Monologue

Jean Monologue from The Father

From The Father by August Strindberg

male · defiant · 1:44 min

I can't--There must be formality between us--as long as we are in this house. There is the memory of the past--and there is the Count, your father. I have never known anyone else for whom I have such respect. I need only to see his gloves lying in a chair to feel my own insignificance. I have only to hear his bell to start like a nervous horse--and now as I see his boots standing there so stiff and proper I feel like bowing and scraping. (Gives boots a kick). Superstitions and prejudices taught in childhood can't be uprooted in a moment. Let us go to a country that is a republic where they'll stand on their heads for my coachman's livery--on their heads shall they stand--but I shall not. I am not born to bow and scrape, for there's stuff in me--character. If I only get hold of the first limb, you shall see me climb. I'm a coachman today, but next year I shall be a proprietor, in two years a gentleman of income; then for Roumania where I'll let them decorate me and can, mark you, can end a count! (JULIE: Beautiful, beautiful!) Oh, in Roumania, one can buy a title cheap--and so you can be a countess just the same--my countess!

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