—
—.—
am
box 36//4
—phlets offprints
452
ARTHUR SCHNITZLER.
Faxyr. You should have torn it up, dear, why didn't you do it?
FEpon. You should not have signed it, Fanny.
FaNNr. Fedori it is unbearable—you're driving me out of my senses.
FEpon. But you yourself don't quite know your own mind. There'’s
something in you which craves for adventures.
FANNz. Fedor—if you would only put me to the test—I will do anything
vou want—only tell me.
Andthen, eventually, Fedor owns up.
Frpon. Would I not still have to kiss away from your lips the kisses
of other men?
And so Fanny forsakes the life of domesticity for the life of the
actress.
The chief defect, however, in this play is that, in spite of all
its dramatic compound of psychology, pathos, and problem, the
problem is not fairly presented, in that Fanny, being of inferior
social status to Fedor, the problem of whether he shall marry her
must inevitably be influenced by purely snobbish considerations.
It is only when the woman is of equal, if not slightly superior,
rank to the man that the real problem of ante-nuptial chastity
can be fairly and properly discussed.
In Die Vermachtniss (produced in Berlin in 1898), the problem
which our dramatist has made the centre of his play is the relation
to the family of the mistress and child of the dead son of the
house. The dashing young cavalry officer is brought home fatally
wounded from a fall from his horse. Realising his approaching
death, he informs his parents of his responsibilities. Death raises
the home circle to a pitch of more than ordinary humanity. In
spite of their poignant jealousy at the existence of other affections
and another home life, they send for their son’s household and
accede to his dying request to incorporate it into the family.
Act II. shows the mistress installed in the bosom of her lover’s
family. Modernity, however, though satisfying to the heroic
pose, has its penalties. Our ultra-modern family finds itself con¬
fronted with social ostracism. Still, they love their grandchild,
and the mother of the grandchild is the price that they must pay.
But the grandchild dies. The semi-official daughter-in-law conse¬
quently becomes a somewhat unprofitable luxury, and in the final
act is given her congé. Even more than in Liebelei, however, the
claim to merit lies almost exclusively in the precision with which
each successive phase of the problem is portrayed. As a series of
family pictures, the play succeeds, and succeeds brilliantly; as a
drama of continuous interest it fails, and fails hopelessly.
The next play of Schnitzler is The Veil of Beatrice. Though
it is impossible to render due justice in the space at our disposal,
and a five-act tragedy in blank verse lies somewhat outside
150
32
—.—
am
box 36//4
—phlets offprints
452
ARTHUR SCHNITZLER.
Faxyr. You should have torn it up, dear, why didn't you do it?
FEpon. You should not have signed it, Fanny.
FaNNr. Fedori it is unbearable—you're driving me out of my senses.
FEpon. But you yourself don't quite know your own mind. There'’s
something in you which craves for adventures.
FANNz. Fedor—if you would only put me to the test—I will do anything
vou want—only tell me.
Andthen, eventually, Fedor owns up.
Frpon. Would I not still have to kiss away from your lips the kisses
of other men?
And so Fanny forsakes the life of domesticity for the life of the
actress.
The chief defect, however, in this play is that, in spite of all
its dramatic compound of psychology, pathos, and problem, the
problem is not fairly presented, in that Fanny, being of inferior
social status to Fedor, the problem of whether he shall marry her
must inevitably be influenced by purely snobbish considerations.
It is only when the woman is of equal, if not slightly superior,
rank to the man that the real problem of ante-nuptial chastity
can be fairly and properly discussed.
In Die Vermachtniss (produced in Berlin in 1898), the problem
which our dramatist has made the centre of his play is the relation
to the family of the mistress and child of the dead son of the
house. The dashing young cavalry officer is brought home fatally
wounded from a fall from his horse. Realising his approaching
death, he informs his parents of his responsibilities. Death raises
the home circle to a pitch of more than ordinary humanity. In
spite of their poignant jealousy at the existence of other affections
and another home life, they send for their son’s household and
accede to his dying request to incorporate it into the family.
Act II. shows the mistress installed in the bosom of her lover’s
family. Modernity, however, though satisfying to the heroic
pose, has its penalties. Our ultra-modern family finds itself con¬
fronted with social ostracism. Still, they love their grandchild,
and the mother of the grandchild is the price that they must pay.
But the grandchild dies. The semi-official daughter-in-law conse¬
quently becomes a somewhat unprofitable luxury, and in the final
act is given her congé. Even more than in Liebelei, however, the
claim to merit lies almost exclusively in the precision with which
each successive phase of the problem is portrayed. As a series of
family pictures, the play succeeds, and succeeds brilliantly; as a
drama of continuous interest it fails, and fails hopelessly.
The next play of Schnitzler is The Veil of Beatrice. Though
it is impossible to render due justice in the space at our disposal,
and a five-act tragedy in blank verse lies somewhat outside
150
32