Strindberg’s string of misfortunes: Part IV

The previous articles in the series inspired by an episode in August Strindberg’s Inferno and Colin Wilson’s account of it in The Occult give details of some of the unpleasant experiences that Strindberg brought on himself by deliberately using occult techniques in an attempt to influence his family remotely.

Such activities are asking for trouble. They surround the practitioner with bad energy and evil influences which affect not only them but also the people around them.

This article uses some minor incidents from Inferno to illustrate this point. They seem very significant to me because they provide independent confirmation of what I have read elsewhere; I have also experienced something similar myself.

Bad energy and Strindberg’s little girl

The following incident took place after Strindberg got back together with his wife and little girl. His daughter was two and a half years old at the time:

“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.”

Some people have a very damaging effect on others because of what they are surrounded with and broadcasting.

At least Strindberg felt bad about hurting his child; some parents add insult to injury by punishing their children for shrinking from and avoiding them.

Bad energy and the Danish painter

Small children are particularly open and vulnerable; so are creative people. I find this anecdote very interesting indeed:

“I visit the Danish painter in the Rue de la Santé ... 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... 

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? “

Strindberg was right: his coat was saturated with bad energy, and the Danish painter soon found it unbearable to have it around his shoulders. I know from experience that the possessions of some people have an unpleasant energy around them.

Another encounter with his friend had an even worse effect:

“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?"

What was the matter with the Danish painter? Evil has a withering, blighting effect and some people feel it more than others. The Danish artist was probably very sensitive to people’s energy fields, so was badly affected by Strindberg’s presence and what might be called his evil vibes! Maybe he became ill because he was being drained: Strindberg may have been an energy vampire.

I too have experienced something similar. Not only did I find it very uncomfortable and painful when certain people came anywhere near me, it was actually very damaging. I felt very weak and had to sit or even lie down.

At least Strindberg noticed the worsening condition of his friend.

Disguised identity

Inferno is an autobiographical novel. Some names and details have been changed to conceal people’s identity.

I have recently learned that the ‘Danish painter’ was Edvard Munch, who was actually Norwegian. His best known work is The Scream, and he painted the portrait of Strindberg that appears in the first article in this series.

Here is another of Munch’s pictures of Strindberg: