Other gods and Gravesend

Between 1907 and until his death in 1912 Strindberg wrote down reflections and ideas in a book which he called A Blue Book. In this book he writes about love, jealousy, religion, philosophy. One entry caught my eye recently because it could have been written today. Like so many other authors around the end of the 19th century he studied Buddhism and  even incorporated Buddhist ideas into at least two of his later works. He was fascinated by Buddhism for a while, but he also saw the funny side of this appetite for new religions and the way the grass is always greener on the other side. In A Blue Book he writes: 'When Buddhism became fashionable in 1890 all renegades rushed in and tried to fill their religious vacuum. Six thousand new gods were acclaimed at once; the new trinity, Brahma-Vishnu-Shiva did not raise any objections; spirits, ghosts, genies, fairies were natural phenomenons; Gautama's hells and heavens were part of the parcel; a little asceticism also belonged to the story. Those who recently had denied the resurrection found the reincarnation unproblematic. But the favourite, however, was Krishna. He was the god Vishnu who had been sent down to earth, and was born by human parents in order to save mankind. His arrival was prophesied and feared so that Bethlehem-like child murders were instigated on new-born children, but without success. Krishna fulfilled his mission and fought against evil, and he suffered and died voluntarily.
That was acceptable. The trinity Brahma-Vishnu-Shiva was alright, but The Father- The Son - The Holy Ghost was not. Krishna was acceptable but not Christ. How funny!'

Strindberg was never fond of England. He admired Dickens, Shakespeare and Turner and his paintings show quite clearly the influence by Turner, but during his brief visit to England in 1893 he couldn't wait to leave London and go back to the island of Rügen in North Germany where several of his friends were then staying. It didn't help that he and his second wife, Frida Uhl, arrived in Gravesend after a stormy crossing that had taken forty-eight hours.  Frida suffered terrible sea-sickness so they had to stay in Gravesend for a few days for her to recover.
When they reached London it was hot and stifling and he didn't know the language so he was miserable and wanted to leave at once. After ten days Frida pawned her lace and jewellery, including her wedding ring, and  managed to raise £5 which was enough for Strindberg's travelling expenses so he set off, leaving his new wife behind. Frida had been to a convent school in London and she knew the city well. She was hoping to make some contacts in the theatre or secure some contracts for Strindberg. At least that was her excuse. She found a small Swedish colony in Putney and suggested in a letter that they might settle down there. But Strindberg never returned to England. However, Frida's son, Friedrich Strindberg, lived there for some years, but despite having the same surname as August and consequently being his legal son, he was the offspring of an extra-marital relationship between Frida and Frank Wedekind. But more of that anon.

Fröken Julie - a lady or a miss?

Fröken Julie is the daughter of a count, and as such she is part of the aristocracy. I usually tell drama students that Diana Spencer was the daughter of an Earl and no one ever called her Miss Diana. It is true that today and ever since the end of the 19th century the title 'fröken' has been used for all unmarried women, but before then it was limited to girls of noble birth. The middle-class girls had to make do with 'mamsell' and the servant class with 'jungfru'. The first few translations of this play into English were keen to use Lady and Countess in the title. The point is, it makes total sense when it comes to the acting. Jean has to beat about the bush when he addresses her at the beginning and after their passionate encounter in his room he simply drops the title and calls her by her first name. That dramatic effect gets lost when she is simply Miss Julie throughout, but that is the way she is known these days and I don't think I shall be able to persuade any directors to call her by her proper name.
When it comes to that play it never ceases to amaze me how the scene with the peasants can be interpreted in so many different ways. I have just been watching Alf Sjöberg's film from 1951 again, with Anita Björk and Ulf Palme in the leading parts and the midsummer jollifications are recognizable and believable in their drunken, sensual fun. Strindberg leaves much to the imagination and it is therefore even more remarkable that English productions often depict a kind of orgy. It is eroticism turned pornography. I urge students to go back to the play and see if there is any justification for such an interpretation.
It took twenty years after he had written the play t before it was produced in Sweden. When George Bernard Shaw came to Stockholm in 1909 Strindberg called in his leading actors from the archipelago and asked them to give a private performance for Shaw. But he was clearly worried about the emotions it would give rise to. He and his first wife had put the play on for one night only in Copenhagen in 1889. Siri had played Julie and that was the last time she worked as an actress. It was also the last time they were living together. Their marriage was breaking up after that. The play evoked so many painful memories for Strindberg so he asked his actors in Stockholm to go lightly, very lightly when it came to the passionate scenes. There is no record of what Shaw thought of it. Little did they know, though, that it was going to be the most performed of all his plays and in the autumn of 2012 the French actress Juliette Binoche is playing the part at the Barbican in London. They are calling the play Mademoiselle Julie.

Strindberg's centenary

With Strindberg's centenary coming up in 2012 Sweden and U.S.A are preparing to celebrate in grand style. The Swedish theatres are pulling out all the plugs and producing a number of plays which have not seen the light of day for ages. How pleased August would have been if he knew.
In 1911 his Intimate Theatre had just closed after three years' of existence. He had fallen out of favour yet again and was busy fighting the state and the world in the press like a latter-day Don Quixote. His last play, The Great Highway (1909) had not been a success. The Nobel Prize had gone to Selma Lagerlöf in 1909 so he realised that he was never going receive that ultimate accolade.
However, the amazing demonstration of love and support that he enjoyed on his last birthday in January 1912 must have gone some way towards comforting him.
The young and the poor were on his side, as were the members of the Socialist party, and a huge crowd gathered outside the building where he lived, on his last birthday in January 1912.
The fascinating thing about Strindberg is that he never ceases to upset. There is nothing cosy about him. You read him and the blood pressure rises. There is so much energy in his writing, so much passion in what he writes that you can't help getting sucked in and forced to take a stand.
He leaves no one unmoved. His language gives off sparks and there is an unstoppable rhythm about his dramatic dialogue.