Creditors and Pariah | Page 4

that's the
way it is. And while you are trying to figure out why, the mishap has
already occurred.
ADOLPH. What mishap?
GUSTAV. However, the first husband was a tyrant, and she took him
only to get her freedom. You see, a girl cannot have freedom except by
providing herself with a chaperon--or what we call a husband.
ADOLPH. Of course not.
GUSTAV. And now you are the chaperon.
ADOLPH. I?
GUSTAV. Since you are her husband.
(ADOLPH keeps a preoccupied silence.)
GUSTAV. Am I not right?
ADOLPH. [Uneasily] I don't know. You live with a woman for years,
and you never stop to analyse her, or your relationship with her, and
then--then you begin to think--and there you are!--Gustav, you are my
friend. The only male friend I have. During this last week you have
given me courage to live again. It is as if your own magnetism had
been poured into me. Like a watchmaker, you have fixed the works in
my head and wound up the spring again. Can't you hear, yourself, how
I think more clearly and speak more to the point? And to myself at least
it seems as if my voice had recovered its ring.
GUSTAV. So it seems to me also. And why is that?
ADOLPH. I shouldn't wonder if you grew accustomed to lower your
voice in talking to women. I know at least that Tekla always used to
accuse me of shouting.
GUSTAV. And so you toned down your voice and accepted the rule of
the slipper?
ADOLPH. That isn't quite the way to put it. [After some reflection] I
think it is even worse than that. But let us talk of something
else!--What was I saying?--Yes, you came here, and you enabled me to
see my art in its true light. Of course, for some time I had noticed my
growing lack of interest in painting, as it didn't seem to offer me the
proper medium for the expression of what I wanted to bring out. But
when you explained all this to me, and made it clear why painting must

fail as a timely outlet for the creative instinct, then I saw the light at
last--and I realised that hereafter it would not be possible for me to
express myself by means of colour only.
GUSTAV. Are you quite sure now that you cannot go on painting--
that you may not have a relapse?
ADOLPH. Perfectly sure! For I have tested myself. When I went to bed
that night after our talk, I rehearsed your argument point by point, and I
knew you had it right. But when I woke up from a good night's sleep
and my head was clear again, then it came over me in a flash that you
might be mistaken after all. And I jumped out of bed and got hold of
my brushes and paints--but it was no use! Every trace of illusion was
gone--it was nothing but smears of paint, and I quaked at the thought of
having believed, and having made others believe, that a painted canvas
could be anything but a painted canvas. The veil had fallen from my
eyes, and it was just as impossible for me to paint any more as it was to
become a child again.
GUSTAV. And then you saw that the realistic tendency of our day, its
craving for actuality and tangibility, could only find its proper form in
sculpture, which gives you body, extension in all three dimensions--
ADOLPH. [Vaguely] The three dimensions--oh yes, body, in a word!
GUSTAV. And then you became a sculptor yourself. Or rather, you
have been one all your life, but you had gone astray, and nothing was
needed but a guide to put you on the right road--Tell me, do you
experience supreme joy now when you are at work?
ADOLPH. Now I am living!
GUSTAV. May I see what you are doing?
ADOLPH. A female figure.
GUSTAV. Without a model? And so lifelike at that!
ADOLPH. [Apathetically] Yes, but it resembles somebody. It is
remarkable that this woman seems to have become a part of my body as
I of hers.
GUSTAV. Well, that's not so very remarkable. Do you know what
transfusion is?
ADOLPH. Of blood? Yes.
GUSTAV. And you seem to have bled yourself a little too much. When
I look at the figure here I comprehend several things which I merely
guessed before. You have loved her tremendously!

ADOLPH. Yes, to such an extent that I couldn't tell whether she was I
or I she. When she is smiling, I smile also. When she is weeping, I
weep. And when she--can you imagine anything like it?-- when she
was giving life to our child--I felt the birth pangs within myself.
GUSTAV. Do you know, my