August Strindberg - Miss Julie and Other Plays

Christine.[Immobile and cold.] What a pretty sight for a holiday morning! [She looks at the chopping block.] And what a dirty mess you’ve been making here! What can it all mean? How you’re shrieking and

Julie.Christine, you’re a woman, and my friend. Beware of this scoundrel.

John.[Slightly shy and embarrassed.] If you ladies want to have an argument, I’ll go in and have a shave. [He sneaks away to the right.]

Julie.You will understand me, and you must do what I tell you.

Christine.No, I certainly don’t understand such carryings-on. Where are you going to in your traveling dress? And he’s got his hat on. What’s it all mean?

Julie.Listen to me, Christine; listen to me, then I’ll tell you everything.

Christine.I don’t want to know anything.

Julie.You must listen to me.

Christine.What is it, then? Your tomfoolery with John? Look here; I don’t care anything about that, because it had nothing to do with me, but if you think you’re going to tempt him to elope with you, then we’ll put a very fine spoke in your little wheel.

Julie.[Extremely excited.] Try to be calm, Christine, and listen to me! I can’t stay here, and John can’t stay here, so we must travel.

Christine.Hm, hm!

Julie.[With sudden inspiration.] But, look here. I’ve got an idea now. How about if we all three went—abroad—to Switzerland and started a hotel together? I’ve got money. [She shows it.] You see; and John and I will look after the whole thing, and you, I thought, could take over the kitchen. Isn’t it nice? Just say yes, and come with us, and all is fixed up. Just say yes. [She embraces CHRISTINE and hugs her tenderly.]

Christine.[Cold and contemplative.] Hm, hm!

Julie.[Quicker.] You’ve never been out and traveled, Christine—you must come out in the world and look round; you can have no idea how jolly it is to travel on a railway—to be always seeing new people—new countries. And then we get to Hamburg and take a trip through the Zoological Gardens. What do you think of it? And then we’ll go to the theater and hear the opera—and when we get to Munich we’ve got the museums, and there are Rubenses and Raphaels—pictures by the two great painters, you see. You’ve heard people talk of Munich, where King Ludwig used to live—the king, you know, who went mad—and then we’ll go over his castles—he has castles which are got up just like fairy tales—and it’s not far from there to Switzerland—with the Alps. Ugh! just think of the Alps covered with snow in the middle of summer; and tangerines and laurel trees grow there which are in bloom the whole year round. [JOHN appears on the right, stretching his razor on a strop, which he holds with his teeth and his left hand. He listens with pleasure to her speech, and now and again nods assent.] [Extremely quickly.] And then we take a hotel—and I sit in the bureau while John stands up and receives the visitors—goes out and does business—writes letters. That’s a life, you take it from me; then the train puffs, the omnibus comes, the bells ring in the hotel itself, the bell rings in the restaurant—and then I make out the bills—and I’ll touch them up—you can have no idea how shy travelers are when they’ve got to pay their bill. And you—you’re installed as mistress in the kitchen. Of course, you haven’t yourself got to stand by the fireplace, and you’ve got to have nice pretty dresses when you have to appear before the visitors—and a girl with an appearance like you—no, I’m not flattering you—you can get a husband perhaps some fine day, some rich Englishman; you see, people are so easy to catch. [She commences to speak more slowly.] And then we shall get rich—and we’ll build a villa by Lake Como—of course it rains there now and then, but [in a less tense tone] there’s certain to be a great deal of sun—even though there’s gloomy weather as well—and—then—then we can travel home again—and come back [pause] here—or anywhere else.

Christine.Look here, Miss; do you believe in all this yourself?

Julie.[Crushed.] Do I believe in it myself?

Christine.Yes.

Julie.[Tired.] I don’t know. I don’t really believe in anything any more. [She sits down on the seat and lays her head on the table between her arms.] In anything, in anything at all.

Christine.[Turns to the left, where JOHN is standing.] So you thought you’d elope, did you?

John.[Shamefaced, puts his rasor on the table.] Elope? Come, that’s a big word—you heard Miss Julie’s plan; and although she’s tired now, from having been up all night, the scheme can still be put through.

Christine.I say, did you mean that I should be cook there, for her?

John.[Sharply.] Be so kind as to speak more refined when you’re talking of your mistress. Understand?

Christine.Mistress?

John.Yes.

Christine.No. I say, I say there—

John.Yes, listen to me. It is much better for you if you do, and don’t gabble so much. Miss Julie is your mistress, and you ought to despise yourself for the same reason that you despise her.

Christine.I have always had so much self-respect

John.That you can despise others.

Christine.That I have never lowered myself below my place. Just say, if you can, that the Count’s cook had anything to do with the cattleman or the swineherd. You just try it on!

John.Quite so. You had a little something on with a nice fellow, and very lucky for you, too.

Christine.A nice fellow, to be sure, who sells the Count’s oats out of the stable.

John.You’re a nice one to talk; you get commissions from the vegetable man and ain’t above being squared by the butcher.

Christine.What?

John.And so it’s you that can’t respect your mistress any more! You—you—I don’t think!

Christine.Come along to church now. A good sermon’ll do you a lot of good after the way you’ve been carrying on.

John.No fear, I’m not going to church to-day. You go alone, and confess your own sins.

Christine.Yes, that I will, and I’ll come home with forgiveness, and for you too, the Redeemer suffered and died on the cross for all our sins, and if we go to Him with faith and a contrite spirit then He will take all our guilt on Himself.

Julie.Do you believe that, Christine?

Christine.That’s my living 1 faith, as true as I stand here, and that’s my faith from a child, that I’ve kept ever since I was young, and where sin overflows there grace overflows as well.

Julie.Ah, if I had your faith! Ah, if

Christine.Mark you, one can’t just go and get it.

Julie.Who gets it, then?

Christine.That’s the great secret of grace, Miss, mark you, and God is no respecter of persons, but the first shall be last.

Julie.Yes, but then He is a respecter of persons—the last.

Christine.[Continues.] And it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to get into the kingdom of heaven. Mark you that’s what it is, Miss Julie. Well, I’m off—alone, and on the way I’ll tell the stable boy not to let out any horses, in case anybody wants to travel, before the Count comes home. Adieu! [Exit through the glass door.]