Legends

cruelty which has chosen this place as my prison. The University of Lund is much prized by the natives of Schonen, but for a man from the north like myself the fact that one stays here is a sign that one has come to an inclined plane and is rolling down. Moreover, for me who am well advanced in the forties, have been a ma

of an enemy of the seniors and of the social circles of solid respectability. Come down, indeed! That is just the right word, and why? Because I scorned to submit myself to the laws

rrupter of youth, I am placed in a situation which reminds one of a snake in an a

my composing are now laid up in a corner, and not a single one performed any more; an equal number of novels and tales, and not one in a second edition. All attempts to borrow a loan have

false honour with my life. Prepared for anything, I endure resolutely to the uttermost the most extraordinary humiliations and observe how my expiatory pangs commence. Well-educated youths of good family treat me one night to a serenade of caterwauling in my corridor. I take it as something I have deserved without disturbing myself. I try to hire a furnished lodging. The landlord refuses with transparent excuses, and the refusal is flung in my face. I pay visits and am not received. These a

ust admire the composition of this tragi-com

lf. They do not prick up their ears so solemnly at my arguments, but rather ask after novelties in the world of ideas. I open for them the vestibule to the temple of Isis, and say, by way o

eptic. It can certainly not be said that people are opposed to everything new-quite the contrary; but they become conservative as regards ideals which have been won by hard fighting and which one is not inclined to desert. Still

ersonality and show to the world a rationalistic occultist, but I keep my innermost individuality unimpaired and cherish the germ of a creedless religion. Often my outer r?le gets the

l causes of my suffering to external things, especially the malice of men. Attacked day and night by "electric streams," which compress my chest and stab my heart, I quit my torture-chamber, and visit the tavern where I find friends. Fearing sobriety, I drink ceaselessly, as the only way of procuring sleep at night.

return to the half-sober tavern, without, however, transgressing the bounds of m

resignation. For six years I have had all kinds of sufferings, and am now prepared for anything. Loneliness in an hotel! That h

st months so many things have happened, so many unusual unexpected things. "Let me hear them," I say. "They tell me that the head of the revolutionary s

l, w

nitential

redi

the town he kept a little aloof from me on the ground of his temperance principles, but it was he who lent me Swedenborg's Arcana Coelestia, which he had taken from his father's library. I remember

not! Not n

you a

or the

rely as a liter

N

hat he was quite in earnest. So there seems to be a general awakening

ellow, can you

follies which I have committed, all my sufferings and unhappiness pass by, but e

u a

you mean

f our time. They call

d answers, "Yes, it is a queer age we l

the re-entrance

. One fine morning my friend, the doctor and psychologist, comes and shows me a letter from our friend the poet, containing

nhappy," say

he matter

now he has lately bee

the question remains undecided. In the afternoon I get another lette

uffering from

asthenia and believes

demo

ly that, b

"Very well then, let us start," I say; "you see to the medicine and I will see to the exorcism." When the matter

are you Dr

exactly politely, for I though

e what time it is

N

I go

, it did nevertheless leave me

ntered my room, on the first floor, and washed up a little, when the usual

des up the servants' stairs, to get certainty. But upstairs nothing suspicious

son before religious parents, good and honest man. The day is spent with walks in a beautiful country-side and innocent conversations. The evening descends and bri

ching for something to read, I lay hands upon "Magic of the Middle Ages" by Viktor Rydberg. Aga

believe in such things and ridiculizes the thought of devils. But I cannot laugh; I'm offended by wha

nd weird isn't very suitable to induce any sleep

tary rooms is taken as a welcome distraction and

where, under a cloudy sky, the skeletons of frosted t

violence of the wind nearly throws us down. When we reach the place which is near the stable and under the hayloft, we a

d; "don't you h

he farm servants f

ly all day, and who sleeps in an attic begins to look uneasy, and finally confesses that he cannot sleep alone, as he suffers from nightmare. I give him up my bed, and go into a large room close by, where there is an enormous one. This room, unwarmed, without blinds, and almost unfurnished, makes me feel a depression which is increased by the damp and

evil obliged to attend mass. And it is to drive out devils with devils that I have been invited hither. I have co

noise rivets my attention and rouses me from my drowsiness. I observe an insect flying hither and thither in the upper part of the room. But I am astonished to find that I cannot identify it, though I am well up in entomology, and flatter myself that I know al

soon catch it by the lamp, whose flame will attract it. I have not long to wait; as soon as the fly gets within the lamp-shade a match scorches its wings. It dances its death-dance and l

morning I will give the others the op

tor has thrown himself half out of bed, and writhes in terrible convulsions, with his mouth wide open. In a word, he shows all the signs of hysteria described in Charcot's treatise, which calls the stage he is in now "possessio

up, "Have you been

an attack of

cub

my lungs together, somet

t now all my chance of sleep is gone. What I had seen was too terrible, an

which makes him hold the hidden Powers in awe. The delicate position in which I find myself between the seniors whom I admire, and the juniors whom I have no righ

h the old man?" I ask,

p,-has heart at

ous man! Then it is an epi

ossession of my soul. To challenge the demons, to defy the invisible, and finally to subdue it,-that, was the tas

y possibility of illusion on my part, I let the journalist describe the phenomenon, and find him convinced of its reality. As we went out after finishing our meal, the unknown woman who had accosted me before my departure from Lund, stood motionle

rises, and I fall into a deep sleep, but to be awoken in half an hour by a tremendous noise overhead. There seems to be at least a score of young people who sing, stamp on the ground, and push chairs about. The d

les north, where there is a celebrated view over the Sound. As the carriage drives through the turnpike gate before the village, I feel a violent compression of the chest, just as though someone pressed his knees into my back. The illusion is so complete that I turn round to see the enemy who is sitting behind me. Then a number of crows raise a loud croaking, and fly over the head of the horse. He is frighte

ook for him. But I have no knowledge of the place, and I look for some one to ask the way. Not a living soul is to be seen on the street or anywhere else. I knock at doors, but get no answer. Although it is eleven o'clock in the morning, and I am in a village of two hundred inhabitant

h dri

ow

n't see

n by a chestnut horse, and driven

eed I ha

im to wait he

e sitting in the ba

nd the inn again. Nor is anyone to be seen. Then I get nervous,-nervous in broad daylight! The village is bewitched. I c

yances or to demand from him explanations which explain nothing. We drive back to H?gan?s and when we rea

n open plain, without a sign of buildings or chimneys to indicate the presence of a coal-mine. The plain, which is under cultivation, seems to stretch to infinity; there is not even a hut, and no one of whom to ask the way. It

of hammering nails. Incredulous as to spirit-rappings, I attribute the phenomenon to malicious

aiting-room. In the gait and manner of this lady and in her whole bearing was something that aroused vague recollections in me. Anxious to see her aspect from the front I watch the door, waiting for her reappearance. Afte

t? Can one make oneself invisible? These are unsolved questions which make me feel near despa

Powers punish me ceaselessly and mercilessly. The spirits which

rk. I get up, pay my reckoning, and determine to continue my journey the whole night. Absolutely alone, in the cold January night, I drag myself on, with my carpet bag, under a pitch black sky. For a moment I think the best thing would be to lie down in the snow, and die. But the next moment I co

ering of the ceiling immediately over my head. It cannot be a mouse, for the loosely hanging paper does not move; besides, it seems to be a fairly large paw, l

in order that the punishments undergone may be equivalent to the wrongs committed. And it is really remarkable