Text by Else Meidner titled ‘Dialogue with Death’

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[Transcription/translation]

A DIALOGUE WITH DEATH

Death:
(Skeleton in top-hat and overcoat walks into my studio)
How do you do?

Me:
(Terrified and trembling, I try to speak but can’t make a sound.)

Death:
Why such horror, why such frightful fear, when you spend so much time preoccupied with me, when you’ve been drawing me and carrying me around in your thoughts since childhood? I’m flattered that you’ve never forgotten me and I’m almost inclined to believe that you’ve fallen in love with me and wanted to welcome me with…

Me:
(Interrupting)
Get out, Death, get out!

Death:
Do calm down, madame. I haven’t come for you today. This is just a memento mori. I’m more afraid of you than you are afraid of me. I know I’ll have to take you at some point and I know you won’t come quietly. I’m dreading the day because you’ll fight to the last gasp!

Me:
(Suddenly quite pacified and cheerful)
So you’ve come to model for me? Please take a seat – (most endearingly) – would you like a smoke?

Death:
I am a man and I do smoke, too.

Me:
(Starting a drawing)
You’re missing certain parts that I value in a man!

Death:
(Becoming quite grave)
No sooner do you think you’ve escaped the present danger, you become cocky and cynical. But I’m warning you: I could have come for you in another form long ago, perhaps in the guise of that beautiful Greek fellow. Ha ha! It makes me laugh to think how willingly you’d have fallen into my arms and kissed me then!

Me:
Will I know it’s you?

Death:
Since Death came for Professor Freud, I too have become an adherent of psychoanalysis. Page one hundred and fifty of his book on… No, perhaps I should not tell you that.

Me:
You’re the same as all the other men: you’re a sadist and you only want to torment me!

Death:
(Amicably)
A good remedy for fear is preparation. I want you to get used to me little by little. So I came for your friend a year ago. But to my amazement I find that you’ve recovered and are now quite chipper. Is it really so nice to be quite so alone? You still don’t wish to come with me? You’d rather prolong your suffering?

Me:
(Reciting)
Already the wings that were bleeding
Heal, and in youth renewed every hope is alive.
Grandeur on grandeur remains unfound, and one who has loved so
Travels, surely he must, travels the way to the gods.

Death:
I am omniscient and have seen how you torment yourself. It is true that you try to hide this from others. But I hear your weeping at night, I am never far away when you wring your hands in desperation at night, and I know of all your disappointments. When your friends throw parties without inviting you, it is I who instills in them the malice to tell you so to your face. It was I and no other who made Frederic hurt you so grievously that you almost came to me of your own free will! (Rubbing his hands together so triumphantly it makes a chilling sound) All my work! Am I not an fine psychologist?

Me:
(I stop drawing, the chalk falls from my trembling hand)
Death, what have you done to me!

Death:
Until all your friends have been taken from you, until there’s not a shred of pride left in you, until your eyes are so weak that you can no longer behold the beauty of Creation, until your heart has been broken over and over so that you no longer feel a thing – until then I cannot make you come with me!

Me:
(Begging)
Just let me paint a few more good pictures!

Death:
(Ironically)
You’d have done well to have finished your drawing instead of getting all worked up. Until our next sitting (swings his hat in a deep arc), your most obedient servant, madame!

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