Strindberg generously took this man into his
life for a while, only to be met with envy and a refusal to acknowledge his
successes. Strindberg changed for the worse, both inwardly and outwardly,
during the time that this man was his close and sole companion.
Was this relationship merely one that was
typical of the time, the place and the people involved, or were unseen
influences at work?
There are certainly a few familiar metaphysical
elements in the case.
How it all began
Strindberg tells of how a stranger, an
American artist, turned up in a Paris restaurant that he and his circle liked
to visit.
Although this man seemed like an active and
bold spirit and was like a breath of fresh air, Strindberg experienced some vague feelings of mistrust.
He sensed that the confident demeanour was just a façade and all was not well
below the surface.
His instincts were correct. Just about
everything in this man’s life that could go wrong had gone wrong. He soon approached Strindberg for help:
“One evening the unfortunate man came into my room and asked for permission to remain there a short time. He looked like a lost man, and such in fact he was. His landlord had driven him out of his studio, his grisette had left him, he was head over ears in debt, and his creditors were dunning him; he was insulted in the streets by the supporters of his unpaid models…
Since he was also heavily in debt to the
restaurant, he had to go about the streets, hungry. Among other things he
confessed that he had taken morphia enough to kill two people, but death
apparently did not yet want him.”
How it went on
Strindberg took pity on the destitute man,
who turned out to be of German origin, and assured him that he would stand by
him. He encouraged him to paint more pictures.
Taking this man into his life had a bad
effect on Strindberg:
“This man becomes now my sole companion, and
his misfortunes cause me a double share of suffering, so closely do I identify
myself with him. I do so in a spirit of defiance, but presently gain an
interesting experience thereby.”
“Thus pass two months, while I live in union
with this stranger and with him go through all the troubles of an unfortunate
artist over again, without remembering that I am a made man, yes, and rank
among the dramatic celebrities of Paris, though, as a chemical discoverer, I
think little of it now.
Moreover, my companion loves me only when I
conceal my successes. If I am obliged to refer to them in passing, he is
annoyed, and assumes the rôle of an unfortunate nonentity, so that at last, out
of sympathy, I put on the air of an old decayed wreck. This imperceptibly
depresses me, while he, who has his future still before him, elevates himself
again at my expense. I am like a corpse buried at the root of a tree which
sucks nutriment out of the decomposing life, and grows upwards.”
In other words, this man was an energy
vampire. He was jealous of Strindberg rather than grateful to him. He wanted Strindberg
to appear small so that he could look large in comparison. He was not a real
friend; he was more like a parasite.
Another café incident
Not only did Strindberg have to endure the
previously described series of incidents, his companion’s inability to pay his
bills caused another one. This is yet another example of someone rushing to the
scene to ruin people’s enjoyment:
“Some
days later I am sitting with my mysterious friend, with our glasses of
absinthe, on the terrace of the Café de Versailles, when a fellow in workman's
clothes, with a malicious aspect, suddenly stops before the café, then rushes
through the customers, and bawls at my friend in his loudest voice: ‘At last I
have you, you sharper, who fleeced me! What is the meaning of it? First of all,
you order a cross for thirty francs, and then you disappear. Son of a dog! Do
you think a cross like that makes itself?’
He continued to rage. The café waiters vainly
attempted to remove him; he threatened to fetch the police, while the
unfortunate accused, motionless, dumb, and prostrate, like a condemned man,
remained exposed to the gaze of a circle of artists who all knew him more or
less.”
Such incidents were not uncommon in those
circles of course.
How it all ended
The café incident left a nasty taste. It was
the beginning of the end:
“From this evening a certain coldness ensues
between us. Our acquaintance had now lasted four terrible months. My companion
had studied in quite a new school, and had time to strike out new paths in his
art…
At last, in silent agreement, we dissolved
the partnership we had entered on for mutual help. We both felt that it was
enough, and that our destinies must go on to separate fulfilments. When we
exchanged our last farewells, I knew that they were our last. I have never seen
the man again, nor heard what has become of him.”
I am not sure what the ‘mutual help’
consisted of, and there does not seem to have been much of a real partnership. Maybe
Strindberg is not telling us the whole story. They did have long philosophical
and religious discussions, so perhaps Strindberg enjoyed having someone always around
to talk to.
Accident or design?
So what, if anything, was behind this episode
in Strindberg’s life? Why is it even worth mentioning?
After all, penniless artists starving in a
Paris garret, handing over their paintings - or having them confiscated - in
lieu of the rent, were so common at the time as to be a cliché.
Creative people often put their art before
everything else. Some of them are not very good at dealing with people, money
and the real world; they often lead chaotic, messy, squalid lives.
Strindberg encountered many such people along
the way; in his circles, people who were on the run to avoid creditors and people who were continually
borrowing money and falling out with their ‘friends’ were the norm.
However, there are some other aspects to
consider when deciding whether or not unseen influences
were involved.
This episode took place between two key
events in Strindberg’s life: he first met the mysterious man soon after he had
deliberately tried to make his little girl ill, and the letter from his other
children arrived not long after he parted company with the man.
Was it just a coincidence that this man came
into Strindberg’s life at this time and was with him during the string of
misfortunes?
Why did this man home in on Strindberg rather
than any of the other men in the café circle? Why did Strindberg ignore his
initial misgivings then put up with this man for so long?
He mentioned this man in his letters, saying that he was very mysterious and so full of lies he couldn’t be quite right in the head. Why would he make someone like that his close and sole companion?
Perhaps he didn't have any choice in the matter. This aspect will be covered in a future article.
The Paris café where Strindberg liked to sit under a chestnut tree and drink his absinthe:
He mentioned this man in his letters, saying that he was very mysterious and so full of lies he couldn’t be quite right in the head. Why would he make someone like that his close and sole companion?
Perhaps he didn't have any choice in the matter. This aspect will be covered in a future article.
The Paris café where Strindberg liked to sit under a chestnut tree and drink his absinthe:
