br 1
Mize!
Arhol. STEwARr
Egon, Prince Ravenstein
GODFFRET DENNIS
Philip
Mandaner Busst.
Lolo Langhuber
Rurzar LustEr
Wasner
Professor Windhofer Ivo Dawsos
A foreign universitg professor talked some time
ago of the veiled polygamy and polyandry which.
he said, formed the basis of modlern society. If
the author of Comicese Miezi is to be believed, the
vell, at any rate so far as modern Austrian society
is concerned, is worn rather for ornament than for
decency. He shows you two goung, or youngish,
women in affectionate conversation, onc of whom
is, or was until yesterdar, the mistress of the other's
father. The mistress is going to be married, and
the daughter, who is delighted with her, regrets that
her father should have been so old-fashioned as to
have kept them all these years apart. The father
politely regrets, not without a passing gracc of senti¬
ment, his mistress’s marriage, but as a man of the
world will not stand in her way. This polite Count
has for friend a no less polite Prince, who intro¬
duces his son—a natural son, but to be adopted
and to take the Prince’s name, and quite a nice
boy. The nice boy wonders who his mother is,
and thinks it may be the Count’s mistress; but he
has guessed wrong—it is the daughter. It is not
quite clear why Countess Mizzi did not marry the
Prince (as soon, that is to say, as his wife was dead);
he repeatedly made the offer, but was refused and
had“to console himself“ elsewhere. Indeed, they
have both consoled themselves, and with a varied
assortment of liaisons. (“ You know I, too, have
had my fling,' says Mizzi to the other lady, who
replies effusively,“ Oh, I’i so glad.*) Ner has Mizzi
seen her son from his birth until to-day. Of course
vou will not expect from her any conventional
nonsense about the cry of the blood. She simply,
like any stranger, thinks the boy quite s nice hoy.
And as she is rather tired of her varions“ consola¬
tions“ (you see her politely giving one of them,
presumably the latest, his congé), and the Prince
once more offers marriage, and the boy, her son,
Iturns out to be so nice a boy, and her father’s mistress
is now to be happily married, and it is a fine day
and she feels in a good humour—why, let them
all go off to Ostend together, where (if she
docsn't change her mind again) you guess that
she will consent at last to accept her son’s father
for her husband. You guess also that the boy, who
is as sharp as he is nice, will soon know who his
mother is. The only person who will remain in the
dark will be the Count, who is clearly too simple
and old-fashioned to be told. And you must admit
that, while the morals of the party are a trifle—
what shall we say ?—unveiled, their manners, all
round, are extremely elegant. In fact, it has evi¬
dently been Herr Schnitzler’s intention to present
them all as eminently“ sympathetic persons. Well,
vou must remember, it all happens in (or near)
Vienna, and perhaps it isn't truc.
After that, another Schnitzler, translated by Miss
(or Mrs.) Penclope Wheeler, The Green Cockatoo,
which shows what was going on in an underground
Paris tavern on the evening they were taking the
Bastille overhead. Hither came jaded aristocrats in
search of a new thrill, and found it in watching
broken-down actors pretending to be criminals of
the deepest dye. A real eriminal who had got into
the place by accident would have told them how
he murdered his aunt, but was soon silenced as a
hopeless amateur. This comic contrast of reality
Pand pretence was, however, soon followed by a
tragie one. The“ star of the company, newly
married, acts with great force the part of a revenging
husband; he pretends to have just come from killing
1a certain Duke in bis wife’s dressing-room. So real¬
istic is his acting thateven his comrades are deceived,
and appland him for having taken just vengeance
Von the man who was (in very truth) his wife’s lover.
At this moment the Duke enters the tavern, and the
Tactor knifes him. The aristocratie crowd, affrighted,
Frushes out, and from above the populace, having
taken the Bastille, swarm in; so ends this nerve¬
shaking study in the marabre. It gave fine oppor¬
tunities to both Mr. Norman Page, who murdered
his aunt, and Mr. Leon Quartermaine, who murdered
the Duke. Certainly the Stage Societz epicures
cannot complain of any lack of variety in their
Schnitzler afternoon at the Aldwich; even the
Scheeks that had not blushed at the lightly-touched
sketch of modern Viennese promiscuity must have
turned pale over the deep-bitten etching of old
Parisian ferocity.
