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Plays: The Father; Countess Julie; The Outlaw; The Stronger

A >> August Strindberg >> Plays: The Father; Countess Julie; The Outlaw; The Stronger




JULIE. Then what? And for that matter, we are not alone. Kristin is
here.

JEAN. Sleeping! Yes.

JULIE. Then I shall wake her. [Rises]. Kristin, are you asleep?

KRISTIN. [In her sleep]. Bla--bla--bla--bla.

JULIE. Kristin! She certainly can sleep. [Goes to Kristin.]

KRISTIN. [In her sleep]. The Count's boots are polished--put on the
coffee--soon--soon--soon. Oh--h-h-h--puh! [Breathes heavily. Julie
takes her by the nose.]

JULIE. Won't you wake up?

JEAN [Sternly]. Don't disturb the sleeping.

JULIE [Sharply]. What?

JEAN. Anyone who has stood over the hot stove all day long is tired
when night comes. One should respect the weary.

JULIE. That's a kind thought--and I honor it. [Offers her hand.]
Thanks for the suggestion. Come out with me now and pick some
syringas.

[Kristin has awakened and goes to her room, right, in a sort of
sleep stupified way.]

JEAN. With Miss Julie?

JULIE. With me.

JEAN. But that wouldn't do--decidedly not.

JULIE. I don't understand you. Is it possible that you fancy that
I--

JEAN. No--not I, but people.

JULIE. What? That I'm in love with my coachman?

JEAN. I am not presumptuous, but we have seen instances--and with
the people nothing is sacred.

JULIE. I believe he is an aristocrat!

JEAN. Yes, I am.

JULIE. But I step down-- --

JEAN. Don't step down, Miss Julie. Listen to me--no one would
believe that you stepped down of your own accord; people always say
that one falls down.

JULIE. I think better of the people than you do. Come--and try
them--come!

[Dares him with a look.]

JEAN. Do you know that you are wonderful?

JULIE. Perhaps. But you are too. Everything is wonderful for that
matter. Life, people--everything. Everything is wreckage, that
drifts over the water until it sinks, sinks. I have the same dream
every now and then and at this moment I am reminded of it. I find
myself seated at the top of a high pillar and I see no possible way
to get down. I grow dizzy when I look down, but down I must. But
I'm not brave enough to throw myself; I cannot hold fast and I long
to fall--but I don't fall. And yet I can find no rest or peace
until I shall come down to earth; and if I came down to earth I
would wish myself down in the ground. Have you ever felt like that?

JEAN. No, I dream that I'm lying in a dark wood under a tall tree
and I would up--up to the top, where I can look far over the fair
landscape, where the sun is shining. I climb--climb, to plunder the
birds' nests up there where the golden eggs lie, but the tree trunk
is so thick, so smooth, and the first limb is so high! But I know
if I reached the first limb I should climb as though on a ladder,
to the top. I haven't reached it yet, but I shall reach it, if only
in the dream.

JULIE. Here I stand talking about dreams with you. Come now, just
out in the park.

[She offers her arm and they start.]

JEAN. We should sleep on nine midsummer flowers tonight and then
our dreams would come true.

[She turns, Jean quickly holds a hand over his eye.]

JULIE. What is it, something in your eye?

JEAN. Oh, it is nothing--just a speck. It will be all right in
a moment.

JULIE. It was some dust from my sleeve that brushed against you.
Now sit down and let me look for it. [Pulls him into a chair, looks
into his eye.] Now sit still, perfectly still. [Uses corner of her
handkerchief in his eye. Strikes his hand.] So--will you mind? I
believe you are trembling, strong man that you are. [Touching his
arm.] And such arms!

JEAN [Warningly.] Miss Julie!

JULIE. Yes, Monsieur Jean!

JEAN. Attention. Je ne suis qu'un homme!

JULIE. Will you sit Still! So, now it is gone! Kiss my hand and
thank me!

[Jean rises.]

JEAN. Miss Julie, listen to me. Kristin has gone to bed now--will
you listen to me--

JULIE. Kiss my hand first.

