If I Had a Father
By George MacDonald.
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Act I
Scene.—A Sculptor’s studio. Arthur Gervaise working at a clay figure and humming a tune. A knock.
| Gervaise | Come in. Throws a wet cloth over the clay. Enter Warren by the door communicating with the house. Ah, Warren! How do you do? |
| Warren | How are you, Gervaise? I’m delighted to see you once more. I have but just heard of your return. |
| Gervaise | I’ve been home but a fortnight. I was just thinking of you. |
| Warren | I was certain I should find you at work. |
| Gervaise | You see my work can go on by any light. It is more independent than yours. |
| Warren | I wish it weren’t, then. |
| Gervaise | Why? |
| Warren | Because there would be a chance of our getting you out of your den sometimes. |
| Gervaise | Like any other wild beast when the dark falls—eh? |
| Warren | Just so. |
| Gervaise | And where the good? |
| Warren | Why shouldn’t you roar a little now and then like other honest lions? |
| Gervaise | I doubt if the roaring lions do much beyond roaring. |
| Warren | And I doubt whether the lion that won’t even whisk his tail, will get food enough shoved through his bars to make it worth his while to keep a cage in London. |
| Gervaise | I certainly shall not make use of myself to recommend my work. |
| Warren | What is it now? |
| Gervaise | Oh, nothing!—only a little fancy of my own. |
| Warren | There again! The moment I set foot in your study, you throw the sheet over your clay, and when I ask you what you are working at—“Oh—a little fancy of my own!” |
| Gervaise | I couldn’t tell it was you coming. |
| Warren | Let me see what you’ve been doing, then. |
| Gervaise | Oh, she’s a mere Lot’s-wife as yet! |
| Warren | Approaching the figure. Of course, of course! I understand all that. |
| Gervaise | Laying his hand on his arm. Excuse me: I would rather not show it. |
| Warren | I beg your pardon.—I couldn’t believe you really meant it. |
| Gervaise | I’ll show you the mould if you like. |
| Warren | I don’t know what you mean by that: you would never throw a wet sheet over a cast! Gervaise lifts a painting from the floor and sets it on an easel. Warren regards it for a few moments in silence. Ah! by Jove, Gervaise! someone sent you down the wrong turn: you ought to have been a painter. What a sky! And what a sea! Those blues and greens—rich as a peacock’s feather-eyes! Superb! A tropical night! The dolphin at its last gasp in the west, and all above, an abyss of blue, at the bottom of which the stars lie like gems in the mineshaft of the darkness! |
| Gervaise | You seem to have taken the wrong turn, Warren! You ought to have been a poet. |
| Warren | Such a thing as that puts the slang out of a fellow’s bend. |
| Gervaise | I’m glad you like it. I do myself, though it falls short of my intent sadly enough. |
| Warren | But I don’t for the life of me see what this has to do with that. You said something about a mould. |
| Gervaise | I will tell you what I meant. Every individual aspect of nature looks to me as if about to give birth to a human form, embodying that of which itself only dreams. In this way landscape-painting is, in my eyes, the mother of sculpture. That Apollo is of the summer dawn; that Aphrodite of the moonlit sea; this picture represents the mother of my Psyche. |
| Warren | Under the sheet there? |
| Gervaise | Yes. You shall see her some day; but to show your work too soon, is to uncork your champagne before dinner. |
| Warren | Well, you’ve spoiled my picture. I shall go home and scrape my canvas to the bone. |
| Gervaise | On second thoughts, I will show you my Psyche. Uncovers the clay. Warren stands in admiration. Enter Waterfield by same door. |
| Waterfield | Ah, Warren! here you are before me! Mr. Gervaise, I hope I see you well. |
| Warren | Mr. Waterfield—an old friend of yours, Gervaise, I believe. |
| Gervaise | I cannot appropriate the honour. |
| Waterfield | I was twice in your studio at Rome, but it’s six months ago, Mr. Gervaise. Ha! Using his eyeglass. What a charming figure! A Psyche! Wings suggested by—Very skilful! Contour lovely! Altogether antique in pose and expression!—Is she a commission? |
| Gervaise | No. |
| Waterfield | Then I beg you will consider her one. |
| Gervaise | Excuse me; I never work on commission—at least never in this kind. A bust or two I have done. |
| Waterfield | By Jove!—I should like to see your model!—This is perfect. Are you going to carve her? |
| Gervaise | Possibly. |
| Waterfield | Uncommissioned? |
| Gervaise | If at all. |
| Waterfield | Well, I |
