months of no advancement he found courage to ask to be heard in one
of the classical roles he had been studying.

The director, tired from a long rehearsal, reluctantly consented to
listen to him, likewise, the bored company of actors. Strindberg
went on "to do or die," and was soon shouting like a revivalist,
and made such it bad impression 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 cafe.

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