of -demons. St. Thomas Aquinas declared that demons produce storms and -thunderbolts, and can delegate their power to human hands. Pope John -XXII. complained of the unlawful devices of his enemies, who pierced -portraits of him with needles. Luther believed that all accidents, -such as breaking bones, falls, conflagrations, and most illnesses were -traceable to the machinations of devils. He also asserted that some -individuals have already had their hell upon earth. - -Have I not, then, rightly named my book _Inferno_? If any reader holds -it for mere invention, he is invited to inspect my journal, which I -have kept daily since 1895, of which this book is only an elaborated -and expanded extract. - - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inferno, by August Strindberg - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INFERNO *** - -***** This file should be named 44108-0.txt or 44108-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/1/0/44108/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Inferno - -Author: August Strindberg - -Translator: Claud Field - -Release Date: November 5, 2013 [EBook #44108] -Last Updated: February 28, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INFERNO *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org - - - - - -</pre> - -<h1>THE INFERNO</h1> - -<h3>BY</h3> - -<h2>AUGUST STRINDBERG</h2> - - -<h4>AUTHOR OF "THE BONDWOMAN'S SON," "COUNTESS JULIA,"</h4> - -<h4>"THE DANCE OF DEATH," ETC.</h4> - - -<h4>TRANSLATED BY CLAUD FIELD</h4> - - -<h5>G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS</h5> - -<h5>NEW YORK AND LONDON</h5> - -<h5>The Knickerbocker Press</h5> - -<h5>1913</h5> - - - -<hr class="full" /> -<h4><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</a></h4> - -<p style="margin-left: 40%; font-size: 0.7em;"><a href="#INTRODUCTION1">INTRODUCTION</a></p> -<div class="center" style="font-size: 0.7em;"> -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">I.</td><td align="left"><a href="#I">THE HAND OF THE INVISIBLE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">II.</td><td align="left"><a href="#II">ST. LOUIS LEADS ME TO ORFILA</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">III.</td><td align="left"><a href="#III">PARADISE REGAINED</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">IV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#IV">THE FALL AND PARADISE LOST</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">V.</td><td align="left"><a href="#V">PURGATORY</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">VI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VI">HELL</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">VII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VII">BEATRICE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">VIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#VIII">SWEDENBORG</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">IX.</td><td align="left"><a href="#IX">EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY<br /> OF A DAMNED SOUL</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">X.</td><td align="left"><a href="#X">THE ETERNAL HAS SPOKEN</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">XI.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XI">HELL LET LOOSE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">XII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XII">PILGRIMAGE AND PENANCE</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">XIII.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XIII">THE DELIVERER</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">XIV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XIV">TRIBULATIONS</a></td></tr> -<tr><td align="left"></td><td align="right">XV.</td><td align="left"><a href="#XV">WHITHER?</a></td></tr> -</table></div> - -<p style="margin-left: 40%; font-size: 0.7em;"><a href="#EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE</a></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h3>THE INFERNO</h3> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="INTRODUCTION1" id="INTRODUCTION1">INTRODUCTION</a><a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor"><span style="font-size: 0.7em;">[1]</span></a></h4> - - -<p>An American critic says "Strindberg is the greatest subjectivist of -all time." Certainly neither Augustine, Rousseau, nor Tolstoy have -laid bare their souls to the finest fibre with more ruthless sincerity -than the great Swedish realist. He fulfilled to the letter the saying -of Robertson of Brighton, "Woman and God are two rocks on which a man -must either anchor or be wrecked." His four autobiographical works, -<i>The Son of a Servant, The Confessions of a Fool, Inferno</i>, and -<i>Legends</i>, are four segments of an immense curve tracing his progress -from the childish pietism of his early years, through a period of -atheism and rebellion, to the sombre faith in a "God that punishes" of -the sexagenarian. In his spiritual wanderings he grazed the edge of -madness, and madmen often see deeper into things than ordinary folk. -At the close of the <i>Inferno</i> he thus sums up the lesson of his life's -pilgrimage: "Such then is my life: a sign, an example to serve for the -improvement of others; a proverb, to show the nothingness of fame and -popularity; a proverb, to show young men how they ought <i>not</i> to live; -a proverb—because I who thought myself a prophet am now revealed as a -braggart."</p> - -<p>It is strange that though the names of Ibsen and Nietzsche have long -been familiar in England, Strindberg, whom Ibsen is reported to have -called "One greater than I," as he pointed to his portrait, and -with whom Nietzsche corresponded, is only just beginning to attract -attention, though for a long time past most of his works have been -accessible in German. Even now not much more is known about him than -that he was a pessimist, a misogynist, and writer of Zolaesque novels. -To quote a Persian proverb, "They see the mountain, but not the mine -within it." No man admired a good wife and mother more than he did, -but he certainly hated the Corybantic, "emancipated" women of the -present time. No man had a keener appreciation of the gentle joys of -domesticity, and the intensity of his misogyny was in strict proportion -to the keenness of his disappointment. The <i>Inferno</i> relates how -grateful and even reverential he was to the nurse who tended him in -hospital, and to his mother-in-law. He felt profoundly the charm of -innocent childhood, and paternal instincts were strong in him. All his -life long he had to struggle with four terrible inner foes—doubt, -suspicion, fear, sensuality. His doubts destroyed his early faith, -his ceaseless suspicions made it impossible for him to be happy in -friendship or love, his fear of the "invisible powers," as he calls -them, robbed him of all peace of mind, and his sensuality dragged -him repeatedly into the mire. A "strange mixture of a man" indeed, -whose soul was the scene of an internecine life-long warfare between -diametrically-opposed forces! Yet he never ceased to struggle blindly -upwards, and Goethe's words were verified in him:</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 30%;">"Wer immer strebend sich bemüht</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 30%;">Den Können wir erlösen."<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></span><br /> -</p> - -<p>He never relapsed into the stagnant cynicism of the out-worn -debauchee, nor did he with Nietzsche try to explain away conscience -as an old wife's tale. Conscience persistently tormented him, and -finally drove him back to belief in God, not the collective Karma -of the Theosophists, which he expressly repudiated, nor to any new -god expounded in New Thought magazines, but to the transcendent God -who judges and requites, though not at the end of every week. It -seems almost as if there were lurking an old Hebrew vein in him, so -frequently in his later works does he express himself in the language -of psalmists and prophets. "The psalms of David express my feelings -best, and Jehovah is my God," he says in the <i>Inferno</i>.</p> - -<p>At one time he seems to have been nearly entering the Roman Catholic -Church, but, even after he had recovered his belief, his inborn -independence of spirit would not let him attach himself to any -religious body. His fellow-countryman, Swedenborg, seems to have -influenced him more deeply than anyone else, and to him he attributes -his escape from madness.</p> - -<p>His work <i>Inferno</i> may certainly serve a useful purpose in calling -attention to the fact, that, whatever may be the case hereafter, there -are certainly hells on earth, hells into which the persistently selfish -inevitably come. Because our fathers dealt with exaggerated emphasis -on unextinguishable fires and insatiable worms, in some remote -future, some good folk seem to suppose that there is no such thing as -retribution, or that we may sow thorns and reap wheat. Strindberg knew -better. He had reaped the whirlwind, and we seem to feel it sometimes -blowing through his pages.</p> - -<p>In the <i>Blue Books</i>, or collections of thoughts which he wrote towards -the end of his life, the storm has subsided. The sun shines and the -sea is calm, though strewn with wreckage. He uses some very strong -language towards his former comrades, the free-thinkers, whom he calls -"denizens of the dunghill." One bitterness remains. He cannot forgive -woman. She has injured him too deeply. All his life long she has been -"a cleaving mischief in his way to virtue." He married three times, and -each marriage was a failure. His first wife was a baroness separated -from her husband, whom he accuses of having repeatedly betrayed him. -His second wife was an Austrian. In the <i>Inferno</i> he calls her "my -beautiful jaileress who kept incessant watch over my secret thoughts." -His third was an actress from whom he parted by mutual consent. -All his attempts to set up a home had failed, and he found himself -finally relegated to solitude. One of his later works bears the title -<i>Lonely</i>. His solitude was relieved by visits from his children, and -he was especially fond of his younger daughter, giving her free use of -his library. On May 14, 1912, he died in Stockholm, after a lingering -illness, of cancer, an added touch of tragedy being the fact that his -first wife died, not far away, shortly before him.</p> - -<p>He was an enormous reader, and seems to have possessed a knowledge -almost as encyclopædic as Browning's. While assistant librarian in the -Royal Library at Stockholm he studied Chinese; he was a skilled chemist -and botanist, and wrote treatises on both these sciences. He was a -mystic, but had a certain dislike of occultism and theosophy. A German -critic, comparing him with Ibsen, says that, whereas Ibsen is a spent -force, Strindberg's writings contain germs which are still undeveloped. -He is a lurid and menacing planet in the literary sky, and some time -must elapse before his true position is fixed. To the present writer -his career seems best summed up in the words of Mrs. Browning:</p> - -<p> -"He testified this solemn truth, by frenzy desolated,<br /> -Nor man nor nature satisfies whom only God created";<br /> -</p> - -<p>or in those of Augustine: "Fecisti nos ad Te, Domine, et irrequietum -est cor nostrum donec requiescat in Te."</p> - -<p>C.F.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Reprinted by permission from <i>The Spectator</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> -</p> -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Who never ceases still to strive,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'T is him we can deliver."</span><br /> -</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="center"> -"Courbe la tête fier Segambre; adore ce qui tu as brûlé;<br /> -brûle ce qui tu as adoré!"<br /> -</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="I" id="I">I</a></h4> - -<h4>THE HAND OF THE INVISIBLE</h4> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>With a feeling of wild joy I returned from the northern railway -station, where I had said good-bye to my wife. She was going to our -child, who was ill in a distant place. The sacrifice of my heart -was then fulfilled. Her last words, "When shall we meet again?" and -my answer, "Soon!" echoed in my ears, like falsehoods which one is -unwilling to confess. A foreboding said to me "Never!" And, as a matter -of fact, these parting words which we exchanged in November, 1894, were -our last, for to this present time, May, 1897, I have not seen my dear -wife again.</p> - -<p>As I entered the Café de la Régence, I placed myself at the table where -I used to sit with my wife, my beautiful jail-keeper, who watched my -soul day and night, guessed my secret thoughts, marked the course of my -ideas, and was jealous of my investigations into the unknown.</p> - -<p>My newly-won freedom gave me a feeling of expansion and elevation -above the petty cares of life in the great capital. In this arena of -intellectual warfare I had just gained a victory, which, although -worthless in itself, signified a great deal to me. It was the -fulfilment of a youthful dream which all my countrymen had dreamed, -but which had been realised by me alone, to have a play of one's -own performed in a Paris theatre. <i>Now</i> the theatre repelled me, as -everything does when one has reached it, and science attracted me. -Obliged to choose between love and knowledge, I had decided to strive -for the highest knowledge; and as I myself sacrificed my love, I forgot -the other innocent sacrifice to my ambition or my mission.</p> - -<p>As soon as I returned to my poor student's room in the Latin Quarter, I -rummaged in my chest and drew out of their hiding-place six saucepans -of fine porcelain. I had bought them a long time ago, although -they were too dear for my means. A pair of tongs and a packet of -pure sulphur completed the apparatus of my laboratory. I kindled a -smelting-furnace in the fireplace, closed the door, and drew down the -blinds, for only three months after the execution of Caserio it was -not prudent to make chemical experiments in Paris.</p> - -<p>The night comes on, the sulphur burns luridly, and towards morning -I have ascertained the presence of carbon in what has been before -considered an elementary substance. With this I believe I have solved -the great problem, upset the ruling chemical theories, and won the -immortality grudged to mortals.</p> - -<p>But the skin of my hands, nearly roasted by the strong fire, peels -off: in scales, and the pain they cause me when undressing shows me -what a price I have paid for my victory. But, as I lie alone in bed, -I feel happy, and I am sorry I have no one whom I can thank for my -deliverance from the marital fetters which have been broken without -much ado. For in the course of years I have become an atheist, since -the unknown powers have left the world to itself without giving a sign -of themselves.</p> - -<p>Someone to thank! There is no one there, and my involuntary ingratitude -depresses me.</p> - -<p>Feeling jealous about my discovery, I take no steps to make it known. -In my modesty I turn neither to authorities nor to universities. While -I continue my experiments, the cracked skin of my hands becomes worse, -the fissures gape and become full of coal-dust; blood oozes out, and -the pains become so intolerable that I can undertake nothing more. I am -inclined to attribute these pains which drive me wild to the unknown -powers which have persecuted me for years, and frustrate my endeavours. -I avoid people, neglect society, refuse invitations, and make myself -inaccessible to friends. I am surrounded by silence and loneliness. It -is the solemn and terrible silence of the desert in which I defiantly -challenge the unknown, in order to wrestle with him, body with body, -and soul with soul. I have proved that sulphur contains carbon; now I -intend to discover hydrogen and oxygen in it, for they must be also -present. But my apparatus is insufficient, I need money, my hands are -black and bleeding, black as misery, bleeding as my heart. For, during -this time, I continue to correspond with my wife. I tell her of my -successes in chemical experiments; she answers with news about the -illness of our child, and here and there drops hints that my science is -futile, and that it is foolish to waste money on it.</p> - -<p>In a fit of righteous pride, in the passionate desire to do myself an -injury, I commit moral suicide by repudiating my wife and child in -an unworthy, unpardonable letter. I give her to understand that I am -involved in a new love-affair.</p> - -<p>The blow goes home. My wife answers with a demand for separation.</p> - -<p>Solitary, guilty of suicide and assassination, I forget my crime under -the weight of sorrow and care. No one visits me, and I can see no one, -since I have alienated all. I drift alone over the surface of the sea; -I have hoisted my anchor, but have no sail.</p> - -<p>Necessity, however, in the shape of an unpaid bill, interrupts my -scientific tasks and metaphysical speculations, and calls me back to -earth.</p> - -<p>Christmas approaches. I have abruptly refused the invitation of a -Scandinavian family, the atmosphere of which makes me uncomfortable -because of their moral irregularities. But, when evening comes and I am -alone, I repent, and go there all the same.</p> - -<p>They sit down to table, and the evening meal begins with a great -deal of noise and outbursts of hilarity, for the young artists who -are present feel themselves at home here. A certain familiarity of -gestures and attitudes, a tone which is anything but domestic, repels -and depresses me indescribably. In the middle of the orgy my sadness -calls up to my inner vision a picture of the peaceful home of my wife: -the Christmas tree, the mistletoe, my little daughter, her deserted -mother. Pangs of conscience seize me; I stand up, plead ill-health as -an excuse, and depart.</p> - -<p>I go down the dreadful Rue de la Gaieté in which the artificial mirth -of the crowd annoys me; then down the gloomy silent Rue Delambre, which -is more conducive to despair than any other street of the Quarter. I -turn into the Boulevard Montparnasse, and let myself fall on a seat on -the terrace of the Lilas brewery.</p> - -<p>A glass of good absinthe comforts me for some minutes. Then there fall -on me a set of cocottes and students who strike me on the face with -switches. As though driven by furies, I leave my glass of absinthe -standing, and hasten to seek for another in the Café François Premier -on the Boulevard St. Michel. Out of the frying-pan into the fire! A -second troop shouts at me, "There is the hermit!" Driven forth again I -fly home, accompanied by the unnerving tones of the mirliton pipes.</p> - -<p>The thought that it might be a chastisement, the result of a crime, -does not occur to me. In my own mind I feel guiltless, and consider -myself the object of an unjust persecution. The unknown powers have -hindered me from continuing my great work. The hindrances must be -broken through before I obtain the victor's crown.</p> - -<p>I have been wrong, and at the same time I am right, and will maintain -it.</p> - -<p>That Christmas night I slept badly. A cold draught several times blew -on my face, and from time to time the sound of a jew's-harp awoke me.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>An increasing prostration comes over me. My black and bleeding hands -prevent my dressing myself and taking care of my outer appearance. -Anxiety about my unpaid hotel bill leaves me no peace, and I pace up -and down my room like a wild beast in a cage. I eat no longer, and the -hotel manager advises me to go to a hospital. But that is no help to -me, for it is too dear, and I must pay my bill here first.</p> - -<p>The veins in my arm begin to swell visibly; it is a sign of -blood-poisoning. This is the finishing stroke. The news spreads among -my countrymen, and one evening there comes the kind-hearted woman, -whose Christmas dinner I had so abruptly left, who was antipathetic to -me, and whom I almost despised. She finds me out, asks how I am, and -tells me with tears that the hospital is my only hope.</p> - -<p>One can understand how helpless and humiliated I feel, as my eloquent -silence shows her that I am penniless. She is seized with sympathy -at seeing me so prostrate. Poor herself, and oppressed with daily -anxieties, she resolves to make a collection among the Scandinavian -colony, and to go to the pastor of the community.</p> - -<p>A sinful woman has pity on the man who has deserted his lawful wife!</p> - -<p>Once more a beggar, asking for alms by means of a woman, I begin to -suspect that there is an invisible hand which guides the irresistible -logic of events. I bow before the storm, determined to rise again at -the first opportunity.</p> - -<p>The carriage brings me to the hospital of St. Louis. On the way, in -the Rue de Rennes, I get out in order to buy two white shirts. The -winding-sheet for the last hour! I really expect a speedy death, -without being able to say why.</p> - -<p>In the hospital I am forbidden to go out without leave; besides, my -hands are so wrapped up that all occupation is impossible to me; I -feel therefore like a prisoner. My room is bare, contains only the -most necessary things, and has nothing attractive about it. It lies -near the public sitting-room, where from morning to evening they smoke -and play cards. The bell rings for breakfast. As I sit down at the -table I find myself in a frightful company of death's-heads. Here a -nose is wanting, there an eye; there the lips hang down, here the cheek -is ulcered. Two of them do not look sick, but show in their faces -gloom and despair. These are "kleptomaniacs" of high social rank, who, -because of their powerful connections, have escaped prison by being -declared irresponsible.</p> - -<p>An unpleasant smell of iodoform takes away my appetite. Since my hands -are muffled I must ask the help of my neighbour for cutting bread and -pouring out wine. Round this banquet of criminals and those condemned -to death goes the good Mother, the Superintendent, in her severe black -and white dress, and gives each of us his poisonous medicine. With -a glass holding arsenic I drink to a death's-head who pledges me in -digitalis. That is gruesome, and yet one must be thankful! That makes -me wild. To have to be thankful for something so petty and unpleasant!</p> - -<p>They dress me, and undress me, and look after me like a child. The kind -sister takes a fancy to me, treats me like a baby, calls me "my child," -while I call her "mother."</p> - -<p>But it does me good to be able to say this word "mother," which has not -passed my lips for thirty years. The old lady, an Augustine nun, who -wears the garb of the dead, because she has never lived, is mild as -resignation itself, and teaches us to smile at our sufferings as though -they were joys, for she knows the beneficial effects of pain. She does -not utter a word of reproof nor admonition nor sermonising.</p> - -<p>She knows the regulations of the ordinary hospitals so well that she -can allow small liberties to the patients, though not to herself. -She permits me to smoke in my room, and offers to make my cigarettes -herself; this, however, I decline. She procures for me permission to -go out beyond the regulated limits of time. When she discovers that -I am actively interested in chemistry, she takes me to the learned -apothecary of the hospital. He lends me books, and invites me, when I -acquaint him with my theory of the composite character of so-called -simple bodies, to work in his laboratory. This nun has had a great -influence on my life. I begin to reconcile myself again to my lot, and -value the happy mischance which has brought me under this kindly roof.</p> - -<p>The first book which I take out of the apothecary's library opens of -itself, and my glance fastens like a falcon's on a line in the chapter -headed "Phosphorus." The author states briefly that the scientific -chemist, Lockyer, has demonstrated by spectral analysis that phosphorus -is not a simple body, and that his report of his experiments has been -submitted to the Parisian Academy of Science, which has not been able -to refute his proofs.</p> - -<p>Encouraged by this unexpected support, I take my saucepans with the not -completely consumed remains of sulphur, and submit them to a bureau -for chemical analysis, which promises to give me their report the next -morning.</p> - -<p>It is my birthday. When I return to the hospital I find a letter from -my wife. She laments my misfortune, and she wants to join me, to look -after me and love me.</p> - -<p>The happiness of feeling myself loved in spite of everything awakes -in me the need of thankfulness. But to whom? To the Unknown, who has -remained hidden for so many years?</p> - -<p>My heart smites me, I confess the unworthy falsehood of my supposed -infidelity, I ask for forgiveness, and before I am aware of it, I write -again a love-letter to my wife. But I postpone our meeting to a more -favourable time.</p> - -<p>The next morning I hasten to my chemist on the Boulevard Magenta, -and bring his analysis of my powder in a closed cover back to the -hospital. When I come to the statue of St. Louis in the courtyard of -the institution, I think of the Quinze-Vingt,<a name="FNanchor_1_3" id="FNanchor_1_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_3" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> the Sorbonne, and the -Sainte Chapelle, these three buildings founded by the Saint, which I -interpret to mean—"From suffering, through knowledge, to repentance."</p> - -<p>Arrived at my room, I shut the doors carefully, and at last open the -paper which is to decide my destiny. The contents are as follows; -"The powder submitted to our analysis has three properties—<i>Colour</i>: -grey-blacky leaves marks on paper. <i>Density</i>: very great, greater -than the average density of graphite; it seems to be a harder kind -of graphite. The powder burns easily, releasing oxide of carbon and -carbonic acid. It therefore contains carbon."</p> - -<p>Pure sulphur contains carbon!</p> - -<p>I am saved. From henceforth I can prove to my friends and relations -that I am no fool. I can establish the theories which I propounded a -year ago in my <i>Antibarbarus</i>, a work which the reviews treated as that -of a charlatan or madman, making my family consequently thrust me out -as a good-for-nothing, or Cagliostro. My opponents are pulverised! My -heart beats in righteous pride; I will leave the hospital, shout in the -streets, bellow before the Institute, pull down the Sorbonne!... But my -hands remain wrapped up, and when I stand outside in the courtyard, the -high encircling walls counsel me—patience.</p> - -<p>When I tell the apothecary the result of the analysis, he proposes to -me to summon a commission before whom I should demonstrate the solution -of the problem by experiment publicly. I, however, from dislike to -publicity, write instead an essay on the subject, and send it to the -<i>Temps</i>, where it appears after two days.</p> - -<p>The password is given. I am answered from all sides; I find adherents, -am asked to contribute to a scientific paper, and am involved in a -correspondence which necessitates the continuance of my experiments.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>One Sunday, the last of my stay in the purgatory of St. Louis, I watch -the courtyard from the window. The two thieves walk up and down with -their wives and children, and embrace each other from time to time with -joyful faces, like men whom misfortune draws together in closer bonds.</p> - -<p>My loneliness depresses me; I curse my lot and regard it as unjust, -without considering that my crime surpasses theirs in meanness. The -postman brings a letter from my wife, which is of an icy coldness. My -success has annoyed her, and she pretends that she will not believe it -till I have consulted a chemical specialist. Moreover, she warns me -against all illusions which may produce disturbance of the brain. And, -after all, she asks, What do I gain by all this? Can I feed a family -with my chemistry?</p> - -<p>Here is the alternative again: Love or Science. Without hesitation I -write a final crushing letter, and bid her good-bye, as pleased with -myself as a murderer after his deed.</p> - -<p>In the evening I roam about the gloomy Quarter, and cross the St. -Martin's canal. It is as dark as the grave, and seems exactly made -to drown oneself in. I remain standing at the corner of Rue Alibert. -Why Alibert? Who is he? Was not the graphite which the chemist found -in my sulphur called Alibert-graphite? Well, what of it? Strangely -enough, an impression of something not yet explained remains in my -mind. Then I enter Rue Dieu. Why "Dieu," when the Republic has washed -its hands of God? Then Rue Beaurepaire—a fine resort of criminals. -Rue de Vaudry—is the Devil conducting me? I take no more notice of -the names of the streets, wander on, turn round, find I have lost my -way, and recoil from a shed which exhales an odour of raw flesh and bad -vegetables, especially sauerkraut. Suspicious-looking figures brush -past me, muttering objurgations. I become nervous, turn to the right, -then to the left, and get into a dark blind alley, the haunt of filth -and crime. Street girls bar my way, street boys grin at me. The scene -of Christmas night is repeated, "_Væ soli!_."<a name="FNanchor_2_4" id="FNanchor_2_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_4" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Who is it that plays -me these treacherous tricks as soon as I seek for solitude? Someone has -brought me into this plight. Where is he? I wish to fight with him!</p> - -<p>As soon as I begin to run there comes down rain mixed with dirty snow. -At the bottom of a little street a great, coal-black gate is outlined -against the sky. It seems a Cyclopean work, a gate without a palace, -which opens on a sea of light. I ask a gendarme where I am. He -answers, "At St. Martin's gate."</p> - -<p>A couple of steps bring me to the great Boulevard, which I go down. The -theatre clock points to a quarter-past seven. Business hours are over, -and my friends are waiting for me as usual in the Café Neapel. I go on -hurriedly, forgetting the hospital, trouble, and poverty. As I pass -the Café du Cardinal, I brush by a table where someone is sitting. I -only know him by name, but he knows me, and at the same moment his eyes -interrogate me: "You here? You are not in hospital then? Then it was -all gossip?"</p> - -<p>I feel that this man is one of my unknown benefactors, for he reminds -me that I am a beggar, and have nothing to do in the café. Beggar! that -is the right word, which echoes in my ears, and colours my cheek with a -burning blush of shame, humiliation, and rage. Six weeks ago I sat here -at this table. My theatre manager sat opposite me, and called me "Dear -Sir"; journalists pestered me with their interviews; photographers -asked for the honour of selling portraits of me—and, to-day—what am I -to-day? A beggar, a marked man, an outcast from society!</p> - -<p>Lashed, tormented, driven, like a night-tramp, I hurry down the -Boulevard back to the plague-stricken hospital. There at last, and -only there, in my cell, I feel at home. When I reflect on my lot, -I recognise again that invisible Hand which scourges and chastises -without my knowing its object. Does it grant me fame and at the same -time deny me an honourable position in the world? Must I be humbled in -order to be lifted up, made low in order to be raised high? The thought -keeps on recurring: "Providence is planning something with thee, and -this is the beginning of thy education."</p> - -<p>In February I leave the hospital, uncured, but healed from the -temptations of the world. At parting I wished to kiss the hand of the -faithful Mother, who, without speaking many words, has taught me the -way of the Cross, but a feeling of reverence, as if before something -holy, kept me back. May she now in spirit receive this expression of -thanks from a stranger, whose traces have been lost in distant lands.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_3" id="Footnote_1_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_3"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Hospital for the Blind.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_4" id="Footnote_2_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_4"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> "Woe to the solitary."</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="II" id="II">II</a></h4> - -<h4>ST. LOUIS LEADS ME TO ORFILA</h4> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Through the whole winter I continue my chemical experiments in a -modestly furnished room, remain all day at home, and go to my evening -meal in a restaurant where artists of different nationalities meet. -Afterwards I visit the family, whose society, through a momentary fit -of puritanism, I had abjured. The whole noisy set of artists are there, -and I am compelled to put up with what I would fain avoid—free and -easy manners, loose morals, deliberate and fashionable irreligion. -There is much talent and quickness of wit among these people, together -with a flow of wild spirits which has won them a sinister reputation. -At any rate, I am in a domestic circle; they are kind to me and I am -grateful to them, although I shut my eyes and ears to their little -affairs which, after all, have nothing to do with me. Had I avoided -these people out of unjustifiable pride, it would have been logical to -punish me for it, but as my avoidance of them sprang from a desire to -purify myself and to deepen my spiritual life in self-communion, I do -not understand the ways of Providence, for I am a man of such pliable -character, that out of pure sociability and fear of being ungrateful, -I accommodate myself to my surroundings whatever they are. But after I -had been banished so long from society, through my misfortune and the -shame of my poverty, I was glad to find a shelter for the long winter -evenings, although the lubricous conversation annoyed me.