JEAN. Listen to me--

JULIE. Kiss my hand first.

JEAN. Yes, but blame yourself.

JULIE. For what?

JEAN. For what? Are you a child at twenty-five? Don't you know that
it is dangerous to play with fire?

JULIE. Not for me. I am insured!

JEAN. No, you are not. But even if you are, there is inflammable
material in the neighborhood.

JULIE. Might that be you?

JEAN. Yes, not because it is I, but because I'm a young man--

JULIE [Scornfully]. With a grand opportunity--what inconceivable
presumption! A Don Juan perhaps! Or a Joseph! On my soul, I believe
he is a Joseph!

JEAN. You do?

JULIE. Almost.

[Jean rushes towards her and tries to take her in his arms to kiss
her.]

JULIE [Gives him a box on the ear]. Shame on you.

JEAN. Are you in earnest, or fooling?

JULIE. In earnest.

JEAN. Then you were in earnest a moment ago, too. You play too
seriously with what is dangerous. Now I'm tired of playing and beg
to be excused that I may go on with my work. The Count must have
his boots in time, and it is long past midnight. [Jean picks up
boots.]

JULIE. Put those boots away.

JEAN. No, that is my work which it is my duty to do, but I was not
hired to be your play thing and that I shall never be. I think too
well of myself for that.

JULIE. You are proud.

JEAN. In some things--not in others.

JULIE. Were you ever in love?

JEAN. We do not use that word, but I have liked many girls. One
time I was sick because I couldn't have the one I wanted--sick,
you understand, like the princesses in the Arabian Nights who could
not eat nor drink for love sickness.

JULIE. Who was she? [Jean is silent.] Who was she?

JEAN. That you could not make me tell.

JULIE. Not if I ask you as an equal, as a--friend? Who was she?

JEAN. It was you!

[Julie seats herself.]

JULIE. How extravagant!

JEAN. Yes, if you will, it was ridiculous. That was the story I
hesitated to tell, but now I'm going to tell it. Do you know how
people in high life look from the under world? No, of course you
don't. They look like hawks and eagles whose backs one seldom sees,
for they soar up above. I lived in a hovel provided by the state,
with seven brothers and sisters and a pig; out on a barren stretch
where nothing grew, not even a tree, but from the window I could
see the Count's park walls with apple trees rising above them. That
was the garden of paradise; and there stood many angry angels with
flaming swords protecting it; but for all that I and other boys
found the way to the tree of life--now you despise me.

JULIE. Oh, all boys steal apples.

JEAN. You say that, but you despise me all the same. No matter! One
time I entered the garden of paradise--it was to weed the onion
beds with my mother! Near the orchard stood a Turkish pavilion,
shaded and overgrown with jessamine and honeysuckle. I didn't know
what it was used for and I had never seen anything so beautiful.
People passed in and out and one day--the door was left open. I
sneaked in and beheld walls covered with pictures of kings and
emperors and there were red-fringed curtains at the windows--now
you understand what I mean--I--[Breaks off a spray of syringes and
puts it to her nostrils.] I had never been in the castle and how my
thoughts leaped--and there they returned ever after. Little by
little the longing came over me to experience for once the pleasure
of--enfin, I sneaked in and was bewildered. But then I heard
someone coming--there was only one exit for the great folk, but for
me there was another, and I had to choose that. [Julie who has
taken the syringa lets it fall on table.] Once out I started to
run, scrambled through a raspberry hedge, rushed over a strawberry
bed and came to a stop on the rose terrace. For there I saw a
figure in a white dress and white slippers and stockings--it was
you! I hid under a heap of weeds, under, you understand, where the
thistles pricked me, and lay on the damp, rank earth. I gazed at
you walking among the roses. And I thought if it is true that the
thief on the cross could enter heaven and dwell among the angels it
was strange that a pauper child on God's earth could not go into
the castle park and play with the Countess' daughter.

JULIE [Pensively]. Do you believe that all poor children would have
such thoughts under those conditions?

