"Yes, but it is harder to get that accepted," replied his friend. Finally he let himself be persuaded and determined to carry out a small idea he had of a short play based on Thorwaldson's first visit to Rome. His friend lent him books on Italy and John set to work. In fourteen days the piece was ready.
"That will be acted," said his friend. "It has dramatic points, you see."
Since it was still a long time to the next meeting of the club, John hastened in the evening to Thurs and Rejd and read the piece to them. They were both of the same opinion as the natural history student, that the piece would be performed. They had a champagne supper, and kept drinking till the morning, and then went to sleep on the floor of Rejd's room with the punch-glasses by them. In a couple of hours they awoke, finished their half-empty glasses at sunrise and went out to continue the celebration of the occasion.
The sympathy of John's friends was hearty, unselfish and warm, without a trace of envy. He always remembered with pleasure this first success as one of the brightest recollections of his youth. The enthusiastic, devoted Rejd increased Hohn's debt of gratitude by copying out the piece in his graceful hand-writing. Then it was sent to the board of management of the Theatre Royal. Spring arrived and they spent the month of May in a continual carouse. The club had a small room in the restaurant Lilia Förderfvet for their evening suppers. There they talked, made speeches, and drank enormously. At last the term ended and they had to part, but they arranged to meet once more at Stockholm, and celebrate the festival day of the club by an excursion into the country.
At six o'clock one June morning the four members of the club met at Skeppsholm, where they had hired a rowing-boat. The chest of the club, a card-board box containing documents, was stowed away with baskets of provisions and bottles of wine. After Os and Rejd had taken the oars, they steered the boat to the canal leading through the Zoological Gardens, in order to reach the place they had appointed, a promontory of Liding Island. Thurs played airs on the flute to Bellmann's songs, and Frö (John) accompanied him on a guitar which he had learnt to play at Upsala.
As soon as they landed, breakfast was laid in a meadow by the shore. The club-chest adorned with leaves and flowers was set in the middle of the table-cloth, and on it were set the brandy-bottles and glasses. John, who had studied antiquities for his play, Sinking Hellas, arranged the meal in the Greek style, so that they wore garlands, and ate reclining. A fire was lit between some stones and coffee was made. At nine o'clock in the morning they drank brandy and punch.
John read his drama, The Free-thinker, which was duly criticised. Then they gave full course to their eloquence. Thurs was the best speaker; he could express emotions and thoughts rhythmically. Poems were read and received with applause. John sang folk-songs to the accompaniment of his guitar, some on sentimental subjects, and some on improper ones. At noon they were still in high spirits but inclined to be sleepy.
In the afternoon when the sun was over Lilia Värtan they had a short sleep, and then the carouse passed into a new phase. Thurs, the Israelite, had recited a poem on the greatness of the North, and called on the old gods of Scandinavia. Ur, the patriot, denied him the right to appropriate other people's gods. The Jewish question came up; they took fire and nearly quarrelled, but ended by embracing.
Then began the sentimental stage. They had to weep, for alcohol has this effect on the membranes of the stomach and the lachrymal duets. Ur first felt this and unconsciously sought for a melancholy subject. He burst into tears. When asked why, he did not know, but said at last that he had been treated as a buffoon, which he always was. He declared that he had a very serious nature and that he also had great troubles which no one knew about, but now he unburdened his heart and told us a domestic story. After he had done so, he became cheerful again.
But the evening was long and they began to wish to go home. Their brains were empty; they were tired of each other, and weary of play and drinking. They began to reflect and examine the philosophy of intoxication. From whence do men derive this desire to make themselves senseless? What lies behind it? Is it the southern exile's longing for a lost sunny existence in northern lands? There must be some felt necessity underlying intoxication, for a vice like this would not have laid hold of all mankind without reason. Is it that the member of society in a state of intoxication throws away all the lies of society? For the laws of social intercourse involuntarily forbid one to speak out all one's thoughts. Otherwise whence comes the saying, In vino veritas? Why did the Greeks honour Bacchus as one who improved men and manners? Why did Dionysus love peace, and why was he said to increase riches? Has wine, which is chiefly drunk by men, some influence on the development of man's intelligence and activity, so that he becomes superior to woman? And why do the Muhammadans who drink no wine stand on what is regarded as a lower level of civilisation? As salt is used as a daily nutrient to replace the salts which their hunting forefathers found in the blood of beasts of the chase, does not wine compensate for some lost nutritive matter belonging to earlier stages, and, if so, which? Some idea or necessity must underlie so singular a custom.