##, minneapolis, New-York.
#u, Gan Francisco, Stockholm. St Petereburg.
(Oeellenssgeb—
schnitt aus:
11 5. 315 The Daly Telegrapn, Lender:
1:
STAGE SOCIETY.
AFTERNOON WITH SCHNITZLER.
To the ordinary English playgoer the name of
Arthur Schnitzler is mainly familiar by reason of
his Anatol sketches, translated and produced by
Mr. Granville Barker. Yesterday, at a partionlarly
interestung matinóe given at the Aldwych by the
Incorporuted Stage Society, we had the privilege of
making his better acquaintance. The two one-act
pieces presented served admirably to emphasise the
scope of his peculiar talent. Comtesse Mizzi is
quite in the vein of Anktol. It is hoavily
charged—overcharged, some might insist—with
cynicism; it provides, with a light-heartednces that
almost appals, an extraordinary study of the baser
aspects of social life. The characters are more or
lees tarred with the same brush; they are entirely
unmoral and frankly bosstful of the fact. One might
speak of them as degenerates, wore it not that they
take such a healthy prido in their own misdoings.
You have, for instance, Prince Ravenstein, who has
sedured the daughter of his friend, Count Pazmandy,
the Countess Mizzi. The result of their intrigue is a
son, Philip whom his mother has not even cared to
recogmise, and who, although littie more than a youth,
has developed tastes very much on a par with those
indulged in by his father. Count Pazmandy is him¬
self a viveur of the first order. For many years he
has lived on a basis of intimacy with a notorious
dancer called Lolo, who in the end calmly throwe
him over in order to marry a well-to-do livery-stable
proprietor.
The play is littlo more than a series of conversa¬
tions, carried on with a most perfect and unblushing
candour by these and other characters, and would
be intolerable were it handled in a less witty fashion.
When the sorious things of life are presented in so
frivolous a spirit they scem, however, to lose some¬
thing of their importance, and Schnitzler plays the
Jester so airily that he well-nigh tempts us to forget
the gravity of the enormities he unmasks. It is,
of course, essential to the well-being of such a piece
that theoriginal atmosphereand surroundings should
be preserved. Norcanitbeexpectedthat Englishartists
should quite succeed in giving the requisite form
and substance to ideas so entirely beyond their ken.
Mr. Athol Stewart, nevertheless, is to be congratu¬
lated on his clever rendering of the part of Prince
davenstein; while Mr. Robert Horton as Count!
Pazmandy, Miss Katherine Pole as Mizzi, and Miss¬
Margaret Busso as Lolo gave a very fair account of
themnselves. Although merely a thumbnail sketch,
Mr. Rupert Lumley’s performance of Wasner, the#
Ilivery-stable keeper, was thoroughly in the picture.
· THE GREEN COCKATOO.“
The Green Cockatoo“ is a work of very diffe¬
Frent üibre. It is hardly an exaggeration to describen
Jit as a masterpiece of its kind. The elements of
humour, observation, dramatic effect, and sensation¬
galism are blended in it with the happiest results.
At one moment you are thrilled to the marrow; an
Einstant later responsive laughter greets the grotesque¬
gness of the situation. It is the period of the Terror“.
in Paris. To the Grcen Cockatoo, an underground“#
Itavern kept by Prosper, formerly a theatrical
manager, aristocrats are flocking to enjoy a new.
dexperience. Prosper has engaged a company of
Fneedy actors and actresses. Their business is to¬
relate to his wealthy but dissolute clientèle incidents
which may or may not have occurred. The place,
Hfor example, is suddenly invaded by a weird figure,
who tells with intense realism how he is flying from
justice because he has taken his rival’s life; a man
seizes his wife by the throat and endeavours to
strangle her because she has been unfaithful. The¬
situation ends in a laugh or a taunt by the host tha“
it is not a bit like the real thing.
That comes later in an episodo which stirs the
audience both on the stage and in front of the cur¬
tain to a manifestation of unusual excitement.
Henri, a young actor, has just married Loocadie, an
actress, whose reputation is admittedly not of the
best. To that, however, he is fairly indifferent.
The two take their departure from the Cabarct. A“
quarter of an hour later Henri reappears. He is
Mize!