</p> - -<p>Now that the existence of the invisible Hand, which guides me over -rough paths, has become a certainty to me, I no longer feel solitary, -and keep a careful watch over my words and actions, although, it must -be confessed, I am not always successful. But whenever I slip, I am -at once arrested and punished with such punctuality and exactness, -that I have no doubts left regarding the interposition of a judicial -power. The Unknown has become for me a personal acquaintance with whom -I speak, whom I thank, whom I consult. Very often I compare Him in -my mind with the "demon" of Socrates, and the consciousness that the -unknown powers are on my side lends me an energy and confidence which -impel me to unwonted efforts of which I was formerly incapable.</p> - -<p>A bankrupt as regards society, I am born into another world where no -one can follow me. Things which before seemed insignificant attract my -attention, my nightly dreams assume the form of premonitions, I regard -myself as a departed spirit, and my life proceeds in a new sphere.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>After having demonstrated the presence of carbon in sulphur, I have to -demonstrate the presence of hydrogen and oxygen which, according to -analogy, ought to be found in it.</p> - -<p>Two months pass in calculations and surmises till the apparatus -necessary for making the experiments is exhausted. A friend advises me -to go to the Sorbonne laboratory, where strangers are admitted. But my -timidity and shyness of crowds does not permit me to think of it; I -suspend my experiments and take a rest.</p> - -<p>One fine spring morning I wake up in good spirits. I walk through the -Rue de la grande Chaumière to the Rue de Fleurs, which leads to the -Jardin du Luxembourg. The small, pretty street is quiet, the great -avenue of chestnut trees is cheerful and green, broad and straight as -a racecourse. Quite in the background the statue of David rises like a -boundary mark, and high over all the dome of the Pantheon, surmounted -by a golden cross, seems to touch the clouds. I remain standing, -delighted with the significant spectacle, when accidentally on my -right my eyes fall on a dyer's shield at the end of the Rue de Fleurs. -Painted on the window of the dyeing-house stand over a silver cloud the -initials of my name A.S., and over them is arched a rainbow.</p> - -<p><i>Omen accipio!</i> and am reminded of the passage in Genesis, "I have set -my bow in the clouds to be a sign of the covenant between me and the -earth."</p> - -<p>I seem no longer to touch the ground, but to float in air, and -with winged feet enter the garden, which is now quite empty. In -this early morning hour I am the exclusive possessor of this park, -with all its glory of roses, and I know all my flowers in their -beds—chrysanthemums, verbenas, and begonias.</p> - -<p>Going down the racecourse I reach the boundary mark, pass through the -trellised gate to the Rue Soufflot, and turn to the Boulevard St. -Michel, where Blanchard's antiquarian book-shop attracts my attention. -Casually I take up an old chemical work by Orfila, open it at haphazard -and read, "Sulphur has been classified among the simple bodies. Davy -and Berthollet, however, have endeavoured to prove by their able -experiments that it contains hydrogen, oxygen, and a third basal -element which has not yet been distinguished."</p> - -<p>One may imagine my almost religious ecstasy at this well-nigh -miraculous discovery. Davy and Berthollet had demonstrated the presence -of hydrogen and oxygen, and I of carbon. It rests, therefore, with me -to lay down the formula for sulphur.</p> - -<p>Two days later my name was entered on the list of the scientific -faculty of the Sorbonne (founded by St. Louis!), and I received -permission to work in the laboratory. The first morning I went there -was for me a solemn occasion. I was under no illusions as regards the -professors, who had received me with the cold politeness due even to a -foreign intruder. I knew that I should never be able to convince them, -but I felt simultaneously a calm still joy, and the courage of a martyr -who faces a hostile crowd, because for me at my age youth was the -natural enemy.</p> - -<p>As I crossed over the square before the little church of the Sorbonne, -I found the door of it open and entered it, without any definite -reason; the Virgin Mother and Child smiled at me in a friendly way; the -Cross left me, as always, cold and without comprehension of its meaning.</p> - -<p>My new acquaintance, St. Louis, the friend of the poor and -plague-stricken, receives the homage of young theologians. Can it be, -after all, that he is my patron, my guardian angel, who drove me to the -hospital, so that I, purified by the fire of mental suffering, should -win again that glory which leads to dishonour and contempt? Was it -he who directed me to Blanchard's book-shop and hither also? See how -superstitious the atheist has become!</p> - -<p>As I survey the memorial tablets which record successful experiments, I -vow, in the case of my success, to receive no worldly honour.</p> - -<p>The hour has struck, and I run the gauntlet of the young students who -regard my undertaking with scorn and prejudice.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>About fourteen days have passed, and I have discovered incontrovertible -proofs that sulphur is a threefold combination of carbon, oxygen, and -hydrogen. I thank the Director of the laboratory, who, as it appears, -takes no interest in my affairs, and leave this new purgatory full of -deep, unspeakable joy.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the mornings when I do walk in the churchyard of Montparnasse, I -visit the park of the Palais Luxembourg. A few days after my departure -from the Sorbonne I discover, in the centre of the churchyard, a -monument of classical beauty. A white marble medallion shows the noble -features of an old man of science, whom the inscription on the pedestal -describes as "Orfila: Chemist and Physiologist." It was my friend and -protector who, in later years, has so often guided me through the -labyrinth of chemical experiments.</p> - -<p>A week later, passing through the Rue d'Assas, I stop to admire a house -which looks like a convent. A large shield on the wall informs me that -it is "Hôtel Orfila."</p> - -<p>Again and again Orfila!</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="III" id="III">III</a></h4> - -<h4>PARADISE REGAINED</h4> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>The summer and autumn of the year 1895 I count, on the whole, among the -happiest stages of my eventful life. All my attempts succeed; unknown -friends bring me food as the ravens did to Elijah. Money flows in; I -can buy books and scientific instruments; among them a microscope, -which reveals to me the secrets of life.</p> - -<p>Dead to the world, as I have renounced the vain delights of Paris, -I remain in my quarter, where every morning I visit the dead in the -churchyard of Montparnasse, and thence descend to the Luxembourg Garden -to greet my flowers. Sometimes one of my fellow-countrymen on his way -through Paris visits me in order to invite me to breakfast on the -other side of the river, and to go to the theatre with him. I decline, -because the right bank is forbidden to me; it is the so-called "world," -the world of the living and of vanity.</p> - -<p>Although I cannot formulate it distinctly, a kind of religion has -been forming in me. It is rather a condition of the soul than a view -of things based on dogmatic instruction; a chaos of sensations which -condense themselves more or less into thoughts.</p> - -<p>I have bought a Catholic prayer book, and read it with a collected -mind; the Old Testament comforts and chastens me in a somewhat obscure -fashion, while the New leaves me cold. This does not prevent a -Buddhistic book having a stronger influence on me than all other sacred -books, because it ranks positive suffering above mere abstinence. -Buddha shows the courage when in full possession of vital energy and -enjoyment of married happiness to renounce wife and child, while Christ -avoids every contact with the permitted joys of this world.</p> - -<p>For the rest, I do not brood much over the sensations which spring up -in me; I keep myself indifferent and let them come and go, approving -for myself the same freedom which I owe to others.</p> - -<p>The great event of the Paris season was Brunetière's war-cry, "The -bankruptcy of Science." Dedicated from my childhood to the natural -sciences, and later on a disciple of Darwin, I had discovered how -unsatisfactory the scientific method is, which accepts the mechanism -of the universe without presupposing a Mechanician. The weakness of -the system showed itself in the gradual degeneration of science; it -had marked off a boundary line over which one was not to step. "We," -it said, "have solved all problems; the world has no more riddles." -This presumptuous lie had annoyed me already in 1880, and during the -following fifteen years I occupied myself with a revision of the -natural sciences. In 1884 I doubted the supposed composition of the -atmosphere. The nitrogen of the air is not identical with the nitrogen -obtained by analysis of a nitrogenous body. In 1891 I visited the -Scientific Institute in Lund in order to compare the spectrum analyses -of these two sorts of nitrogen whose difference I had discovered. Do I -need to describe the reception which the learned scientists gave me? -Now in this year, 1895, the discovery of argon has confirmed my former -hypotheses, and given a fresh impulse to my investigations which had -been interrupted by a foolish marriage. It is not Science which is -bankrupt, only the antiquated, degenerate science, and Brunetière was -right although he was wrong.</p> - -<p>While all acknowledged the identity of matter and called themselves -Monists, without being so really, I went further and drew the extreme -logical inferences of the theory by obliterating the boundaries -between matter and so-called spirit. Thus, in 1894, in my treatise -<i>Antibarbarus</i>, I had dealt with the psychology of sulphur by -explaining it through "ontogeny," that is, the embryonic development of -sulphur.</p> - -<p>Anyone who is interested in the subject may be referred to the work -<i>Sylva Sylvarum</i>, which I composed in the summer and autumn of 1895, -with a feeling of pride in my perspicuity at having divined the secrets -of creation, especially in the vegetable and animal kingdoms. He may -further consult my <i>Churchyard Studies</i>, which show how in loneliness -and sorrow I was brought back to a wavering apprehension of God and -immortality.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="IV" id="IV">IV</a></h4> - -<h4>THE FALL AND PARADISE LOST</h4> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Guided into this new world in which no one can follow me, I conceived -an aversion to social intercourse, and have an unconquerable desire to -free myself from my surroundings. I therefore informed my friends that -I wished to go to Meudon to write a book which required solitude and -quiet.</p> - -<p>At the same time insignificant disagreements led to a breach with the -circle which met at the Restaurant, so that one day I found myself -entirely isolated. The first result was an extraordinary expansion -of my inner sense; a spiritual power which longed to realise itself. -I believed myself in the possession of unlimited strength, and pride -inspired me with the wild idea of seeing whether I could perform a -miracle.</p> - -<p>At an earlier period, in the great crisis of my life, I had observed -that I could exercise a telepathic influence on absent friends. In -popular legends writers have occupied themselves with the subjects of -telepathy and witchcraft. I wish neither to do myself an injustice, -nor altogether to acquit myself of wrong-doing, but I believe that -my evil will was not so evil as the counterstroke which I received. -A devouring curiosity, an outbreak of perverted love, caused by my -frightful loneliness, inspired me with an intense longing to be -re-united with my wife and child, both of whom I still loved. But how -was this to be brought about, as divorce proceedings were already on -foot? Some extraordinary event, a common misfortune, a thunderbolt, a -conflagration ... in brief, some catastrophe which unites two hearts, -just as in novels two persons are reconciled at the sick-bed of a -third. Stop! there I have it! A sick-bed! Children are always more or -less ill; a mother's fear exaggerates the danger; a telegram follows, -and all is said.</p> - -<p>I had no idea of practising magic, but an unwholesome instinct -suggested I must set to work with the picture of my dear little -daughter, who later on was to be my only comfort in a cursed existence.</p> - -<p>Further on in this work I will relate the results of my manoeuvre, -in which my evil purpose seemed to work with the help of symbolical -operations. Meantime the results had to be waited for, and I continued -my work with a feeling of undefined uneasiness and a foreboding of -fresh misfortune.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>One evening, as I sat alone before my microscope, an occurrence -happened which made all the deeper impression on me because I did -not understand it. For four days I had let a nut germinate, and now -detached the germ. This had the shape of a heart, not much larger than -the core of a pear. Standing between two cotyledons it looked like -a diminutive human brain. One may imagine my surprise when I saw on -the glass-slide of the microscope two tiny hands, white as alabaster, -folded as if in prayer. Was it a vision, an hallucination? Oh, no! It -was a crushing reality which made me shudder. The little hands were -stretched out towards me, immovable, as if adjuring me. I could count -the five fingers, the thumb shorter than the others—real woman's or -child's hands.</p> - -<p>I made a friend, who surprised me watching this astonishing sight, -witness it also. He required to be no clairvoyant in order to see two -clasped hands which besought the sympathy of the beholder.</p> - -<p>What was it? Nothing but the two first rudimentary leaves of a -walnut tree, the <i>Juglans regia</i>—nothing else. Yet the fact was -undeniable that ten human fingers were clasped in a beseeching gesture -as if expressing, "De profundis clamavi ad te." But as a still too -incredulous empiric, I passed by the occurrence callously.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The fall has happened. I feel the mercilessness of the unknown powers -weigh heavily upon me. The hand of the invisible is lifted and the -blows fall thickly upon my head.</p> - -<p>In the first place, my anonymous friend who has supported me hitherto, -feels insulted and deserts me, because I had written him a presumptuous -letter. So I am left without means.</p> - -<p>Moreover, when I receive the proofs of my work <i>Sylva Sylvarum</i>, I -find the text in complete confusion. Not only are the pages mixed and -wrongly numbered, but the different parts are confused, so that in an -ironical way they represent the great disorder which rules in nature. -After endless hesitations and delays, the pamphlet is at last printed, -but when the printer sends me the bill, I find that it amounts to -more than double the sum originally agreed upon. I am obliged, to -my regret, to pawn my microscope, my black suit, and some remaining -ornaments, but, at any rate, my work is printed, and I have for the -first time in my life the conviction that I have said something -original, great, and beautiful. In a mood of exultation, easy to -understand, I carry the packet to the post, and making a contemptuous -gesture towards the hostile heavens, I throw it in the letter-box with -the thought, "Listen, Sphinx, I have solved thy riddle, and defy thee!"</p> - -<p>On my return to the house the hotel bill is handed to me. Irritated by -this unexpected stroke, for I have already lived a year here, I begin -to notice trifles which I had formerly overlooked. For instance, in -three adjoining rooms pianos are being played. I am convinced it is a -plot of some Scandinavian ladies whose company I have avoided.</p> - -<p>Three pianos! and I cannot leave the hotel, for I have no money. -Cursing heaven, these ladies, and my fate, I go to sleep. The next -morning I am awoken by an unexpected noise. They are hammering nails in -the room which is near my bed; then more hammering begins on the other -side. A silly trick quite in keeping with the character of these female -pianists, nothing more! But when after supper I lie down to sleep as -usual, there ensues such a din overhead that some of the plaster falls -from the ceiling on my head.</p> - -<p>I go to the landlady and complain about the other lodgers. She declares -that she has heard nothing, but, for the rest, is very polite, and -promises to turn out anyone who dares to disturb me, for she is anxious -to keep me in her hotel, which is not prospering very well.</p> - -<p>Without attaching much credit to the word of a woman, I still believe -she means to treat me well in her own interests. None the less the -noises continue, and I come to the conclusion that these ladies—stupid -people!—want to make me believe that there are "rapping spirits" in -the house. At the same time my companions in the restaurant alter their -behaviour towards me, and a concealed hostility shows itself in their -envious looks and innuendoes. Weary of the struggle, I bid farewell -to the hotel and restaurant, and depart, plundered to my last shirt, -leaving behind my books and other things. On February 21, 1896, I -entered the Hôtel Orfila.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="V" id="V">V</a></h4> - -<h4>PURGATORY</h4> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Hôtel Orfila has a monastic appearance, and is a boarding establishment -for Catholic students. It is superintended by a quiet, amiable Abbé, -and peace, order, and morality prevail here. What especially comforts -me after so many annoyances is, that women are not admitted here. The -house is old, the rooms are low, the passages dark, and the wooden -staircases wind and twist hither and thither as if in a labyrinth. -There is an air of mysteriousness about the whole building, which for -a long time has attracted me. My room looks out on a <i>cul-de-sac</i>, so -that standing in the middle of it, one sees nothing but a moss-grown -wall with two small round windows in it. But when I sit at my table -close to the window, I have an uncommonly pleasant look-out. Under me -there is a circular wall overgrown with ivy surrounding a courtyard, -where young girls walk under plane trees and acacias. In the centre -there stands a charming Gothic chapel. Somewhat farther on one sees -high walls with numerous little barred windows, which remind one of a -convent. Still farther away are old, half-hidden houses crowned by a -forest of chimneys, and in the extreme distance one sees the tower of -Notre-Dame des Champs surmounted by a cross and weathercock. In my room -there hangs a faded likeness of St. Vincent de Paul, and a picture of -St. Peter looks down on my bed. St. Peter, the opener of the gates of -heaven. What an ironical situation for me, who some years ago threw -ridicule on the Apostle in a fantastic drama!</p> - -<p>Quite contented with my room, I sleep well the first night. I edify -myself by reading the book of Job, and arrive at an ever clearer -conviction that the Eternal has handed me over to Satan to be tried. -This thought comforts me again, and suffering seems to me a mark of -confidence on the part of the Almighty.</p> - -<p>Now things begin to happen which cannot be explained without the -co-operation of the unknown powers. From this point I use the entries -in my journal, which have gradually become very numerous, giving them -in a condensed form.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>For a long while my chemical studies have lain in abeyance. In order to -revive my interest, and to make a decisive stroke, I resume the study -of the problem of making gold. The starting-point of the investigation -consists in the question: Why does sulphate of iron in a solution of -choloro-aurate of sodium precipitate gold? The answer is, because iron -and sulphur are essential constituents of gold. The proof is that all -natural compounds of sulphur and iron contain more or less gold. So I -begin to experiment with solutions of sulphate of iron.</p> - -<p>One morning I awoke with the idea of making a trip into the country, -though it is quite against my tastes and my habits. When I, more by -accident than design, reach the station of Montparnasse, I take the -train for Meudon. I go into the village itself, which I visit for the -first time, traverse the main street, and turn to the right into a -narrow alley confined by walls on both sides. Twenty steps before me I -see half-buried in the ground the figure of a Roman knight in grey iron -armour. It looks very well modelled, but, as I approach, I see that it -is only rough metal-smelting.</p> - -<p>But I hold my illusion fast, since it pleases me. The knight looks -towards the wall, and following the direction of his gaze I notice -something written on the mortar with a piece of coal. It looks like the -letters F and S interlaced, which are the initials of my wife's name. -She loves me still! The next moment I see, as by a flash, that it is -the chemical symbol for ferrum (iron) and sulphur, and the secret of -gold lies revealed before my gaze. I search the ground and find two -leaden seals fastened together by a string. One displays the initials -V.P., the other, a king's crown. Without committing myself to a further -interpretation of this adventure, I return to Paris with the lively -impression of having experienced something bordering on the marvellous.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In my fireplace I burn coals which, because of their round and regular -shape, are called "monks' heads." One day when the fire is nearly -extinguished I take out a mass of coal of fantastic shape. It resembles -a cock's head with a splendid comb joined to what looks like a human -trunk with twisted limbs. It might have been a demon from some mediæval -witches' sabbath.</p> - -<p>The second day I take out again a fine group of two gnomes or drunken -dwarfs, who embrace each other while their clothes flutter in the -wind. It is a masterpiece of primitive culture.</p> - -<p>The third day it is a Madonna and Child in the Byzantine style, of -incomparable beauty of outline. After I have drawn copies of all three -in black chalk, I place them on my table. A friendly painter visits me; -he regards the three statuettes with growing curiosity, and asks who -has "made" them. In order to try him, I mention the name of a Norwegian -sculptor. "No," he says, "I should rather be inclined to ascribe them -to Kittelsen, the famous illustrator of the Swedish legends."</p> - -<p>I do not believe in demons, and yet I wish to see the impression which -my little figures make on the sparrows who generally take their crumbs -from my window-sill. So I place them there. The sparrows are frightened -and remain aloof. There is then some likeness in the figures which they -can distinguish, and some reality in this conjunction of dead material -and fire.</p> - -<p>The sun, as it warms my little figures, makes the demon with the cock's -head collapse. This reminds me of the country-people's saying that if -the dwarfs wait too long till sunrise, they die.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Things happen in the hotel which disquiet me. The morning after my -arrival I find on the board where the keys of the rooms are hung up, on -the ground-floor, a letter addressed to a Mr. X., a student, who has -the same name as my wife. The postmark is "Dornach," the name of the -Austrian village where my wife and child live. But since I am certain -that there is no post-office at Dornach, the matter remains mysterious. -This letter, placed in such a conspicuous position as to challenge the -eye, is followed by others. The second bears the postmark "Vienna," and -is addressed to a Dr. Bitter; the third displays the Polish pseudonym, -"Schmulachowsky."</p> - -<p>The Devil certainly has a share in this game, for this name is a -false one, and I understand well for whom the letter is intended—for -a deadly enemy of mine who lives in Berlin. At last there arrives a -letter with the postmark "Vienna," which, according to the printed -envelope, comes from the chemical bureau of Dr. Eder. So they are -trying to spy out my gold-making experiments! Without doubt a plot is -on foot here, but the Devil has mixed these sharpers' cards. These -duffers do not consider that I keep my eyes open towards all quarters -of the compass.</p> - -<p>I have made inquiries of the waiter regarding Mr. X., but he gives me -in all simplicity to understand that he is an Alsatian—nothing more. -One fine morning I return from my work and see in the letter-rack quite -close to my keys a post card. For a moment I feel tempted to solve the -riddle by looking at the post card, but my good angel paralysed my -hand, just as the young man came out of his hiding-place behind the -door. I look him in the face and am startled; he is exactly like my -wife. We greet each other silently, and each goes his way.</p> - -<p>I have never been able to unravel this conspiracy, since I did not know -the actors in this drama. Moreover, my wife has neither brothers nor -cousins. This undefined threatening spectre of a continuous vengeance -tortured me for half a year. I bore it like everything else as a -punishment for known and unknown sins.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At the New Year a stranger turned up in our restaurant. He was an -American artist, and came exactly at the right time to put new life -into our depressed society. But though he was an active and bold spirit -with cosmopolitan ideas and good company too, he inspired me with -an undefined mistrust. In spite of his confident air his demeanour -revealed to me his real position. The crash came quicker than one -expected.</p> - -<p>One evening the unfortunate man came into my room and asked for -permission to remain there a short time. He looked like a lost man, and -such in fact he was. His landlord had driven him out of his studio, his -grisette had left him, he was head over ears in debt, and his creditors -were dunning him; he was insulted in the streets by the supporters of -his unpaid models. But what depressed him most of all was that the -cruel landlord had retained his picture intended for the Champ de Mars -Exhibition. The originality of its subject had given him good grounds -to hope for its success. It displayed an "emancipated woman" crucified -and cursed by the mob.</p> - -<p>Since he was also heavily in debt to the restaurant, he had to go -about the streets, hungry. Among other things he confessed that he had -taken morphia enough to kill two people, but death apparently did not -yet want him. After an earnest discussion, we agreed to go to another -quarter, and there eat our meals in some obscure cook-shop. I said I -would not desert him, and that he should pluck up new courage and -begin a new picture for the exhibition of independent artists.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>This man becomes now my sole companion, and his misfortunes cause me a -double share of suffering, so closely do I identify myself with him. -I do so in a spirit of defiance, but presently gain an interesting -experience thereby.</p> - -<p>He reveals to me his whole past. He is a German by birth, but partly -because of family disagreements, partly because of a lampoon for -which he had been brought into court, he has spent seven years in -America. I discover in him intelligence above the average, a melancholy -temperament, and unbridled sensuality. But behind this mask of a -cosmopolitan I begin to divine another character which disquiets me, -and the full discovery of which I postpone to a favourable opportunity.</p> - -<p>Thus pass two months, while I live in union with this stranger and -with him go through all the troubles of an unfortunate artist over -again, without remembering that I am a made man, yes, and rank among -the dramatic celebrities of Paris, though, as a chemical discoverer, -I think little of it now. Moreover, my companion loves me only when I -conceal my successes. If I am obliged to refer to them in passing, -he is annoyed, and assumes the rôle of an unfortunate nonentity, so -that at last, out of sympathy, I put on the air of an old decayed -wreck. This imperceptibly depresses me, while he, who has his future -still before him, elevates himself again at my expense. I am like a -corpse buried at the root of a tree which sucks nutriment out of the -decomposing life, and grows upwards.</p> - -<p>At this time I study Buddhist books, and wonder at the self-denial with -which I mortify myself for another. But good works deserve a reward, -and mine did not remain wanting.</p> - -<p>One day the <i>Revue des Revues</i> comes with a likeness of the American -prophet and empiric doctor, Francis Schlatter, who in the year 1895 -cured five thousand sick persons and then disappeared without ever -being seen again. Now this man's features resembled in a remarkable -way those of my new companion. To confirm my supposition, I show the -<i>Revue</i> to a Swedish sculptor with whom I have an appointment in the -Café de Versailles. He notices the resemblance at once, and reminds me -of a remarkable coincidence of circumstances. Both the doctor and my -friend were Germans by birth, and worked in America. Still further, the -disappearance of Schlatter coincided with the appearance of our friend -in Paris. Since I am initiated a little into the use of occultist -expressions, I start the hypothesis that Francis Schlatter is the -"double" who leads an independent life, without being aware of it.</p> - -<p>When I mentioned the word "double" my sculptor was startled, and -drew my attention to the fact that our friend always occupied two -houses, one on the right and the other on the left bank of the river. -Moreover, I learn that my mysterious friend lives a double life in -this sense, that, after he has spent the evening in half-philosophic, -half-religious discussions with me, he is always seen late at night in -Bullier's dancing-saloon.</p> - -<p>There is a sure means of proving the identity of these two "doubles," -as the <i>Revue des Revues</i> contains a facsimile letter of Francis -Schlatter. "Come to dinner to-night," I suggested. "I will dictate to -him Schlatter's letter; if the two handwritings, and especially the -signatures, resemble each other, it will be a proof."</p> - -<p>At dinner the same evening everything is confirmed, the handwriting and -signatures are identical. A little surprised, the artist submits to our -examination; at last he asks: "What is your object in this?"</p> - -<p>"Do you know Francis Schlatter?"</p> - -<p>"I have never heard the name."</p> - -<p>"Don't you remember that doctor in America last year."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes! that quack!"</p> - -<p>He remembers, and I show him the portrait and facsimile.</p> - -<p>He laughs sceptically, and remains quite calm and indifferent. That is -all.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Some days later I am sitting with my mysterious friend, with our -glasses of absinthe, on the terrace of the Café de Versailles, when a -fellow in workman's clothes, with a malicious aspect, suddenly stops -before the café, then rushes through the customers, and bawls at my -friend in his loudest voice: "At last I have you, you sharper, who -fleeced me! What is the meaning of it? First of all, you order a cross -for thirty francs, and then you disappear. Son of a dog! Do you think a -cross like that makes itself?"</p> - -<p>He continued to rage. The café waiters vainly attempted to remove him; -he threatened to fetch the police, while the unfortunate accused, -motionless, dumb, and prostrate, like a condemned man, remained -exposed to the gaze of a circle of artists who all knew him more or -less. When the commotion was over, I asked him with a bewildered mind, -as if I had witnessed a witches' sabbath: "What cross worth thirty -francs? I don't understand a word of the business?"</p> - -<p>"It was a model of Joan of Arc's cross which I was going to use for my -picture of the crucified woman."</p> - -<p>"He certainly was a devil, that workman."</p> - -<p>After a pause, I continue: "It is odd, but one does not play unpunished -either with the Cross or with Joan of Arc."</p> - -<p>"You believe in them?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know!—But the thirty pieces of silver!"</p> - -<p>"Enough! Enough!" he exclaims in a tone of vexation.</p> - -<p>From this evening a certain coldness ensues between us. Our -acquaintance had now lasted four terrible months. My companion had -studied in quite a new school, and had time to strike out new paths in -his art, so that he could finally throw aside "the crucified woman" -as an old toy. He had learned to regard suffering as the only real -joy in life, and so had attained to resignation. He was a hero in his -poverty. I admired him when twice in the same day he measured on foot -the distance between Montrouge and the Market Halls with boots worn -down at the heel, and without food. In the evening, when he had visited -the offices of seventeen illustrated papers, and sold three drawings, -without however being paid for them at once, he quickly swallowed two -sous' worth of bread and hurried to the Bal Bullier.</p> - -<p>At last, in silent agreement, we dissolved the partnership we had -entered on for mutual help. We both felt that it was enough, and that -our destinies must go on to separate fulfilments. When we exchanged our -last farewells, I knew that they were our last. I have never seen the -man again, nor heard what has become of him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the course of the spring, while I was feeling depressed by my own -and my friend's untoward destiny, I received a letter from the children -of my first marriage, informing me that they had been very ill in -hospital. When I compared the time of their illness with my mischievous -attempt at magic, I was alarmed. I had frivolously played with hidden -forces, and now my evil purpose, guided by an unseen Hand, had reached -its goal, and struck my heart. I do not excuse myself, and only ask -the reader to remember this fact, in case he should ever feel inclined -to practise magic, especially those forms of it called wizardry, or -more properly witchcraft, and whose reality has been placed beyond all -doubt by De Rochas.