JEAN [Hesitates, then in a positive voice]. That all poor children--
yes, of course, of course!

JULIE. It must be a terrible misfortune to be poor.

JEAN [With deep pain and great chagrin]. Oh, Miss Julie, a dog may
lie on the couch of a Countess, a horse may be caressed by a lady's
hand, but a servant--yes, yes, sometimes there is stuff enough in a
man, whatever he be, to swing himself up in the world, but how
often does that happen! But to return to the story, do you know
what I did? I ran down to the mill dam and threw myself in with my
clothes on--and was pulled out and got a thrashing. But the
following Sunday when all the family went to visit my grandmother I
contrived to stay at home; I scrubbed myself well, put on my best
dollies, such its they were, and went to church so that I might see
you. I saw you. Then I went home with my mind made up to put, an
cud to myself. But I wanted to do it beautifully and without pain.
Then I happened to remember that elderberry blossoms are poisonous.
I knew where there was a big elderberry bush in full bloom and I
stripped it of its riches and made a bed of it in the oat-bin. Have
you ever noticed how smooth and glossy oats are? As soft as a
woman's arm.--Well, I got in and let down the cover, fell asleep,
and when I awoke I was very ill, but didn't die--as you see. What I
wanted--I don't know. You were unattainable, but through the vision
of you I was made to realize how hopeless it was to rise above the
conditions of my birth.

JULIE. You tell it well! Were you ever at school?

JEAN. A little, but I have read a good deal and gone to the
theatres. And besides, I have always heard the talk of fine folks
and from them I have learned most.

JULIE. Do you listen then to what we are saying?

JEAN. Yes, indeed, I do. And I have heard much when I've been on
the coachbox. One time I heard Miss Julie and a lady--

JULIE. Oh, what was it you heard?

JEAN. Hm! that's not so easy to tell. But I was astonished and
could not understand where you had heard such things. Well, perhaps
at bottom there's not so much difference between people and--people.

JULIE. Oh, shame! We don't behave as you do when we are engaged.

JEAN. [Eyeing her]. Are you sure of that? It isn't worthwhile to
play the innocent with me.

JULIE. I gave my love to a rascal.

JEAN. That's what they always say afterward.

JULIE. Always?

JEAN. Always, I believe, as I have heard the expression many times
before under the same circumstances.

JULIE. What circumstances?

JEAN. Those we've been talking about. The last time I-- --

JULIE. Silence. I don't wish to hear any more.

JEAN. Well, then I beg to be excused so I may go to bed.

JULIE. Go to bed! On midsummer night?

JEAN. Yes, for dancing out there with that pack has not amused me.

JULIE. Then get the key for the boat and row me out over the lake.
I want to see the sun rise.

JEAN. Is that prudent?

JULIE. One would think that, you were afraid of your reputation.

JEAN. Why not? I don't want to be made ridiculous. I am not willing
to be driven out without references, now that I am going to settle
down. And I feel I owe something to Kristin.

JULIE. Oh, so it's Kristin now--

JEAN. Yes, but you too. Take my advice, go up and go to bed.

JULIE. Shall I obey you?

JEAN. For once--for your own sake. I beg of you. Night is crawling
along, sleepiness makes one irresponsible and the brain grows hot.
Go to your room. In fact--if I hear rightly some of the people are
coming for me. If they find us here--then you are lost.

[Chorus is heard approaching, singing.]

"There came two ladies out of the woods
Tridiridi-ralla tridiridi-ra.
One of them had wet her foot,
Tridiridi-ralla-la.

"They talked of a hundred dollars,
Tridiridi-ralla tridiridi-ra.
But neither had hardly a dollar,
Tridiridi-ralla-la.

"The mitten I'm going to send you,
Tridirichi-ralla tridiridi-ra.
For another I'm going to jilt you,
Tridiridi-ralla tridiridi-ra."

JULIE. I know the people and I love them and they respect me. Let
them come, you shall see.