Arhol. STEwARr
Egon, Prince Ravenstein
GODFFRET DENNIS
Philip
Mandaner Busst.
Lolo Langhuber
Rurzar LustEr
Wasner
Professor Windhofer Ivo Dawsos
A foreign universitg professor talked some time
ago of the veiled polygamy and polyandry which.
he said, formed the basis of modlern society. If
the author of Comicese Miezi is to be believed, the
vell, at any rate so far as modern Austrian society
is concerned, is worn rather for ornament than for
decency. He shows you two goung, or youngish,
women in affectionate conversation, onc of whom
is, or was until yesterdar, the mistress of the other's
father. The mistress is going to be married, and
the daughter, who is delighted with her, regrets that
her father should have been so old-fashioned as to
have kept them all these years apart. The father
politely regrets, not without a passing gracc of senti¬
ment, his mistress’s marriage, but as a man of the
world will not stand in her way. This polite Count
has for friend a no less polite Prince, who intro¬
duces his son—a natural son, but to be adopted
and to take the Prince’s name, and quite a nice
boy. The nice boy wonders who his mother is,
and thinks it may be the Count’s mistress; but he
has guessed wrong—it is the daughter. It is not
quite clear why Countess Mizzi did not marry the
Prince (as soon, that is to say, as his wife was dead);
he repeatedly made the offer, but was refused and
had“to console himself“ elsewhere. Indeed, they
have both consoled themselves, and with a varied
assortment of liaisons. (“ You know I, too, have
had my fling,' says Mizzi to the other lady, who
replies effusively,“ Oh, I’i so glad.*) Ner has Mizzi
seen her son from his birth until to-day. Of course
vou will not expect from her any conventional
nonsense about the cry of the blood. She simply,
like any stranger, thinks the boy quite s nice hoy.
And as she is rather tired of her varions“ consola¬
tions“ (you see her politely giving one of them,
presumably the latest, his congé), and the Prince
once more offers marriage, and the boy, her son,
Iturns out to be so nice a boy, and her father’s mistress
is now to be happily married, and it is a fine day
and she feels in a good humour—why, let them
all go off to Ostend together, where (if she
docsn't change her mind again) you guess that
she will consent at last to accept her son’s father
for her husband. You guess also that the boy, who
is as sharp as he is nice, will soon know who his
mother is. The only person who will remain in the
dark will be the Count, who is clearly too simple
and old-fashioned to be told. And you must admit
that, while the morals of the party are a trifle—
what shall we say ?—unveiled, their manners, all
round, are extremely elegant. In fact, it has evi¬
dently been Herr Schnitzler’s intention to present
them all as eminently“ sympathetic persons. Well,
vou must remember, it all happens in (or near)
Vienna, and perhaps it isn't truc.
After that, another Schnitzler, translated by Miss
(or Mrs.) Penclope Wheeler, The Green Cockatoo,
which shows what was going on in an underground
Paris tavern on the evening they were taking the
Bastille overhead. Hither came jaded aristocrats in
search of a new thrill, and found it in watching
broken-down actors pretending to be criminals of
the deepest dye. A real eriminal who had got into
the place by accident would have told them how
he murdered his aunt, but was soon silenced as a
hopeless amateur. This comic contrast of reality
Pand pretence was, however, soon followed by a
tragie one. The“ star of the company, newly
married, acts with great force the part of a revenging
husband; he pretends to have just come from killing
1a certain Duke in bis wife’s dressing-room. So real¬
istic is his acting thateven his comrades are deceived,
and appland him for having taken just vengeance
Von the man who was (in very truth) his wife’s lover.
At this moment the Duke enters the tavern, and the
Tactor knifes him. The aristocratie crowd, affrighted,
Frushes out, and from above the populace, having
taken the Bastille, swarm in; so ends this nerve¬
shaking study in the marabre. It gave fine oppor¬
tunities to both Mr. Norman Page, who murdered
his aunt, and Mr. Leon Quartermaine, who murdered
the Duke. Certainly the Stage Societz epicures
cannot complain of any lack of variety in their
Schnitzler afternoon at the Aldwich; even the
Scheeks that had not blushed at the lightly-touched
sketch of modern Viennese promiscuity must have
turned pale over the deep-bitten etching of old
Parisian ferocity.
