The Books: “Miss Julie” (August Strindberg)

Next script on my script shelf:

MissJulie.jpgNext play on the shelf is <Miss Julie (Dover Thrift Editions) by August Strindberg.

Miss Julie is a play about status, misogyny, class. Julie, the aristocrat, descends from her social status, to be with Jean, the valet – and Jean feels he is actually improving his social status, through his liaison with Miss Julie. Miss Julie, the daughter of a Count, has just broken her engagement. Set in 1894, on a midsummer night, it takes place mostly in the kitchen of the Count’s manor. Miss Julie’s engagement broke off because apparently she tried to train her fiance like a dog. She is one of THOSE women. She was raised by her mother – a woman who despised all men. Julie’s nature is warped because of this. She desires men, yet she is also disgusted by them. If they show desire for her (like Jean does), then she feels contempt for them.

Strindberg sees Julie as mentally ill. He’s one of the most psychological of playwrights – that’s what interests him. He writes characters who are not motivated by plot-points, or events in the past … he writes characters who are motivated by psychology. In his preface to Miss Julie, he writes:

I have motivated Miss Julie’s tragic fate by a great number of circumstances: her mother’s primary instincts, her father raising her incorrectly, her own nature, and the influence of her fiance on her weak and degenerate brain. Also, more particularly: the festive atmosphere of midsummer night, her father’s absence, her monthly indisposition, her preoccupation with animals, the provocative effect of the dancing, the magical midsummer twilight, the powerfully aphrodisiac influence of flowers, and finally, the chance that drives the couple together into a room alone — plus the boldness of the aroused man.

My treatment of the subject has thus been neigher one-sidedly physiological nor exclusively psychological. I have not put the entire blame on what she inherited from her mother, nor on her monthly indisposition, nor on immorality. I have not even preached morality — this I left to the cook in the absence of a minister.

This multiplicity of motives, it pleases me to assert, is in keeping with the times. And if others have done it before me, then it pleases me that I have not been alone in my “paradoxes”, as all discoveries are called.

“Monthly indisposition”. I love that. “I have my monthly indisposition right now.” Also, the play was written in 1888, and the heroine has her period throughout the entire play. It is openly referred to. I mean … what?? Strindberg was nuts. But it is fascinating.

The entire play takes place in the kitchen at the manor. There are only 3 characters in the play: Julie, Jean, and Kristine – the Count’s cook. She is also Jean’s fiance. So there’s a little triangle of love going on between these characters. A party is going on out in the rest of the house, but Julie and Jean take a break from the dancing to sit in the kitchen and talk, and flirt, and seduce, and fight.

Julie’s got major masochistic tendencies, as the excerpt will reveal. She’s self-hating, and yet – imperiously self-loving as well. She’s a great character, one of the great female characters. Not likable at ALL, but that’s the point. We’re not meant to like her. We’re meant to try to understand her, see where she’s coming from, see the societal forces that made her.


EXCERPT FROM Miss Julie (Dover Thrift Editions) by August Strindberg

JULIE. You talk as if you were already above me.

JEAN. I am. You see, I could make you a countess, but you could never make me a count.

JULIE. But I’m the child of a count — something you could never be!

JEAN. That’s true. But I could be the father of counts — if …

JULIE. But you’re a thief. I’m not.

JEAN. There are worse things than being a thief! Besides, when I’m working in a house, I consider myself sort of a member of the family, like one of the children. And you don’t call it stealing when a child snatches a berry off a full bush. [His passion is aroused again] Miss Julie, you’re a glorious woman, much too good for someone like me! You were drinking and you lost your head. Now you want to cover up your mistake by telling yourself that you love me! You don’t. Maybe there was a physical attraction — but then your love is no better than mine. —– I could never be satisfied to be no more than an animal to you, and I could never arouse real love in you.

JULIE. Are you sure of that?

JEAN. You’re suggesting it’s possible. —– Oh, I could fall in love with you, no doubt about it. You’re beautiful, you’re refined — cultured, lovable when you want to be, and once you start a fire in a man, it never goes out. [putting his arm around her waist] You’re like hot, spicy wine, and one kiss from you … [He tries to lead her out, but she slowly frees herself]

JULIE. Let me go!? — You’ll never win me like that.