<a name="FNanchor_1_5" id="FNanchor_1_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_5" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>One Sunday before Easter I went very early through the Jardin de -Luxembourg, crossed the street, and passed under the arcades of the -Odeon; I stood still before an edition of Balzac in a blue binding, -and by chance picked out his novel <i>Séraphita</i>. Why just that one? -Perhaps it is an unconscious recollection of reading a criticism of my -book, <i>Sylva Sylvarum</i>, in the periodical <i>Initiation</i>, in which I was -called "a countryman of Swedenborg." When I got home I opened the book, -which was almost entirely unknown to me, for so many years had passed -between my first acquaintance with it and this second reading. It was -like a new work to me, and now my mind was prepared for it, I swallowed -down the contents of this extraordinary book wholesale. I had never -read anything of Swedenborg, for in his own native land and mine he -passed for a charlatan, dreamer, and quack. But now I was seized with -enthusiastic admiration, as I heard this heavenly giant of the last -century speak by the mouth of such a genial French interpreter.</p> - -<p>I read now with religious attention, and found on page 16 the 20th of -March given as the day on which Swedenborg died. I stopped, considered, -and consulted the almanac; it was exactly the 20th of March, and also -Palm Sunday. It was then that Swedenborg entered into my life, in -which he was to play such a great part as judge and master, and on the -anniversary of his death he brought me the palm, whether of the victor -or the martyr—who could say?</p> - -<p><i>Séraphita</i> became my gospel, and caused me to enter into such a close -connection with the other world, that I felt sick of life, and an -irresistible homesickness for heaven seized me. Doubtless, I was being -prepared for a higher existence. I despised the earth, the impure -earth, its inhabitants and their doings. I felt like a perfectly -righteous man, whom the Eternal was testing, and whom the purgatory of -this world would soon make fit for deliverance. The courage produced -by the consciousness of my confidential relation to the powers was -always increased, when I saw my scientific experiments crowned with -success. According to my computations and the observations of the -metallurgists, I had succeeded in making gold, and I believed I could -prove it. I sent my proofs to Rouen to a friendly chemist. He opposed -me with counter-arguments, and for eight days I could find no flaw in -them. Then turning over by chance the <i>Chemistry</i> of my Master Orfila, -I learned the secret of my mistake.</p> - -<p>This old, forgotten, and despised chemical treatise of 1830 helped me -at the critical moment, and became my oracle. My friends Orfila and -Swedenborg protected, encouraged, and chastised me. They did not appear -to me in dreams or waking visions, but in small daily occurrences -showed me that they did not leave me alone in the vicissitudes of my -life. The spirits had become naturalistic like the times, which were no -longer content with visions.</p> - -<p>The following, for instance, cannot be explained by the word, -"coincidence."</p> - -<p>I had succeeded in producing spots of gold on paper, and I wished now -to do the same on a large scale in the furnace. A couple of hundred -experiments failed, and I laid the blow-pipe aside in despair. One -morning, I walked to the Observatory Avenue, where I often used to -admire the group of the four quarters of the world, for the secret -reason that the most graceful of the female figures resembled my wife. -It stood under the armillary sphere and the sign Pisces, and a pair -of sparrows had built their nest behind her back. At the foot of the -monument I found two pieces of cardboard cut in an oval shape, one -stamped with the number 207, the other with the number 28. These are -the signs for the atomic weight of lead, and of silicium. I made a note -of the discovery, and when I got home began a series of experiments -with lead, leaving silicium for another time. As I was aware, from -my knowledge of metallurgy, that lead refined in a furnace, fed with -bone-ashes, always produces a recognisable amount of silver, and this -silver, a little gold, I drew the conclusion that phosphate of lime, -being the chief constituent of bone-ashes, must be an important element -in the gold produced from lead.</p> - -<p>And, as a matter of fact, molten lead poured upon a deposit of chalk -containing phosphate of lime, also assumed on its under-side a -golden colour. The powers, being unpropitious, did not allow me to -finish my experiments. A year later, in Lund, a sculptor, who made -experiments in his own potteries, gave me some glaze composed of lead -and silicium, by means of which I for the first time produced in the -furnace mineralised gold of great beauty. Out of gratitude, I showed -him the two pieces of cardboard numbered 207 and 28. Is one to call it -"accident" or "coincidence," this sign of an irrefragable logic?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I repeat that I have never been plagued by visions, but actual objects -sometimes seem to me to assume a human shape in a grandiose style. -Thus, one day the cushion which my head has been pressing during a -mid-day siesta, looks like a marble head carved in the style of Michael -Angelo. One evening when I return home in the company of the "double" -of the American empiric doctor, I discover, in the half-shadow of the -alcove where my bed is, what looks like a gigantic Zeus reposing on it. -Before this unexpected sight my friend remains seized with an almost -religious fear. His artistic eye comprehends at once the beauty of the -outline. "There is a great forgotten art," he says, "born again! That -is where we ought to learn drawing!"</p> - -<p>The more one looks at it, the more lifelike and terrible it appears. -Obviously, the spirits have become realists like the rest of us -mortals. It is no mere accident, for on certain days the cushion takes -the shape of terrible monsters, such as Gothic dragons and serpents; -and one night after I have spent a hilarious evening, I am greeted -on my return by a mediæval demon, a devil with horned head and other -appurtenances. I was not at all frightened; it looked so natural, -but it also made on my mind the impression of something abnormal and -unearthly.</p> - -<p>When I invited my friend the sculptor to look at it, he was not at -all astonished, and called me into his studio, where a pencil sketch -hanging on the wall surprised me by its grace of outline.</p> - -<p>"Where have you got that from?" I asked. "A Madonna, is n't it?</p> - -<p>"Yes, a Madonna of Versailles, copied from the floating plants in a -Swiss lake!"</p> - -<p>A new-discovered art of nature! Naturalistic clairvoyance! Why blame -naturalism when it introduces a new art full of capacities of growth -and development. The old gods return, and the watchword of the poets -and artists, "Back to Pan!" has roused such a strong echo that nature -has awoken from her long sleep of centuries. Nothing can exist on earth -without the concurrence of the powers. Now naturalism did once exist, -therefore it ought to be, and what ought it obviously to be—a new-born -harmony of matter and spirit.</p> - -<p>The sculptor is a seer. He tells me that he has seen Orpheus and Christ -side by side in a block of stone, and adds that he intends to return -there and use them as models for a group for the Salon.</p> - -<p>As I went down the Rue de Rennes one evening with the same seer, he -drew my attention to a book-shop window where coloured lithographs were -exhibited. They represented fantastic scenes with human bodies whose -heads were replaced by pansies. In spite of my botanical observations, -I had never before seen the likeness between the pansy and the human -face. My friend seemed greatly surprised at it.</p> - -<p>"Only think!" he said. "When I came home last evening the pansies in -my window-box looked at me like so many human faces. I thought it was -a hallucination of my overexcited nerves. And here are these pictures -drawn a long time ago. It is then a fact and no illusion, for this -unknown artist has made the same discovery before me."</p> - -<p>We make progress in the art of vision, and this time it is I who -discover a Napoleon with his marshals on the cupola of the dome of the -Hôtel des Invalides. When one comes from Montparnasse to the Boulevard -des Invalides, one sees above the Rue Oudinot the cupola, the corbels, -and cornices of the substructure of the cupola displayed in the full -light of the setting sun, and apparently assuming human forms which -appear more or less distant according to the point of observation from -which they are viewed. There are Napoleon, Bernadotte, Berthier, and my -friend copies them, "after nature."</p> - -<p>"How would you explain this phenomenon?" he asks.</p> - -<p>"Explain? Has one ever explained anything by replacing one heap of -words with another heap of words?"</p> - -<p>"You don't think, then, that the architect has worked according to a -hidden plan?"</p> - -<p>"Listen, my friend. Jules Mansard, who built the dome in 1706, could -not well have foreseen the silhouette of Napoleon who was born in 1769. -That is a sufficient answer!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Often I have dreams at night, and these dreams prognosticate my future, -warn me against dangers, and reveal to me secrets. For instance, a -long-deceased friend appears to me in a dream, and shows me a piece of -money of uncommon size. On my asking where this remarkable piece came -from, he answers, "From America," and disappears.</p> - -<p>The next day I receive a letter from America from a friend whom I -had heard nothing of for twenty years, informing me that an order in -connection with the Chicago Exhibition had been following me in vain -all over Europe. It carried with it an honorarium of 12,000 francs, an -enormous sum for me in my desperate circumstances, which I could very -easily find use for. This 12,000 francs would have secured my future, -and no one besides myself would have guessed that the loss of this -money was a punishment for an evil deed which I had committed out of -anger at the treachery of a literary colleague.</p> - -<p>In another dream of wider significance I saw Jonas Lie,<a name="FNanchor_2_6" id="FNanchor_2_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_6" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> with a gilt -bronze clock curiously ornamented. Some days later, when I went to walk -on the Boulevard St. Michel, a watch-maker's shop-window attracted my -attention. "Jonas Lie's clock!" I exclaimed aloud.</p> - -<p>It was indeed the same. It was crowned by a celestial globe on which -two female figures leaned; the works were supported by four pillars, -and on the globe a date-indicator pointed to the 13th of August. In a -future chapter I will explain what the fateful 13th of August brought -with it. This and other occurrences took place during my stay in the -Hôtel Orfila between 6th February and 19th July, 1896. Concurrently -with them a larger adventure pursued its often interrupted course till, -with my exit from the hotel, a new section of my life began.</p> - -<p>Spring has returned; the valley of tears and sighs under my window -is green and blossoming. Foliage hides the bare ground and its -unsightliness. The Gehenna has turned into a Vale of Sharon full of -lilies, lilacs, and acacias. I feel very melancholy, but the merry -laughter of the girls who play unseen beneath the trees, reaches me and -rouses me again to life. Life hurries by and old age approaches: Wife, -children, home, dispersed and wrecked; without is spring, within is -autumn.</p> - -<p>The Book of Job and the Lamentations of Jeremiah comfort me, for, at -any rate, there is a certain resemblance between Job's lot and mine. Am -I not smitten with incurable boils? Am I not visited with poverty and -forsaken by my friends? "I go blackened, but not by the sun; I am a -brother to dragons and a companion to ostriches; my skin is black and -falleth from me, and my bones are burned with heat. My harp is turned -to mourning, and my pipe unto the voice of them that weep."</p> - -<p>Thus Job. And Jeremiah with two words fathoms the depth of my sadness: -"I forgat prosperity."</p> - -<p>In this mood I sit one oppressive afternoon bent over my work, when, -all of a sudden, behind the foliage of the garden in front of me, I -hear the playing of a piano. Like a war-horse at the sound of the -trumpet, I prick up my ears, straighten myself, and in a great state -of excitement struggle for breath. Someone is playing Schumann's -<i>Aufschwung</i>; and what is more, <i>he</i> is playing—he, my Russian friend, -my pupil who called me "Father," because he owed all his culture to me, -my assistant who called me "Master" and kissed my hands, whose life -began where mine ended. He has come from Vienna to Paris to ruin me, -as he ruined me in Vienna—and why? Because Fate has arranged that his -present wife, before he knew her, was my sweetheart. Was it my fault -that matters so fell out? Surely not, and yet he hated me with a -deadly hatred, hindered my plays from being accepted, wove intrigues, -and deprived me of the barest means of subsistence. Then, in a fit of -rage, I reversed the spear and struck him, indeed, in such a brutal and -cowardly way, that it made me feel like a murderer. The fact that he -has come to kill me comforts me, for death alone can deliver me from my -pangs of conscience.</p> - -<p>It was he, then, who lurked behind those letters with false addresses -which I always saw near the porter's lodge. Well, let him strike! I -will not defend myself. For he is right, and my life is nothing to me. -He continues to play the <i>Aufschwung</i>, which no one can play so well. -He plays invisible behind the green wall, and his magic harmonies rise -above its blossoming creepers like butterflies flying towards the sun.</p> - -<p>But why is he playing? Is it to inform me of his coming to frighten -me and drive me to flight? Perhaps I shall find out in the restaurant -where the other Russians have long been talking about the arrival of -their countryman.</p> - -<p>I go for my evening meal there, and already at the doorway encounter -hostile glances. The whole company, informed of my conflict with the -Russian, has turned against me. In order to disarm them, I open fire -myself.</p> - -<p>"Popoffsky is in Paris?" I ask.</p> - -<p>"No, not yet," one of them answers.</p> - -<p>"Yes," says another, "he has been seen in the office of the <i>Mercure de -France</i>."</p> - -<p>They disagree with each other, and at the end I am as wise as before, -but I pretend to believe all I am told. But the obvious enmity with -which I am regarded in the restaurant makes me swear not to go there -again. I am sorry, for some of them were really congenial to me. Thus, -once more, this cursed enemy drives me into loneliness and exile. My -hatred against him is again aroused, and torments and poisons me. I -don't look forward to death now! Shall the hand of an inferior man -crush me? The humiliation for me and the honour for him would be too -great. I will accept the challenge and defend myself. In order to -obtain clear information I go to find a Danish painter, a friend of -Popoffsky, in the Rue de la Santé behind the Val de Grâce. Six weeks -before he had come to Paris, and, although formerly a friend of mine, -had at our first meeting greeted me in almost a hostile way. The next -day, however, he visited me, invited me to his studio, and said so -many kind things to me that I could not help doubting the genuineness -of his friendship. When I asked him about Popoffsky, he answered -evasively, but confirmed the rumour of his being about to come shortly -to Paris.</p> - -<p>"In order to murder me," I added.</p> - -<p>"Yes; take care!"</p> - -<p>On the morning on which I wished to return the Dane's visit, by a -curious chance I found my way barred by an enormous Danish dog, which -reposed in all its hideousness on the ground of the courtyard. For a -moment I hesitated, then I turned back, and on arriving at home thanked -the powers for their warning, for I had certainly escaped some unknown -danger.</p> - -<p>Some days afterwards, when I wished to repeat my visit, on the -threshold of the open door there sat a child with a playing-card in its -hand. I glanced at the card superstitiously; it was the ten of spades. -"They are playing an evil game in this house," I said to myself, and -turned back again.</p> - -<p>In the evening, after the scene in the restaurant, I was almost -determined to carry out my plan, in spite of dog and card, but fate -willed it otherwise. In the restaurant of the Lilas brewery I met my -man. He was delighted to see me, and we sat down on the terrace. We -recalled our common experiences in Vienna; he seemed to be the same -good friend that he was before, narrated his stories with enthusiasm, -forgot our former small disagreements, and confessed the truth of -some things which he had before publicly denied. Suddenly he appeared -to remember his duty or some promises which he had given; he became -taciturn, cold, hostile, and obviously vexed that he had been betrayed -into disclosing secrets. He answered my direct question whether -Popoffsky was in Paris with a brief "No," which was plainly false, and -we parted.</p> - -<p>Here I must remark that the Dane had been Frau Popoffsky's lover before -me, and that from the time she had given him up on my account, he -cherished a grudge against me. Now he played the rôle of family friend -with Popoffsky, who knew nothing of his former relation with his wife.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Schumann's <i>Aufschwung</i> sounds over the deep-leaved trees, but the -musician remains invisible and leaves me doubtful as before as to the -exact house in which he lives. For a whole month the music continues -from four to five in the afternoon.</p> - -<p>One morning, as I go down the Rue de Fleurs, in order to comfort myself -by looking at my rainbow in the dyer's window, and enter the Jardin de -Luxembourg, which, with all its trees in blossom, is as beautiful as a -fairy-tale, I find on the ground two dry twigs which have been broken -off by the wind. They formed the two Greek letters "p" and "y," the -first and last letters of Popoffsky. He <i>was</i>, then, persecuting me, -and the powers wished to guard me against the danger. I felt uneasy in -spite of these signs of grace from the unseen. I invoked the protection -of Providence, I read the imprecatory psalms, I hated my enemy with an -Old Testament hatred, while I lacked the courage to use the black magic -which I had recently studied. "Make haste O God, to deliver me; make -haste to help me, O Lord. Let them be ashamed and confounded that seek -after my soul. Let them be turned back and put to confusion that desire -my hurt. Let them be turned back as a reward of their shame that say, -'Aha! Aha!'"</p> - -<p>This prayer seemed to me at that time right, and the mercy inculcated -in the New Testament like cowardice. To what unknown power my -iniquitous prayer found its way I do not know. The sequel of this -narrative will, at any rate, show that it was heard.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<h4>EXTRACTS FROM MY JOURNAL</h4> - -<h4>1896</h4> - -<p><i>May</i> 13<i>th</i>.—A letter from my wife. She has learned from the papers -that a Mr. S. is about to journey to the North Pole in an air-balloon. -She feels in despair about it, confesses to me her unalterable love, -and adjures me to give up this idea, which is tantamount to suicide. -I enlighten her regarding her mistake. It is a cousin of mine who is -risking his life in order to make a great scientific discovery.</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 14<i>th</i>.—Last night I had a dream. A head which had been cut off -was set on the trunk of a man who looked like an actor come down in the -world through drink. The head began to speak. I was frightened, and -knocked my bed-screen down while I, as I thought, pushed a policeman -before me to protect me from the madman's attack.</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 17<i>th and the following days</i>.—The glass of absinthe at six -o'clock, and the terrace of the Brewery of Lilas behind the statue -of Marshal Ney, are my only remaining sin and delight. There, -after finishing the day's work, when soul and body are exhausted, I -refresh myself with the green drink, a cigarette, the <i>Temps</i>, and -the <i>Débuts</i>. How sweet is life after all, when the mist of a mild -intoxication casts its veil over the miseries of existence. Probably -the powers envy me this hour of a visionary happiness, for from this -evening onwards it is disturbed by a series of annoyances which cannot -be attributed to chance. On May 17th, I find my place, which has been -reserved for me daily for nearly two years, occupied; all the other -chairs are also taken. Deeply annoyed, I have to go to another café.</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 18<i>th</i>.—My old corner in Lilas is again vacant, and I am again -under my chestnut behind the Marshal, feeling contented, even happy. My -well-concocted absinthe is there, my cigarette lighted, and the <i>Temps</i> -spread out. Then a drunken man passes; a hateful-looking fellow, whose -mischievous, contemptuous air annoys me. His face is red, his nose -blue, his eyes malicious. I taste my absinthe, and feel happy not to be -like this sot.... There! I don't know how, but my glass is upset and -empty. Without sufficient money to order another, I pay for this and -leave the café. Certainly it was again the Evil One who played me this -trick.</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 19<i>th</i>.—I don't venture to go to the café.</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 20<i>th</i>.—I have slunk round the terrace of the Lilas, and at last -found my corner unoccupied. One must fight the evil spirits and begin -the war oneself. The absinthe is made, the cigarette glows, and the -<i>Temps</i> has important news. Then (I speak the truth, reader), a chimney -of the café over my head takes fire! There is a universal panic. I -remain sitting, but a stronger will than mine directs a cloud of soot -with such a good aim on me, that two large flakes settle on my glass. -Disconcerted, but as unbelieving and sceptical as ever, I depart.</p> - -<p><i>June</i> 1<i>st</i>.—After long abstinence, the longing for my chestnut again -awakes. My table is occupied, and I sit down at a vacant one standing -somewhat apart. Then there comes a middle-class family, and sits near -me. There seems to be no end of them. Women push against my chair, -children do their little businesses before my eyes, young men take away -my matches without asking leave. Thus I sit in the midst of a noisy, -shameless throng, but do not waver nor yield. Then occurs something -which, without any doubt, shows the skilful hand of the unseen, for -there is no room for suspecting these people to whom I am entirely -unknown.</p> - -<p>A young man lays with an unmistakable gesture a sou on my table. A -stranger, and alone among a crowd of people, I let it happen, but, -blind with anger, I seek for an explanation.</p> - -<p>He gives me a sou, as if to a beggar! Beggar! that is the dagger which -I drive into my breast. Beggar! for thou deservest nothing, and——</p> - -<p>The waiter offers me a more comfortable place, and I leave the money -lying. What a disgrace! He brings it after me, and informs me politely -that the young man had found it under my table, and thought it was -mine. I feel ashamed, and in order to calm my anger, order another -absinthe.</p> - -<p>The absinthe comes, and I feel quite comfortable, when a pestilential -smell of ammonia almost stifles me. Again a miracle or some evil -purpose! An escape-pipe flows out at the edge of the pavement, exactly -where my seat is. I begin to understand that the good spirits wish -to heal me of a sin, which at last leads to the madhouse. Blessed be -Providence which has saved me!</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 25<i>th</i>.—In spite of the regulations of the house which exclude -women, a family has taken up its quarters next my room. For a day and a -night crying babies afford me much pleasure, and remind me of the good -old times when I was between thirty and forty and life was pleasantest.</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 26<i>th</i>.—The family quarrel together and the children howl. How -similar it is, and yet how pleasant it is for me—<i>now</i>!</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 29th.—A letter from the children of my first marriage informs -that a telegram had come for them bidding them to be present in -Stockholm at the farewell feast which was to celebrate my departure for -the North Pole. They understand nothing about it, and I just as little. -What a fatal error!</p> - -<p><i>June</i> 2<i>nd</i>.—In the Avenue de l'Observatoire I find two pebbles -shaped exactly like hearts. In the evening, in the garden of a Russian -painter, I found a third heart of the same size, exactly like the two -others. The playing of Schumann's <i>Aufschwung</i> has ceased, and I am -again calm.</p> - -<p><i>June</i> 9<i>th</i>.—I visit the Danish painter in the Rue de la Santé. -The great dog has disappeared; the entrance is free. We go to dine -on a terrace in the Boulevard Port-Royal. My friend is cold and -uncomfortable, and as he has forgotten his overcoat I lay mine over -his shoulders. At first this quiets him; he feels himself dominated by -me, and does not struggle against it. We are agreed on all points; -he does not venture any more to oppose me. He admits that Popoffsky -is a scoundrel, and that all my misfortunes are due to him. Suddenly -a strange fit of nervousness takes hold of him; he trembles like a -medium under the influence of the hypnotiser, gets excited, shakes -off the overcoat, stops eating, lays his fork on one side, stands up -and goes off. What is the meaning of it? Does he feel my coat to be a -Nessus robe? Has my nervous fluid become stored up in it, and through -its opposite polarity subjugated him? Does Ezekiel, chap. xiii., ver. -18, refer to something similar? "Woe to you that sew pillows upon all -armholes, and make kerchiefs for the heads of persons of every stature, -to catch souls.... I will tear your kerchiefs, and I will deliver my -people out of your hand, and they shall no more be in your hand to be -hunted; and ye shall know that I am the Lord."</p> - -<p>Have I become a wizard without knowing it?</p> - -<p><i>June</i> 7<i>th</i>.—I visited my Danish friend in order to look at his -pictures. When I arrived he seemed well and cheerful, but after half -an hour he had a nervous attack, which increased so much that he had -to undress and go to bed. What was the matter with him? Had he a bad -conscience?</p> - -<p><i>June</i> 14<i>th, Sunday</i>.—In the Jardin du Luxembourg I found a fourth -heart-shaped pebble, like the three former ones. The stone has a piece -of gold tinsel adhering to it; altogether it remains a puzzle, but -seems to foreshadow something. I compare the four stones together -before the open window, as the bells of St. Sulpice begin to ring; then -the great bell of Notre-Dame commences, and through these usual sounds, -there comes a heavy solemn peal, as though it issued from the bowels of -the earth. I ask the waiter who brings my letters what it is. He says, -"The great bell of the Church Sacré Cœur of Montmartre."</p> - -<p>It is then the festival of the Sacred Heart? And I contemplate these -four hard stone hearts, curiously moved by this striking coincidence.</p> - -<p>In the direction of Notre-Dame des Champs I hear a cuckoo, and yet it -is impossible; or have my ears become so extra-sensitive that they can -hear as far as the wood of Meudon?</p> - -<p>June 15<i>th</i>.—I go to the city to change a cheque into bank-notes -and gold. To my astonishment, the Quai Voltaire sways under my feet; -certainly the Carrousel Bridge trembles under the weight of the carts. -But to-day, this movement continues past the Tuileries to the Avenue -de l'Opéra. There is always vibration in a town, but in order to notice -it one must have very sensitive nerves.</p> - -<p>The other side of the river is, for us dwellers in Montparnasse, a -foreign world. It is nearly a year since I visited the Lyons Bank, -or the Café de la Régence. On the Boulevard des Italiens, I felt -homesick, and I hurried back to the river, where the sight of the Rue -des Saints Pères revived me. Near the Church St. Germain des Prés I -met a funeral, and after that, two colossal Madonnas, which were being -carried on a cart. One of them, with folded hands and eyes directed -heavenwards, made a deep impression on me.</p> - -<p><i>June</i> 16<i>th</i>.—On the Boulevard St. Michel I bought a paper-weight -adorned with a glass globe containing the Madonna of Lourdes in her -famous grotto; before her kneels a veiled woman. When I place the -figure in the sun, it casts strange shadows. On the back of the grotto -the plaster has accidentally formed a head of Christ, though evidently -unintended by the artist.</p> - -<p><i>June</i> 18<i>th</i>.—My Danish friend rushes in, in a state of excitement -and trembling all over, into my room. Popoffsky has been arrested -in Vienna on the charge of having murdered his paramour and two -illegitimate children. After I recover from the first surprise, and my -first feeling of sincere sympathy for a man who at any rate had once -been my intimate friend, a deep peace settles on my spirit, which had -been tortured for months with long-continued threats. Unable to conceal -my real selfishness, I give free vent to my feelings. It is dreadful, -and yet I am relieved when I think of the danger from which I have -escaped.</p> - -<p>What was his motive for the crime? We conjecture as a reason the -jealousy which his lawful wife felt against the illegitimate family, -and the expense which they involved. Perhaps also....</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps his bloodthirsty instincts have recently been able to find no -outlet in Paris, and have sought for satisfaction in some other way, no -matter upon whom." To myself I say: "Was it possible that my earnest -prayers had averted the dagger, and turned it against the murderer -himself?" Then, giving up guessing, I conclude magnanimously like a -victor: "Let us at any rate save our friend's literary reputation. I -will write an essay on his merits as an author; you draw a flattering -portrait, and we will send both to the <i>Revue Blanche</i>."</p> - -<p>In the Dane's studio (the dog guards it no more) we stand and -contemplate a picture of Popoffsky painted two years ago. It represents -only his head, with a cloud below it. Underneath are a pair of -cross-bones like one sees on tombstones. The decapitated head makes us -shudder, and the dream of May 14th steals into my memory like a ghost. -"How did you come to think," I asked, "of representing him with a head -only?"</p> - -<p>"That is hard to say; but there seemed to be a fate brooding over -this fine mind, with marks of genius, which dreamed of fame without -being willing to pay the price for it. Life lets us choose one of two -things—the laurel or luxury."</p> - -<p>"You have at last discovered that!"</p> - -<p><i>June</i> 23<i>rd</i>,—During these last days since the news of the Russian's -arrest, a fresh disquiet seizes me. It appears to me as though someone -somewhere were meddling with my destiny, and I tell the Danish painter -my suspicion that the hate of the imprisoned Russian makes me suffer -like the electric fluid from a dynamo.</p> - -<p>There are moments in which I foresee that my stay in Paris will soon -be at an end, and that a revolution in my circumstances is at hand.</p> - -<p>The weathercock on the cross of Notre-Dame des Champs seems to me to -flap its wings as though it wished to fly northwards. Anticipating -my speedy departure, I hastily conclude my studies in the Jardin des -Plantes. A zinc bath in which I make experiments in alchemy shows on -its inner sides a landscape formed by the evaporation of iron salts. I -understand it is a presage, but I cannot guess where this landscape is. -Hills covered with forests of firs; lying between them, plains covered -with fruit trees and cornfields; everything indicates the neighbourhood -of a river. One of the hills with precipices of stratified formation is -crowned with the ruins of a stately castle. I cannot make out more, but -I shall not remain long in uncertainty.</p> - -<p>June 20th.—We receive an invitation from the head of the scientific -occultists, the editor of the <i>Initiation</i>. As the doctor and I arrived -at Marolles en Brie we received three pieces of bad news: A weasel had -killed the ducks; a servant girl was ill; the third I forget.</p> - -<p>On the evening of our return to Paris, I read in a paper the famous -history of the haunted house in Valence en Brie. Brie? I begin to -fear that the occupants of my hotel will become suspicious, hear of -my excursion to Brie, and in consequence of my experiments in alchemy -suppose that I have set on foot that humbug or witchcraft.</p> - -<p>I have bought myself a rosary. Why? It is pretty, and the evil spirits -fear the Cross; besides, I don't worry any more about the motives -of my actions. I act, as the humour takes me, and life is much more -interesting. There is a sudden change as regards the Popoffsky case. -His friend the Dane begins to doubt his having committed the crime, -and says the accusation against him was refuted at the inquest. The -publishing of my article is put off, and I feel as cold towards him as -before. At the same time the monstrous dog reappears—a hint for me to -be on my guard.</p> - -<p>As I am writing in the afternoon at the table near my window, a -thunderstorm bursts. The first drops of rain fall on my manuscript -and blot it in such a way that from the obliterated letters the word -"Alp"<a name="FNanchor_3_7" id="FNanchor_3_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_7" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> is formed, and also a blot in the shape of an enormous face. I -preserve this; it resembles the Japanese god of thunder as portrayed -in the <i>Atmosphère</i> of Camille Flammarion.</p> - -<p>June 28<i>th</i>.