Miss Julie (NHB Classic Plays)

August Strindberg, Howard Brenton

• Editorial: Nick Hern Books
• Año: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781780019345
• Categoría: Literature
• Categoría: European Drama

Midsummer's Eve, Sweden. A night when the sun doesn't set. A night of drinking and dancing. A night to break the rules.

When Julie finds herself alone on her father's estate, she throws caution to the wind and gate-crashes the servants' party. In the sultry heat of that long, light night, she finds herself in a dangerous tryst with her father's manservant, Jean. What begins as a flirtatious game, as the two vie for power, slowly descends into a savage fight for survival.

August Strindberg's Miss Julie was written at a time of industrial and social unrest, a ground-breaking masterpiece that still provokes and shocks audiences today. Award-winning playwright Howard Brenton brings Strindberg's genius to life in this brilliant adaptation premiered at Theatre by the Lake, Keswick, in July 2017.

'riveting... as real and sensational now as ever and as socially and politically pertinent'- Guardian

A large kitchen.

Shelves edged with scalloped paper and crammed with pots and pans of copper, iron and tin.

Glass double doors set in a large stone arch, through which can be seen a fountain with a cupid, lilac bushes in full bloom and the tops of Lombardy poplars.

A large tiled stove with a chimney hood.

A servants’ pine dinner table, painted white, with a few chairs.

An icebox, a sink, a scullery table.

A large, old-fashioned bell above the door and a speaking tube fitted to its left.

On the table there is a bouquet of lilacs in a large Japanese spice jar. The stove is decorated with birch leaves. The floor is strewn with sprays of juniper.

KRISTIN is standing at the stove frying something in a pan. She is wearing a pale cotton dress and a kitchen apron.

JEAN enters. He is dressed in livery and is carrying a pair of large riding boots with spurs. He puts then on the floor in a conspicuous place.

JEAN. Miss Julie’s gone mad tonight – again. Raving mad.

KRISTIN. So you’re back.

JEAN. I drove the Earl to the station then, coming back, I passed the barn. I fancied a dance, so in I went – and there she was: middle of the floor, all eyes on her, spinning round and round – with the gamekeeper! But when she sees me she leaves him stranded, rushes up and says: ‘Jean! Waltz! Now!’ And then, oh God, the way she waltzed – I’ve never felt anything like it, the woman is insane!

KRISTIN. Always has been. But it’s been really bad this past fortnight since her engagement went up in smoke.

JEAN. What happened there, a decent enough man, wasn’t he? Even though he was broke. Ah well, choosy lot, the upper classes.

He sits down at the end of the table.

Still, it’s strange for such a refined young lady – humph! – to be alone at home with the servants. You’d think she’d go with her father, visiting relatives.

KRISTIN. She’s embarrassed about the bust-up with her fiancé.

JEAN. I don’t want to let on but he had some nerve – I saw something.

KRISTIN. Saw what?

JEAN. Ah!

KRISTIN. Oh, come on.

JEAN. It was evening. They were out in the stable yard and Miss Julie was training him.

KRISTIN. She were what him?

JEAN. Training, that’s what she called it. She was making him jump over her riding crop, as you do when you teach a dog to jump. He tried it twice and ‘smack!’, she caught him each time. Then he grabbed the crop from her, broke it in half and stormed off.

KRISTIN. Never. No –

JEAN. That’s our betters for you. You’ve not got a little something for me tonight, have you, Kristin?

She dishes up from the pan and serves JEAN.

KRISTIN. Just a bit of kidney I cut from the veal!

JEAN. Lovely! A specialité délice.

Touches the plate.

You didn’t warm the plate though.

KRISTIN. You’re more picky than the Earl himself, when you want to be.

She tugs his hair tenderly. JEAN is annoyed.

JEAN. Don’t do that! You know I hate my hair being pulled.

KRISTIN. Oh, what a sensitive little plant! It’s just affection.

JEAN ignores that and eats. KRISTIN brings a bottle of beer.