JEAN. How then? — Not like that? Not with caresses and pretty speeches? Not with plans about the future or rescue from disgrace? How then?

JULIE. How? How? I don’t know! — I have no idea! — I detest you as I detest rats, but I can’t escape from you.

JEAN. Escape with me!

JULIE. [pulling herself together] Escape? Yes, we must escape. —- But I’m so tired. Give me a glass of wine? [Jean pours the wine. She looks at her watch] But we must talk first. We still have a little time. [She drains the glass, then holds it out for more[

JEAN. Don’t drink so fast. It’ll go to your head.

JULIE. What does it matter?

JEAN. What does it matter? It’s vulgar to get drunk! What did you want to tell me?

JULIE. We must escape! But first we must talk, I mean I must talk. You’ve done all the talking up to now. You told about your life, now I want to tell about mine, so we’ll know all about each other before we go off together.

JEAN. Just a minute! Forgive me! If you don’t want to regret it afterwards, you’d better think twice before revealing any secrets about yourself.

JULIE. Aren’t you my friend?

JEAN. Yes, sometimes! But don’t rely on me.

JULIE. You’re only saying that. — Besides, everyone already knows my secrets. — You see, my mother was a commoner — very humble background. She was brought up believing in social equality, women’s rights, and all that. The idea of marriage repelled her. So, when my father proposed, she replied that she would never become his wife, but he could be her lover. He insisted that he didn’t want the woman he loved to be less respected than he. But his passion ruled him, and when she explained that the world’s respect meant nothing to her, he accepted her conditions. But now his friends avoided him and his life was restricted to taking care of the estate, which couldn’t satisfy him. I came into the world — against my mother’s wishes, as far as I can understand. She wanted to bring me up as a child of nature, and, what’s more, to learn everything a boy had to learn, so that I might be an example of how a woman can be as good as a man. I had to wear boy’s clothes and learn to take care of horses, but I was never allowed in the cowshed. I had to groom and harness the horses and go hunting — and even had to watch them slaughter animals — that was disgusting! On the estate men were put on women’s jobs and women on men’s jobs — with the result that the property became run down and we became the laughingstock of the district. Finally, my father must have awakened from his trance because he rebelled and changed everything his way. My parents were then married quietly. Mother became ill — I don’ tknow what illness it was — but she often had convulsions, hid in the attic and in the garden, and sometimes stayed out all night. Then came the great fire, which you’ve heard about. The house, the stables, and the cowshed all burned down, under very curious circumstances, suggesting arson, because the accident happened the day after the insurance had expired. The quarterly premium my father sent in was delayed because of a messenger’s carelessness and didn’t arrive in time. [She fills her glass and drinks]

JEAN. Don’t drink any more!

JULIE. Oh, what does it matter. —- We were left penniless and had to sleep in the carriages. My father had no idea where to find money to rebuild the house because he had so slighted his old friends that they had forgotten him. Then my mother suggested that he borrow from a childhood friend of hers, a brick manufacturer who lived nearby. Father got the loan without having to pay interest, which surprised him. And that’s how the estate was rebuilt. — [drinks again] Do you know who started the fire?

JEAN. The Countess, your mother.

JULIE. Do you know who the brick manufacturer was?

JEAN. Your mother’s lover?

JULIE. Do you know whose money it was?

JEAN. Wait a minute — no, I don’t.

JULIE. It was my mother’s.

JEAN. You mean the Count’s, unless they didn’t sign an agreement when they were married.

JULIE. They didn’t. — My mother had a small inheritance which she didn’t want under my father’s control, so she entrusted it to her — friend.

JEAN. Who stole it!

JULIE. Exactly! He kept it. — All this my father found out, but he couldn’t bring it to court, couldn’t repay his wife’s lover, couldn’t prove it was his wife’s money! It was my mother’s revenge for being forced into marriage against her will. It nearly drove him to suicide — there was a rumor that he tried with a pistol, but failed. So, he managed to live through it and my mother had to suffer for what she’d done. You can imagine that those were a terrible five years for me. I loved my father, but I sided with my mother because I didn’t know the circumstances. I learned from her to hate men — you’ve heard how she hated the whole male sex — and I swore to her I’d never be a slave to any man.

