August Strindberg
MISS JULIE AND OTHER PLAYS
MISS JULIE
Miss JULIE, aged twenty-five.
JOHN, a servant, aged thirty.
CHRISTINE, a cook, aged thirty-five.
The action of the play takes place on Midsummer Night, in the Count’s kitchen.
CHRISTINE stands on the left, by the hearth, and fries’ something in a pan. She has on a light blouse and a kitchen apron. JOHN comes in through the glass door in livery. He holds in his hand a pair of big riding boots with spurs, which he places on the noor at the back, in a visible position.
John. Miss Julie is mad again to-night—absolutely mad!
Christine. Oh! And so you’re here, are you?
John. I accompanied the Count to the station, and when I passed the barn on my way back I went in to have a dance. At that time Miss Julie was dancing with that man Forster. When she noticed me, she made straight for me and asked me to be her partner in the waltz, and from that moment she danced in a way such as I’ve never seen anything of the kind before. She is simply crazy.
Christine. She’s always been that, but never as much as in the last fortnight, since the engagement was broken off.
John. Yes, what an affair that was, to be sure. The man was certainly a fine fellow, even though he didn’t have much cash. Well, to be sure, they have so many whims and fancies. [He sits down at the right by the table.] In any case, it’s strange that the young lady should prefer to stay at home with the servants rather than to accompany her father to her relations, isn’t it?
Christine. Yes. The odds are that she feels herself a little embarrassed after the affair with her young man.
John. Maybe; but at any rate he was a good chap. Do you know, Christine, how it came about? I saw the whole show, though I didn’t let them see that I noticed anything.
Christine. What! You saw it?
John. Yes, that I did. They were one evening down there in the stable, and the young lady was “training” him, as she called it. What do you think she was doing? She made him jump over the riding whip like a dog which one is teaching to hop. He jumped over twice, and each time he got a cut, but the third time he snatched her riding whip out of her hand, smashed it into smithereens and—cleared out.
Christine. Was that it? No, you can’t mean it?
John. Yes, that was how it happened. Can’t you give me something nice to eat, now, Christine?
Christine. [Takes up the plate and puts it before JOHN.] Well, there’s only a little bit of liver, which I’ve cut off the joint.
John. [Sniffs the food.] Ah, very nice, that’s my special dish. [He feels the plate.] But you might have warmed up the plate.
Christine. Why, you’re even more particular than the Count himself, once you get going. [She draws her fingers caressingly through his hair.]
John. [Wickedly.] Ugh, you mustn’t excite me like that, you know jolly well how sensitive I am.
Christine. There, there now, it was only because I love you.
John. [Eats. CHRISTINE gets out a bottle of beer.] Beer on Midsummer’s Night! Not for me, thank you. I can go one better than that myself. [He opens the sideboard and takes out a bottle of red wine with a yellow label.] Yellow label, do you see, dear? Just give me a glass. A wineglass, of course, when a fellow’s going to drink neat wine.
Christine. [Turns again toward the fireplace and puts a small saucepan on.] God pity the woman who ever gets you for a husband, a growler like you!
John. Oh, don’t jaw! You’d be only too pleased if you only got a fellow like me, and I don’t think for a minute that you’re in any way put out by my being called your best boy. [Tastes the wine.] Ah! very nice, very nice. Not quite mellowed enough though, that’s the only thing. [He warms the glass with his hand.] We bought this at Dijon. It came to four francs the liter, without the glass, and then there was the duty as well. What are you cooking there now? It makes the most infernal stink?
Christine. Oh, that’s just some assafoetida, which Miss Julie wants to have for Diana.
John. You ought to express yourself a little more prettily, Christine. Why have you got to get up on a holiday evening and cook for the brute? Is it ill, eh?
Christine. Yes, it is. It slunk out to the dog in the courtyard, and there it played the fool, and the young lady doesn’t want to know anything about it, do you see?
John. Yes, in one respect the young lady is too proud, and in another not proud enough. Just like the Countess was when she was alive. She felt most at home in the kitchen, and in the stable, but she would never ride a horse; she’d go about with dirty cuffs, but insisted on having the Count’s coronet on the buttons. The young lady, so far now as she is. concerned, doesn’t take enough trouble about either herself or her person; in a manner of speaking she is not refined. Why, only just now, when she was dancing in the barn, she snatched Forster away from Anna, and asked him to dance with herself. We wouldn’t behave like that; but that’s what happens when the gentry make themselves cheap. Then they are cheap, and no mistake about it. But she is real stately! Superb! Whew! What shoulders, what a bust and—
Christine. Ye-e-s; but she makes up a good bit, too. I know what Clara says, who helps her to dress.
John. Oh, Clara! You women are always envious of each other. I’ve been out with her and seen her ride, and then how she dances!
Christine. I say, John, won’t you dance with me when I’m ready?
John. Of course I will.
Christine. Promise me?
John. Promise? If I say I’ll do a thing, then I always do it. Anyway, thanks very much for the food, it was damned good. [He puts the cork back into the bottle. The young lady, at the glass door, speaks to people outside.] I’ll be back in a minute. [He conceals the bottle of wine in a napkin, and stands up respectfully.]
Julie. [Enters and goes to CHRISTINE by the fireplace.] Well, is it ready?
Christine. [Intimates to her by signs that JOHN is present.]
John. [Gallantly.] Do the ladies want to talk secrets?
Julie. [Strikes hint in the face with her handkerchief.] Is he inquisitive?
John. Ah! what a nice smell of violets.
Julie. [Coquettishly.] Impudent person! Is the fellow then an expert in perfumes? [She goes behind the table.]
John. [With gentle affectation.] Have you ladies then been brewing a magic potion this Midsummer Night? Something so as to be able to read one’s fortunes in the stars, so that you get a sight of the future?
Julie. [Sharply.] Yes, if he manages to see that, he must have very good eyes. [To CHRISTINE.] Pour it into a half bottle and cork it securely. Let the man come now and dance the schottische with me. John? [She lets her handkerchief fall on the tafrle.]
John. [Hesitating.] I don’t want to be disobliging to anybody, but I promised Christine this dance.
Julie. Oh, well, she can get somebody else. [She goes to CHRISTINE.] What do you say, Christine? Won’t you lend me John?
Christine. I haven’t got any say in the matter. If you are so condescending, Miss, it wouldn’t at all do for him to refuse. You just go and be grateful for such an honor.