JEAN. No, Miss Julie, they don't love you. They take your food and
spit upon your kindness, believe me. Listen to them, listen to what
they're singing! No! Don't listen!

JULIE [Listening]. What are they singing?

JEAN. It's something suggestive, about you and me.

JULIE. Infamous! Oh horrible! And how cowardly!

JEAN. The pack is always cowardly. And in such a battle one can
only run away.

JULIE. Run away? Where? We can't get out and we can't go to
Kristin.

JEAN. Into my room then. Necessity knows no law. You can depend on
me for I am your real, genuine, respectful friend.

JULIE. But think if they found you there.

JEAN. I will turn the key and if they try to break in I'll shoot.
Come--come!

JULIE. [Meaningly]. You promise me--?

JEAN. I swear ...

[She exits R. Jean follows her.]

[BALLET.--The farm folk enter in holiday dress with flowers in
their hats, a fiddler in the lead. They carry a keg of home-brewed
beer and a smaller keg of gin, both decorated with greens which are
placed on the table. They help themselves to glasses and drink.
Then they sing and dance a country dance to the melody of "There
came two ladies out of the woods." When that is over they go out,
singing.]

[Enter Julie alone, sees the havoc the visitors have made, clasps
her hands, takes out powder box and powders her face. Enter Jean
exuberant.]

JEAN. There, you see, and you heard them. Do you think it's
possible for us to remain here any longer?

JULIE. No, I don't. But what's to be done?

JEAN. Fly! Travel--far from here!

JULIE. Travel--yes--but where?

JEAN. To Switzerland--to the Italian lakes. You have never been
there?

JULIE. No--is it beautiful there?

JEAN. Oh, an eternal summer! Oranges, trees, laurels--oh!

JULIE. But what shall we do there?

JEAN. I'll open a first-class hotel for first-class patrons.

JULIE. Hotel?

JEAN. That is life--you shall see! New faces constantly, different
languages. Not a moment for boredom. Always something to do night
and day--the bell ringing, the trains whistling, the omnibus coming
and going and all the time the gold pieces rolling into the till--
that is life!

JULIE. Yes, that is life. And I--?

JEAN. The mistress of the establishment--the ornament of the house.
With your looks--and your manners--oh, it's a sure success!
Colossal! You could sit like a queen in the office and set the
slaves in action by touching an electric button. The guests line up
before your throne and shyly lay their riches on your desk. You
can't believe how people tremble when they get their bills--I can
salt the bills and you can sweeten them with your most bewitching
smile--ha, let us get away from here--[Takes a time table from his
pocket] immediately--by the next train. We can be at Malmö at
6.30, Hamburg at 8.40 tomorrow morning, Frankfort the day after
and at Como by the St. Gothard route in about--let me see, three
days. Three days!

JULIE. All that is well enough, but Jean--you must give me courage.
Take me in your arms and tell me that you love me.

JEAN [Hesitatingly]. I will--but I daren't--not again in this
house. I love you of course--do you doubt that?

JULIE [Shyly and with womanliness]. You! Say thou to me! Between us
there can be no more formality. Say thou.

JEAN. I can't--There must be formality between us--as long as we
are in this house. There is the memory of the past--and there is
the Count, your father. I have never known anyone else for whom I
have such respect. I need only to see his gloves lying in a chair
to feel my own insignificance. I have only to hear his bell to
start like a nervous horse--and now as I see his boots standing
there so stiff and proper I feel like bowing and scraping. [Gives
boots a kick]. Superstitions and prejudices taught in childhood
can't be uprooted in a moment. Let us go to a country that is it
republic where they'll stand on their heads for my coachman's
livery--on their heads shall they stand--but I shall not. I am
not, born to bow and scrape, for there's stuff in me--character. If
I only get hold of the first limb, you shall see me climb. I'm a
coachman today, but next year I shall be a proprietor, in two years
a gentleman of income; then for Roumania where I'll let them
decorate me and can, mark you, _can_ end a count!

JULIE. Beautiful, beautiful!

JEAN. Oh, in Roumania, one can buy a title cheap--and so you can be
a countess just the same--my countess!

