20 Best August Strindberg Monologues

Pariah (Mr. X)

Category: Play Role: Mr. X From: Pariah

Mr. X says

I see in the mirror that you are a thief, a simple, common thief. Just now, when you sat there in your shirt-sleeves, I noticed that something was wrong about my book-shelf, but I couldn’t make out what it was, as I wanted to listen to you and observe you. Now, since you have become my antagonist, my sight is keener, and since you have put on that black coat, that acts as a color contrast against the red backs of the books, which were not noticeable before against your red suspenders, I see that you have been there and read your forgery story in Bernheim’s essay on hypnotic suggestion, and returned the book upside down. So you stole that story too! In consequence of all this I consider that I have the right to conclude that you committed your crime through need, or because you were addicted to pleasures.

Pariah (Mr. X)

Category: Play Role: Mr. X From: Pariah

Mr. X says

You are a different kind of being from me–whether stronger or weaker I do not know–more criminal or not–that doesn’t concern me. But you are the stupider, that’s proven. Because you were stupid when you forged a man’s name instead of begging as I have had to do; you were stupid when you stole out of my book–didn’t you realize that I read my books? You were stupid when you thought that you were more intelligent than I am and that you could fool me into becoming a thief; you were stupid when you thought, that the restoration of balance would be accomplished the world’s having two thieves instead of one, and you were most stupid when you believed that I have built my life’s happiness without having laid the cornerstone securely. Go and write your anonymous letter to my wife about her husband being a homicide–that she knew as my fiancée. Do you give up now?

Pariah (Mr. Y)

Category: Play Role: Mr. Y From: Pariah

Mr. Y says

Well, you see I was a student at Lund, and once I needed a loan. I had no dangerously big debts, my father had some means–not very much, to be sure; however, I had sent away a note of hand to a man whom I wanted to have sign it as second security, and contrary to all expectations, it was returned to me with a refusal. I sat for a while benumbed the blow, because it was a disagreeable surprise, very disagreeable. The note lay before me on the table, and beside it the letter of refusal. My eyes glanced hopelessly over the fatal lines which contained my sentence. To be sure it wasn’t a death-sentence, as I could easily have got some other man to stand as security; as many as I wanted, for that matter–but, as I’ve said, it was very unpleasant; and as I sat there in my innocence, my glance rested gradually on the signature, which, had it been in the right place, would have made my future. That signature was most unusual calligraphy–you know how, as one sits thinking, one can scribble a whole blotter full of meaningless words. I had the pen in my hand- like this, and before I knew what I was doing it started to write–of course I don’t want to imply that there was anything mystical spiritualistic, behind it–because I don’t believe in such things!–it was purely a thoughtless, mechanical action–when I sat and copied the beautiful autograph time after time–without, of course, any prospect of gain. When the letter was scribbled all over, I had acquired skill enough to reproduce the signature remarkably well and then I forgot the whole thing. That night my sleep was deep and heavy, and when I awakened I felt that I had been dreaming, but I could not recall the dream; however, it seemed as though the door to my dream opened a little when I saw the writing table and the note in memory–and when I got up I was driven to the table absolutely, as if, after ripe consideration, I had made the irrevocable resolution to write that name on the fateful paper. All thought of risk, of consequence, had disappeared–there was no wavering–it was almost as if I were fulfilling a precious duty–and I wrote.

(Springs to his feet.)

What can such a thing be? Is it inspiration, hypnotic suggestion, as it is called? But from whom? I slept alone in my room. Could it have been my uncivilized ego, the barbarian that does not recognize conventions, but who emerged with his criminal will and his inability to calculate the consequences of his deed? Tell me, what do you think about such a case?

Pariah (Mr.X)

Category: Play Role: Mr. X From: Pariah

Mr.X says

That’s what you always say when I get tired of talking about myself and want to devote a little attention to you. Perhaps it was because you let me talk so much about myself that you won my sympathy. We were soon old acquaintances; there were no corners about you for me to knock against, no needles or pins to prick. There was something so mellow about your whole personality; you were so considerate, a characteristic which only the most cultivated can display; you were never noisy when you came home late, never made any disturbance when you got up in the morning; you overlooked trifles, drew aside when ideas became conflicting; in a word, you were the perfect companion; but you were altogether too submissive, too negative, too quiet, not to have me reflect about it in the course of time. And you are fearful and timid; you look as if you led a double life. Do you know, as you sit there before the mirror and I see your back, it’s as if I were looking at another person. Oh, you can’t see your back in the mirror. Front view, you look like a frank, fearless man who goes to meet his fate with open heart, but back view–well, I don’t wish to be discourteous, but you look as if you carried a burden, as if you were shrinking from a lash; and when I see your red suspenders across your white shirt–it looks like–like a big brand, a trade mark on a packing box.