—I have seen my wife in a dream; her front teeth were -missing. She gave me a guitar, which looked like a Danube boat. This -dream threatened me with imprisonment.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon I rub together on a piece of paper quicksilver, tin, -sulphur, and chlorate of ammonia. When I took off the mixture, the -paper retained the impression of a face, which had an extraordinary -resemblance to that of my wife in the dream of the past night.</p> - -<p>July 1<i>st</i>.—I expect an eruption, an earthquake, a thunderbolt -somewhere or other. Nervous as a horse when wolves are near, I scent -danger, and pack my box ready for Hight without being able to decide on -it. The Russian has been liberated from prison for want of proofs; his -friend the Dane has become my enemy. The customers in the restaurant -persecute me. We had our last meal in the courtyard on account of -the heat. The table was placed between the dustbin and the lavatory. -Over the dustbin hung the picture of the crucified woman by my former -American friend. They had revenged themselves so severely upon him -that he had disappeared without paying his debts. Near the table the -Russians have placed a statuette, a warrior with the conventional -scythe, possibly to frighten me! A young fellow belonging to the house -goes behind my back to the lavatory with the thinly concealed purpose -of annoying me. The court is as narrow as a mineshaft, and admits no -sunlight over the high walls. The women who live in the different -storeys make obscene remarks over our heads. Domestic servants come -with their baskets full of rubbish in order to empty them into the -dustbin. It is hell itself! Moreover, my two neighbours, notoriously -immoral characters, try, with their disgusting talk, to entangle me in -a quarrel.</p> - -<p>Why am I here? Because loneliness compels me to seek human society and -to hear human voices. Just as my mental suffering reaches its highest -pitch, I discover some pansies blooming in the tiny flower-bed. They -shake their heads as though they wished to warn me of a danger, and one -of them with a child's face and large eyes signals to me, "Go away!" I -rise and pay; as I go out the young fellow mentioned above greets me -with concealed contempt, which irritates me. But I remain quiet.</p> - -<p>I feel pity for myself and shame for the others. I forgive the -offenders as though they were demons, who must now fulfil their duty. -Meanwhile, the disfavour of the powers is all too obvious, and I begin -in my room to total up the debit and credit side. Hitherto, and that -was my comfort, I have never been able to bow myself before others, -but now, crushed by the hand of the invisible, I am anxious to own -myself wrong, and fear lays hold upon me when I carefully think over -my behaviour during the last weeks. My conscience exacts my confession -ruthlessly and pitilessly. I had sinned through conceit, through -ὕβρις, the one sin which the gods do not forgive. Encouraged -by the friendship of Dr. Popus, who had praised my experiments, I -imagined that I had solved the riddle of the Sphinx. An imitator of -Orpheus, I assumed it as my rôle to reanimate nature, which had been -done to death by the scientists. Confident of the favour of the powers, -I flattered myself that I was invincible as regards my foes, and forgot -the most ordinary rules of modesty.</p> - -<p>This is the right point at which to insert the history of my secret -friend who has played a decisive rôle in my life as mentor, counsellor, -comforter, judge, and, not least, as a reliable helper in various -times of need. As early as 1890 he wrote to me about a book which I -then published. He had found points of contact between my ideas and -those of the theosophists, and wished to hear my opinion of the Occult -Doctrine and the priestess of Isis, Madame Blavatsky. The aggressive -tone of his letter annoyed me, and I did not conceal this annoyance in -my answer. Four years later I published my <i>Antibarbarus</i>, and received -at the most critical juncture of my life a second letter from this -unknown friend, in which, in an elevated and almost prophetic style, -he foretold for me a future fraught with suffering and glory. At the -same time he explained to me that he had resumed this correspondence, -because he guessed that I was just now in the throes of a spiritual -crisis in which a word of comfort might be opportune. Finally, he -offered me material aid, which I, jealous of my miserable independence, -declined.</p> - -<p>In the autumn of 1895 I resumed the correspondence by offering him my -natural history studies for publication. From that time we kept up the -most intimate and friendly correspondence, with the exception of a -small disagreement which occurred, when he once took upon himself to -instruct me in an insulting way about matters which I knew very well, -and preached to me proudly about my want of modesty. After we had made -it up again, I imparted to him all my observations, and gave him more -of my confidence than was perhaps wise. I confessed to this man, whom -I had never seen, everything, and let him admonish me seriously, for I -regarded him more as an idea than a person; he was for me a messenger -of Providence, my good angel.</p> - -<p>Then there occurred between us a strong difference of opinion which -led to very lively discussions, without, however, leading to any -bitterness. As a theosophist, he preached "Karma," <i>i.e.</i>, an abstract -total of human destinies which balance each other so as to result in -a kind of Nemesis. He was accordingly a champion of the mechanical -view of the universe, a representative of the so-called materialistic -school. To me, on the other hand, the powers had revealed themselves -as concrete, living, individual personalities, who guide the course of -the world and the destinies of men, as self-conscious entities or, as -the theologians say, as "hypostases." The second difference of opinion -was regarding the denying and putting to death of one's own self, which -always seemed to me perfectly foolish, and seems so still.</p> - -<p>Everything, <i>i.e.</i>, the little which I know, goes back to the Ego as -its central point. Not the cultus, indeed, but the culture of this Ego -seems, therefore, the highest and ultimate aim of existence. My final -and constant answer to his objections, therefore, was: "The killing of -the Ego is self-murder."</p> - -<p>Moreover, before whom should I bow myself? Before the theosophists? -Never! But before the Eternal, the Powers, Providence, I seek to subdue -my evil propensities daily as much as possible. To combat for the -preservation of my ego, against all influence which a sect or party, -from love of ruling, may bring to bear upon me, <i>that</i> is my duty -enjoined on me by conscience; the guide which the grace of my divine -protector has given me.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, because of the qualities of this unseen friend, whom I -felt drawn to love and admire, I put up with his admonitions when he -often addressed me in a presumptuous way as his inferior. I always -answered him, but did not conceal from him my dislike for theosophy.</p> - -<p>Finally, however—it was during the Popoffsky episode,—he assumed -such a domineering tone, and became so intolerable in his tyranny, -that I feared he took me for a fool. He called me "Simon Magus, the -necromancer," and recommended me to take Madame Blavatsky as my -teacher. I wrote back to him that I had no need of the lady, and that -no one had anything to teach me. Thereupon what did he threaten me -with? That he would bring me back to the right path with the aid of -stronger powers than mine. Then I asked him not to meddle with my -destiny, which the hand of Providence had always so well protected and -guided. And in order to further impress upon him my conviction by means -of an example, I related to him the following incident out of my life, -which has been so rich in providential occurrences, premising at the -same time that by relating this very incident I feared lest I should be -challenging Nemesis.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was ten years before this time, during the most stormy period of my -literary life, when I was raging against the feminist movement, which, -with the exception of myself, everyone in Scandinavia supported. The -heat of the conflict hurried me on, so that I so far overstepped the -bounds of propriety that my countrymen considered me mad.</p> - -<p>I was just then staying with my wife and the children of my first -marriage in Bavaria, when I received a letter from a friend of my -youth inviting me and my children to stop with him for a year, he -made no mention of my wife. This letter, with its affected style, its -corrections and omissions, seemed to betray some hesitation on the part -of the writer in the choice of the reasons which he alleged for his -invitation. As I suspected some trap, I declined the offer in a few -non-committal polite phrases.</p> - -<p>Two years later, after my first divorce, I went to him of my own accord -and found him living on a little island off the coast of the Baltic Sea -as an inspector of customs. His reception of me was friendly, but his -whole manner embarrassed and equivocal, and our conversation was more -like a police examination. After giving a wakeful night's consideration -to the matter, I understood it. This man, whose self-love I had wounded -in one of my novels, in spite of his display of sympathy, was not -really my well-wisher. An absolute tyrant, he wanted to interfere with -my destiny, to tame and subdue me, in order to show me his superiority.</p> - -<p>Quite unscrupulous in his choice of means, he tormented me for a week -long, poisoned my mind with slanders and stories invented to suit every -occasion, but did it so clumsily that I was more and more convinced -that he wished to have me incarcerated as a person of unsound mind.</p> - -<p>I offered no special resistance, and left it to my good fortune to -liberate me at the right time.</p> - -<p>My apparent submission won my executioner's favour, and there alone, -in the midst of the sea, hated by his neighbours and subordinates, he -yielded to his need to confide in someone. He told me, with incredible -frankness for a man of fifty, that his sister during the past winter -had gone out of her mind, and in a fit of frenzy had destroyed all her -savings. The next morning he told me, further, that his brother was in -a lunatic asylum on the mainland.</p> - -<p>I asked myself, "Is that why he wants to see me confined in one, in -order to avenge himself on fate?" After he had thus related to me his -misfortunes, I won his complete confidence, so that I was able to leave -the island, and hire a house on a neighbouring one, where my children -joined me. Four weeks later a letter summoned me to my "friend," whom -I found quite broken down because his brother in a fit of mania had -shattered his skull. I comforted my executioner, and his wife whispered -to me with tears that she had long feared lest the same fate should -overtake her husband. A year later the newspapers announced that my -friend's eldest brother had taken his life under circumstances which -seemed to indicate that he was out of his mind. Thus three distinct -blows descended on the head of this man who had wished to play with -lightning.</p> - -<p>"What a strange chance!" people will say. And stranger, and more -ominous still, every time that I relate this history, I am punished for -doing so.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The fierce July heat broods over the city; life is intolerable, and -everything is malodorous. I expect a catastrophe. In the street I find -a scrap of paper with the word "marten" written on it; in another -street a similar scrap with the word "vulture" written by the same -hand. Popoffsky certainly has a resemblance to a marten as his wife has -to a vulture. Have they come to Paris to kill me? He, the murderer, is -capable of everything after he has murdered wife and children.</p> - -<p>The perusal of the delightful book <i>La joie de mourir</i> arouses in me -the wish to quit the world. In order to learn to know the boundary -between life and death, I lie on the bed, uncork the flask containing -cyanide of potassium, and let its poisonous perfume stream out. The man -with the scythe approaches softly and voluptuously, but at the last -moment someone enters or something else happens; either an attendant -enters under some pretext, or a wasp flies in through the window.</p> - -<p>The powers deny me the only joy left, and I bow to their will.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At the beginning of July the house is empty; the students have gone -for their holidays. All the more is my curiosity aroused by a stranger -who has taken the room on that side of mine where my writing-table is -placed. The Unknown never speaks; he appears to be occupied in writing -on the other side of the wall which divides us. Curiously enough, -whenever I move my chair, he moves his also, and, in general, imitates -all my movements as though he wished to annoy me. Thus it goes on for -three days. On the fourth day I make the following observations: If I -prepare to go to sleep, he also prepares to go to sleep in the next -room; when I lie down in bed, I hear him lie down on the bed by my -wall. I hear him stretch himself out parallel with me; he turns over -the pages of a book, then puts out the lamp, breathes loud, turns -himself on his side, and goes to sleep. He apparently occupies the -rooms on both sides of me, and it is unpleasant to be beset on two -sides at once. Absolutely alone, I take my mid-day meal in my room, and -I eat so little that the waiter pities me. For eight days I have not -heard the sound of my own voice, which begins to grow feeble for want -of exercise. I have n't a sou left, and my tobacco and postage stamps -run out. Then I rally my will power for a last attempt: I <i>will</i> make -gold, by the dry process. I manage to borrow some money and procure the -necessary apparatus: an oven, smelting-saucepans, wood-coals, bellows, -and tongs. The heat is terrific and, like a workman in a smithy, I -sweat before the open fire, stripped to the waist. But sparrows have -built their nests in the chimney, and smoke pours out of it into the -room. I feel like going mad over this first attempt, my head-aches, -and the frustration of my efforts; for everything goes wrong. I have -smelted the mass of metal in the fire and look inside the saucepan. -The borax has formed within it a death's-head with two glowing eyes -which seem to pierce my soul with uncanny irony. Not a grain of gold is -there, and I give up all further effort. I resume my seat, and read the -Bible just where I happen to open it: "None calleth to mind, neither -is there knowledge nor understanding to say, I have burned part of it -in the fire; yea, also, I have baked bread upon the coals thereof, I -have roasted flesh and eaten it; and shall I make the residue thereof -an abomination? Shall I fall down to the stock of a tree? He feedeth on -ashes; a deceived heart hath turned him aside, that he cannot deliver -his soul nor say, Is there not a lie in my right hand. Thus saith the -Lord, thy Redeemer, and he that formed thee from the womb, I am the -Lord that maketh all things, that stretcheth forth the heavens alone, -that spreadeth forth the earth; who is with me? that frustrateth the -tokens of the liars and maketh diviners mad; that turneth wise men -backward, and maketh their knowledge foolish."</p> - -<p>For the first time I despair of my scientific experiments. If they are -all folly, then I have sacrificed my happiness and that of my wife and -children to a phantom. Alas for my delusion! There is a gaping abyss -between my parting from my family and this moment. A year and a half -has elapsed, and so many painful days and nights have been spent for -nothing. But no! it cannot be, it is not so.</p> - -<p>Have I lost myself in a dark wood? The good spirit has guided me on -the right way to the island of the blessed, but Satan tempts me. I -am punished again. I sink relaxed on my scat, an unwonted depression -weighs upon my spirits. A magnetic fluid streams from the wall, and -sleep nearly overcomes me. I pull myself together, and stand up, in -order to go out. As I pass through the passage, I hear two voices -whispering in the room adjoining mine. Why are they whispering? In -order that I may not overhear them. I go through the Rue d'Assas to the -Jardin du Luxembourg. I drag myself wearily along, feeling lame from my -loins to my feet, and sink on a seat behind the group of Adam and his -family.</p> - -<p>I am poisoned! That is my first thought. And Popoffsky, who has -murdered his wife and children with poisonous gases, is here. He has -copied the famous experiment of Pettenkofer, and discharged a stream of -gas through the wall. What shall I do? Go to the police? No! for if I -can adduce no proofs they will shut me up as a lunatic.</p> - -<p><i>Væ soli!</i> Woe to the solitary, the sparrow upon the housetop! Never -was my misery greater, and I weep like a forsaken child that fears the -dark.</p> - -<p>In the evening I dare not remain sitting at my table for fear of a new -attack, and lie on the bed without venturing to go to sleep. The night -comes and my lamp is lit. Then I see outside, on the wall opposite to -my window, the shadow of a human shape, whether a man or a woman, I -cannot say, but it seems to be a woman. When I stand up, to ascertain -which it is, the blind is noisily pulled down; then I hear the Unknown -enter the room, which is near my bed, and all is silent. For three -hours I lie awake with open eyes to which sleep refuses to come; then -a feeling of uneasiness takes possession of me; I am exposed to an -electric current which passes to and fro between the two adjoining -rooms. The nervous tension increases, and, in spite of my resistance, I -cannot remain in bed, so strong is my conviction: "They are murdering -me; I will not let myself be murdered." I go out in order to seek the -attendant in his box at the end of the corridor, but alas! he is not -there. They have got him to go away; he is a silent accomplice, and I -am betrayed!</p> - -<p>I go down the stairs, and hasten through the corridors in order to -rouse the director of the <i>pension</i>. With a presence of mind, of which -I would not have thought myself capable, I tell him that I have a -sudden attack of indisposition, caused by the evaporations from my -chemicals, and ask for another room for the night. Thanks to a wrathful -Providence, the only vacant room is directly under that of my enemy. I -open the window and inhale full draughts of the fresh air of a starry -night. Above the roofs of the Rue d'Assas, and the Rue de Madame, the -Great Bear and Pole-star are visible. To the North, then! I take the -omen!</p> - -<p>As I draw back the curtain of the alcove where my bed is, I hear my -enemy overhead get out of bed and place some heavy object in a box -which he locks. He is concealing something then! Perhaps the electric -machine.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The next morning, which is a Sunday, I pack up and give out that I am -going to the seacoast. I tell the coachman to drive to the St. Lazare -Station, but when we get opposite the Odeon, I alter the route and bid -him drive to the Rue de la Clef, near the Jardin des Plantes. I wish -to remain here incognito, in order to complete my studies before my -departure for Sweden.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_5" id="Footnote_1_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_5"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>L'extériorisation de la sensibilité</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_6" id="Footnote_2_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_6"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Famous Norwegian novelist.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_7" id="Footnote_3_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_7"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Nightmare.</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="VI" id="VI">VI</a></h4> - -<h4>HELL</h4> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>At length a pause ensues in my sufferings. For hours at a time I sit -in the open space before the summer-house, watch the flowers, and -think over the recent events. The peace of mind, which I find after my -flight, convinces me that I have not been suffering from the delusions -of disease, but have been persecuted by real enemies. I work during -the day and sleep quietly at night. Delivered from the squalor of my -former residence, I feel myself rejuvenated among the roses of this -garden—the favourite flower of my youth. The Jardin des Plantes, this -wonder of Paris unknown to the Parisians themselves, has become my -park. This epitome of creation confined within a narrow circuit, this -Noah's Ark, this Paradise Regained in which I wander without danger -among wild beasts—it is too much happiness. Beginning with stones, I -proceed to the vegetable and animal kingdoms, till I come to man, and -behind man I discover the Creator—the great Artist who develops as -he creates, sets on fool designs which He rejects later on, resumes -plans which have failed, and completes and multiplies primitive forms -endlessly. All is the work of His hand. Often in the discovery of -methods He makes enormous leaps, and then Science comes and ascertains -the extent of the gaps and the missing links, and imagines that it has -found the intermediary forms which have disappeared.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As I now consider myself safe from my persecutors, I send my address to -the Pension Orfila in order to resume my correspondence with the outer -world, but no sooner have I lifted the mask of my incognito than my -peace is interrupted. All kinds of things disquiet me, and my former -discomfort returns.</p> - -<p>To begin with, articles whose use I cannot understand are being -stored away in the room which adjoins mine on the ground-floor, and -which hitherto was vacant of furniture. An old gentleman, with grey, -malicious eyes, carries empty boxes, strips of metal, and other -mysterious objects into it. At the same time the noises over my head -recommence. They file and hammer as though they were constructing some -infernal machine.</p> - -<p>Moreover, the landlady, who at first appeared pleased at my taking -up my abode here, alters her demeanour; she tries to ferret out my -affairs, and vexes me by her manner of greeting me. Besides this, the -lodger who occupies the first floor above me, leaves the house. He was -a quiet old gentleman, whose heavy footfall was familiar to me. In his -place comes a reserved-looking tenant who has lived in the house for -years. He has not changed his lodgings but only his room. Why?</p> - -<p>The servant-maid who looks after my room, and brings my meals, has a -serious air and casts sympathetic glances at me.</p> - -<p>All at once a wheel begins to turn over my head, and continues to -do so the whole day long. I am condemned to death! That is my firm -conviction. By whom? By the Russians, the Pietists, Catholics, Jesuits, -Theosophists? As what?—A wizard or practiser of black arts? Or perhaps -it is by the police as an anarchist? That is a very plausible pretext -for removing personal enemies.</p> - -<p>At the moment that I write this, I do not know what was the real nature -of the events of that July night when death threatened me, but I will -not forget that lesson as long as I live.</p> - -<p>If the initiated believe that I was then exposed to a plot woven by -human hands, let me tell them that I feel anger against no one, for -I know now that another stronger Hand, unknown to them, guided those -hands against their will.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, if there was no plot, I must suppose that my own -imagination conjured up these chastising spirits for my own punishment. -We shall see in the sequel how far this supposition is probable.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On the morning of my last day (as I suppose) I rise in a resigned frame -of mind, which might be called religious; I have no more ties binding -me to life. I have put my papers in order, written necessary letters, -and burnt what had to be burnt. Then I go to bid farewell to the world -in the Jardin des Plantes.</p> - -<p>The Swedish block of lodestone before the mineralogical museum gives -me a greeting from my native land. I greet the acacias, the cedars -of Lebanon, and the monuments of great epochs when botany was still -a living science. I buy bread and cherries for my old friends. The -old bear knows me well, for I am the only one who brings him cherries -morning and evening. I give bread to the young elephant, who spits in -my face after he has eaten it—the young, faithless ingrate!</p> - -<p>Farewell, ye vultures who had to exchange the sky for a dirty cage! -Farewell, bison and behemoth, thou chained demon! Farewell, ye loving -pair of sea-birds whom wedded love consoles for the loss of ocean -and its wide horizon! Farewell, stones, plants, flowers, trees, -butterflies, birds, snakes, all creatures of a good God! And you great -men, Bernadin de Saint-Pierre, Linnæus, Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, Haüy, -whose names shine in gold on the front of the temple—farewell! but we -meet again. So I part from this earthly Paradise, and Séraphita's noble -words come to my mind, "Adieu, pauvre terre! adieu!"</p> - -<p>When I re-enter the hotel garden, I become aware of the presence of -a man, who must have come in my absence. I do not see him, but feel -him. What increases my confusion is the visible alteration which the -adjoining room has undergone. A cloth hung over a rope obviously -conceals something. On the mantelpiece are metal projections isolated -by wooden panels, and on each there lies a photograph album or some -other book, in order to give these diabolical machines, which I am -inclined to think are accumulators, an innocuous appearance. Moreover, -on a roof in the Rue Censier, exactly opposite my summer-house, I see -two workmen. I cannot make out what they are doing, but they seem to -have an eye on my glass-door and are busy with objects which I cannot -distinguish.</p> - -<p>Why do I not escape? Because I am too proud, and must bear the -inevitable. I therefore prepare myself for the night. I take a bath, -and am especially careful to wash my feet, for my mother has told me -when a child, that there is something disgraceful in dirty feet. I -shave and perfume myself, and put on the underclothes which I bought -three years ago in Vienna for my wedding—the toilet of a man condemned -to die. I read the psalms in the Bible in which David invokes the wrath -of the Eternal upon his enemies. I do not read the penitential psalms. -I have no right to remorse, for it is not I who have guided my destiny. -I have never requited evil with evil, except when I had to defend -myself. To be remorseful is to criticise Providence, which imposes sin -on us as a suffering, in order to purify us through the disgust with -which each evil deed inspires us.</p> - -<p>The summing up of my reckoning with life is as follows: If I have -sinned, on my word of honour, I have been sufficiently punished. That -is certain. As to the fear of hell, I have wandered through a thousand -hells, without trembling, and have experienced enough of them to feel -an intense desire to depart from the vanities and false joys of this -world, which I always despised. Born with a heavenly homesickness, -I wept as a child over the filthiness of life, and felt strange and -homeless among relations and friends. From childhood onwards I have -sought for God and found the Devil. I have borne the cross of Christ in -my youth, and have denied a God who delights to reign over slaves who -love their tormentor.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As I let down the curtains of my glass-door, I see a number of ladies -and gentlemen sitting at their champagne in the private drawing-room. -They seem to be strangers just arrived this evening. But they are not a -merry company; their faces are all serious, they discuss, seem to form -plans, and speak in an undertone with each other, as though it were a -conspiracy. To intensify my mental torture, they turn round on their -chairs, and point with their fingers in the direction of my room. About -ten o'clock I extinguish my lamp, and go to sleep quietly, resigned as -a dying man.</p> - -<p>I wake up. A clock strikes two; a door is fastened, and—I am out of -bed, as though someone had applied an air-pump to my heart and drawn -me out <i>so</i>. At the same time an electric stream strikes my neck, and -presses me to the ground. I rise again, seize my clothes and rush, my -heart beating violently, into the garden. When I have dressed myself, -my first clear thought is to go to the police and have the house -searched. But the front door is shut, and so is the porter's box. I -grope my way on, open a door on the right, and step into the kitchen, -in which a lamp is burning. I upset it, and stand in pitch darkness.</p> - -<p>Fear restores me to my senses, and I return to my room with the -thought: "If I make a mistake, I am lost." I drag a chair out into -the garden, and, sitting under the starry sky, I reflect on what is -happening. Am I ill? Impossible: for until I disclosed my incognito, I -was quite well. Is it an attack? Yes, because I saw the preparations -for it going on. For the rest, I feel better here outside in the -garden beyond the power of my enemies, and my heart beats quite -regularly. While reflecting thus, I hear someone cough in the room -adjoining mine. It is at once answered by a low cough from the room on -the other side. Doubtless it is a signal, just like the one I heard my -last night in the Pension Orfila. I try to open forcibly the glass-door -of the ground-floor room, but the bolt holds.</p> - -<p>Wearied by the useless fight against invisible powers, I sink on -a garden seat. Sleep has pity on me, so that under the stars of a -beautiful summer night I fall asleep among the roses whispering in the -warm airs of July.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The sun awakes me, and I thank Providence which has saved me from -death. I pack my things, and mean to go to Dieppe to find shelter with -some friends, whom I have neglected as I have all others, but who are -considerate and generous towards the fallen and shipwrecked. When I ask -to speak to the directress of the house, she is not visible, and sends -a message to say she is unwell. I might have expected that she would be -involved in the plot against me. I leave the house with a curse on the -head of my knavish enemies, and call on heaven to send down fire on -this den of robbers—whether rightly or wrongly, who knows? My Dieppe -friends were alarmed, when they saw me mounting the hill of their town -with my bag heavy with manuscripts.</p> - -<p>"Where have you come from, poor fellow?"</p> - -<p>"I come from death."</p> - -<p>"I doubt it, for you look as if you had not been dug out yet."</p> - -<p>The kind, good-hearted lady of the house takes me by the hand and leads -me before a looking-glass, that I may see myself. I certainly look a -pitiable object; my face blackened by smoke from the engine, my cheeks -fallen in, my hair grown grey, my eyes staring wildly, and my linen -dirty.</p> - -<p>But when I was left alone in the dressing-room by my kind hostess, -who treated me like a sick, deserted child, I examined my face more -closely. There was an expression in my features which alarmed me. -It was not fear of death or wickedness, but something else, and had -I at that time known Swedenborg, he would have explained to me the -impression made by the evil spirit on my soul, and the occurrences -of the last weeks. Now I felt ashamed and angry with myself, and my -conscience pained me on account of my ingratitude towards this family, -which had proved a harbour of refuge for me, as for so many other -shipwrecked voyagers. As a punishment, I shall be driven hence also -by the furies. Here is a beautiful artistic home, ordered domestic -economy, married happiness, with charming children, cleanness and -comfort, boundless hospitality, charitable judgment, an atmosphere of -beauty and goodness which dazzles me—a paradise, in short, and I in -the midst of it, all like a lost soul. I see spread out before my eyes -all the happiness which life can offer, and all that I have lost.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I occupy an attic room looking out on a hill where there is an asylum -for old people. In the evening I observe two men looking over the wall -of the institution towards our villa, and pointing at my window. The -idea that I am being persecuted by means of electricity again takes -possession of me.</p> - -<p>The night between the 25th and 26th of July, 1896, comes on. We have -searched together all the attic rooms near mine, and the loft itself, -so as to satisfy me that no one with evil intentions could be lurking -there. Only in a lumber-room an object of no significance in itself has -a depressing effect upon me. It is only the skin of a polar bear used -as a rug; but the gaping jaws, the threatening teeth, the sparkling -eyes irritate me. Why should this creature lie just now, just there? -Without taking off my clothes, I lie down on the bed, determined to -wait for the fateful hour—two o'clock.</p> - -<p>While I am reading, midnight approaches. One o'clock strikes, and -the whole house is wrapped in slumber. At last two o'clock strikes! -Nothing happens. Then in a dare-devil spirit, or perhaps only with the -intention of making a physical experiment, I rise, open both windows, -and light two candles. Then I sit at the table behind them, expose -myself with bared breast as a mark, and challenge the unknown: "Attack, -if you dare!"