JEAN. Beer on Midsummer’s Eve? I can do better than that.

He opens a table drawer and takes out a bottle of red wine with a yellow label.

Yellow seal!

KRISTIN. Here’s a glass for you then.

JEAN. Not a common kitchen tumbler! One of the high-stemmed goblets, this wine demands respect.

She gets him a glass then puts a small saucepan over the heat.

KRISTIN. God help whoever gets you as a husband, so fussy.

JEAN. Nonsense! Wouldn’t you like to get a man as refined as I am? And it’s not done you any harm in the village, being called my fiancé!

He tastes the wine.

Excellent. Great depth, but a little too cold.

He warms the glass in his hand.

The Earl bought this in Dijon, en primeur, forty Francs a litre, then there was the duty on top of that! That’s a horrible smell, what are you cooking?

KRISTIN. Some bloody muck Miss Julie wants for Diana.

JEAN. Language, Kristin. But why do you have to do that on a holiday, is the dog sick or something?

KRISTIN. It’s sick all right. She’s been sneaking out with the gamekeeper’s mutt and now she’s – you know: that way and madam will not have it.

He laughs.

JEAN. Always contrary, just like the Countess, remember? Happy slumming it in the kitchen and in the barn, but when she rode out in her carriage, well, it had to be the full show, one horse wasn’t good enough. Her cuffs were filthy but she always wore cufflinks with the family crest. But Miss Julie, I don’t think she respects herself, or her position, she’s no sense of – propriety. She was dancing with the gamekeeper, right in front of his Anna, she’d dragged him away from her, I mean, would you and I do that? But that’s the upper class for you, when they play at being common as dirt, they go all the way. What a woman though, magnificent, those shoulders – and the rest –

KRISTIN. Oh shut up. I’ve heard what Klara says when she helps her dress.

JEAN. Oh Klara! You women are always bitching about each other. But I’ve been riding with Miss Julie and I tell you, the style, the grace, and when she dances –

KRISTIN. So will you dance with me, when we’ve finished up here?

JEAN. Of course!

KRISTIN. Promise?

JEAN. I’ve said I will so I will. Thanks for the food, it was great.

He corks the bottle.

MISS JULIE enters. She stands in the doorway speaking to someone offstage.

MISS JULIE. I’ll be right back, you go on.

She walks over to KRISTIN by the stove.

Is it ready?

KRISTIN indicates that JEAN is present.

JEAN. Are the women doing something secret?

MISS JULIE (hits him on the cheek with her handkerchief). Don’t be nosy!

JEAN. Ah, the divine perfume of violets!

MISS JULIE (coquettishly). Ooh, and impertinent! So we think we know all about perfumes, do we? Still, you can dance a bit – now go away.

JEAN. But are the women concocting a magic witches’ brew on Midsummer’s Eve, to tell fortunes – even whom they will marry?

MISS JULIE. You need more than magic for that. (To KRISTIN.) Bottle this stuff, make sure the cork’s tight. Now, Jean, since you’re still here, you can dance a schottische with me.

JEAN (hesitating). I – I don’t want to be rude but I promised the next dance to Kristin.

MISS JULIE. Oh. Kristin will lend you to me. (To KRISTIN.) You’ll do that, won’t you?

KRISTIN. Not for me to say. But if you ask, he can’t say no, can he? Oh go on, Jean, thank the lady of the house for the honour.

JEAN. Not to offend, miss, but frankly – I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to have two dances in a row with me. People could think things.

MISS JULIE (flaring up). What things?

JEAN (meekly). It’s, well, I’ll have to say it – favouring one subordinate over the others, who’d die to have a dance with you – it looks bad.

MISS JULIE. What a presumptuous little man! I’m shocked! You think I’m ‘favouring’ you? I’m the mistress of the house, I wish to dance, so I must look my best before everyone, that means a partner who knows how to lead. I can’t look ridiculous.

JEAN. Then I am yours to command.

MISS JULIE. Oh, command! It’s Midsummer’s Night, let’s forget rank and just enjoy ourselves! ...