Plays: The Father; Countess Julie; The Outlaw; The Stronger | Page 3

that he was advised to go to the dramatic school to
study. He went home disgusted and heartsick, and, determined to take
his life, swallowed an opium pill which he had long been keeping for
that purpose.
However, it was not sufficiently powerful, and, a friend coming to see
him, he was persuaded to go out, and together they drowned his chagrin
in an evening at it café.

The day after was a memorable one, for it was Strindberg's birthday as
a dramatist. He was lying on a sofa at home, his body still hot from the
shame of his defeat--and wine, trying to figure out how he could
persuade his stepmother to effect a reconciliation between him and his
father. He saw the scenes played as clearly as though on a stage, and
with his brain working at high pressure, in two hours had the scheme
for two acts of a comedy worked out. In four days it was
finished--Strindberg's first play! It was refused production, but he was
complimented, and felt that his honor was saved.
The fever of writing took possession of him and within two months he
had finished two comedies, and a tragedy in verse called "Hermione,"
which was later produced. Giving so much promise as a dramatist he
was persuaded to leave the stage and, unwilling of spirit, returned to
Upsala in the spring of 1870, as he was advised that he would never he
recognized as a writer unless he had secured is university degree. The
means with which to continue his studies were derived from the two
hundred crowns left him by his mother, which he now forced his father
to allow him to use. Despite this, however, his fortunes often ran to the
lowest ebb.
One day Strindberg announced that he had a one act play called "In
Rome" to read to the "Runa" (Song) Club, a group of six students
whom he had gotten together, and which was devoted exclusively to
the reading of the poetry of its members. The play, based upon an
incident in the life of Thorvaldsen, was received enthusiastically by the
"Runa," and the rest of the night was spent in high talk of Strindberg's
future over a champagne supper in his honor given by one of the
well-to-do members. These days of homage and appreciation from this
student group Strindberg cherishes as the happiest time in his life, but
notwithstanding their worshipful attitude, he himself was full of doubts
and misgivings about his abilities.
One of these friends sent the manuscript of "In Rome" to the
Dramatiska Theatre at Stockholm, where it was accepted and produced
anonymously in August of the same year, 1870. Strindberg was present
at the premiere and although it was well received, to him it was all a

fine occasion--except the play! He was ashamed of his self-confession
in it and fled before the final curtain. He soon finished another play,
"The Outlaw," which is included in the present volume. In this drama,
which retains a high place among his plays, Strindberg shows for the
first time his lion's claw and in it began to speak with his own voice. It
was accepted by the Court Theatre at Stockholm for production during
the next autumn, that of 1871.
At the close of the summer, after a violent quarrel with his father, he
returned to the University in the hope of finding help from his
comrades. Arrived at Upsala, with just one crown, he found that many
of his old and more prosperous friends were no longer there. Times
were harder than ever.
But at last a gleam of hope came with the news that "The Outlaw" was
actually to be produced. And his wildest dreams were then realized, for,
despite the unappreciative attitude of the critics toward this splendid
Viking piece, the King, Carl XV, after seeing the play, commanded
Strindberg to appear before him. Strindberg regarded the summons as
the perpetration of a practical joke, and only obeyed it after making
sure by telegraph that it was not a hoax.
Strindberg tells of the kindly old king standing with a big pipe in his
hand as the young author strode between chamberlains and other court
dignitaries into the royal presence.
The king, a grandson of Napoleon's marshal Bernadotte, and as a
Frenchman on the throne of Sweden, diplomatic enough to desire at
least the appearance of being more Swedish than the Swedes, spoke of
the pleasure the ancient Viking spirit of "The Outlaw" had given him,
and, after talking genially for some time, said, "You are the son of
Strindberg, the steamship agent, I believe and so, of course, are not in
need."
"Quite the reverse," Strindberg replied, explaining that his father no
longer gave him the meager help in his university