</p> - -<p>Then I feel, at first only faintly, something like an inrush of -electric fluid. I look at my compass, but it shows no sign of wavering. -It is not electricity then. But the tension increases; my heart beats -violently; I offer resistance, but as if by a flash of lightning my -body is charged with a fluid which chokes me and depletes my blood. I -rush down the stairs to the room on the ground-floor, where they have -made up for me a provisional bed in case of necessity. There I lie for -five minutes and collect my thoughts. Is it radiating electricity? -No; for the compass has not been affected. Is it a diseased state of -mind induced by fear of the fatal hour of two o'clock? No; for I have -still the courage to defy attacks, but why must I light the candles -and attract the mysterious fluid? In this labyrinth of questioning I -find no answer, and try at last to go to sleep, but a new discharge -of electricity strikes me like a cyclone, forces me to rise from bed, -and the chase begins afresh. I hide myself behind the walls, lie down -close to the doors, or in front of the stove. Everywhere, everywhere -the furies find me. Overmastered by terror, I fly in panic from -everything and nothing, from room to room, and finish by crouching -down on the balcony. The grey-yellow light of dawn begins to break, -the sepia-coloured clouds assume fantastic and monstrous shapes, which -increase my despair. I repair to my friend's studio, lie down on the -carpet, and close my eyes. After barely five minutes' quiet, a rustle -awakes me. A mouse looks at me and seems to wish to come nearer. I -drive it away; it comes back with another one. Good Heavens! Have I -got delirium tremens, though I have been quite temperate the last -three years? (In the daytime I find that there are really mice in the -studio. It was a coincidence, then, but who caused it, and what is his -object?) I change my place, and lie down on the hall carpet. Merciful -sleep descends upon my tortured spirit, and for about half an hour I -lose consciousness of my sufferings. Then a distinct cry "Alp!" makes -me suddenly start up. "Alp!" That is the German for nightmare. "Alp" -is the word which the rainstorm caused to be formed on my paper in -the Hôtel Orfila. Who uttered that cry? No one, for the whole house -is asleep. Is it a devil's game? That is a poetical expression which -perhaps contains the whole truth.</p> - -<p>I mount the steps to my attic. The candles have burnt to their sockets; -deep silence reigns. The Angelus rings out. It is the day of the Lord. -I open my breviary and read "De Profundis clamavi ad Te, Domine!" That -comforts me, and I sink down on the bed like a corpse.</p> - -<p><i>July</i> 26<i>th, Sunday</i>.—A cyclone devastates the Jardin des Plantes. -The papers contain items which I find especially interesting. To-day, -Andrée's balloon is to ascend for its voyage to the North Pole, but -the occasion is not propitious. The storm has hurled down several -balloons, which have ascended at various points, and killed many -aeronauts.</p> - -<p>The next morning I leave Dieppe, uttering a benediction on the house, -over whose well-deserved happiness my sadness had cast a shadow.</p> - -<p>Since I do not wish to believe in the interference of supernatural -powers, I imagine that I am the victim of a nervous illness. -Accordingly, I make up my mind to go to Sweden and see a physician who -is a friend of mine.</p> - -<p>As a memorial of Dieppe, I take a piece of iron-ore which has a -trefoil shape like a Gothic window, and is marked with the sign of -a Maltese cross. A child has found it on the shore, and tells me -that these stones fall from the sky and are cast by the waves on the -land. I believe him willingly, and keep the gift as a talisman, the -significance of which is hidden from me. (On the coast of Brittany -the coast-dwellers are accustomed after storms to collect stones -shaped like crosses, with a gold-like shimmer. These stones are called -"staurolites.")</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The little town to which I now betook myself lies in the extreme south -of Sweden, on the seacoast. It is an old pirates' and smugglers' -haunt, in which exotic traces of all parts of the world have been -left by various voyagers. My doctor's house looks like a Buddhist -cloister. The four wings of the one-storeyed house form a quadrangle, -in the centre of which the dome-shaped wood-shed resembles the tomb of -Tamerlane at Samarcand. The style of which the roof is built and faced -with Chinese bricks recalls the Farther East. An apathetic tortoise -crawls over the pavement and disappears in a Nirvana of innumerable -weeds. In the garden is a pagoda-shaped summer-house completely -overgrown by clematis.</p> - -<p>In the whole of this cloister, with its countless rooms, there lives -only one person, the director of the district hospital. He is a -widower, solitary and independent, and from the hard discipline of life -has derived that strong and noble contempt of men which leads to a deep -knowledge of the vanity of all things, oneself included.</p> - -<p>The entrance of this man into my life occurred in such an unexpected -manner, that I am inclined to assign it to the dramatic skill of a -<i>Deus ex machina</i>.</p> - -<p>At our first greeting, on my arrival from Dieppe, he looks at me -inquiringly, and suddenly asks, "You have a nervous illness! Good! But -that is not all. You look so strange that I do not recognise you. What -have you been after? Dissipation, crime, lost illusions, religion? Tell -me, old fellow!"</p> - -<p>But I tell him nothing special, for my first thought is one of -suspicion. He is prejudiced against me, has made inquiries about me -in some quarter, and wants to have me confined. I tell him about my -sleeplessness, nervousness, and bad dreams, and then we talk of other -things.</p> - -<p>In my room my attention is arrested by the American bed, with its four -legs topped by four brass balls, which look like the conductors of an -electric machine. Add to this an elastic mattress with copper springs, -resembling Ruhmkorff induction coils, and one can easily imagine my -rage at this diabolical coincidence. Besides, it is impossible to ask -for another bed, as I might be suspected of being mad. In order to -assure myself that nothing is concealed above me, I mount into the loft -overhead. There is only one object there, but it drives me almost to -desperation. An enormous wire-net rolled together stands immediately -over my bed. One could not wish for a better accumulator. If there is a -thunderstorm, such as is frequent here, the wire network will attract -the lightning, and I shall be lying on the conductor. But I do not -venture to say a word.</p> - -<p>The first thing that disturbs me is the noise of a machine. Since I -have quitted the Hôtel Orfila I have a roaring in my ears like the -sound of a water-wheel. Doubting the objective existence of this noise, -I ask the cause of it, and learn that it is the printing-press close -by. The explanation is plausible, and, though little satisfied, I do -not wish to excite myself.</p> - -<p>The dreaded night comes on. The sky is covered with clouds; the air is -close; we expect a thunderstorm. I do not venture to lie down to sleep, -and write letters for two hours. At last, overcome with weariness, I -undress myself and creep into bed. The lamp is extinguished; a terrible -stillness reigns in the house. I feel that someone is watching me in -the darkness, touches me and feels for my heart in order to suck my -blood. Without waiting any longer, I spring out of bed, fling open -the window and jump into the courtyard—but I have forgotten the -rose-bushes, whose sharp thorns pierce me through my night-shirt. -Scratched and streaming with blood, I grope about the courtyard. -Gravel-stones, thistles, and nettles lacerate my feet; unknown objects -trip me up. At last I reach the kitchen, which adjoins the doctor's -sitting-room. I knock. No answer. Suddenly I discover that it is -raining all the time. O misery of miseries! What have I done to deserve -these tortures? It is hell. Miserere! Miserere!</p> - -<p>I knock repeatedly. It is strange that no one is at hand when I am -attacked. Always this solitude! Does it not point to a plot against me -in which all are implicated?</p> - -<p>At last I hear the doctor's voice, "Who is there?"</p> - -<p>"It is I: I am ill. Open, or I die!"</p> - -<p>He opens the door. "What is the matter?"</p> - -<p>I begin my report by giving an account of the attack in the Rue de -la Clef, which I ascribe to enemies, who persecute me by means of -electricity.</p> - -<p>"Stop, unhappy man! Your mind is affected!"</p> - -<p>"The devil it is! Test my intelligence; read what I write daily and -what is printed——"</p> - -<p>"Stop! not a word to anyone! These stories of electricity are frequent -in asylum reports."</p> - -<p>"All the better! I care so little for your asylum reports that in order -to clear the matter up, I am willing to be examined to-morrow in the -asylum at Lund."</p> - -<p>"Then you are lost! Not a word more now! Lie down and sleep."</p> - -<p>I refuse to do so, and insist on his hearing me; he refuses to listen.</p> - -<p>When I am alone, I ask myself, "Is it possible that my friend, an -honourable man, who has always kept aloof from dirty transactions, at -the close of a blameless career should succumb to temptation? But who -has tempted him?" I have no answer to this question, but many surmises. -"Every man has his price," says the proverb, but a large sum must -have been necessary to bribe this strong character. But one does not -pay very highly for an ordinary piece of revenge. Therefore he must -have a strong interest in the matter himself. Stop! I have it! I have -made gold; the doctor has half-accomplished it also, although, when -asked, he denies having repeated the experiments regarding which I had -corresponded with him. He denies it, and yet as I stepped across the -pavement of the courtyard last evening I found proofs that he had been -experimenting. Therefore he is lying. Moreover, in conversation the -same evening, he enlarged on the sad consequences which the possible -manufacture of gold would entail upon mankind. Universal bankruptcy, -universal confusion, anarchy, ruin. "One would have to kill the -discoverer of the process," he concluded.</p> - -<p>Moreover, I know the fairly modest private means of my friend. I am -astonished to hear him speak of his intended purchase of the ground on -which his dwelling stands. He is in debt, must even economise, and yet -means to be a landowner. Everything combines to render me suspicious of -my good friend.</p> - -<p>Grant that I am suffering from persecution-mania, but what smith forges -the links of these hellish syllogisms?</p> - -<p>"The discoverer would have to be killed." This is the thought with -which my mental torment subsides into sleep about the time of sunrise.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We have commenced a cold-water cure. I have changed my room, and have -fairly quiet nights now, although not without relapses.</p> - -<p>One evening the doctor sees the breviary lying on my table, and becomes -angry and excited. "Always this religion! That is also a symptom, don't -you know?"</p> - -<p>"Or a necessity like other necessities!"</p> - -<p>"Enough! I am no atheist, but I think the Almighty does not wish to be -addressed in such intimate terms as formerly. These flatteries of the -Deity belong to the past, and personally I agree with the Mohammedans, -who only ask for the gift of resignation in order to support the burden -Destiny imposes upon them with dignity."</p> - -<p>Significant words, from which I extract some grains of gold for myself. -He carries away my breviary and Bible, and says: "Read indifferent -matters of secondary interest, world histories, or mythologies, and -leave idle dreaming. Above all things, beware of occultism, that -caricature of science. It is forbidden to us to spy out the Creator's -secrets, and woe to them who seek to do so!"</p> - -<p>On my objecting that the occultists in Paris form a whole body by -themselves, he only says, "All the worse for them." In the evening he -brings me, without any ulterior purpose, I am sure, Victor Rydberg's -<i>German Mythology</i>.</p> - -<p>"Here is something to send you to sleep, standing. It is better than -sulphonal."</p> - -<p>If my good friend had known what a spark he was throwing into a keg of -powder, he would rather——</p> - -<p>The <i>Mythology</i> which he put into my hands is in two volumes, has -altogether a thousand pages, and opens, so to speak, of itself. My eyes -are arrested by the following lines which are imprinted in letters of -fire on my memory:—"As the legend relates, Bhrign, having out-grown -his father's teaching, became so conceited, that he believed he could -surpass his teacher. The latter sent him into the underworld where, in -order to humble him, he had to witness countless terrible things, of -which he had never had a conception."</p> - -<p>That means: "My conceit, my pride, my ὕβρις, has been -punished by my father and teacher. And I am in hell, driven thither by -the powers. And who is my teacher? Swedenborg."</p> - -<p>I turn over more leaves of this wonderful book: "One may compare with -this the German myth of the fields of thorns which tear the feet of the -unrighteous."</p> - -<p>Enough! Enough! Thorns, too! That is too much! No doubt of it—I am in -hell! And in fact, real occurrences support this idea so powerfully, -that I must at last believe it.</p> - -<p>The doctor seems to me to be struggling with conflicting emotions. At -one time he seems prejudiced against me, looks at me contemptiously, -and treats me with humiliating rudeness; at another he seems himself -unhappy, and soothes and comforts me as though I were a sick child. But -then, again, it seems to give him pleasure to be able to trample under -his feet a man of worth for whom he has formerly had a high regard. -Then he lectures me like a pitiless tormentor. I am to work, but not -to give way to exaggerated ambition; I am to fulfil my duties to my -fatherland and family: "Leave chemical speculations alone," he says; -"they are a chimera. There are so many specialists, authorities, and -professional scientists well versed in their own branches."</p> - -<p>One day he proposes to me to write for the newest Stockholm society -paper. A fine idea, indeed! I answer him that I do not require to -write for the newest Stockholm paper, since the leading paper of Paris -and of the whole world has accepted my manuscripts. Then he plays the -incredulous, and treats me as a braggart, although he has read my -articles in the <i>Figaro</i>, and has himself translated my first one in -<i>Gil Blas</i>.</p> - -<p>I am not angry with him; he only plays the rôle assigned to him by -Providence. I forcibly suppress the growing hatred which I feel -towards this unexpected tormentor, and curse the fate which changes -what might have been thankfulness towards a generous friend into -unnatural ingratitude.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Trifling occurrences ceaselessly arouse my suspicions regarding the -doctor's evil intentions. To-day he has deposited in the garden -verandah an entirely new set of axes, saws, and hammers. What does -he want with them? In his sleeping-room are two guns and a revolver, -and in a corridor a collection of axes which are much too heavy for -merely domestic purposes. What a Satanic coincidence that I should have -these implements of execution and torture before my eyes! For I cannot -explain to myself what they mean, and why they are there. My nights now -pass fairly quietly, while the doctor has taken to roaming about at -night. Once at midnight I am startled by the sudden report of a gun. -Out of politeness I pretend not to have heard it. The next morning he -explains that a covey of woodpeckers had flown into the garden and -disturbed his sleep. Another time, at two o'clock at night, I hear the -hoarse voice of the house-keeper, and on another occasion I hear the -doctor sigh and groan and invoke "the Lord." Is this house haunted? -Who has brought me here?</p> - -<p>I cannot suppress a smile when I see how the nightmare with which I -have been oppressed now takes possession of my gaoler. But my malicious -joy is promptly punished. I have a terrible nervous attack. My heart -seems to stop beating, and I hear two words, which I have noted in my -diary. An unknown voice calls out, "Luthardt: Druggist." Druggist! Are -they slowly poisoning me with alkaloids such as hyoscyamin, hashish, -digitalis, and stramonin, which cause delirium?</p> - -<p>I don't know, but from that time my suspicion is doubled. They do not -dare to murder me, but they are trying to drive me mad by artificial -means, in order to make me disappear in an asylum. Appearances are -stronger and stronger against the doctor. I find out that he has -discovered my process of making gold, and that perhaps he knew it -before I did. Everything which he says contradicts itself the next -moment, and when confronted by a liar my imagination takes the bit -between its teeth and rushes beyond all reasonable bounds.</p> - -<p>On the morning of the 8th of August I go for a walk before the town. On -the high road a telegraph post is humming: I step up to it, lay my ear -on it, and listen as if bewitched. At the foot of the post there lies -by chance a horse-shoe. I pick it up and carry it away as an omen of -good luck.</p> - -<p><i>August</i> 10<i>th</i>.—The behaviour of the doctor during the last few -days has disquieted me more than ever. By his strange aspect I see -that he has struggled with himself; his face is pale; his eyes seem -dead. During the whole day he sings or whistles; a letter which he has -received has excited him much.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon he comes home with bloody hands from an operation, and -brings a two months' old fœtus with him. He looks like a butcher, -and talks in a hateful way: "Let them kill the weak, and protect the -strong! Down with pity, for it degrades men." I hear him with alarm, -and secretly watch him, after we have wished each other good-night on -the threshold which divides our rooms. First of all, he goes in the -garden, but I cannot hear what he does. Then he steps into the verandah -adjoining my sleeping-room and stops there. He busies himself with some -fairly heavy object, and winds up a piece of clock-work which, however, -belongs to no clock. Half-undressed, I await, standing motionless, the -result of these mysterious preparations.</p> - -<p>Then once more the well-known electric fluid streams through the -wall on my bed, seeks my breast, and under it, my heart. The tension -increases: I seize my clothes, slip through the window, and do not -dress till I am outside the house. There I am again in the street, on -the pavement, my last refuge and only friend behind me! I wander onward -without a definite aim; but when I come to myself I go direct to the -chief physician of the town. I have to ring and wait, and prepare what -to say so as not to injure my friend.</p> - -<p>At last the doctor appears. I excuse myself for paying such an -untimely visit on the plea of sleeplessness, palpitations, and want of -confidence in my own doctor, who, I said, treated me as a hypochondriac -and would not listen to me. The doctor invites me inside, as though he -had been expecting me, asks me to take a seat, and offers me a cigar -and a glass of wine. I breathe freely at finding myself once more -treated as a respectable man, and not a wretched idiot. We chat for two -hours, and the doctor turns out to be a theosophist to whom I can tell -everything, without compromising myself. At last about midnight I rise -in order to find an hotel; the doctor, however, advises me to return -home.</p> - -<p>"Never! he is capable of murdering me!"</p> - -<p>"But if I accompany you?"</p> - -<p>"Then, indeed, we should meet the enemy's fire together. But he would -never forgive me!"</p> - -<p>"All the same, let us venture."</p> - -<p>So I return to the house. The door is shut, and I knock. When my friend -enters after a minute, it is I who am seized with compassion, he, the -surgeon, who is accustomed to witness suffering without emotion, he, -the advocate of deliberate murder, is an object of pity indeed. He -is pale as death, trembles, stammers, and at the sight of the doctor -standing behind me seems on the point of collapse, so that I feel more -panic-struck than ever. Is it conceivable that this man intended a -murder and now feared detection? No, it is not; I reject the thought; -it is wicked. After insignificant and on my part really ridiculous -remarks, we go to our bedrooms.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There occur in life such terrible incidents that the mind refuses to -retain the memory of them for a moment, but the impression remains and -becomes irresistibly alive again. Thus there comes to my mind something -which took place in the doctor's waiting-room during my night visit. -He went to fetch wine; left alone I contemplated a cupboard with carved -panels of walnut or alderwood, I forget which. As usual, the veins in -the wood formed figures in my imagination. Among them I saw in lively -presentment a head with a goat's beard, and immediately turned my back -upon it. It was Pan in person, as depicted by the ancients and as -metamorphosed later into the Devil of the Middle Ages. I content myself -by noting the fact; the owner of the cupboard, the doctor, would be -doing occult sciences a great service if he would allow the panel to be -photographed. In the <i>Initiation</i> for November, 1896, Dr. Marc Haven -has treated of this phenomenon, which is common in all the kingdoms of -nature, and I recommend the reader to regard attentively the face on -the shell of the tortoise.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>After this adventure, open hostility breaks out between my friend and -me. He gives me to understand that I am an idler, and that my presence -is superfluous. To this I rejoin that I must wait for the arrival of -important letters, but that I am ready at any time to go to an hotel. -He now plays the rôle of the injured party. As a matter of fact, I -cannot leave for want of money. For the rest, I anticipate that a -turning-point in my destiny is at hand. My health is now restored -again; I sleep quietly and work diligently. The wrath of Providence -seems to have spent itself, for my exertions are crowned with success -in all quarters. If I take a book at haphazard out of the doctor's -library, it always gives the explanation I was looking for. Thus I find -in an old chemical treatise the secret of my process for making gold, -and I can now prove by metallurgic calculations and analogies that I -have made gold, and that gold has always been obtained when one has -gone to work in the same way. An essay on matter which I have written -and sent to a French review is immediately published. I show the -article to the doctor, who betrays his annoyance, since he cannot deny -the fact. Then I say to myself, "How can that man be my friend, who is -vexed at my <i>success</i>?"</p> - -<p><i>August</i> 12<i>th</i>.—I buy an album at the book-shop. It is a kind -of note-book with a gilt leather cover. The design on it attracts -my attention, and constitutes, strange as it may sound, a kind of -prophecy, the interpretation of which will appear in the sequel. It -is as follows: On the left is the waxing moon in the first quarter, -surrounded by a branch in blossom; three horses' heads (trijugum) -project from the moon; above is a branch of laurel; beneath three -pillars; on the right hand, a bell out of which flowers appear; a wheel -like a sun, etc.</p> - -<p><i>August</i> 13<i>th</i>.—The day announced by the clock on the Boulevard St. -Michel has arrived. I wait for something to happen, but in vain; none -the less. I am certain that somewhere something is happening, the -result of which I shall hear in a short time.</p> - -<p><i>August</i> 14<i>th</i>.—On the street I pick up a leaf out of an old office -calendar; in large type there is printed on it "August 13th" (the same -date which was on the clock). Underneath in smaller type is a sentence, -"Do nothing secretly which thou canst not do also openly."</p> - -<p><i>August</i> 15<i>th</i>.—A letter from my wife. She bewails my lot; she still -loves me, and with our child is waiting for a change in the melancholy -situation. Her parents, who formerly hated me, are full of sympathy -for my sufferings, and what is more, they invite me to visit my little -angel of a daughter, who lives with her grandparents in the country. -That calls me back to life. My child, my daughter is more than my wife. -Only to think of embracing the harmless, innocent creature, whom I -wished to injure,<a name="FNanchor_1_8" id="FNanchor_1_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_8" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> to ask her forgiveness, to brighten her life by -little paternal attentions, after having longed for years to show the -love which has been repressed! I live again, wake up as if out of a -long bad dream, and revere the stern will of the Lord, whose hard but -wise hand has smitten me. "Blessed is he whom God chastens." Blessed, -for he does not trouble about others.</p> - -<p>While it is still uncertain whether I shall meet my wife on the Danube, -a matter to which, because of an undefined grudge against her, I am -quite indifferent, I prepare for my pilgrimage, perfectly aware that it -is a penance, and that new mortifications await me.</p> - -<p>After thirty days of misery, at last the doors of my torture-chamber -open. I part from my friend—my executioner—without bitterness. He has -only been the scourge in the hand of Providence. Behold, blessed is the -man whom the Lord chasteneth.</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_8" id="Footnote_1_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_8"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See above, page 38.</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="VII" id="VII">VII</a></h4> - -<h4>BEATRICE</h4> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>In Berlin, I drive from the Stettin to the Anhalt Station. The -half-hour's drive becomes a real way of thorns for me, so many are -the memories which painfully revive in me. At first we pass through -the street in which my friend Popoffsky, as an unknown, but yet -misunderstood, man fought his first battles with poverty and passion. -Now his wife and child are both dead; they died in this house on the -left; and our friendship has turned into bitter hatred.</p> - -<p>Here, on the right, are the restaurants frequented by artists and -authors, the scenes of so many intellectual and erotic orgies. Here is -the Cantina Italiana, where I used to meet with my fiancée three years -ago, and where the first honorarium I received from Italy was spent in -Chianti. There is the Schiffbauerdamm with the Pension Fulda, which we -lived in when a young married pair. Here is my theatre, my book-seller, -my tailor, my chemist.</p> - -<p>What unhappy instinct leads the cabman to drive me through this <i>via -dolorosa</i> full of buried memories, which at this late hour of the night -rise again like ghosts? Why does he choose just the street in which -is the restaurant, the "Black Pig," well known as a favourite resort -of Heine and E.T.A. Hoffmann? The restaurant keeper himself stands -on the steps under the grotesque sign-board. He looks at me without -recognition. For a second the candelabrum within darts coloured rays -through the numerous bottles in the window, and makes me live again a -year of my life which abounded in grief and joy, friendship and love. -At the same time, I feel keenly that it is all over, and must be buried -to make place for something new.</p> - -<p>I spent the night in Berlin. The next morning a deep rose-red flush in -the East greeted me over the roofs. I remember having seen this rosy -colour in Malmö on the evening of my departure. I leave Berlin, my -second home, where I have spent my "second spring," that is, my last. -At the Anhalt Station, full of these memories, I give up all hope of -the renewal of a spring and a love which can never return.</p> - -<p>After a night in Tabor, whither the rosy glow followed me, I travel -through the Bohemian mountains to the Danube. There the railway ends, -and I traverse the Danube plain, which extends to Grein, in a carriage. -We pass between orchards of apple and pear trees, cornfields and green -meadows. At last, on a hill on the other side of the river, I discover -the little church in which I never was, but which I know well as the -central point of the landscape which extends before the house where my -child was born. It is now two years since that unforgettable month of -May. I pass through villages and convents; along the road there rise -innumerable penitential chapels, hills crowned with crucifixes, votive -pictures, monuments, reminding one of accidents and sudden deaths -by lightning, and in other ways. At the end of my pilgrimage there -certainly await me the twelve stations of the Cross. Every hundred -paces the Crucified meets me with His crown of thorns, and instils into -me courage to bear scourging and crucifixion. I painfully convince -myself beforehand, that <i>she</i>, as I might have known, will not be there. -Now, since my wife can no more divert the domestic storm, I must -expect tit-for-tat from the old parents, whom I left under unpleasant -circumstances, though against my will. I come accordingly for the sake -of peace to be punished, and when I have passed the last village and -the last crucifix, my feelings are something like those of a condemned -man awaiting execution.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I had left an infant six weeks old, and I found a little girl of two -and a half. She turned on me a searching look, but not one of dislike, -as though she wished to find out whether I had come for her own or her -mother's sake. After she had assured herself of the former, she let -herself be embraced, and put her little arms round my neck. I am in a -mood like Faust's when he exclaims, "the earth has me again," but more -tender and purer. I am delighted in taking the little one on my arm, -and feeling her heart beat against mine. Love for a child turns a man -into a woman; it is sexless and heavenly, as Swedenborg says. This -is the beginning of my education for heaven. But I have not yet done -penance enough.</p> - -<p>Briefly put, the situation is as follows: My wife is staying with her -married sister, for her grandmother, who is in possession of the family -property, has vowed that our marriage shall be dissolved, so intensely -does she hate me, on account of my ingratitude and other matters. -So I with my child remain as a welcome guest of my mother-in-law, -and contentedly accept the hospitality offered me, under present -circumstances, for an indefinite time. My mother-in-law, with the -placable and submissive mind of a deeply religious woman, has forgiven -me all.</p> - -<p><i>September</i> 1<i>st</i>.—I occupy the room in which my wife has spent her -two years of separation. Here she has suffered, while I suffered in -Paris. Poor, poor woman! Are we so severely punished, because we have -trifled with love?</p> - -<p>During the evening meal the following incident happens. In order to -help my little daughter, who cannot yet help herself, I touch her hand -quite gently and kindly. The child utters a cry, draws her hand back, -and casts at me a glance full of alarm. When her grandmother asks what -is the matter, she answers, "He hurts me." In my confusion I am unable -to utter a word. How many persons have I deliberately hurt, and hurt -still, though without intending it. At night I dream of an eagle which -tears at my hand for some unknown crime.</p> - -<p>In the morning my daughter visits me; her manner is gentle and coaxing. -She drinks coffee with me, and remains standing by my writing-table -while I show her pictures. We are already good friends, and my -mother-in-law is glad that she has someone to help her in educating the -little one. In the evening I accompany her going to bed, and hear her -prayers. She is a Catholic, and when she bids me pray and make the sign -of the cross, I remain silent, for I am a Protestant.</p> - -<p><i>September</i> 2<i>nd</i>.—Everything is in confusion. My mother-in-law's -mother, who lives not far from here on the bank of the stream, intends -to have an expulsion order made out against me. She wants me to go -at once, and threatens if I disobey to disinherit her daughter. My -mother-in-law's sister, a good woman, who is separated from her -husband, invites me to stay with her in the neighbouring village till -the storm has blown over. She comes herself to fetch me. From the top -of a hill about a mile off, one looks into a circular valley, like the -crater of a volcano, out of which rise many smaller hills covered with -pines. In the middle of this crater lies the village with its church, -and above, on a precipitous height, a castle built in the mediæval -style; between, lie fields and meadows watered by a stream which rushes -into a ravine below the castle.</p> - -<p>This peculiar and unique landscape makes a strange impression on me, -and the thought arises: "I must have seen it somewhere before, but -where, where?"</p> - -<p>In the zinc bath in the Hôtel Orfila, traced out in oxide of iron! -Without question, it is the same landscape!</p> - -<p>My aunt goes down with me into the village, where she owns a -three-storeyed house. The capacious edifice also contains a baker's and -butcher's shop, and a restaurant. It has a lightning-conductor, because -the store was a year ago struck by lightning. When my good aunt, who is -as rigidly religious as her sister, conducts me to the room assigned -for my use, I remain fixed on the threshold as if arrested by a vision. -The walls are painted a rose-colour, which reminds me of the flush of -the dawns which accompanied me on my journey. The curtains are also -rose-coloured, and the windows so full of flowers that the daylight is -subdued by them. Everything is spotlessly clean, and the bed with its -canopy supported by four pillars is like that of a maiden. The whole -room with its appurtenances is a poem, and speaks of a soul which only -half lives upon earth. The Crucified is not there, but the Blessed -Virgin is, and a vessel of holy water guards the entrance against evil -spirits.</p> - -<p>A feeling of shame seizes me, and I fear to sully the ideal of a pure -heart which has erected this temple to the Virgin over the grave of her -only love, who has been dead ten years, and in confusion I attempt to -decline the kindly offer. But the good lady insists: "It will do you -good, if you sacrifice your earthly love to the love of God, and of -your child. Believe me, this thornless love will preserve your peace of -mind and cheerfulness of spirit, and under the protection of the Virgin -you will sleep quietly."