te
Schnitzler's first real stage success, how¬
Schnitzler always makes us feel even in
ever, was the "Liebelel." The first act is
the most humorous scenes, transfigures
Anatol over again, but then follows the
them and makes the holy
simple tragedy of a young girl's heart
Playing a comed that is the other
as it may occur today or at any time until
idea on which the poet ever dwells, fond¬
all and shall be emancipated. Her
ling it, sounding it in every possible key
for the first time, das süsse Mädel
and manner. But he takes the words in
stepped upon the stage, thoroughly naive
their idest sense, not only with the mean¬
tender, restrained, joyless and yet blissful
ing that they have in the "Grünen Kakadu,
in her dumb surrender. She never appears
where comedy and reality fall into each
again so pure in type as in this play. Once
other's arms and the wildest, madest
she says; I only want you to know and
fun turns into bloody earnest. With
Schnitzler comedy" means a certain pe¬ believe me, that I loved no one before
you, and that I shall love no one when
cular Weltanschauung. People play
once you do not want me any more." And
this comed to themselves and to others.
what does he answer? Only, "Don't say
The irony of the illusion is laid bare. The
it, don't say it it sounds too beautiful."
live themselves into an illusion and pro¬
In the dramas Freiwild and Ver¬
duce it in others only so that they them¬
mächtnis we see one, who till now has
selves may not be torn from their dream.
only tripped along through life, beginning to
Rather a dream, rather a hundred horrible
stride. We notice how his feet hurt, how
doubts than the truth, rather a happiness
his weak knees tremble. But he gains the
that trembles, & lying happiness, than none
mastery, he is a triumph which the
at all
author rarely allows his heres. We find
Play, a Dream
ourselves altogether in Schnitzler's ele¬
Schnitzlers philosophy is that of play.
ment in the one-act pieces, "Der grüne
We are all only little wretched comedians
Kakadu" and "Lebendige Stunden." Here
playing the comedy of some stranger.
Stimmung and the working out of the
some unknown. He has carried out this dialogue are suprême. The brillantly ne¬
idea in the Puppenspieler"; fate is great
dotal forms the kernel. The action is noth¬
and gigante, men are but puppets in hering but play between appearance and be¬
hands, that turn and read to her whistle, ing, un and earnest, a graceful jugging
But if once a puppet, carried away by
with deception, dreams and reality.
the idea of his own greatness, tries him¬
self to play for the dance, wants to be
The Man of Melancholy
the leader, he is crushed forthwith.
In the Schleier der Beatrice it is
His characters and problems are gener
the man of melancholy who again con¬
ally the same, only the clothes they wear
fronts us. How singular this poet Filippo
change in the different pieces. Here and
Loschi is, who cannot remember the song
there, quite rarely, outside influence can
that he wrote a few days ago, because she
be seen; some of his characters have cer¬
for whom he wrote it is no longer here,
tainly had a Scandinavian forefather or
because all that still lives in him is the
relative. And still they are always vien¬
sixteen-year-old Beatrice Mardi, with whom
nese, the men as well as the women, the
he must flee while it is still today tomor¬
Italian princes, or even the brillant Jews
row Cesare Borgia will stand before the
who suffer under their Judaism and ex¬
gates of Bologna And how singular is
press their suffering in Viennese senti¬
this Beatrice. She stands between Filippo
mentalities.
and the Duke, a man of action, who drains
Schnitzler always moves over the ground
life, for whom life is abundance, not
of reality and yet it is very seldom, in
time. Between the two dances and
spite of all his truth and lifelikeness, that
the woman
he is unpoetical. Poesie transfigures even lies. She is a type, she
whom we all meet once, for whom we
the trafic came along which some of
bled, or over whose bleeding wounds we
his horses wander, plants flowers on the
must step. She leaves her betrothed for a
edge. Hence he has been reproached with
duke, a duke for a poet, the dead post for
lack of power and weight and hence, too,
the living due. And finally she herself
he la considered the most graceful drama¬
is stable. This work,
tist outside of France. His grace is the
the magnificent mangle of the Renaissance,
grace of Vienna, although crities who do
is certainly one of the creation in which
not know Vienna might call it the grace
Schnitzler has succeeded best and yet we
of Paris. Schnitzlers solle
do no feel that the characters must, as
Mädel," that charming little being, that
delightfully careless creature, smiling in with Shakespeare, Hebbe, Keis, although
the midst of her tears, who lives and the pot wills. The motives are vague.
