: The Inferno by Strindberg August Field Claud Translator - Autobiographical fiction; Authors Swedish 19th century Biography; Strindberg August 1849-1912

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INTRODUCTION

THE INFERNO

INTRODUCTION

"Wer immer strebend sich bem?ht Den K?nnen wir erl?sen."

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.

He was an enormous reader, and seems to have possessed a knowledge almost as encyclopaedic 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."

"Who never ceases still to strive, 'T is him we can deliver."

"Courbe la t?te fier Segambre; adore ce qui tu as br?l?; br?le ce qui tu as ador?!"

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.

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