Stella Benson, two men, and great disillusionment

Strindberg’s ignoring of his initial feelings of mistrust when he met the mystery man who became his ‘former American friend’ has reminded me of what I read about the negative feelings on both sides when the novelist Stella Benson first met the man who was to become her husband.

Reading about various people who fell for a false image and let wishful thinking and other factors distort their perceptions has reminded me of the man who at first made a very positive impression on Stella Benson, only for her to be devastated when she learned that he was not only greatly inferior to but in some ways the exact opposite of what she thought he was.

It is the points, issues and patterns rather than the people that are of interest here; the underlying scenarios, unseen influences and connections are more important than the details.

The information comes from Joy Grant’s biography, which is based on Stella Benson’s letters and diaries.

The first meeting

Stella and her future husband reacted much the same way when they first saw each other. They had premonitions, and not good ones. She didn’t want to go anywhere he was going, and the feeling was mutual: he couldn’t get away fast enough!

They came to revise their opinions of each other, but it might have been better for both of them if they had not ignored their initial misgivings.

Stella Benson’s marriage

Stella Benson, like Stella Gibbons, married a man who was younger than she was. The age gap was five years in Stella Gibbon’s case, but Stella Benson’s husband was only 18 months her junior.

In both cases, the husband’s family was not impressed; the Stellas failed to pass muster in their eyes.

A very good definition of a witch

I found a very good definition of a witch recently, from a writer I had never previously heard of:

“Perhaps I am the only person who, asked whether she were a witch or not, could truthfully say, ‘I do not know. I do know some very strange things have happened to me, or through me.’"
 From Bless This House by Norah Lofts

This is independent confirmation of something I have been thinking and writing about for many years. Strange things, both good and bad, do indeed happen to, through and around some people; the speaker above is far from being the only person to experience strange phenomena.

Synchronicity, very good or very bad timing and amazing coincidences are often involved, and so are what might be called blessing and, its opposite, cursing. The same person may be able to perform both actions:

“’Blessings be on this house,’ Granny said, perfunctorily. It was always a good opening remark for a witch. It concentrated people's minds on what other things might be on this house.”

From Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett

Terry Pratchett’s witch books are very amusing, with occasional serious comments and thought-provoking ideas about magic and witches. 

“There were really only four types of people in the world: men and women and wizards and witches.”

From I Shall Wear Midnight by Terry Pratchett

Paris inferno synchronicity

As can be seen from the posting dates, since March 21st I have been producing articles about August Strindberg, his bizarre autobiographical novel Inferno and his life in Paris.

I first heard about the fire at Notre Dame Cathedral from an online news headline on Monday:

Notre Dame fire: Paris cathedral destroyed by inferno | Daily Mail Online

This is far from being the first time that something like this has happened to me, although it is almost the first time with this kind of public record.

It is alarming, but it is probably just a coincidence.

August Strindberg’s mystery man again

This article in the series inspired by Swedish playwright August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno is an addition to the one about the American mystery man who was for a while Strindberg’s close and sole companion.

It contains a few more ideas about this episode in his life. It is useful to put these things into some sort of context, so although not all of the material is directly relevant it is connected to Strindberg in some way. Even Nietzsche gets a mention!

The ‘former American friend’

In this case, it is not obvious who is the main victim and who the victimiser.

Perhaps this man was a mirror or a messenger. Perhaps Strindberg appeared and behaved to others as the mystery man did to him. Perhaps Strindberg had just as bad an effect on the man - and others - as the man had on him. It is often said that like attracts like and a man is known by the company he keeps.

It could just be that both men were in a psychotic state at the time so were strongly drawn to each other.

There is no free will at the lowest levels, just strong currents that can overwhelm people. Maybe both men were trapped in a bad psychological neighbourhood, a place where no normal healthy person could or would venture.   

Maybe his use of black magic against his little daughter put Strindberg into the power of something that only lets its hostages and puppets associate with others in the same position.

Perhaps some scripted scenarios were at work.

August Strindberg and the mystery man

Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to the Swedish playwright August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno have inspired many articles. This one describes Strindberg’s involvement with a mysterious man, the artist previously introduced as his ‘former American friend’.

Strindberg generously took this man into his life for a while, only to be met with envy and a refusal to acknowledge his successes. Strindberg changed for the worse, both inwardly and outwardly, during the time that this man was his close and sole companion.

Was this relationship merely one that was typical of the time, the place and the people involved, or were unseen influences at work?

There are certainly a few familiar metaphysical elements in the case.

How it all began

Strindberg tells of how a stranger, an American artist, turned up in a Paris restaurant that he and his circle liked to visit.

Although this man seemed like an active and bold spirit and was like a breath of fresh air, Strindberg experienced some vague feelings of mistrust. He sensed that the confident demeanour was just a façade and all was not well below the surface.

His instincts were correct. Just about everything in this man’s life that could go wrong had gone wrong. He soon approached Strindberg for help:

“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…

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.”

In other words, he and his life were in a complete mess.

Stella Benson’s very true words about pain

As I learned recently from reading Joy Grant’s biography, the novelist Stella Benson experienced a lot of pain in her life.

She had this to say about it:

“Pain is an extinguisher that can put out the sun.“

Her wise words immediately reminded of something someone said to me many years ago.

My then boss, who was the head of an overseas aid agency, had severe toothache. He told me that the pain was so bad that tears rolled down his face when he was being interviewed by a journalist. He said she probably thought that he was crying for the poor people of Africa, but it was just the toothache! 

He went on to say that the pain was so intense it filled the world and drove everything else out.

This is spot on. Both he and Stella Benson got it right. Pain does take over completely; everything else recedes and disappears.

Nothing else seems real. People often stop caring about anything else, and in any case have no spare capacity for dealing with anything else. I know this from experience.

How can we feel much interest in things our pain prevents us from participating in? What does it matter if ‘Hollywood values’, political correctness, diversity for its own sake and other ideologies are ruining everything? Who cares who wins the election?

So what if Kim Jong Un or Putin might launch nuclear missiles and destroy us all – we only wish he would: it would put us out of our misery!

Strindberg’s string of misfortunes: Part V

Previous articles in the series inspired by Colin Wilson’s references in The Occult to an episode in August Strindberg’s autobiographical novel Inferno cover some of the misfortunes that Strindberg brought upon himself by deliberately using occult techniques in an attempt to influence his family remotely.

This article will cover a few more incidents of particular interest. It describes some minor accidents and bizarre and offensive behaviour by random strangers that ruined Strindberg’s enjoyment when he visited a café and a restaurant.  

After describing one accident, Strindberg assures the reader that he is speaking the truth. I believe that Strindberg is indeed telling the truth in his accounts of all these incidents. You couldn’t make all this up! The small details are very convincing, and once again there are some familiar elements in his stories.

Strindberg and the café incidents

Not long after he had performed his evil action, Strindberg experienced a string of small but very annoying and sometimes amusing - although not to him - incidents every time he went to a certain Paris café. 

Strindberg’s main pleasure in life at the time was to sit with a glass of absinthe, a cigarette and some newspapers under a chestnut tree on the terrace of a café that he favoured. He would go in the early evening to relax for an hour or so after finishing his day’s work; he favoured a particular spot that he thought of as his place. Then it all started to go wrong:

“...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. ... 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.”

He returned the next day, only for this to happen:

“My old corner ... 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.”