</p> - -<p>I kiss her hand as a sign of gratitude for her sacrifice, and consent -with a feeling of humility of which I had not thought myself capable. -The powers seem to be gracious to me, and to have arranged the -sufferings they have ordained for my improvement. Still, for some -reason or other, I wish to sleep another night in Saxen, and put off -my change of residence till the next day. So I return with my aunt to -my child. Looking at the house from the street, I discover that the -lightning-conductor is fastened exactly above my bed.</p> - -<p>What an infernal coincidence! It makes me think again that I am the -subject of a personal persecution. I also notice that my window -commands a pleasant prospect, looking out as it does on a poorhouse -occupied by released criminals and sick people, among whom several are -dying. A sorry spectacle truly, to have continually before one's eyes!</p> - -<p>In Saxen I pack my things and prepare for departure. I part with sorrow -from my child, who has become so dear to me. The cruelty of the old -woman, who has succeeded in separating me from wife and child, enrages -me. Angrily I shake my fist against a painting of her which hangs -over my bed, and utter an imprecation against her. Two hours later a -terrible storm breaks over the village. One lightning flash succeeds -another, the rain pours in torrents, the sky is pitch dark.</p> - -<p>The next day I am in Klam, where the rose-coloured room awaits me. Over -my aunt's house there hangs a cloud in the shape of a dragon. They tell -me that a house quite close by has been struck by lightning, and that -the torrents of rain have injured haystacks and carried away bridges.</p> - -<p>On the 10th of September a cyclone has devastated Paris, and that under -most extraordinary circumstances. Without any warning, it suddenly -rises behind St. Sulpice in the Jardin de Luxembourg, grazes the -Théâtre du Châlet and the police station, and disappears behind the -St. Louis hospital, after it has torn up iron gratings for fifty yards -round. Regarding this cyclone and the one in the Jardin des Plantes, my -theosophical friend asks me, "What is a cyclone? Is it an ebullition of -hatred, the eruption of some passion, the effluence of some spirit?"</p> - -<p>It must be a coincidence, or rather, more than a coincidence, that in -a letter which crosses his, I have asked him as one initiated in the -occult doctrines of the Hindus, "Can the philosophers of Hindustan -cause cyclones?"</p> - -<p>I began to suspect the adepts in magic of persecuting me on account of -my gold-making or my obstinacy, and of wishing to bring me in complete -subjection to their society. In the <i>German Mythology</i> of Rydberg and -in <i>Wärend och Widarne</i> of Hilten-Cavallius, I had read that witches -were in the habit of appearing in a storm or in short and violent gusts -of wind. I mention this to show my mental condition before I fell in -with Swedenborg's teaching.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The sanctuary shines in white and rose, and the saint will soon join -his disciple, who summons him from their common fatherland in order -to revive the memory of the man who was more highly equipped with -spiritual gifts than any born of woman in these modern times. France -sent Anskar<a name="FNanchor_1_9" id="FNanchor_1_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_9" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> in the early middle ages to baptise Sweden; a thousand -years later Sweden sent Swedenborg to re-baptise France by means of -his disciple Saint-Martin. The Martinist orders, who know the rôle -they have to play in the founding of a new France, will not undervalue -the purport of these words, and still less the significance of the -above-mentioned millennium.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_9" id="Footnote_1_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_9"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> French missionary (801-865 A.D.).</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="VIII" id="VIII">VIII</a></h4> - -<h4>SWEDENBORG</h4> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>My mother-in-law and my aunt completely resemble each other in -character, tastes, and inclinations, and each sees in the other her -counterpart. On the first evening of my stay I narrate to them my -mysterious adventures, doubts, and sufferings. They both exclaim, -with a certain look of satisfaction in their faces, "You are where -we have already been." Both starting from a neutral point of view -as regards religion had begun to study occultism. From that moment -onwards they suffered from sleepless nights, mysterious accidents -accompanied by terrible fears, and at last, attacks of madness. The -invisible furies pursue their prey up to the very gates of the city -of refuge—religion. But before they have got so far the protecting -angel reveals himself—and that is Swedenborg. The good ladies wrongly -suppose that I have a thorough acquaintance with the writings of my -fellow-countrymen. Astonished at my ignorance, they give me, with a -certain air of reserve, however, an old volume in German, saying, "Take -it, read, and don't be afraid."</p> - -<p>"Afraid? Why should I be?" I answer.</p> - -<p>Returning to the rose-coloured room, I open the book at haphazard and -read. The reader may conceive my astonishment when my eyes fall on the -description of one of Swedenborg's hells which exactly reproduces the -landscape of Klam, as I saw it in the zinc bath. The crater-shaped -valley, the pine-crowned hill, the ravine with the stream, the heaps of -dung, the pig-sty—they are all there.</p> - -<p>Hell? But I have been brought up in the profoundest contempt of the -doctrine of hell, as one consigned to the rubbish-heap of out-worn -ideas. And yet I cannot deny the fact—and that is the novelty in -this exposition of the doctrine of so-called eternal punishment—we -are already in hell. Earth, earth is hell? the dungeon appointed by -a superior power, in which I cannot move a step without injuring the -happiness of others, and in which others cannot remain happy without -hurting me. Thus Swedenborg depicts hell, and perhaps without knowing -it, earthly life, at the same time.</p> - -<p>The fire of hell is the wish to rise in the world; the powers awaken -this wish and allow the damned souls to get all they want. But as -soon as the goal is reached, and the wish is fulfilled, everything is -seen to be worthless and the victory is null and void. Oh, vanity of -vanities! Then, after the first disappointment, the powers rekindle -the flame of ambition and desire; and satisfied greed and satiety are -still a worse torment than unquenched appetite. Thus the Devil suffers -everlasting punishment, for he gets all he wants at once, so that he -cannot enjoy it.</p> - -<p>When I compare the Swedenborgian hells with the punishments described -in the <i>German Mythology</i>, I find an obvious likeness, but for me the -bare fact that both these books have fallen into my hand exactly at -the right moment is the essential point. I am in hell, and damnation -weighs upon me like a heavy burden. When I go over my past, my -childhood already appears to me like a prison house or torture chamber. -In order to explain the sufferings inflicted upon innocent children, -one has only to suppose an earlier existence, out of which we have -been cast down in order to bear the consequences of forgotten sins. -With a docile mind, which is my chief weakness, I receive a deep and -sombre impression from my reading of Swedenborg. And the powers let -me rest no more. Walking along the little brook in the neighbourhood -of the village, I reach the so-called ravine path between the two -mountains. The entrance between fallen and precipitous rocks has a -wonderful attraction for me. The almost perpendicular hill, crowned by -the deserted castle, forms the gate of the ravine, in which the stream -drives a water-mill. A freak of nature has given the rock the form of -a Turk's head, a fact well known in the neighbourhood. Underneath, the -miller's shed leans against the wall of rock. Upon the latch of the -door hangs a goat's horn smeared over with fat, and by it stands a -broom. This is certainly quite natural and ordinary, yet I cannot help -asking myself what devil has put these two symbols of witchcraft, the -goat's horn and the broom, just this morning in my way? I press farther -on up the damp, dark, and uneven path, and come to a wooden building, -the strange aspect of which makes me stop. It is a long, low erection, -with six openings like oven doors. Oven doors! Ye gods, where am I then?</p> - -<p>The image of Dante's hell, the red-glowing tombs of the heresiarchs, -rises before me—and the six oven doors! Is it a bad dream? No, -commonplace fact, for a frightful stench, a stream of dirt, and a -chorus of grunting reveals to me immediately that I have a pig-sty in -front of me.</p> - -<p>Between the miller's house and the hill, just under the Turk's head, -the path contracts to a narrow passage. As I go farther along it, -I find myself confronted by a large, wolf-coloured Danish dog, a -counterpart of the monster which guarded the studio in the Rue de la -Santé in Paris. I retreat two steps, but immediately remember Jacques -Cœur's motto, "To a brave heart nothing is impossible," and press -onward into the ravine. Cerberus appears not to notice me, and so I -pursue the path which now winds between low and gloomy houses. On one -side, a black, tailless fowl with a red comb is running about, on the -other a woman wearing a red crescent-shaped ornament on her forehead -comes out of a house. She looks beautiful at first, but as she comes -nearer, I see that she is toothless and ugly.</p> - -<p>The waterfall and the mill combined make a noise like that roaring in -the ears which I had during my first period of disquiet in Paris. The -white-powdered miller's men, who control the machinery, look like -angels or executioners, and the never-ceasing stream of water rushes -from under the great never-resting wheel. Then I reach the smithy -with its bare-armed, blackened workmen armed with tongs, choppers, -screw-vices, and hammers; amid the flames and sparks of the furnace -there lie red-glowing iron and molten lead. There is a frightful din, -which makes my brain vibrate and my heart leap. Farther on groans the -great saw of the saw-mill, and tortures with gnashing teeth the giant -tree-trunks which lie on the block, while the sawdust trickles down on -the damp ground.</p> - -<p>The ravine-path, terribly devastated by cyclones and storms, continues -along the stream; the subsiding overflow has left a greyish-green layer -of mud behind, covering the sharp pebbles on which my feet continually -slip. I wish to cross the water, but since the little bridge has been -swept away, I halt under a precipice whose overhanging rock threatens -to fall on an image of the Virgin, who seems to support the sinking -hill on her tender shoulders.</p> - -<p>Meditating on this combination of coincidences, which, taken together, -without being supernatural, form a remarkable whole, I return home.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Eight days and eight quiet nights I spend in the rose-coloured room. My -peace of mind returns with the daily visits of my little daughter, who -loves me, and whom I love. By my relations I am treated like a sick, -spoilt child. The reading of Swedenborg occupies me during the day and -depresses me by the realism of its descriptions. All my observations, -feelings, and thoughts are so vividly reflected there, that his visions -seem to me like experiences and real "human documents." It is no -question of blind faith; it is enough for me to read his experiences -and to compare with them my own. The book I have is only an extract; -the chief riddle of the spiritual life will be solved for me later on -when his <i>Arcana Cœlestia</i> falls into my hands. In the midst of my -reflections, which lead to the newly-won conviction that there is a God -who punishes, some lines of Swedenborg comfort me, and immediately I -begin to excuse myself and yield to my old pride. In the evening I take -my mother-in-law into my confidence, and ask her, "Do you think I am a -damned soul?"</p> - -<p>"No; although I have never seen any human destiny like yours; but you -have not yet found the right way to lead you to the Lord."</p> - -<p>"Do you remember Swedenborg and his <i>Principia Cœli</i>, how he -describes the stages of spiritual progress? First, an elevated -ambition. Now, my ambition has never led me to strive after honour, nor -to try to impress people with a sense of my ability. Secondly, love of -happiness and money, in order to profit people. You know that I seek -no gain and despise money. As regards my gold-making, I have sworn in -the presence of the powers that any profits I made should be used for -humanitarian, scientific, and religious objects. Finally, wedded love. -Need I say that from my youth I have concentrated my love of woman -on the idea of marriage, of the family, and the wife. What in actual -experience befell me that I should marry the widow of a man who was -still alive, is an irony of fate which I cannot explain, but which -cannot be regarded as a serious misdemeanour when contrasted with the -irregularities of ordinary bachelor life."</p> - -<p>After some moments of reflection, my mother-in-law replied: "I cannot -dispute your assertion; for I have found in your writings a spirit -of aspiration and endeavour, whose efforts have been involuntarily -frustrated. Certainly, you must be doing penance, for sins which you -committed before your birth. You must in your former existence have -been a blood-stained conqueror, and therefore you suffer repeatedly the -terrors of death without being able to die. Now be religious inwardly -and outwardly."</p> - -<p>"You mean that I should become a Catholic?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Swedenborg says it is forbidden to quit the religion of one's fathers, -for everyone belongs to the spiritual territory on which he is born."</p> - -<p>"The Catholic religion receives graciously everyone who seeks it."</p> - -<p>"I will be content with a lower position. In case of need I can find a -place among the Jews and Mohammedans, who are also admitted to heaven. -I am modest."</p> - -<p>"Grace is offered you, but you prefer the mess of pottage to the right -of the first-born."</p> - -<p>"The right of the first-born for the <i>Son of a Servant</i>!<a name="FNanchor_1_10" id="FNanchor_1_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_10" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Too much! -Too much!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Restored to self-respect by Swedenborg, I regard myself once more as -Job, the righteous and sinless man, whom the Eternal tries in order -to show the wicked the example of a righteous man enduring unjust -sufferings.</p> - -<p>My pious vanity is tickled by the idea. I am proud of the distinction -of being persecuted by misfortune, and am never weary of repeating, -"See! how I have suffered." Before my relatives I accuse myself of -living in too much luxury, and my rose-coloured room seems to me to -be a satire upon me. They notice my sincere repentance, and overwhelm -me with kindnesses and little indulgences. In brief, I am one of the -elect; Swedenborg has said it, and confident of the protection of the -Eternal, I challenge the demons to combat.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On the eighth day which I spend in my rose-coloured room the news -arrives that my mother-in-law's mother, who lives on the bank of the -Danube, is ill. She has a pain in the liver accompanied with vomiting, -sleeplessness, and attacks of palpitation at night. My aunt whose -hospitality I enjoy is summoned thither, and I am to return to my -mother-in-law in Saxen. To my objection that the old lady has forbidden -it, they reply that she has withdrawn her order of expulsion, so that -I am free to arrange my residence where I like. This sudden change of -mind astonishes me, and I hardly dare to attribute it to her illness. -The next day she gets worse. My mother-in-law gives me in the name -of her mother a bouquet as a sign of reconciliation, and tells me in -confidence that, besides other wild fancies, the old lady thinks she -has a snake in her body. The next news is that she has been robbed of -1000 gulden, and suspects her landlady of stealing them. The latter -is enraged at the unjust suspicion and wishes to bring an action for -libel. The old lady, who had retired hither to die quietly, finds her -domestic peace completely destroyed. She is continually sending us -something—flowers, fruit, game, pheasants, poultry, fish.</p> - -<p>Is the old lady's conscience troubled at the prospect of judgment? Does -she remember that she once had me put out on the street, and so obliged -me to go to hospital? Or is she superstitious? Does she think she is -bewitched by me? Perhaps the presents she sends are meant as offerings -to the wizard, to still his thirst for vengeance.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, just at this juncture, there comes a work on magic -from Paris containing information regarding so-called witchcraft. The -author tells the reader that he must not regard himself as innocent, -if he merely avoids using magic arts; one must rather keep watch over -one's own evil will, which by itself alone is capable of exercising an -influence over others in their absence.</p> - -<p>The results of this teaching on my mind are twofold. In the first -place, it arouses my scruples at the present juncture, for I had -raised my fist in anger against the old lady's picture and cursed her. -Secondly, it reawakens my old suspicions that I myself am the victim -of mal-practices on the part of occultists or theosophists. Pangs of -conscience on one side, fear on the other! And the two millstones begin -to grind me to powder.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Swedenborg describes Hell as follows: The damned soul inhabits a -splendid palace, leads a luxurious life there, and regards himself as -one of the elect. Gradually the splendours disappear, and the wretched -soul finds that it is confined in a wretched hovel and surrounded by -filth. This is parallelled in my own experience.</p> - -<p>The rose-coloured room has disappeared, and as I remove into a large -chamber near that of my mother-in-law, I feel that my stay here will -not be of long duration. As a matter of fact, all possible trifles -combine to poison my life and to deprive me of the necessary quiet -for work. The planks of the floor sway under my feet, the table -wobbles, the chair is unsteady, the articles on the washing-stand clash -together, the bed creaks, and the rest of the furniture moves whenever -I cross the floor. The lamp smokes, the ink-pot is too narrow so that -the pen-holder gets inky. The farmhouse smells of dung and manure, -ammonia, sulphuretted hydrogen, and sulphuric acid. The whole day there -is a noise of cows, swine, calves, cocks, turkeys, and doves. Flies -and wasps worry me by day, and gnats by night. At the village shop -there is nothing to be had. Because there is no other sort, I must use -rose-coloured ink. Strange, too! In a packet of cigarette papers which -I buy there is a single rose-coloured one among a hundred white. It is -a miniature hell, and I, who am accustomed to bear great sufferings, -suffer inexpressibly from these needle-pricks, all the more that my -mother-in-law believes that I am not satisfied by her kind attentions.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><i>September</i> 17<i>th</i>.—I awake at night and hear the church clock of the -village strike thirteen. Immediately I feel the electric band encircle -me, and think I hear a noise in the attic above me.</p> - -<p><i>September</i> 19<i>th</i>.—I search the attic and discover a dozen distaffs, -the wheels of which remind me of electric machines. I open a large -box; it is empty; only five staves painted black, the use of which is -unknown to me, lie in the form of a pentagram at the bottom of the box. -Who has played me this trick, and what does it mean? I do not venture -to ask anything about it, and the riddle remains unsolved.</p> - -<p>Between midnight and two o'clock a terrible storm breaks out. As a rule -a storm exhausts itself and soon subsides; this one, however, remains -raging for two hours over the village. Every lightning flash is a -personal attack on me, but none of them strike me.</p> - -<p>In the evening my mother-in-law relates to me the history of the -district. What a monstrous collection of domestic and other tragedies, -consisting of adulteries, divorces, lawsuits between relatives, -murders, thefts, violations, incests, slanders. The castles, the -villas, the huts are occupied by unhappy people of all kinds, and I -cannot take my walks without thinking of Swedenborg's hells. Beggars, -imbeciles of both sexes, sick persons and cripples line the high roads -or kneel at the foot of a crucifix, a Madonna, or a martyr. At night -the wretched creatures try to escape their sleeplessness and their -bad dreams by wandering about in the meadows and woods in order to -fatigue themselves, and to be able to sleep. Members of good society, -well-educated ladies, even a pastor, are among them.</p> - -<p>Not far from us is a convent which serves as a penitentiary and rescue -home. It is a real prison, in which the strictest rules prevail. In -the winter when the thermometer registers twenty degrees of frost, -the penitents must sleep on the cold stone pavement of their cells, -and their hands and feet, which they cannot warm, are covered with -chilblains.</p> - -<p>Among the others is a woman who has sinned with a priest, which is -a deadly sin. Tortured by pangs of conscience, she flies in her -despair to her confessor, who, however, refuses her absolution and -the sacrament. A deadly sin entails damnation. Then the wretched -creature loses her reason, imagines that she is dead, wanders from -village to village and implores the priests to be merciful and to bury -her in consecrated ground. Shunned and driven away everywhere, she -wanders about, howling like a wild beast, and those who see her cross -themselves and exclaim, "She is damned!" No one doubts but that her -soul is already in hell, while her shadow, a wandering corpse, wanders -about as a terrible warning.</p> - -<p>They tell me of a man who, possessed by the Devil, has so altered his -personality that the Evil One can make him utter blasphemies against -his will. After long search they discover a suitable exorcist in a -young Franciscan monk of acknowledged purity of life. He prepares -himself by fast and penance; the great day comes, and the possessed man -makes his confession in church before the people. Thereupon the young -monk sets to work and succeeds, after prayers and conjurations which -last an entire day, in driving out the Devil. The alarmed spectators -have not ventured to relate the details of the affair. A year later -the young monk dies. These and still more tragic narratives confirm -me in my conviction that this district has been marked out as a place -for penance, and there must be some mysterious connection between this -neighbourhood and Swedenborg's hell. Has he perhaps visited this part -of upper Austria, and, just as Dante describes the region south of -Naples, drawn from nature in his account of hell?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>After a couple of weeks have passed in work and study I am again -unsettled, as with the setting in of autumn my aunt and mother-in-law -wish to live together in Klam. We therefore break up our camp. In order -to preserve my independence, I hire a cottage consisting of two rooms, -so as to be quite close to my little daughter.</p> - -<p>The first evening after settling in my new quarters I am overcome -by a terrible depression, as though the air were poisoned. I go to -my mother-in-law: "If I sleep up there you will find me dead in bed -to-morrow. Shelter a pilgrim for this night, my good mother!"</p> - -<p>The rose-coloured room is at once placed at my disposal, but, good -heavens! how it has altered since my aunt's departure! There is black -furniture in it; the empty pigeon-holes of a bookcase gape like so many -jaws; a tall iron oven, ornamented with ugly devices of salamanders -and dragons, confronts me like a spectre. In a word, there reigns such -a disharmony in the room as makes me feel poorly. Moreover, every -irregularity upsets my nerves, for I am a man of ordered habits who -does everything at stated hours. In spite of my efforts to conceal my -dissatisfaction, my mother-in-law reads my thoughts.</p> - -<p>"Always dissatisfied, my child?"</p> - -<p>She does her best to allay my discontent, but when the spirit of -dissension is once aroused, everything is in vain. She tries to -remember my favourite dishes, but everything goes wrong. There is -nothing I dislike more than calf's head with brown butter.</p> - -<p>"Here is something nice," she says to me, "expressly for you," and -sets calf's head with brown butter before me. I understand that -it is an unconscious mistake on her part, but can only eat with -scarcely-concealed repugnance and simulated appetite.</p> - -<p>"You are not eating anything!"</p> - -<p>It is too much! Formerly I attributed these annoyances to feminine -malice; now I acquit everyone and say, "It is the Devil!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>From my early days I am accustomed to plan out the day's work during -my morning walk. No one, not even my wife, has ever been allowed to -accompany me on it. And, as a matter of fact, in the morning my mind -rejoices in a feeling of harmony and happy elevation which borders on -ecstasy. My corporeal part seems to have disappeared, my griefs to have -fled; I am all soul. The early morning is my time of self-collection, -my hour of prayer, my matins.</p> - -<p>Now I must sacrifice it all, and give up my most innocent pleasure. The -powers compel me to renounce this last and purest enjoyment. My little -daughter wishes to accompany me. I embrace her tenderly, and tell her -why I wish to be alone, but she does not understand it. She cries, and -I have not the heart to sadden her to-day, but make a firm resolve not -to allow her again to misuse her rights. She is certainly thoroughly -fascinating as a child, with her originality, her cheerfulness, her -gratitude for trifles, that is, when one has leisure to be occupied -with her. But when one is absent-minded and distracted, it is intensely -annoying to be plagued with endless questions and changes of mood about -mere nothings.</p> - -<p>My little one is as jealous as a lover about my thoughts; she seems to -watch for the exact opportunity to destroy a carefully-woven web of -thought with her prattle—but no, it is not she who does it; she is -only an instrument, but I seem to be the object of deliberate attacks -by a poor little innocent. I go on with slow steps; I don't seek to -escape any more, but my soul is a prisoner, and my brain exhausted -by the effort of continually having to descend to a child's level. -What, however, pains me intensely is the deep, reproachful look she -casts at me when she thinks I find her a nuisance, and imagines that I -love her no longer. Then her open joyous little face falls, her looks -are averted, her heart is closed to me, and I feel myself bereft of -the light which this child had brought into my dark soul. I kiss her, -take her on my arm, look for flowers and pretty pebbles for her, cut -a switch for her, and pretend to be a cow which she is driving to the -meadow. She is contented and happy, and life smiles at me again.</p> - -<p>I have sacrificed my morning hour. So do I atone for the evil which in -a moment of madness I had wished to conjure down on this angel's head. -What a penance—to be loved! Truly the powers are not so cruel as we -are!</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_10" id="Footnote_1_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_10"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The title of Strindberg's first autobiography.</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="IX" id="IX">IX</a></h4> - -<h4>EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF A DAMNED SOUL</h4> - -<h4><i>October, November</i>, 1896</h4> - - -<p>The Brahmin has fulfilled his duty as regards life when he has begotten -a child. Then he goes into the desert, to dedicate himself to solitude -and asceticism.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><i>My mother-in-law</i>.—"What have you done in your former human existence -that Fate deals so hardly with you?"</p> - -<p><i>I</i>.—"Think! Remember a man who was first married to another man's -wife, like myself, and who separated from her in order to marry an -Austrian, like myself! Then his little Austrian is torn from him, as -mine has been from me, and their only child is kept in the Bohemian -mountains as mine is. Do you remember the hero of my romance, <i>On the -Open Sea</i>, who commits suicide on an island——"</p> - -<p><i>M</i>.—"Enough! Enough!"</p> - -<p><i>I</i>.—"You don't know that my father's mother was called Neipperg——"</p> - -<p><i>M</i>.—"Stop! Unhappy man!"</p> - -<p><i>I</i>.—"And that my little Christina resembles the greatest murderer -of the century to a hair. Only look at her, the little tyrant, the -man-tamer at two and a half!"</p> - -<p><i>M</i>.—"You are mad."</p> - -<p><i>I</i>.—"Yes! And what sins have you women formerly committed, since your -lot is still harder than ours? See how justly I have called woman our -evil angel. Each has his or her deserts."</p> - -<p><i>M</i>.-"To be a woman is a twofold hell."</p> - -<p><i>I</i>.—"And so woman is a twofold devil. As regards reincarnation, -that is a Christian doctrine which has been maintained by some of the -clergy. Christ said that John the Baptist was Elijah reborn on earth. -Is that an authority or not?"</p> - -<p><i>M</i>.—"Yes, but the Roman Church forbids inquiry into secrets."</p> - -<p><i>I</i>.—"And science permits it, as soon as science itself is tolerated."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The spirits of discord are abroad, and despite of the fact that we are -quite aware of their game and our freedom from blame in the matter, -our repeated misunderstandings leave a bitter wish for revenge behind -them. Moreover, both sisters suspect that my evil wishes caused their -mother's mysterious illness, and remembering that it is to my interest -to have my separation from my wife terminated, they cannot suppress the -fairly reasonable thought that the death of the old lady would cause me -joy. The mere existence of this wish makes me hateful in their eyes, -and I do not venture any more to ask how their mother is because I fear -to be regarded as a hypocrite.</p> - -<p>The situation is strained, and my two former friends exhaust themselves -in endless discussions regarding my person, my character, my feelings, -and the sincerity of my love for the little one. At one time they -regard me as a saint, and the scars in my hands as wound-prints. And -certainly the marks on my palms resemble large nail-holes. But in -order to put an end to all ideas of saintship, I designate myself the -penitent thief, who has come down from the cross and started on his -pilgrimage to Paradise.</p> - -<p>Another time, they try to solve the riddle by regarding me as Robert -the Devil. At that time many incidents occurred, sufficient to give -ground for fearing that I might be stoned by the inhabitants of the -place. Here is a simple fact. My little Christina has an extraordinary -dread of chimney sweeps. One evening, at supper, she suddenly begins to -scream, points at someone invisible behind my chair, and cries, "The -chimney sweep!"</p> - -<p>My mother-in-law, who believes in the clairvoyance of children and -animals, turns pale; and I become alarmed all the more as I see my -mother-in-law make the sign of a cross over the child's head. A dead -silence ensues, which puts a stop to all cheerfulness.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The autumn with its storms, heavy rains, and dark nights has come. -In the village and the poorhouse the number of the sick, dying, and -dead increases. In the night one hears the choir-boy ring the bell -before the Host. All through the day the church bell is tolling, and -one funeral follows another. Death and life have grown into a single -horror. My night attacks recommence. Prayers are said for me, beads -are told, and the holy water vessel in my room is filled by the priest -himself. "The hand of the Lord rests heavily on thee!" with these -words my mother-in-law crushes me. But slowly I recover myself. My -mental elasticity and an inborn scepticism free me again from these -black thoughts, and after the perusal of certain occult writings, I -believe myself to be persecuted by spirits of the elements, incubi and -Lamias<a name="FNanchor_1_11" id="FNanchor_1_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_11" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> who wish to hinder me in the completion of my great work -on Alchemy. Instructed by the initiated in such matters, I procure a -Dalmatian dagger, and consider myself well-armed against evil spirits.</p> - -<p>In the village a shoemaker dies, who was an atheist and blasphemer. -He had a jackdaw, who now left to himself lives on the roof of a -neighbouring house. While watch is being kept by the dead, they -suddenly discover the jackdaw in the room without anyone being able -to explain how it got there. On the day of the burial, the black -bird accompanies the funeral procession, and perches on the coffin -in the churchyard before the ceremony. Every morning this creature -follows me in my walk, a fact which really disquiets me because of -the superstitious nature of the people. One day, which is destined -to prove its last, the jackdaw accompanies me with horrible screams -and words of abuse, which the blasphemer had taught him, through the -streets of the village. Then there come two little birds, a robin -and a yellow wagtail, and follow the jackdaw from roof to roof. The -jackdaw flies outside the village and perches on the roof of a cottage. -At the same moment a black rabbit springs up before the cottage, and -disappears in the grass. Some days afterwards we hear of the jackdaw's -death. It had been killed by the street boys because of its propensity -for stealing.