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THE AMERICAN-SCANDINAVIAN REVIEW 
ter—a comparison that has frequently been made, and justly. The 
lower half of his face with its pale hollow cheeks was too small and sharp 
to be in harmony with his forehead. He wore a soft bushy moustache 
which jutted out over his lips, but failed to hide the curves of his small 
mouth. His large gray eyes were rather striking because of the black 
rim encircling the gray iris. IVeary, sad eyes they were, eyes that 
seemed to have shed many tears. As a rule his face wore an expression 
of aloofness, weariness, and gloom, but occasionally a sunny mischiev¬ 
ous smile would light up his features, and then a quizzical look would 
appear in his eye, a look of mingled astonishment and expectation. 
Strindberg often spoke of his resemblance to Edgar Allan Poe and to 
Rochefort, the French journalist. In both cases the resemblance was 
rather striking, but with regard to Poe the similarity was confined to 
the expression of proud and hopeless weariness and to the shape of the 
forehead, which grew so broad at the temples. 
His manner was serious, dignified, and formal. He walked with 
measured tread, almost as if marching in a procession. He spoke 
slowly and in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible, while his delivery 
was monotonous and inclined toward pathos. He purposely made use 
of only the middle register, for if he attempted to use the higher notes, 
he found he could no longer control his voice; it would become harsh 
and shrill. Something about his speech and walk suggested the actor. 
As a matter of fact, he had at one time intended to become an actor, 
and had learned to modulate his voice and control his movements. 
He tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, a result of his shyness 
and suspicious attitude toward his fellowmen, an attitude which in¬ 
fluenced his conduct at all times. He moved noiselessly, and when with 
strangers, he usually kept his eyes cast down. IVhen he appeared in 
public, he chose a seat in the dimmest corner, and if it was in any way 
possible, he turned his back upon those who were present. It is not 
at all surprising that during the period he was steeped in mysticism he 
sometimes was under the impression that he was invisible. He was 
annoyed when any one looked at him, and never looked back, partly 
because curiosity distressed him, and also because he labored under the 
delusion that he was being hounded, and therefore thought he saw 
hatred in every eye. He could not endure a crowd, and if he chanced 
to be in one he found something physically repulsive in all the ugli¬ 
ness about him. At such times he saw human beings as animals or 
“larvae,” as he used to express it. Moreover his mood would change 
from sunshine to gloom upon the slightest provocation. A mere trifle 
such as a cup of poor coffee in the morning was enough to spoil the 
whole day for him, but a kind word, the sight of a pretty flower, or a 
pleasant letter might restore his good humor. 
Except in times of stress when he was helpless in the grip of cir¬ 
cumstances and took things as they came, his habits were extremely 
