Some miscellaneous material from Strindberg’s Inferno

This is yet another article in the series inspired by Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to Swedish playwright August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno.

Included here are some miscellaneous incidents and details of yet another ‘friendship’ that ended badly. The material speaks for itself; it is all typical of Strindberg and his life; it is all typical of things that happen to people who use occult instead of natural methods to go through life and get what they want. 

The meal that backfired

This is a very small incident, but it is significant in terms of what happens to people who use psychological black magic.

Strindberg’s mother-in-law cooked what she said was his favourite dish; not only was it not at the top of his list, it was something he disliked more than anything else. He had to force himself to eat the revolting dish.

He got the exact opposite of what he expected.

The worst towns in Sweden

Strindberg said this:

“There are ninety towns in Sweden, and the powers have condemned me to go to the one which I most dislike.” 

The powers? He blamed ‘occultists and their secret powers’ for his many misfortunes when he himself was often the cause.

He moved on to another Swedish town:

“...I have made personal enemies here, and have contracted debts under circumstances which set my character in a dubious light... 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...”

So he ended up in the exact opposite of the peaceful refuge he wanted, with more former friends who had become his enemies and more debts. Same old same old...

L. M. Montgomery and the compulsion to read and write

I have found some more significant quotations from Lucy Maud Montgomery. What she has to say about reading and writing, both as herself and through her characters, is of particular interest. She could be speaking for many people of her kind.

Compulsive reading

 “I am simply a 'book drunkard.' Books have the same irresistible temptation for me that liquor has for its devotee. I cannot withstand them.” 

-From L.M. Montgomery’s personal journals 1899

“We have sent for a lot of new books for our Literary Society library here and when they come I’m simply going on a spree. I shall read all night and all day. I’m a book-drunkard, sad to say, and though I earnestly try to curb my appetite for reading I never met with much success.”

-From L.M. Montgomery’s letter of March 1905

Me too. All my life I have been unable to resist this temptation.

‘Book addict’ or ‘reading addict’ is another way of putting it, although there is nothing of the need to take more and more to achieve less and less.

The two worlds of L. M. Montgomery

Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery, best known for her Anne of Green Gables series, has recently become a person of interest.

She will eventually be the subject of a longer article. In the meantime, here are two quotations from her that describe the two worlds that some people live in. It was these quotations that made me decide to investigate L. M. Montgomery, her life and her works: 

“I grew up out of that strange, dreamy childhood of mine and went into the world of reality. I met with experiences that bruised my spirit - but they never harmed my ideal world. That was always mine to retreat into at will. I learned that that world and the real world clashed hopelessly and irreconcilably; and I learned to keep them apart so that the former might remain for me unspoiled.

I learned to meet other people on their own ground since there seemed to be no meeting place on mine. I learned to hide the thoughts and dreams and fancies that had no place in the strife and clash of the market place.

Some afterthoughts about August Strindberg’s occult battles

I have had a few afterthoughts about the previously mentioned occult battles involving August Strindberg and his ‘friends’.

As described in the second article in the secret friend series, the theosophist made many threats when Strindberg refused to obey orders. In return, Strindberg threatened to use occult powers of his own. He warned his friend that what happened to someone who had tried to interfere with Strindberg’s destiny back in Sweden some years earlier could happen to him too.

Strindberg gives some details of his earlier encounter with this other man who, just as the secret friend would later do, tried to impose his will on Strindberg from a position of superiority.

I can see some common elements in his dealings with these two men. Some of my comments on Strindberg’s relationships with his mystery man and other people are relevant here too.

First approaches and negative responses

It was the other man who made the first move. Strindberg tells us:

“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.”

This reminds me of what happened years later when Strindberg received the first letter from his secret friend. He took offence at its tone and sent a discouraging reply.

A few words about some fictional elves and ghosts

There are a few similarities between the elves in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books and the ghosts in fantasy writer Jonathan Stroud’s wonderful Lockwood & Co. series.

Terry Pratchett’s elves have no redeeming qualities; they are vicious, cruel, malevolent and dangerous to humans. I have quoted some of the things that he says about them in an article featuring energy vampires .

Jonathan Stroud says similar things about his ghosts. They are malevolent and dangerous to the living. There is nothing good to say about them.

Terry Pratchett’s elves enter the world through gaps in the defences, through what could be described as weak points in the barrier between Fairyland and the Discworld; the ghosts too enter via windows or portals, spots where the barrier between this world and the next has grown thin.

Both the elves and the ghosts cause their victims to experience terrible feelings; they may even lose the will to live.

It takes the Discworld witches to deal successfully with the elves; in the alternative London of the Lockwood series, only children and teenagers with certain psychic talents are able to detect, deal with and destroy the ghosts.

August Strindberg and some suspicious deaths

August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno is inspiring post after post. It is full of material relevant to this blog.

It took three articles to cover the story of the relationship between August Strindberg and his secret friend, the man who was determined to make Strindberg admire the works of Madame Blavatsky and become a theosophist.

The relationship operated on three levels: it can be looked at in terms of two men quarrelling and falling out, a cult member attacking a target who refused to be recruited and two black magicians having an occult battle.

There is something more to say the black magic aspect. This article will cover some suspicious deaths that Strindberg mentions in connection with the battle and its aftermath, the battle that took place only in their letters and on other dimensions as they never met in real life.

The first two deaths

Two prominent men just happened to die shortly after something relevant by Strindberg had been published, and the secret friend believed that Strindberg had caused the deaths.

In Strindberg’s own words:

“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.

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.”

So Strindberg thought that the two deaths were just coincidences, but his secret friend blamed him for them. When it comes to the attribution of sinister occult powers, it is a case of the pots calling the kettles black. The two men really did deserve each other!