JEAN. But you got engaged to that lawyer.

JULIE. In order to make him my slave.

JEAN. And he wasn’t willing?

JULIE. He was willing, all right, but I wouldn’t let him. I got tired of him.

JEAN. I saw it — out near the stable.

JULIE. What did you see?

JEAN. I saw — how he broke off the engagement.

JULIE. That’s a lie! I was the one who broke it off. Has he said that he did? That swine …

JEAN. He was no swine, I’m sure. So you hate men, Miss Julie?

JULIE. Yes! —– Most of the time! But sometimes — when the weakness comes, when passion burns! Oh God, will the fire never die out?

JEAN. Do you hate me, too?

JULIE. Immeasurably! I’d like to have you put to death, like an animal …

JEAN. I see — the penalty for bestiality — the woman gets two years at hard labor and the animal is put to death. Right?

JULIE. Exactly!

JEAN. But there’s no prosecutor here — and no animal. So, what’ll we do?

JULIE. Go away!

JEAN. To torment each other to death?

JULIE. No! To be happy for — two days, a week, as long as we can be happy, and then — die …

JEAN. Die? That’s stupid. It’s better to open a hotel!

JULIE. [without listening] — on the shore of Lake Como, where the sun always shines, where the laurels are green at Christmas and the oranges glow.

JEAN. Lake Como is a rainy hole, and I never saw any oranges outside the stores. But tourists are attracted there because there are plenty of villas to be rented out to lovers, and that’s a profitable business. — Do you know why? Because they sign a lease for six months — and then leave after three weeks!

JULIE. Why after three weeks?

JEAN. They quarrel, of course! But they still have to pay the rent in full! And so you rent the villas out again. And that’s the way it goes, time after time. There’s never a shortage of love — even if it doesn’t last long.

JULIE. You don’t want to die with me?

JEAN. I don’t want to die at all! For one thing, I like living, and for another, I think suicide is a crime against the Providence which gave us life.

JULIE. You believe in God? You?

JEAN. Of course I do. And I go to church every other Sunday —- To be honest, I’m tired of all this, and I’m going to bed.

JULIE. Are you? And do you think I can let it go at that? A man owes something to the woman he’s shamed.

JEAN. [taking out his purse and throwing a silver coin on the table] Here! I don’t like owing anything to anybody.

JULIE. [pretending not to notice the insult] Do you know that the law states …

JEAN. Unfortunately the law doesn’t state any punishment for the woman who seduces a man!

JULIE. [as before] Do ytou see any way out but to leave, get married, and then separate?

JEAN. Suppose I refuse such a mesalliance?

JULIE. Mesalliance

JEAN. Yes, for me! You see, I come from better stock than you. There’s no arsonist in my family.

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4 Responses to The Books: “Miss Julie” (August Strindberg)

  1. David says:

    You know, I don’t think I’ve ever read this play. Or if I have it was long ago and a requirement and thus, I missed out. It seems fascinating. Can you imagine if he was alive today, what would his plays be like? Probably be a lot like Neil LaBute.

  2. red says:

    hahaha Totally!!

    You should read it, David – the whole thing is basically one long extended scene between these two people. It’s kind of great, actually.

  3. brendan says:

    hey sheil,

    you have to check out http://www.strindbergandhelium.com, a website that melody sent me. total hilarity…

  4. Betsy says:

    When I was at Northeastern, I took some sort of a literature course with a prof who assigned a major visual arts project. Just looking at the title of “Miss Julie” takes me back to the common room in my dorm. I made two friends of mine dress up in costumes from my Jan Grant/Mary B. collection while I took slide pictures of them posing in various “Miss Julie” scenes. I then spoke into my tape recorder (yes, I pressed play and record at the same time) to explain each slide. I believe I added to the project by bringing in my roommates stuffed parrot which sat on the desk next to the slide projector. I received the highest grade in the class…

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