##, minneapolis, New-York.
#u, Gan Francisco, Stockholm. St Petereburg.
(Oeellenssgeb—
schnitt aus:
11 5. 315 The Daly Telegrapn, Lender:
1:
STAGE SOCIETY.
AFTERNOON WITH SCHNITZLER.
To the ordinary English playgoer the name of
Arthur Schnitzler is mainly familiar by reason of
his Anatol sketches, translated and produced by
Mr. Granville Barker. Yesterday, at a partionlarly
interestung matinóe given at the Aldwych by the
Incorporuted Stage Society, we had the privilege of
making his better acquaintance. The two one-act
pieces presented served admirably to emphasise the
scope of his peculiar talent. Comtesse Mizzi is
quite in the vein of Anktol. It is hoavily
charged—overcharged, some might insist—with
cynicism; it provides, with a light-heartednces that
almost appals, an extraordinary study of the baser
aspects of social life. The characters are more or
lees tarred with the same brush; they are entirely
unmoral and frankly bosstful of the fact. One might
speak of them as degenerates, wore it not that they
take such a healthy prido in their own misdoings.
You have, for instance, Prince Ravenstein, who has
sedured the daughter of his friend, Count Pazmandy,
the Countess Mizzi. The result of their intrigue is a
son, Philip whom his mother has not even cared to
recogmise, and who, although littie more than a youth,
has developed tastes very much on a par with those
indulged in by his father. Count Pazmandy is him¬
self a viveur of the first order. For many years he
has lived on a basis of intimacy with a notorious
dancer called Lolo, who in the end calmly throwe
him over in order to marry a well-to-do livery-stable
proprietor.
The play is littlo more than a series of conversa¬
tions, carried on with a most perfect and unblushing
candour by these and other characters, and would
be intolerable were it handled in a less witty fashion.
When the sorious things of life are presented in so
frivolous a spirit they scem, however, to lose some¬
thing of their importance, and Schnitzler plays the
Jester so airily that he well-nigh tempts us to forget
the gravity of the enormities he unmasks. It is,
of course, essential to the well-being of such a piece
that theoriginal atmosphereand surroundings should
be preserved. Norcanitbeexpectedthat Englishartists
should quite succeed in giving the requisite form
and substance to ideas so entirely beyond their ken.
Mr. Athol Stewart, nevertheless, is to be congratu¬
lated on his clever rendering of the part of Prince
davenstein; while Mr. Robert Horton as Count!
Pazmandy, Miss Katherine Pole as Mizzi, and Miss¬
Margaret Busso as Lolo gave a very fair account of
themnselves. Although merely a thumbnail sketch,
Mr. Rupert Lumley’s performance of Wasner, the#
Ilivery-stable keeper, was thoroughly in the picture.
· THE GREEN COCKATOO.“
The Green Cockatoo“ is a work of very diffe¬
Frent üibre. It is hardly an exaggeration to describen
Jit as a masterpiece of its kind. The elements of
humour, observation, dramatic effect, and sensation¬
galism are blended in it with the happiest results.
At one moment you are thrilled to the marrow; an
Einstant later responsive laughter greets the grotesque¬
gness of the situation. It is the period of the Terror“.
in Paris. To the Grcen Cockatoo, an underground“#
Itavern kept by Prosper, formerly a theatrical
manager, aristocrats are flocking to enjoy a new.
dexperience. Prosper has engaged a company of
Fneedy actors and actresses. Their business is to¬
relate to his wealthy but dissolute clientèle incidents
which may or may not have occurred. The place,
Hfor example, is suddenly invaded by a weird figure,
who tells with intense realism how he is flying from
justice because he has taken his rival’s life; a man
seizes his wife by the throat and endeavours to
strangle her because she has been unfaithful. The¬
situation ends in a laugh or a taunt by the host tha“
it is not a bit like the real thing.
That comes later in an episodo which stirs the
audience both on the stage and in front of the cur¬
tain to a manifestation of unusual excitement.
Henri, a young actor, has just married Loocadie, an
actress, whose reputation is admittedly not of the
best. To that, however, he is fairly indifferent.
The two take their departure from the Cabarct. A“
quarter of an hour later Henri reappears. He is