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>During the day I work in my little house. But for some time past it -seems that the powers are no longer well intentioned towards me. When -I enter the house I find the air thick, as if it had been poisoned, -and have to open doors and windows. Wrapped in a thick cloak, with -a fur cap on my head, I sit at the table and write, and resist the -so-called electric attacks which compress my chest and seize me in the -back. Often I feel as though someone were standing behind my chair. -Then I stab with the dagger behind me, and imagine I am fighting an -enemy. So it goes on till five o'clock in the afternoon. If I remain -sitting longer, the conflict becomes terrific, until, feeling wholly -exhausted, I light my lantern and go to my mother-in-law and my -child. On one occasion, as early as two or three o'clock, I find my -room full of the thick and choking atmosphere I have spoken of. But I -continue the struggle till six o'clock in order to finish an article on -chemistry. On a bunch of flowers sits a lady-bird marked with yellow -and black—the Austrian colours. It clambers about, gropes, and seeks -for a flying-off place. At last it falls on my paper, spreads out its -wings exactly like the weathercock on the church of Notre-Dame des -Champs in Paris, then crawls along the manuscript and up my right hand. -It looks at me, and then flies towards the window; the compass on the -table points towards the north.</p> - -<p>"Very well!" I say to myself, "to the north then; but not before I -choose; till I am summoned again, I remain where I am."</p> - -<p>Six o'clock strikes, and it is impossible to remain in this haunted -house. Unknown forces lift me from my chair and I must leave the place.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It is All Souls' Day, about three o'clock in the afternoon; the sun -shines and the air is clear. The villagers are going in a procession -led by the clergy, with banners and music, to the church-yard, to -greet the dead. The bells begin to ring. Then, without a warning, -without even one cloud appearing as precursor in the pale blue sky, a -storm breaks loose. The banners flap violently against the poles, the -festal robes of the men and women are a prey of the winds. Dust-clouds -rise and whirl; trees bend. It is a real wonder.</p> - -<p>I feel afraid of the next night, and my mother-in-law knows it. She has -given me a charm to wear round my neck. It is a Madonna and a cross -made out of consecrated wood—the timber of a church which is more -than a thousand years old. I accepted it as a valuable present offered -in good will, but a lingering respect for the religion of my fathers -prevents my wearing it round my neck.</p> - -<p>It is about eight o'clock, and we are having our evening meal; the -lamp burns and a weird stillness reigns in our little circle. Outside -it is dark; there is no wind in the trees; all is quiet. All at once -a single gust of wind blows through the crevices of the window with -a curious humming noise like that of a Jew's-harp. Then it is past. -My mother-in-law throws a look of alarm at me and folds the child -in her arms. In a second I interpret what her look means: "Leave -us, O damned soul, and do not bring avenging demons on our innocent -heads." Everything goes to pieces; my last remaining happiness, the -companionship of my little daughter, is taken from me, and in the -gloomy silence I mentally bid the world adieu.</p> - -<p>After the evening meal I withdraw to the once rose-coloured—now -black—room and prepare, since I feel myself threatened, for a -night-battle. With whom? I know not, but challenge the Invisible, -be it diabolic or divine, and will wrestle with It, like Jacob with -the angel. There is a knock at the door. It is my mother-in-law, who -forebodes a bad night for me, and invites me to sleep on the sofa in -her sitting-room. "The presence of the child will safeguard you," she -says. I thank her and assure her there is no danger, and that nothing -can frighten me so long as my conscience is untroubled. With a smile -she wishes me good-night.</p> - -<p>I put on my martial cloak, boots and cap again, determined to lie down -dressed and ready to die like a brave warrior who despises life and -challenges death. About eleven o'clock the air in the room begins to -grow dense, and a deadly fear masters my courageous heart. I open the -window. The draught threatens to blow out the lamp. I close it again. -The lamp begins to make a sound between a sigh and a moan; then all is -still again.</p> - -<p>A dog in the village howls. According to popular superstition, this -is a sign of death. I look out of the window; only the Great Bear is -visible. Down there in the poorhouse a light is burning; an old woman -is sitting bent over her work, as though she were waiting for her -release; perhaps she fears sleep and its dreams. Weary, I lie down -again on the bed, and try to sleep. At once the old game recommences. -An electric stream seeks my heart; my lungs cease to work; I must rise -or die. I sit down on a chair, but am too exhausted to be able to read, -and spend half an hour thus in listless vacancy. Then I resolve to go -for a walk till daybreak. I leave the house. The night is dark and the -village asleep, but the dogs are not. One attacks me, and then the -whole band surrounds me; their wide-open jaws and fiery eyes compel me -to retreat.</p> - -<p>When I open the door of my room and enter, it seems to me as though it -were full of hostile living creatures through whom I must force my way -in order to reach my bed. Resigned, and resolved to die, I throw myself -upon it. But at the last moment, when the invisible vulture is about -to stifle me under its wings, someone lifts me up, and the pursuit of -the furies is at an end. Conquered, hurled to the earth, beaten down, I -quit the scene of an unequal battle and yield to the invisible. I knock -at the door on the other side of the passage. My mother-in-law, who -is still at prayer, opens the door. The expression of her face as she -looks at me makes me feel afraid of myself.</p> - -<p>"What do you wish, my child?"</p> - -<p>"I wish to die, and then to be burnt, or rather, burn me alive!"</p> - -<p>She does not answer. She has understood me, and sympathy and pity -conquer her fear, so that she prepares the sofa for me with her own -hand. Then she retires to her own room where she sleeps with the -child. Through a chance—always this Satanic chance!—the sofa stands -opposite the window, and the same chance has willed that it has no -curtains, so that the black window opening gapes at me. Moreover, it is -the very same window through which the wind gust came when we were at -supper. With all my powers exhausted, I sink on the sofa. I curse this -ever-present, unavoidable "chance" which persecutes me with the obvious -purpose of making me fall a victim to persecution-mania. For five -minutes I have rest, while my eyes are fastened on the black square -of the window; then an invisible something glides over my body, and I -stand up. I remain standing in the middle of the room like a statue for -hours, half-conscious, turned to stone, I know not whether awake or -asleep.</p> - -<p>Who gives me the strength to suffer? Who denies me the power, and -delivers me over to torments? Is it He, the Lord of life and death, -Whose wrath I have provoked, when, influenced by the pamphlet <i>The -Joy of Dying</i>, I tried to die, and considered myself already ripe for -eternal life? Am I Phlegyas doomed to the pains of Tartarus for his -pride, or Prometheus, who, because he revealed the secret of the powers -to mortals, was torn by the vulture?</p> - -<p>(While I am writing this, I think of the scene in the sufferings of -Christ when the soldiers spit in His face, some buffet Him and others -strike Him with rods and say to Him, "Tell us, who is he that smote -thee?"</p> - -<p>Perhaps my old companions in Stockholm remember that orgy when the -author of this book played the rôle of the soldier?)</p> - -<p>Who has struck thee? A question without an answer. Doubt, uncertainty, -mystery—there is my hell! Oh that my enemy would reveal himself, that -I might do battle with him, and defy him! But that is just what he -avoids doing, in order to afflict me with madness and make me feel the -scourge of conscience, which causes me to suspect enemies everywhere, -enemies, i.e., those injured by my evil will. Indeed, my conscience -smites me every time that I come on the track of a new foe.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Awoken the next morning after a few hours' sleep by the prattle of my -little Christina, I seem to forget all, and go to my usual work, which -is not unsuccessful. Everything that I write is immediately accepted -and printed—a proof that my senses and understanding are unimpaired.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the papers spread the report that an American scientific man -has discovered a method of converting silver into gold. This saves -me from being suspected of being an adept in the black art, a fool, -or a swindler. My theosophical friend, who has hitherto furnished me -with the means of livelihood, tries to enrol me in his sect. He sends -me one of Madame Blavatsky's occult treatises and ill conceals his -anxiety that I should pronounce a favourable verdict upon it. I also am -embarrassed, for I see that the continuance of our friendly relations -will depend upon my answer.</p> - -<p>Madame Blavatsky's <i>Secret Doctrine</i> is plagiarised from all the -so-called occult theories; it is a hash-up of all ancient and -modern scientific heresies. Her book is worthless as regards her -own presumptuous claims, interesting through its quotations from -little-known authors, repellent through its conscious or unconscious -fabrications regarding the Mahatmas. It is the work of a mannish woman, -who, in order to put man to shame, undertook to overthrow science, -religion, and philosophy, and to set a priestess of Isis on the altar -of the Crucified.</p> - -<p>With all the reserve and moderation which is due to a friend, I let -my friend know that the collective god, Karma, does not please me, -and that it is impossible for me to belong to a sect which denies -a personal God, Who alone can satisfy my religious needs. It is a -confession of faith which is demanded from me, and although I know that -my answer entails a breach in our friendship, and the cessation of my -means of support, I speak it out freely.</p> - -<p>Then my faithful friend turns into a demon of vengeance. He hurls -an excommunication against me, threatens me with occult powers, -tries to intimidate me by vulgar accusations, and storms at me like -a heathenish sacrificial priest. Finally, he summons me before an -occultist tribunal, and swears to me that I shall never forget the -13th of November. My situation is painful; I have lost a friend and -am nearly destitute. By a diabolical chance during our paper war, the -following incident takes place: <i>L'Initiation</i> publishes an article by -me which criticises the current astronomical system. A few days after -its appearance Tisserand, the head of the Paris observatory, dies. In -an access of mischievous humour I trace a connection between these two -things, and mention also that Pasteur died the day after I published -<i>Sylva Sylvarum</i>.<a name="FNanchor_2_12" id="FNanchor_2_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_12" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> My friend, the theosophist, does not know how to -take a joke, and being superstitious above the average, and perhaps, -more deeply initiated in black magic than I, gives me clearly to -understand that he regards me as a wizard.</p> - -<p>One may imagine my consternation when, after the last letter of our -correspondence, the most famous of the Swedish astronomers dies of -a fit of apoplexy. I am alarmed, and with reason. To be accused of -witchcraft is a very serious matter, and "even after death one will not -escape punishment."</p> - -<p>Further calamities follow. In the course of a month about five -well-known astronomers die, one after another. I fear my fanatical -friend, whom I credit with the cruelty of a Druid and with the power of -the Hindu yogis who can kill at a distance.</p> - -<p>Here is a new hell of anxieties. From this day onwards I forget the -demons, and direct all my attention to the unwholesome ranks of the -theosophists and their magicians, the Hindu sages, supposed to be -gifted with incredible powers. I now feel myself condemned to death, -and keep sealed my papers, in which, in case of my sudden death, I have -specified the murderers. Then I wait.</p> - -<p>A few miles eastward on the bank of the Danube, lies the little chief -town of the district Grein. There, I am told, a stranger from Zanzibar -has arrived at the end of November in midwinter. That is enough to -rouse doubts and dark thoughts in a morbid mind. I try to obtain -information regarding the stranger, whether he is really an African, -whence he has come, and what is his object?</p> - -<p>I can learn nothing; a mysterious veil envelops the unknown, who, like -a spectre, stands day and night before my anxious mind. I always find -my best comfort in the Old Testament, and I invoke the protection of -the Eternal and His vengeance against my enemies. The psalms of David -best express my soul's deepest needs, and Jehovah is my God. The 86th -Psalm has made a special impression on my mind, and I gladly repeat it.</p> - -<p>"O God, the proud have set themselves against me, and tyrants seek -after my soul, and have not thee before their eyes. Show me a token for -good; that all they which hate me may see it, and be ashamed; because -thou, Lord, hast holpen me, and comforted me."</p> - -<p>That is the "token" I ask for, and notice well, reader, how my prayer -will be heard.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_11" id="Footnote_1_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_11"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> A kind of female vampire.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_12" id="Footnote_2_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_12"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> A botanical treatise.</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="X" id="X">X</a></h4> - -<h4>THE ETERNAL HAS SPOKEN</h4> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>Winter, with its grey-yellow skies is here; no ray of sunlight has lit -up the sky for weeks. The muddy roads hinder us from taking walks; the -leaves fall from the trees and rot; all nature is dissolving in decay.</p> - -<p>The usual autumn butchery of dumb animals has begun. All day long the -cries of the victims rise against the dark vault of heaven; one steps -in blood and among corpses. It is terribly depressing, and I feel sad -for the two, good, kind-hearted sisters who tend me like a sick child. -Besides this, my poverty, which I must conceal from them, depresses me, -together with the futility of my attempts to avert approaching beggary. -For my own good they wish for my departure, since such a lonely life -is not good for a man; moreover, they believe that I need a doctor. In -vain I wait for the necessary money to be sent from Sweden, and prepare -to depart, even though I have to tramp the high roads. "I have become -like a pelican of the wilderness, and like an owl in the desert." My -presence is a trial to my relatives, and but for my love to the child, -they would have hurried me away. Now that mud or snow makes walking -difficult, I carry the little one along the paths on my arms, climb -hills, and clamber up rocks, so that both the old ladies say, "You will -make yourself ill, you will get giddy, you will kill yourself."</p> - -<p>"And a beautiful death that would be!" I reply.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On the 20th of November, a grey, gloomy, dreary day, we sit at the -mid-day meal. Altogether worn-out after a sleepless night and new -conflicts with the Invisible, I curse life, and lament that no sun -shines.</p> - -<p>My mother-in-law has prophesied that I will not be well till Candlemas -(February 2nd), when the sun returns again. "That is my only ray of -sunlight," I answer, pointing to my little Christina who sits opposite -to me. At this moment the clouds, which have been massed together for -weeks, part, and through the cleft a ray of light shines into the room -and illuminates my face, the table-cover, the glasses.</p> - -<p>"See, papa! see! there is the sun!" exclaims the child, and clasps her -hands together. I rise in confusion, a prey to the most conflicting -feelings. "A chance? No!" I say to myself. Is it the wonder, the sign -I prayed for? But that would be too much to grant to one fallen into -disfavour like me. The Eternal does not interfere in the little affairs -of earth-worms. And yet this ray of light abides in my heart like a -happy smile on a discontented face. During the couple of minutes which -I take in walking to my little house, the clouds have formed themselves -into strange-shaped groups, and in the east, where the veil has lifted, -the sky is as green as an emerald, or a meadow in mid-summer. I stand -in my room and wait in a state between reverie and mild compunction, -which has no fear in it, for something which I cannot exactly define.</p> - -<p>Then suddenly there is a single thunder-clap over my head. No flash has -preceded it. At first I feel alarmed, and wait for the usual rain and -storm to follow. But nothing happens; all is perfectly quiet, and it -is over. "Why," I ask myself, "have I not sunk down in humility before -the voice of the Eternal?" Because, when the Almighty with majestic -condescension allowed an insect to hear His voice, this insect felt -elevated and puffed up by such an honour, considering itself in its -pride to be possessed of some special desert. To speak freely, I felt -myself almost on a level with the Lord, as an integral part of His -personality, an emanation of His being, an organ of His organism. He -needed me in order to reveal Himself; otherwise he would have sent a -thunderbolt and struck me dead upon the spot. But whence springs this -monstrous arrogance in a mortal? Must I trace my origin to the primeval -Titans who revolted against a despot who delighted in ruling over -slaves? Is this why my earthly pilgrimage has become a mere running the -gauntlet, while the dregs of humanity delight to strike, spit on, and -defile me? There is no imaginable humiliation which I have not endured, -yet the more I am crushed the more my pride asserts itself. I am like -Jacob wrestling with the angel, and though a little lamed, maintaining -the conflict manfully; or Job, chastised, and yet steadily justifying -himself in the face of undeserved punishments.</p> - -<p>Attacked by so many conflicting thoughts, I relapse from my -megalomania, and feel so insignificant, that the incident dwindles down -to a mere nothing—a thunder-clap in November.</p> - -<p>But the echo of the thunder reverberates, and once more in a sort of -religious ecstasy I open the Bible at haphazard, and pray the Lord to -speak more plainly that I may understand Him. My eyes immediately fall -upon this verse in Job: "Wilt thou disannul my judgment? Wilt thou -condemn me that thou mayest be justified? Hast thou an arm like God? -<i>Or canst thou thunder with a voice like Him?</i>"</p> - -<p>I doubt no more. The Eternal has spoken! O Eternal! What demandest Thou -of me? Speak, for thy servant heareth!</p> - -<p>No answer!</p> - -<p>Good! I will humble myself before the Eternal Who has humbled Himself -to speak to His servant. But bow my knee before the mob and the mighty? -Never!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the evening my good mother-in-law receives me with a manner that is -enigmatic. She casts a searching look at me sideways, as though she -wished to ascertain what sort of impression the stupendous occurrence -had made on me. "You have heard it?" she asks.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is strange—a clap of thunder in November." She at any rate no -longer considers me damned.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="XI" id="XI">XI</a></h4> - -<h4>HELL LET LOOSE</h4> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Meanwhile, in order to entirely bewilder me regarding the real nature -of my illness, a current number of <i>L'Événement</i> contains the following -notice:</p> - -<p>"The unhappy Strindberg, who brought his misogyny to Paris, was quickly -compelled to take himself off. Since then his partisans are dumb and -confounded before the feminist flag. They do not wish to undergo the -fate of Orpheus, whose head was torn off by the Thracian Bacchanals."</p> - -<p>So they actually did lay a plot against me in the Rue de la Clef, -and the morbid symptoms from which I still suffer are the result of -that murderous attempt. Oh, these women! Certainly my articles on the -feminist pictures of my Danish friend were not calculated to please -them. But, at any rate, here is a fact, a tangible occurrence which -dissipates my terrible doubts regarding my mental soundness.</p> - -<p>I hasten with the good news to my mother-in-law. "You see that I am not -out of my mind!"</p> - -<p>"No, you are not, but only ill, and the doctor will recommend physical -exercise for you—wood-chopping, for instance."</p> - -<p>"Is that of any use against women, or not?"</p> - -<p>My too hasty retort makes a breach between us. I had forgotten that a -female saint is still a woman, <i>i.e.</i>, man's enemy.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>All is forgotten, the Russians, the Rothschilds, the dabblers in black -magic, the theosophists, and the Eternal Himself. I am the innocent -sacrifice, blameless Job, Orpheus whom the women want to kill, the -author of <i>Sylva Sylvarum</i>, the reviver of dead science. Lost in -a labyrinth of doubt, I abandon the new-born idea of providential -interposition with a spiritual purpose, and absorbed in the bare fact -that a plot has been laid against me, I forget to think of the original -Plotter. Thirsting for vengeance, I prepare to send notices to the -police-offices and papers in Paris, when a timely change of affairs -puts an end to the sorry drama, which would have degenerated into a -farce.</p> - -<p>One grey-yellow winter day, about an hour after the mid-day meal, my -little Christina insists on following me to my house, where I generally -have my afternoon siesta. I cannot resist her, and give way to her -request, When we get to my room Christina asks for pen and paper; then -she demands picture-books, and I must remain, show, and explain.</p> - -<p>"You must not go to sleep, papa!"</p> - -<p>Although feeling weary and exhausted, I obey my child, I don't know why -myself, but there is a tone in her voice which I cannot resist.</p> - -<p>Outside, before the door, an organ-grinder is playing a waltz tune. I -propose to the little one to dance with the nurse who has accompanied -her. Attracted by the music, the neighbours' children come, the -organ-grinder is invited into the kitchen, and we improvise a dance. -This goes on for an hour, and my sadness is dispelled. In order to -distract myself and to keep off sleep, I take the Bible, my oracle, and -open it at haphazard. "But the spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, -and an evil spirit from the Lord troubled him. And Saul's servants said -unto him, 'Behold now, an evil spirit from God troubleth thee. Let our -lord now command thy servants, which are before thee, to seek out a -man, who is a cunning player on the harp, and it shall come to pass -when the evil spirit from God is upon thee, that he shall play with his -hand, and thou shalt be well.'"</p> - -<p>An evil spirit! That is what I am always suspecting! While the children -are dancing, my mother-in-law comes in in order to fetch the little -one, and when she sees them, she stands still, astonished. Then she -tells me that just now, down in the village, a lady of good family has -been seized with an attack of frenzy.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with her?"</p> - -<p>"She dances without stopping, has dressed herself as a bride and -fancies she is Burger's Lenore."</p> - -<p>"She dances, and then?"</p> - -<p>"She weeps in terror of death, who she believes will come and take her."</p> - -<p>What lends a darker shade to this tragedy is that the lady has occupied -the same house I live in now, and that her husband died in the same -room where the children are noisily dancing.</p> - -<p>Explain me that, O doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, or -acknowledge the bankruptcy of science!</p> - -<p>My little daughter has exorcised the evil spirit who, driven out by -her innocence, has entered into an old lady who used to boast of being -a free thinker.</p> - -<p>The death-dance lasts the whole night. The lady is guarded by friends, -who she says, are to ward off the attack of death. She calls it "death" -because she does not believe in the existence of evil spirits. And yet -she often asserted that her deceased husband tormented her.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>My departure is postponed, but, in order to recruit my strength after -so many sleepless nights, I remove to my aunt's house on the other side -of the street, and leave the "rose-red" room. It is a curious fact that -in the good old times the torture chamber in Sweden was called the -"Chamber of Roses."</p> - -<p>At last I spend a night again in a quiet room. The walls are painted -white and covered with pictures of saints. Over my bed hangs a -crucifix. But when night comes the spirits begin their tricks again.</p> - -<p>I light the candles in order to kill the time with reading. There is -a weird stillness in which I can hear my heart beating. Then a slight -noise startles me, like an electric spark.</p> - -<p>What is that?</p> - -<p>A large piece of wax has dropped from the candle on the ground. Nothing -more, but the people here believe it is a sign of death! It may be, as -far as I am concerned. After reading for half an hour, I want to take -my handkerchief from under my pillow. It is not there, and when I look -for it, I find it on the ground. I stoop to pick it up. Something falls -on my head, and when I extricate it from my hair, I find it is another -piece of wax. Instead of being alarmed, I cannot help smiling; the -whole thing seems a piece of practical joking.</p> - -<p>Smiling at death! How could that be possible, were not life essentially -comic. Such a fuss about nothing! Perhaps in the depth of our souls -there lurks a shadowy consciousness that everything down here is all -humbug, a masquerade, a mere pretence, and that all our sufferings -afford mirth to the gods.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>High over the hill on which the castle is built there towers another, -from which a more commanding view over the Inferno-like landscape can -be gained than from any other. The way thither lies through the remains -of an ancient oak forest, which, according to tradition, was a scene -of Druidic worship, and where mistletoe grows luxuriantly on the apple -and lime trees. Above this wood the path mounts steeply through pines.</p> - -<p>Several times I have tried to reach the summit, but something -unforeseen has always hindered me. One time it was a deer which broke -the silence with an unexpected leap, another time a hare, which -resembled no hare which I had ever seen, and yet another time a magpie -with its deafening chatter. But on the last morning, the day before -my departure, I pressed in spite of all hindrances through the dark -melancholy pine wood up to the summit, whence I obtained a splendid -view of the valley of the Danube and the Styrian Alps. I breathe -freely for the first time now that I have at last emerged from the -gloomy, funnel-shaped valley below. The sun illuminates the landscape -to the farthest horizon, and the white crests of the Alps melt into -the clouds. The whole scene is one of heavenly beauty. Does the earth -comprise at the same time heaven and hell, and is there no other place -of punishment and reward? Perhaps. Certainly, the most beautiful -moments of my life seem to me heavenly, and the worst, hellish. Has -the future still in reserve for me hours or minutes of that happiness -which can be won only by tribulation and a tolerably clean conscience?</p> - -<p>I feel little inclination to descend into the valley of sorrows again, -and walk about on the mountain plateau, wondering at the beauty of -the earth. On the summit is a rock shaped by nature like an Egyptian -Sphinx. On its gigantic head is a heap of stones in which stands a -stick bearing a white piece of linen attached, like a flag. Without -troubling myself about its significance, an uncontrollable desire to -seize the flag takes possession of me. Despising death, I clamber up -the steep rock, and lay hold of it. At the same moment the sound of a -bridal march sung by triumphant voices arises from the Danube below. It -is a marriage party; I cannot see it, but the musket shots customarily -fired on such occasions place it beyond a doubt. Childish enough and -unhappy enough to give a poetical colouring to the most ordinary -occurrences, I take this as a good omen.</p> - -<p>Reluctantly and slowly I descend again into the valley of sorrows, of -death, of sleeplessness, and of demons, where my little Beatrice awaits -me and the promised piece of mistletoe, the green branch in the midst -of the snow, which really ought to be cut with a golden sickle.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>For a long time past the grandmother had expressed a wish to see me, -whether it were to bring about a reconciliation or for occultist -reasons, because she is a clairvoyante and visionary. I had postponed -the visit under various pretexts, but now that my departure was -resolved on, my mother-in-law obliged me to visit the old lady and bid -her farewell, probably for the last time on this side of the grave. -On November 26th, a cold, clear day, my mother-in-law, the child, and -I made the pilgrimage to the bank of the Danube, where the family -residence is. We alighted at the inn, and while my mother-in-law went -to announce my visit to her mother, I wandered through the meadows and -woods, which I had not seen for two years. Recollections overpowered -me, and in all of them was interwoven the figure of my wife. And now -everything is blighted by autumnal frosts; there is now not a single -flower, nor a green blade of grass where we both plucked all the -flowers of spring, summer, and autumn!</p> - -<p>After the mid-day meal I am taken to the old lady who occupies the -annex to the villa, the little house in which my child was born. Our -meeting is, considering the circumstances, a cold one; they seem to -expect that I should appear as the prodigal son, but I have no wish -to act that rôle. I confine myself to indulging in reminiscences of -our lost paradise. She and I had painted the door-and window-panels -in honour of the little Christina's arrival in the world. The roses -and clematis which adorn the front of the house were planted by my own -hands. I had cut out the path through the garden. But the walnut tree -which I planted the morning after Christina's birth has disappeared. -The "life-tree," as we called it, is dead. Two years, two eternities, -have elapsed since the farewell between her on the shore and me on the -ship, in which I went to Linz in order to proceed thence to Paris.</p> - -<p>Who has caused the breach between us? I, for I have murdered my own -love and hers. Farewell, my white house, where grew thorns and roses. -Farewell, Danube! I say to comfort myself, "You were a dream, short as -summer, too sweet to be real, and I do not regret it."</p> - -<p>The night comes. My mother-in-law and my child have, at my request, -taken up their quarters in the inn, in order to protect me against the -deadly attacks, which I forebode by means of a sixth sense which has -been developed in me during the six months of persecution which I have -suffered.</p> - -<p>About ten o'clock in the evening a gust of wind begins to shake the -door of my room, which is on the ground-floor. I make it fast with -wooden wedges; it is no use; the door shakes still more. The windows -rattle; there is a dog-like howling in the stove; the whole house reels -like a ship. I cannot sleep; at one time my mother-in-law groans, at -another the child cries. The next morning my mother-in-law, exhausted -by sleeplessness and something else, which she conceals from me, says: -"Depart, my child; I have enough of this hellish stench!" And I travel -northwards, a restless pilgrim, into the fire of a new purgatory.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="XII" id="XII">XII</a></h4> - -<h4>PILGRIMAGE AND PENANCE</h4> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>There are ninety towns in Sweden, and the powers have condemned me to -go to the one which I most dislike. First of all, I visit the doctors. -The first speaks of neurasthenia, the second of angina pectoris, the -third of paranoia, a mental disease, the fourth of emphysema. This is -enough to ensure me against being put into a lunatic asylum. Meanwhile, -in order to procure the means of livelihood, I am forced to write -articles for a newspaper. But whenever I sit at the table to write, -hell is let loose. A new discovery comes to make me wild. Whenever I -take up my quarters in an hotel there breaks out a fiendish noise, -just as there did in the Rue de la Grande Chaumière in Paris; I hear -shuffling footsteps and the moving of furniture. I change my room, I -go into another hotel, and still there is the noise over my head. I -visit the restaurants, but as soon as I sit down to a meal the noise -begins there also. And it should be observed that whenever I ask those -present whether they hear the same noise too, they say "yes," and their -description of it tallies with mine.</p> - -<p>It is then no acoustic hallucination from which I suffer; everywhere -there are plots, I say to myself. But one day, as I go by chance into a -shoemaker's shop, the noise instantaneously breaks out. It is no plot, -then! It is the Devil himself! Hunted from hotel to hotel, pursued -everywhere by electric wires even to my bed, attacked everywhere -by electric currents which lift me from my chair, or out of bed, I -deliberately set about planning my suicide. The weather is terrible, -and in my depression I seek distraction in drinking bouts with friends.