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How the author of Married in spite of these lucid statements of his could be turned into the apostle of absolute hatred of women, seems to me to be a sleight-of-hand trick of the kind that is rather difficult of explanation. Of course, it is quite clear from what quarter the trick proceeds; but to explain and to prove anything about it conclusively is more difficult.

Strindberg's endeavor to appear as the defender of idealistic womanhood displeased all the emancipationists in skirts or pantaloons who had started the “Doll's House cult” and had set up as their high aim: The emancipation of woman. And, strange to say, it seems to have been the educated element of the nation that had been carried away by this cult, this worship of the family cocotte. How many of those who fought bravely against the Ibsen play did not go down on their marrow-bones in face of the perverted cult caused by the very same play?

They did not try to refute Strindberg's logic with counter-proofs and clear arguments. They probably felt that it was rather difficult to argue him off his feet. But they felled the altogether too bold champion by a blow from behind. They declared him an outlaw by christening him The Woman Hater.

Everywhere in Sweden during the years next following the lawsuit occasioned by his Married, around thousands of coffee pots and with the aid of thousands of foul, tattling tongues, they fixed to the name of Strindberg this uncalled-for epithet; and it became so enduringly fixed that even at the present time, nay, on the very day of Strindberg's death, a thoughtless journalistic