Where moods, situations, episodes, are con¬
kisses from one mouth to the next she is
cerned the work is unique, but the drama¬
indeed a kind of local variation of the
lacks the power and massiveness that would
narrow rooted, light-hearted Parisian
grisette. His brillant wit might be called have been necessary to master these men
esprit, although it is more amable,
and women of the Renaissance.
Schnitzler, as has already been said, is
mixed with the Viennes atmosphere
wine, women and song. Like the either a symbolis or a realist, but from
the beginning he has taken so much from
French, too, he can be sentimental without
both movements that the balance is main¬
ripping with sentimentality, can write
pathos without being pathetic. It is un¬
tained. Inner processes are always the
dentable that he would not be possible
primary thing to him. He does not paint
without Maupassant specially as such a
the moment when the lightning strikes but
wonderful short story writer but what
what happens afterwards, the confusion
distinguishes him from the French is his
and the suffering of souls. It is the effect
deeper psychic absorption and the gente
of events on the inner life that interests
him, not the events themselves. The dra¬
melancholy that is the underlying mood
matic crescendo is of socondary importance
of all his writings.
to him, as it was to Wagner, in his latest
Anatol, the Tor Philosopher
period, and Ibsen. Melot wounds Tristan
and the curtain falls, but then comes the
Schnitzlere first important work was
whole third act, and the soul speaks.
Anatol, a collection of seven graceful
dialogues. Here, at once, he opens with
the theme of that kind of tender love
The Gentlest Play
which feels no need of faithfulness." The
Der einsame Wegs Schnitzlers gen¬
women in the various dialogues are differ¬
test" piece. The great shade of Ibsen
ent; the two men are the same. One of
hovers over it. The dying woman is only,
them experiences, the other comments on
for her son is not the child of her marriage
the experience. The latter is Max, he is
but of a few rapturus wecks with an artist
unsentimental and benum the senti¬
who forsook her. Lonely is the man whose
mentality of a farewell supper with his
wife deceived him and whose daughter
cold, healthy cheerfulness." But the one
leaves him. Lonely the daughter who goes
who experiences is Anatol, the elegant,
to her death. Lonely is the man for whose
split, idling poet. He lives joyfully and
sake the daughter dies, lonely the artist
thinks sady. He is a true Viennes in
who cannot find the way to the heart of his
his lovable insincerity, his sentimental lack
son. Lonely are all those who have passed
of wili, his real and assumed heroism, his
the height, the zenith of life. "And even if
pleasure in gay pictures and theorical
a procession of Bacchantes accompanies us
poses, his happy carelessness and pain¬
the way dowill we all travel alone
fraught broodings. He is weak and effete
"Who pay any attention to the others any¬
and coquettes with those qualities. He does
way?" And it is probably just as well so.
not want to be strong. I feel," he says,
otherwise we should all be mad with pity or
how much I should lose if one fine day
lothing or fear." Every moment is lonely.
should find myself strong. There are
For there is no present. The present¬
many kinds of illness and only one kind
what is it? Do we stand breast to breast
of health. One can only be well in the
with the moment as with a friend whom we
embrace or an enemy who presses us
same way that everyone else is but one
can be quite differently ill from anyone else? Is not the word that just sounded
already a memory, the one with which a
else." Stimmung ist in the exi¬
melody began a memory before the song is
of life." A red and green hanging light, a
chord on the plano, changes the whole one? But at the end something like
world to him. He declares that he knows hope of rescue flashes, a word about the
erste
his quiet, objective manner, the doctor who
prightness and a Galli¬
does not feel with pain but only observes it.
dramatist has written traged
When the poet tries to do that, however,
a hand, or comedy with so
and he does so seldom nough, he loses thetic a smile, as has Arthur