JULIE. What do I care for all that--which I now cast behind me. Say
that you love me--else, what am I, without it?

JEAN. I'll say it a thousand times afterwards, but not here. Above
all, let us have no sentimentality now or everything will fall
through. We must look at this matter coldly like sensible people.
[Takes out a cigar and lights it.] Now sit down there and I'll sit
here and we'll take it over as if nothing had happened.

JULIE [Staggered]. Oh, my God, have you no feeling?

JEAN. I? No one living has more feeling than I but I can restrain
myself.

JULIE. A moment ago you could kiss my slipper and now--

JEAN [Harshly]. That was--then. Now we have other things to think
about.

JULIE. Don't speak harshly to me.

JEAN. Not harshly, but wisely. One folly has been committed--commit
no more. The Count may be here at any moment, and before he comes,
our fate must be settled. How do my plans for the future strike
you? Do you approve of them?

JULIE. They seem acceptable enough. But one question. For such a
great undertaking a large capital is necessary, have you that?

JEAN [Chewing his cigar]. I? To be sure. I have my regular
occupation, my unusual experience, my knowledge of different
languages--that is capital that counts, I should say.

JULIE. But with all that you could not buy a railway ticket.

JEAN. That's true, and for that reason I'm looking for a backer who
can furnish the funds.

JULIE. How can that be done at a moment's notice?

JEAN. That is for you to say, if you wish to be my companion.

JULIE. I can't--as I have nothing myself.

[A pause.]

JEAN. Then the whole matter drops-- --

JULIE. And-- --

JEAN. Things remain as they are.

JULIE. Do you think I could remain under this roof after----Do you
think I will allow the people to point at me in scorn, or that I
can ever look my father in the face again? Never! Take me away from
this humiliation and dishonor. Oh, what have I done! Oh, my God,
what have I done! [Weeping.]

JEAN. So, you are beginning in that tune now. What have you done?
The same as many before you.

JULIE. And now you despise me. I am falling! I am falling!

JEAN. Fall down to my level, I'll lift you up afterwards.

JULIE. What strange power drew me to you--the weak to the strong--
the falling to the rising, or is this love! This--love! Do you know
what love is?

JEAN. I? Yes! Do you think it's the first time?

JULIE. What language, what thoughts.

JEAN. I am what life has made me. Don't be nervous and play the
high and mighty, for now we are on the same level. Look here, my
little girl, let me offer you a glass of something extra fine.
[Opens drawer of table and takes out wine bottle, then fills
two glasses that have been already used.]

JULIE. Where did you get that wine?

JEAN. From the cellar.

JULIE. My father's Burgundy.

JEAN. What's the matter, isn't that good enough for the son-in-law?

JULIE. And I drink beer--I!

JEAN. That only goes to prove that your taste is poorer than mine.

JULIE. Thief!

JEAN. Do you intend to tattle?

JULIE. Oh ho! Accomplice to a house thief. Was I intoxicated--have
I been walking in my sleep this night--midsummer night, the night
for innocent play--

JEAN. Innocent, eh!

JULIE [Pacing back and forth]. Is there a being on earth so
miserable as I.

JEAN. Why are you, after such a conquest. Think of Kristin in
there, don't you think she has feelings too?

JULIE. I thought so a little while ago, but I don't any more. A
servant is a servant.

JEAN. And a whore is a whore.

JULIE [Falls on her knees with clasped hands]. Oh, God in heaven,
end my wretched life, save me from this mire into which I'm
sinking--Oh save me, save me.

JEAN. I can't deny that it hurts me to see you like this.

JULIE. And you who wanted to die for me.

JEAN. In the oat-bin? Oh, that was only talk.

JULIE. That is to say--a lie!

JEAN [Beginning to show sleepiness]. Er--er almost. I believe I
read something of the sort in a newspaper about a chimney-sweep
who made a death bed for himself of syringa blossoms in a wood-bin--
[laughs] because they were going to arrest him for non-support of
his children.