Pariah (Mr.X)

Category: Play Role: Mr. X From: Pariah

Mr.X says

I won’t mention the name. However, I used to have dinner at the same place for many years, and there at the lunch counter I met a little blond man with pale, worried eyes. He had an extraordinary faculty of getting about in a crowded room without shoving or being shoved. Standing at the door, he could reach a slice of bread two yards away; he always looked as if he was happy to be among people, and whenever he ran into an acquaintance he would fall into rapturous laughter, embrace him, and do the figure eight around him, and carry on as if he hadn’t met a human being for years; if any one stepped on his toes he would smile as if he were asking pardon for being in the way. For two years I used to see him, and I used to amuse myself trying to figure out his business and character, but I never asked any one who he was–I didn’t want to know, as that would have put an end to my amusement. That man had the same indefinable characteristics as you; sometimes I would make him out an undergraduate teacher, an under officer, a druggist, a government clerk, or a detective, and like you, he seemed to be made up of two different pieces and the front didn’t fit the back. One day I happened to read in the paper about a big forgery a well-known civil official. After that I found out that my indefinable acquaintance had been the companion of the forger’s brother, and that his name was Stråman; and then I was informed that the afore-mentioned Stråman had been connected with a free library, but that he was then a police reporter on a big newspaper. How could I then get any connection between the forgery, the police, and the indefinable man’s appearance? I don’t know, but when I asked a man if Stråman had ever been convicted, he answered neither yes nor no–he didn’t know.

Miss Julie (Jean)

Category: Play Role: Jean From: Miss Julie

Jean says

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 – I had never been in the castle and how my thoughts leaped -and there they returned ever after. Little 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. 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.

Miss Julie (Miss Julie)

Category: Play Role: Miss Julie From: Miss Julie

Miss Julie says

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?

Miss Julie (Miss Julie)

Category: Play Role: Miss Julie From: Miss Julie

Miss Julie says

Don’t you think I can stand the sight of blood? You think I am weak. Oh, I should like to see your blood flowing -to see your brain on the chopping block, all your sex swimming in a sea of blood. I believe I could drink out of your skull, bathe my feet in your breast and eat your heart cooked whole. You think I am weak; you believe that I love you because my life has mingled with yours; you think that I would carry your offspring under my heart, and nourish it with my blood -give birth to your child and take your name! Hear, you, what are you called, what is your family name? But I’m sure you have none. I should be “Mrs. Gate-Keeper,” perhaps, or “Madame Dumpheap.” You dog with my collar on, you lackey with my father’s hallmark on your buttons. I play rival to my cook -oh -oh -oh! You believe that I am cowardly and want to run away. No, now I shall stay. The thunder may roll. My father will return -and find his desk broken into -his money gone! Then he will ring -that bell. A scuffle with his servant -then sends for the police -and then I tell all -everything! Oh, it will be beautiful to have it all over with -if only that were the end! And my father -he’ll have a shock and die, and then that will be the end. Then they will place his swords across the coffin -and the Count’s line is extinct. The serf’s line will continue in an orphanage, win honors in the gutter and end in prison.

Miss Julie (Miss Julie)

Category: Play Role: Miss Julie From: Miss Julie

Miss Julie says

You only say that. And for that matter I have no secrets. You see, my mother was not of noble birth. She was brought up with ideas of equality, woman’s freedom and all that. She had very decided opinions against matrimony, and when my father courted her she declared that she would never be his wife -but she did so for all that. I came into the world against my mother’s wishes, I discovered, and was brought up like a child of nature my mother, and taught everything that a boy must know as well; I was to be an example of a woman being as good as a man -I was made to go about in boy’s clothes and take care of the horses and harness and saddle and hunt, and all such things; in fact, all over the estate women servants were taught to do men’s work, with the result that the property came near being ruined -and so we became the laughing stock of the countryside. At last my father must have awakened from his bewitched condition, for he revolted, and ran things according to his ideas. My mother became ill -what it was I don’t know, but she often had cramps and acted queerly -sometimes hiding in the attic or the orchard, and would even be gone all night at times. Then came the big fire which of course you have heard about. The house, the stables -everything was burned, under circumstances that pointed strongly to an incendiary, for the misfortune happened the day after the quarterly insurance was due and the premiums sent in father were strangely delayed his messenger so that they arrived too late.

Facing Death (Durand)

Category: Play Role: Durand From: Facing Death

Durand says

Then your mother lied on her death-bed, just as she had done all through her life. And that’s the curse that has been following me like a spook. Think how you have innocently tortured me with these two lies for so many years! I didn’t want to put disquiet into your young lives which would result in your doubting your mother’s goodness. That’s why I kept silent. I was the bearer of her cross throughout our married life; carried all her faults on my back, took all the consequences of her mistakes on myself until at last I believed that I was the guilty one. And she was not slow, first to believe herself to be blameless, and then later the victim. “Blame it on me,” I used to say, when she had become terribly involved in some tangle. And she blamed and I bore! But the more she became indebted to me, the more she hated me, with the limitless hatred of her indebtedness. And in the end she despised me, trying to strengthen herself imagining she had deceived me. And last of all she taught you children to despise me, because she wanted support in her weakness. I hoped and believed that this evil but weak spirit would die when she died; but evil lives and grows like disease, while soundness stops at a certain point and then retrogrades. And when I wanted to change what was wrong in the habits of this household, I was always met with “But mother said,” and therefore it was true; “Mother used to do this way,” and therefore it was right. And to you I became a good-for-nothing when I was kind, a miserable creature when I was sensitive, and a scamp when I let you all have your way and ruin the house.