</p> - -<p>One dreary day, after such a bout, I have just finished my early -breakfast in my room. I turn round towards the table on which the -breakfast things are standing. A slight noise attracts my attention, -and I see that a knife has fallen on the ground. I lift it up and place -it so that it cannot do so again. The knife moves and falls.</p> - -<p>So it is electricity!</p> - -<p>The same morning I write a letter to my mother-in-law, and complain -of the bad weather and life in general. As I write the sentence, -"The earth is dirty, the sea is dirty, and dirt rains from the sky," -imagine my astonishment, as I see a clear drop of water fall upon the -paper. No electricity! A miracle! In the evening as I am still working -at the table, a noise from the washing-stand startles me. I look in -that direction, and see that a wax-cloth, which I use in my morning -ablutions, has fallen down. In order to get at the rights of the -matter, I hang it up, so that it cannot fall down again.</p> - -<p>It falls again!</p> - -<p>What is that? My thoughts now revert to the occultists and their secret -powers. I leave the town with my written indictment of them in my -pocket, and betake myself to Lund, where there are old friends of mine: -doctors, specialists in mental disease, and even theosophists on whose -aid I reckon.</p> - -<p>How have I come to settle down in this little university town, this -place of rustication and penance for the students of Upsala, when they -have lived too freely at the cost of their purses and their health? -Is this my Canossa, where I must retract my false doctrines before -the same set of youths who between 1880 and 1890 regarded me as their -standard-bearer? I understand my position exactly, and know well that -I am under the ban of most of the professors as a seducer of youth, and -that the fathers and mothers fear me like the Evil One himself.</p> - -<p>Moreover, I have made personal enemies here, and have contracted debts -under circumstances which set my character in a dubious light. Here -Popoffsky's sister-in-law and her husband live, and both of these, who -have an influential position in society, are able to stir up powerful -enemies against me. I have also here relations who ignore me, and -friends who have left me to become my enemies. In a word, it is the -worst place I could have chosen for a quiet residence; it is hell, but -a hell contrived with masterly logic and divine ingenuity. Here I must -drain the cup of humiliation, and reconcile the youth of Lund with the -alienated powers. By a picturesque accident, I buy myself a mantle with -cape and cowl, of a flea-brown colour, like a Franciscan's. Thus, after -a six years' banishment, I return to Sweden in a penitent's costume.</p> - -<p>About the year 1885 there was formed in Lund a Students' Association -called "The Old Boys," whose literary, scientific, and social programme -was best expressed by the word "Radicalism." It was coloured by -modern ideas; it was first socialistic, then nihilistic, and tended -finally to a general dissolution of society. It had besides a fin de -siècle flavouring of Satanism and decadence. The head of that party, -the most conspicuous of their champions, a friend of mine, whom I -have not seen for three years, pays me a visit. Dressed like myself -in a monkish-looking mantle of a grey colour, grown old, lean, with -melancholy aspect, he shows his history in his face.</p> - -<p>"You also?" I ask him.</p> - -<p>"Yes! It is all up with us."</p> - -<p>On my inviting him to take a glass of wine, he declares himself a -teetotaller.</p> - -<p>"How are the 'Old Boys'?" I ask.</p> - -<p>"Dead, come croppers, turned into Philistines and steady members of -society."</p> - -<p>"It is a case of Canossa, then!"</p> - -<p>"Canossa all along the line."</p> - -<p>"Then it is Providence Itself which has brought me here."</p> - -<p>"Providence! That is the right word."</p> - -<p>"Do they know the 'powers' in Lund?"</p> - -<p>"The 'powers' are preparing to return."</p> - -<p>"Do people sleep well here?"</p> - -<p>"No; they complain of nightmares, constrictions of the breast and -heart."</p> - -<p>"My arrival is appropriate, then; for that is precisely my case."</p> - -<p>We talk for some hours over the strange times we are living in, and my -friend relates to me some extraordinary occurrences which have recently -happened. Finally, he gives a brief account of the minds of the present -young generation, who are looking out for something new.</p> - -<p>People want a religion; a reconciliation with the "powers" (that is the -phrase), a new approach to the invisible. The fruitful and important -epoch of naturalism is past. One cannot say anything against it, nor -regret it, for the powers willed that we should pass through it. It was -an experimental epoch, the negative results of which have disproved -certain theories when they were put to the test. A God, unknown at -present, seems to be developing, growing, and revealing Himself from -time to time. In the intervals, so it seems, He leaves the world to -itself, like the farmer, who lets the tares and wheat grow together -till the harvest. Each epoch of revelation shows Him animated with -new ideas, and practically improving His methods. Thus Religion will -return, but under new aspects, for a compromise with the old religions -seems impossible. We do not await an epoch of reaction, nor a return -to out-worn ideals, but an advance towards something new. But of what -sort? Let us wait!</p> - -<p>At the end of our conversation a question escapes my lips like an arrow -which flies sky-wards, "Do you know Swedenborg?"</p> - -<p>"No; but my mother has his works, and has found wonderful things in -them."</p> - -<p>From atheism to Swedenborg is only a step!</p> - -<p>I beg him to lend me Swedenborg's works, and my friend, that Saul among -the young prophets, brings me the <i>Arcana Cœlestia</i>. Moreover, he -introduces a young man to me who has been highly gifted by the powers. -The latter relates to me events in his life which only too closely -resemble my own. When we compare our trials, we find a new light thrown -upon them, and we gain deliverance by the help of Swedenborg. I thank -Providence which has sent me into this small despised town to expiate -my sin and to be delivered.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="XIII" id="XIII">XIII</a></h4> - -<h4>THE DELIVERER</h4> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p>When Balzac introduced me to my noble countryman, "The Buddha of the -North," by means of his book <i>Séraphita</i>, he showed me the evangelistic -side of the Prophet. Now it is the Law which encounters, crushes, and -releases.</p> - -<p>A single word suffices to illuminate my soul, and to scatter my doubts -and vain fancies regarding supposed enemies, electricians, black magic, -etc., and this single word is "Devastation."<a name="FNanchor_1_13" id="FNanchor_1_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_13" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> All my sufferings I -find described by Swedenborg—the feelings of suffocation (angina -pectoris), constrictions of the chest, palpitations, the sensation -which I called the "electric girdle"—all exactly correspond, and -these phenomena, taken together, constitute the spiritual catharsis -(purification) which was already known to St. Paul, "Whom," he says -speaking of someone, "I have determined to hand over to Satan for the -destruction of the flesh, that the spirit might be saved in the day of -the Lord Jesus," and "Among whom are Hymenæus and Alexander, whom I -have delivered over to Satan, that they may be taught not to blaspheme."</p> - -<p>When I read the visions of Swedenborg belonging to the year 1744, the -year preceding his establishment of relations with the spiritual world, -I discover that the Prophet has endured the same nightly tortures as I -have, and what astonishes me still more is the complete identity of the -symptoms, which leave me no longer room for doubting the real nature of -my illness. In the <i>Arcana Cœlestia</i>, the mysterious occurrences of -the last two years are explained with such convincing exactness, that -I, a child of the renowned nineteenth century, am firmly convinced that -there is a hell—a hell, however, on earth, and that I have just come -out of it.</p> - -<p>Swedenborg explains to me the reason of my detention in the Hospital -St. Louis thus:</p> - -<p>"Alchemists are attacked by leprosy and scratch the scurf off like -fish-scales. It is an incurable skin disease." The apparition of the -chimney sweep which my daughter saw in Austria is also explained: -"Among the spirits, there is a kind called 'chimney sweeps,' because -they actually have faces blackened by smoke, and seem to wear -soot-coloured clothes.... One of these 'chimney sweep' spirits came -to me, and begged me earnestly to pray for his admission into heaven. -'I don't think,' he said, 'I have done anything on account of which I -should be excluded. I have often rebuked the inhabitants of earth, but -after rebuke and punishment, I have always given them instruction.'</p> - -<p>"The chastising, reforming, or instructing spirits approach a man from -the left side, lean on his back, consult his book of memory, and read -his deeds and even his thoughts in it. For when a spirit enters a man, -he first of all takes possession of his memory. If they behold an evil -deed or the intention to commit one, they punish him with a pain in the -foot or in the hand, or the neighbourhood of the stomach, and they do -this with unexampled dexterity. A shudder announces their approach.</p> - -<p>"Besides inflicting pains in the limbs, they employ a painful pressure -against the navel, which gives the sensation of being surrounded with -a prickly girdle; moreover, they sometimes cause constrictions of -the chest, which they intensify to a terrible degree; finally, they -inspire a disgust of all food except bread, which continues for days.</p> - -<p>"Other spirits try to convince their victims of the opposite to that -which the instructing spirits have said. These spirits of contradiction -were, during their earthly existence, men who had been expelled from -society on account of some crime. Their approach is heralded by a -flickering flame, which seems to hover about one's face; their place is -above the back, whence they make themselves felt to the extremities." -(These flickering flames or sparks have appeared to me twice, and both -times on occasions when I resisted my better self, and rejected all -apparitions as idle dreams.)</p> - -<p>"These spirits of contradiction tell men not to believe what the -instructing spirits have been commissioned by the angels to say, -and not to rule their lives accordingly, but to live in all licence -and wantonness as they choose. Usually the former come as soon as -the latter have gone. Men know what to expect from them, and do not -trouble much about them, but they learn through their assaults to -distinguish between good and evil. For the knowledge of good is first -gained through that of its opposite, just as every perception or idea -of a matter is obtained by carefully observing what distinguishes it -from its contrary." The reader may remember the faces like antique -sculptures which I saw formed by the white cover of my pillow in the -Hôtel Orfila. Swedenborg speaks regarding them as follows:</p> - -<p>"Two signs show that they (the spirits) dwell with a man; one is an old -man with a white face. This sign will signify to him that he is always -to speak the truth, and to act justly.... I myself have seen such an -antique human face. There are faces of pure whiteness and great beauty, -from which uprightness and modesty beam."</p> - -<p>(In order not to alarm the reader, I have purposely concealed the fact, -that all the above relates to the inhabitants of the planet Jupiter. -My surprise may be imagined when one spring morning they bring me a -French review containing a picture of Swedenborg's house in the planet -Jupiter, drawn by Victorien Sardou. Why on Jupiter? What a remarkable -coincidence! And has the master and doyen of the Théâtre Français -observed that the left façade of the building seen from a sufficient -distance forms an antique human face? This face is the same as that -which was formed by my cushion-cover. -But in Sardou's drawing there are more of such silhouettes formed by -the lines of the building. Has the master's hand been guided by another -hand, so that he produced more than he knew?)</p> - -<p>Where has Swedenborg seen his heaven and hell? Are they visions, -intuitions, inspirations? I hardly know, but the correspondence of his -hell to that of Dante, and of the Greek, Roman, and German mythologies, -leads to the idea that the powers have generally used similar means to -realise their purposes. And what are these purposes? The completion -of the human type; the production of the higher Man—the Superman, as -Nietzsche, that rod of chastisement prematurely used and cast into the -fire, has announced him. So the problem of good and evil is again set -up for us to solve, and Taine's moral indifference seems insipid before -these new demands.</p> - -<p>The belief in spirits follows as a natural consequence. What are -spirits? As soon as we admit the immortality of the soul, we see that -the dead are still alive and continue their relationships with the -living. "Evil spirits," then, are not evil, for their object is good, -and it would be better to call them, with Swedenborg, "corrective -spirits," than to abandon oneself to fear and to despair. Accordingly, -there exists no Satan, as an autonomous personality opposed to God, -and the undeniable apparitions of the Evil One in his traditional form -must be regarded as a scarecrow conjured up by Providence—Providence -the Supreme and Good, which carries on its government by means of an -enormous comprehensive staff, consisting of departed souls.</p> - -<p>Be comforted, and be proud of the grace bestowed upon you, all ye who -suffer from sleeplessness, nightmares, apparitions, palpitations, and -fears of death! <i>Numen adest!</i> God is seeking for you!</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_13" id="Footnote_1_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_13"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> According to Swedenborg the name of a stage in the -religious life.</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="XIV" id="XIV">XIV</a></h4> - -<h4>TRIBULATIONS</h4> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Interned in this little university town, without hope of getting out -of it, I engage in the terrible fight against my worst enemy—myself. -Every morning, when I go for a walk on the wall under the plane trees, -the large red lunatic asylum reminds me of the danger I have escaped, -and of that which still awaits me, if I relapse. Swedenborg, by -explaining to me the true character of my terrors during the last year, -has delivered me from the fear of electricians, "black" magicians, -wizards, the ambition of the gold-maker, and from madness. He has -pointed out the only way to salvation: to seek out the demons in their -dens within myself, and there to slay them by—repentance. Balzac, -the Prophet's assistant, has taught me in <i>Séraphita</i> that "Pain of -conscience is a weakness which does not put an end to sin; repentance -is the only power which makes a decisive end of all." Very well, -let us repent! But is not that equivalent to criticising Providence, -which has chosen me for its scourge? and to saying to the powers: "You -have guided my destiny ill; you have made me and commissioned me to -chastise, to overthrow idols, to stir up revolt, and then you withdraw -your protection from me and disown me in an absurd way, telling me to -creep to the cross and repent!"</p> - -<p>Strange "circulus vitiosus," which I already foresaw in my twentieth -year, when I wrote my drama <i>Meister Olaf</i>, and which has constituted -the tragedy of my life. Why be tormented during thirty years in order -to be taught by experience what one had already foreboded? When young -I was sincerely pious, and you have made me a freethinker. Out of -the freethinker you have made an atheist, and out of the atheist a -religious man. Inspired by humanitarian ideas, I have been a herald -of socialism. Five years later, you have shown me the absurdity of -socialism; you have made all my prophecies futile. And supposing I -become again religious, I am sure that, in another ten years, you will -reduce religion to an absurdity.</p> - -<p>Ah! what a game the gods play with us poor mortals! And therefore, -in the most tormented moments of life, we too can laugh with -self-conscious raillery.</p> - -<p>How is it that you wish us to take earnestly what is nothing but a huge -bad joke?</p> - -<p>For whom was Christ the Saviour? Consider the most Christian of all -Christians, our pious Scandinavians, these amæmic, wretched, timid -creatures, who look as though they were possessed. They seem to carry -an evil spirit in their hearts, and observe how most of their leaders -have ended in prison as criminals. Why has their master delivered them -over to the enemy? Is religion a punishment, and Christ an Avenger?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The sun shines, everyday life proceeds on its usual course, the -cheerful bustle of business raises the spirits. Then one feels -rebellious, and challenges heaven with doubts. But when night, silence, -and loneliness reign, the heart beats, and the breast suffers from -constriction. Then one jumps out of window into a hedge of thorns, -and humbly begs a physician for help, and seeks someone to share the -sleeping chamber.</p> - -<p>Go again into your room, and you will find someone is there; he is -invisible, but you feel his presence. Then go to the asylum, and ask -the doctor; he will talk to you about neurasthenia, paranoia, angina -pectoris, and stories of that kind, but will never heal you. Whither, -then, will you go, all ye who, sleepless, wander through street after -street, waiting for the dawn? "The mills of the universe," "The mills -of God," are two expressions in common use. Have you had that roaring -in your ears which is like the noise of a water-wheel? Have you in -the solitude of night or in broad daylight observed how memories of -the past stir and arise, singly or in groups? Memories of all your -faults, crimes, and follies which make your ears tingle, your brows -perspire, your spine shudder? You re-live your life from your birth -to the present day, you suffer over again all the sorrows you have -endured; you empty again all the cups which you have drunk to the dregs -so often; you crucify your skeleton when there is no more flesh left to -crucify; you consume your soul when your heart is reduced to ashes!</p> - -<p>You know all that?</p> - -<p>Those are the "mills of God" which grind slowly but exceeding small. -You are ground to powder, and think it is over. But no! You are brought -again to the mill. Be thankful! That is hell upon earth, as Luther knew -it, and reckoned it a special grace to be pulverised on this side of -the grave.</p> - -<p>Think yourself happy and be thankful!</p> - -<p>What is one to do then? Humble oneself?</p> - -<p>If you humble yourself before men, you will arouse their pride, for all -will think themselves, no matter how guilty they may be, better than -you.</p> - -<p>Well, then, is one to humble oneself before God? But is it not -disgraceful to degrade the Highest by conceiving of Him as the overseer -of a slave plantation?</p> - -<p>Shall we pray? What! Presume to try to alter the will and decision -of the Eternal by flattery and crawling? I look for God and find the -Devil! That is my destiny! I have repented and reformed myself.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I renounce alcohol, and come about nine o'clock soberly home to drink -milk. The room is filled with all kinds of demons, who drag me out of -bed and try to stifle me under the blankets. But if I come home at -midnight intoxicated, I sleep like an angel and wake up strong as a -young god, and ready to work like a galley-slave.</p> - -<p>I live a chaste life, and am troubled by unwholesome dreams. I accustom -myself to think only good of my friends, entrust my secrets and my -money to them, and am betrayed. If I show offence at such treachery, it -is always I who am punished.</p> - -<p>I try to love mankind in the mass; I shut my eyes to their faults, -and with inexhaustible patience endure their meanesses and slanders, -and one fine day I find myself a sharer of their crimes. Whenever -I withdraw from society which I consider injurious, the demons of -solitude attack me, and when I look for better friends, I come on the -track of the worst. Yes, after I have conquered my evil inclinations -and through loneliness have attained to a certain degree of inward -peace, I am caught in the snare of self-satisfaction and despising -my neighbour. And self-conceit is the deadliest of sins, which is -instantly punished.</p> - -<p>How is one to explain the fact that every step of progress in virtue -gives rise to a fresh sin?</p> - -<p>Swedenborg solves the puzzle by declaring that sins are punishments -inflicted on men in requital for sins of the more heinous class. -Thus those who are greedy of power are condemned to the hell of the -Sodomites. Supposing this theory to be true, we must endure the -burden of our wickedness and rejoice at the pangs of conscience -which accompany it, as at the payment of fees at a toll-gate. To seek -virtue, accordingly, resembles an attempt to escape from prison and its -punishments. That is what Luther asserts in article xxix. against the -Romish bull, when he declares that "souls in purgatory sin continually, -because they seek for peace, and try to avoid torments." Similarly, -in article xxxiv., he says, "To fight with the Turks is equivalent to -rebellion against God, whose instrument the Turks are, in order to -punish our sins." It is therefore obvious "that all our good works are -deadly sins," and that "the world must become guilty before God, and -learn that no one is justified except through grace."</p> - -<p>Let us therefore suffer without hoping for any real joy in life, for, -my brothers, we are in hell. And do not let us accuse the Lord, when we -see our little innocent children suffer. No one knows why, but divine -justice gives us a ground for surmising that it is on account of sins -committed by them before their birth. Let us rejoice in our torments, -as though they were the paying off of so many debts, and let us count -it a mercy that we do not know the real reason why we are punished.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="XV" id="XV">XV</a></h4> - -<h4>WHITHER?</h4> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>Six months have passed, and I still go daily walking on the city wall -and survey the lunatic asylum, and catch glimpses of the blue sea in -the distance. Thence will the new epoch, the new religion, come of -which the world is dreaming.</p> - -<p>Gloomy winter is buried, the meadows are green, the trees are in -blossom, the nightingale sings in the garden of the observatory, but -a wintry sadness still weighs upon our spirits, for so many weird and -inexplicable things have happened, that even the most incredulous -waver. The general sleeplessness increases, nervous breakdowns are -common, apparitions are matters of every day, and real miracles happen. -People are expecting something.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A young man pays me a visit, and asks, "What must one do in order to -sleep quietly at night?"</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Upon my word, I cannot say, but my bed-room has become a terror to me, -and I give it up to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"Young man, atheist, naturalist, why?"</p> - -<p>"The Devil must be in it! When I open the door of my room at night and -enter, someone seizes me by the arms and shakes me."</p> - -<p>"Then there is someone in your room?"</p> - -<p>"No, when I light a candle there is no one to be seen."</p> - -<p>"Young man, there is someone who cannot be seen by candle-light!"</p> - -<p>"Who is that?"</p> - -<p>"The invisible, young man! Have you taken sulphonal, bromkali, -morphium, chloral?"</p> - -<p>"I have tried all."</p> - -<p>"And the invisible does not quit the field. Very well! You want to -sleep at night, and wish me to tell you how. Listen, young man, I -am neither a physician nor a prophet, I am an old sinner, who does -penance. Demand therefore neither preaching nor prophecy from an old -gallows-bird, who wants all his leisure time to preach to himself. I -have also suffered from sleeplessness and paralysis of the arms; I have -wrestled eye to eye with the invisible, and finally recovered sleep and -health. Do you know how? Guess!"</p> - -<p>The young man guesses my meaning, and casts his eyes down. "You guess -it! Go in peace, and sleep well!"</p> - -<p>Yes! I must be silent and let my meaning be guessed, for if I began to -play the preaching monk, they would turn their backs on me at once.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A friend asks me, "Whither are we going?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot say, but as regards myself personally, it seems that the way -of the Cross leads me back to the faith of my fathers."</p> - -<p>"To Catholicism?"</p> - -<p>It appears so. Occultism has played its part, by giving a scientific -explanation of miracles and demonology. Theosophy, the forerunner -of religion, has fulfilled its function, when it has revived belief -in a world-order which punishes and rewards, Karma will be replaced -by God, and the Mahatmas will be revealed as the new-born powers, -the chastising and instructing spirits. Buddhism in Young France has -preached renunciation of the world and the worship of sorrow, which -leads direct to Golgotha.</p> - -<p>As regards the homesick longing I feel for the bosom of the Mother -Church, that is a long story, which I may summarise as follows:</p> - -<p>When Swedenborg taught me that it is unlawful to quit the religion of -one's ancestors, he said that with reference to Protestantism, which is -treason against the Mother Church. Or, to put it better, Protestantism -is a punishment inflicted on the barbarians of the North. Protestantism -is the Exile, the Babylonish Captivity, but the Return seems near, the -Return to the promised land. The immense progress which Catholicism -makes in America, England, and Scandinavia seems to point towards a -great reconciliation, in which the Greek Church, which has already -stretched out her hand towards the West, is not to be forgotten.</p> - -<p>That is the dream of the socialists regarding the restoration of the -United States of the West, but taken in a spiritual sense. But I beg -you not to think that it is a political theory which takes me back -to the Roman Church. I have not sought Catholicism; it has found a -place in me, after following me for years. My child, who became a -Catholic against my will, has shown me the beauty of a cult which has -maintained itself unaltered from the first, and I have always preferred -the original to the copy. The considerable time I spent in my child's -native country gave me opportunity to observe and admire the sincerity -of the religious life there. I have been also influenced by my stay -in the St. Louis Hospital, and finally by the occurrences of the last -few weeks. After contemplating my life, which has whirled me round -like some of the damned in Dante's hell, and after discovering that my -existence in general had no other object but to humble and to defile -me, I determined to anticipate my executioner, and take in hand my -own torture. I determined to live in the midst of sufferings, dirt, -and death-agonies, and with this object I prepared to seek a post as -attendant on the sick in the Hôpital des Frères St. Jean de Dieu in -Paris. This idea occurred to me on the morning of April 29th, after -I had met an old woman with a head resembling a skull. When I return -home, I find <i>Séraphita</i> lying open on my table, and on the right page -a splinter of wood, which points to the following sentence: "Do for God -what you would do for your own ambitious plans, what you do when you -devote yourself to your art, what you have done when you love someone -more than Him, or when you have investigated a secret of science! Is -God not Science Itself?..."</p> - -<p>In the afternoon the newspaper <i>L'Éclair</i> arrived, and, strange to say, -the Hôpital des Frères St. Jean de Dieu is twice mentioned in it.</p> - -<p>On May 1st I read for the first time in my life Sar Peladan's <i>Comment -on devient un Mage</i>.</p> - -<p>Sar Peladan, hitherto unknown to me, overcomes me like a storm, a -revelation of the higher man, Nietzsche's Superman, and with him -Catholicism makes its solemn and victorious entry into my life.</p> - -<p>Has "He who should come" come already in the person of Sar Peladan. The -Poet-Thinker-Prophet—is it <i>he</i>, or do we wait for another?</p> - -<p>I know not, but after I have passed through these antechambers of a new -life, I begin on May 3rd to write this book.</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 5<i>th</i>.—A Catholic priest, a convert, visited me.</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 9<i>th</i>.—I saw the figure of Gustavus Adolphus in the ashes of the -stove.</p> - -<p>On May 14th I read in Sar Peladan: "About the year 1000 A.D. it was -possible to believe in witchcraft; to-day, as the year 2000 A.D. -approaches, it is an established fact that such and such an individual -has the fatal peculiarity of bringing trouble to those who come into -collision with him. You deny him a request, and your dearest friend -deceives you; you strike him, and illness makes you keep your bed; -all the harm you do to him recoils on you in twofold measure. But, say -people, that signifies nothing; 'chance' can explain these inexplicable -coincidences. Modern determinism sums itself up in the expression -'chance.'"</p> - -<p>On May 17th I read what the Dane, Jorgensen, a convert to Catholicism, -says about the Beuron convent.</p> - -<p>On May 18th a friend whom I have not seen for six years comes to Lund, -and takes a room in the house where I am staying. Who can picture -my emotion when I learn that he also has just been converted to -Catholicism? He lends me his breviary (I had lost mine a year ago), and -as I read again the Latin hymns and chants, I feel myself once more at -home.</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 21<i>th</i>.—After a series of conversations regarding the Mother -Church, my friend has written a letter to the Belgian convent, where he -was baptised, requesting them to find a place of refuge for the author -of this book.</p> - -<p><i>May</i> 28<i>th</i>.—There is a vague rumour in circulation that Mrs. Annie -Besant has become a Catholic.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I am waiting the answer from the Belgian convent. By the time this -book is printed, the answer will have arrived. And then? After that? A -new joke for the gods, who laugh heartily when we shed bitter tears.</p> - -<p>Lund, <i>May</i> 3<i>rd</i>-<i>June</i> 25<i>th</i>, 1897.</p> - -<p>[<i>Translator's Note</i>.—Strindberg never actually entered the Roman -Church.]</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE</a></h4> - - -<p>I had finished this book with the exclamation, "What humbug! What -wretched humbug life is!" But after some reflection I found the -sentiment unworthy, and struck it out. My mind swayed irresolute, and -at last I took refuge in the Bible, to find the explanation I needed. -And thus the Holy Book, more inspired with prophetic qualities than any -other, answered me: "And I will set my face against that man, and will -make him a sign and a proverb, and I will cut him off from the midst of -my people, and ye shall know that I am the Lord. And if that prophet -be deceived, I the Lord have deceived that prophet, and I will stretch -out my hand upon him, and will destroy him from the midst of my people -Israel."—Ezek. xiv., 8, 9.</p> - -<p>Such then is my life; a sign, an example to serve for the betterment -of others; a proverb to set forth the nothingness of fame and of -celebrity; a proverb to show the younger generation how they should not -live; yes! I am a proverb, I who regarded myself as a prophet, and am -revealed as a braggart. Now the Eternal has led this false prophet to -speak empty words, and the false prophet feels irresponsible since he -has only played the rôle assigned to him.</p> - -<p>Here you have, my brothers, the picture of a human destiny, one among -so many, and now confess that a man's life may seem—a bad joke!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Who is the Prince of this world, who condemns mortals to their -wickedness, and rewards virtue with the cross, the stake, -sleeplessness, and dreadful dreams? The Punisher of our unknown sins -committed somewhere else or forgotten? And who are Swedenborg's -reforming spirits, the guardian angels who protect us from the evil -ones?</p> - -<p>What a Babel-like confusion!</p> - -<p>St. Augustine pronounced it effrontery to doubt the existence of -demons. St. Thomas Aquinas declared that demons produce storms and -thunderbolts, and can delegate their power to human hands. Pope John -XXII. complained of the unlawful devices of his enemies, who pierced -portraits of him with needles. Luther believed that all accidents, -such as breaking bones, falls, conflagrations, and most illnesses were -traceable to the machinations of devils. He also asserted that some -individuals have already had their hell upon earth.</p> - -<p>Have I not, then, rightly named my book <i>Inferno</i>? If any reader holds -it for mere invention, he is invited to inspect my journal, which I -have kept daily since 1895, of which this book is only an elaborated -and expanded extract.</p> - - -<h4>THE END</h4> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inferno, by August Strindberg - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INFERNO *** - -***** This file should be named 44108-h.htm or 44108-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/1/0/44108/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at http://www.freeliterature.org - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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