JULIE. So you are such a--

JEAN. What better could I have hit on! One must always be romantic
to capture a woman.

JULIE. Wretch! Now you have seen the eagle's back, and I suppose I
am to be the first limb--

JEAN. And the limb is rotten--

JULIE [Without seeming to hear]. And I am to be the hotel's
signboard--

JEAN. And I the hotel--

JULIE. And sit behind the desk and allure guests and overcharge
them--

JEAN. Oh, that'll be my business.

JULIE. That a soul can be so degraded!

JEAN. Look to your own soul.

JULIE. Lackey! Servant! Stand up when I speak.

JEAN. Don't you dare to moralize to me. Lackey, eh! Do you think
you have shown yourself finer than any maid-servant tonight?

JULIE [Crushed]. That is right, strike me, trample on me, I deserve
nothing better. I have done wrong, but help me now. Help me out of
this if there is any possible way.

JEAN [Softens somewhat]. I don't care to shirk my share of the
blame, but do you think any one of my position would ever have
dared to raise his eyes to you if you yourself had not invited it?
Even now I am astonished--

JULIE. And proud.

JEAN. Why not? Although I must confess that the conquest was too
easy to be exciting.

JULIE. Go on, strike me again--

JEAN [Rising]. No, forgive me, rather, for what I said. I do not
strike the unarmed, least of all, a woman. But I can't deny that
from a certain point of view it gives me satisfaction to know that
it is the glitter of brass, not gold, that dazzles us from below,
and that the eagle's back is grey like the rest of him. On the
other hand, I'm sorry to have to realize that all that I have
looked up to is not worth while, and it pains me to see you fallen
lower than your cook as it pains me to see autumn blossoms whipped
to pieces by the cold rain and transformed into--dirt!

JULIE. You speak as though you were already my superior.

JEAN. And so I am! For I can make you a countess and you could
never make me a count.

JULIE. But I am born of a count, that you can never be.

JEAN. That is true, but I can be the father of counts--if--

JULIE. But you are a thief--that I am not.

JEAN. There are worse things than that, and for that matter when I
serve in a house I regard myself as a member of the family, a child
of the house as it were. And one doesn't consider it theft if
children snoop a berry from full bushes. [With renewed passion].
Miss Julie, you are a glorious woman--too good for such as I. You
have been the victim of an infatuation and you want to disguise
this fault by fancying that you love me. But you do not--unless
perhaps my outer self attracts you. And then your love is no better
than mine. But I cannot be satisfied with that, and your real love
I can never awaken.

JULIE. Are you sure of that?

JEAN. You mean that we could get along with such an arrangement?
There's no doubt about my loving you--you are beautiful, you are
elegant--[Goes to her and takes her hand] accomplished, lovable
when you wish to be, and the flame that you awaken in man does not
die easily. [Puts arm around her.] You are like hot wine with
strong spices, and your lips--

[Tries to kiss her. Julie pulls herself away slowly.]

JULIE. Leave me--I'm not to be won this way.

JEAN. How then? Not with caresses and beautiful words? Not by
thoughts for the future, to save humiliation? How then?

JULIE. How? I don't know. I don't know! I shrink from you as I
would from a rat. But I cannot escape from you.

JEAN. Escape with me.

JULIE. Escape? Yes, we must escape.--But I'm so tired. Give me a
glass of wine. [Jean fills a glass with wine, Julie looks at her
watch.] We must talk it over first for we have still a little time
left.

[She empties the glass and puts it out for more.]

JEAN. Don't drink too much. It will go to your head.

JULIE. What harm will that do?

JEAN. What harm? It's foolish to get intoxicated. But what did you
want to say?

JULIE. We must go away, but we must talk first. That is, I must
speak, for until now you have done all the talking. You have told
me about your life--now I will tell you about mine, then we will
know each other through and through before we start on our
wandering together.

JEAN. One moment, pardon. Think well whether you won't regret
having told your life's secrets.

JULIE. Aren't you my friend?

JEAN. Yes. Sometimes. But don't depend on me.

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