611
THE NEI AGE
OCrOBER 27, 1910.
have no interesting disorders of their own to describe,
Lastly, if I shrink from embarking upon a campaign
to seek for such among their friends. Every branch of
for the practical application of my theories, that is due
tlis nauseous nosology, so rife in our time, is repugnant
to my modest realisation of my own limitations. 1 am
tothe Don’s nature. Neither does he himself suffer
no missionary by nature. The passion for proselytism
from any unhealthy hunger for moral disease, nor does
is alien to my temperament; and so is the passion for
he wish to foster such a hunger in others. Therefore,
adventure. Besides, 1 am not at all certain that, even
he does not volunteer to give to the world an intimate
if I could bring myself to risk my personal comfort for
account of his secret sins under the euphemismof“ ex¬
the dissemination of my views, the result would be worth
periences.? He does not try to make out that the
the trouble. He who summons me to send out a large
blemishes under which his character may labour are
freight of self-denial upon any cruising voyage of moral
really beauties in disguise. He does not invite admira¬
improvement must make it clear to my understanding
tion under a hypocritical plea for comprehension. In
that the concern is at least a hopeful one. At my time of
writing he never yields to that vulgar thirst for self¬
life (five and twenty years of age) it cannot be supposed
revelation which only confession can slake, nor does he
that I have much energyto spare; in fact, I find it little
advertise for kinsmen in real or imaginary affliction:
enough for the intellectual labours I have on my hands,
above all, he does not venture to insult the wickedness
and therefore let no critic expect to frighten me bya few
of his neighbours by parading his own feeble essays in
hard words into embarking any part of it upon desperate
vice.
adventures of altruistic morality.
This frank admission may perhaps act as a warning
For the rest, my work, like its author’s life, although
rather than as an incentive to readers who hanker after
it may conceivably have a purpose, cannot be accused of
so-called “ human documents.? But, in truth, such
a plan. So much so that many a reader, while perusing
readers the Don does not desire. His discourses are,
my divagations, in this or some future age, may well ask
as Pindar would have said if he could see them, B4y
Who is the Plotter, pray, and where is the Plot?“
Govävra guverotot. They are chiefly and primarily
Alas! those are of the questions to which no definite
addressed to superior persons, iconoclasts, and all true
answer can ever be vouchsafed. Suflice it to state, in
unbelievers—that is to say, to those individuals who are
general terms, that the book, upon analysis, reveals
willing to risk their destiny on the chances of a
itself as a collection of private prejudices, reasonably
syllogism, who hold that there is nothing which the
good-natured, on a multitude of subjects—religion,
trained mind is not able, at its pleasure, to build up or
letters, politics, the drama, dreams, marriage, canni¬
to destroy, who eagerly desirous, and at the same time
balism and other matters of weight—not the least
incapable of practising for themselves the sublime art of
prominent among them being the author’s own genial,
dialectics, require some guide who has the necessary
enlightened, and wholly interesting personality—a por¬
skill. But they are not without a message for ordinary
trait, it will be admitted, painted with much charm and
people also. Although himself eminently superior, the
delicacy of language.
Don does not despise his fellow-creatures, nor does he
That all these prejudices are necessarily correct, it
over-rate them. He is charitable, yet discriminating;
would be arrogant to claim. Perhaps the most that
critical, yet not censorious. The theories which he has
can be said for them is that thev are inconsistent. For
propounded may not always convert biassed opponents,
like the giant thinkers of the East—whence, as is well
but impartial students in ages yet unborn will hesitate
known, all great thoughts have comerthe writer is
to believe that this powerful thinker, so shrewd, so
above that petty passion for consistency displayed by
limpid, so wonderfully well-balanced, was the puppet of
our Oecidental pygmies. He holds that determined
a self-delusion. All those who wish to find, not among
consistency usually is a mask for deliberate insincerity,
fanatics, nor even among saints or mystics, but in
or, at best, a mark of intellectual infirmity. Indeed, he
####demic logic, a witness of the eternal Truth, will
would feel greatly humiliated if he thought it possible
inevitably come to him. His very modesty, a weakness
for his soul to be packed into a paragraph. He is
constantly found with the wise, will be to such disciples
sufficiently impressed with the vastness, vanity, and
a guarantee of security. For modesty means modera¬
vagueness of his inner world to despise all wretched
tion, and moderation is the salt which preserves all
efforts after formal unity. His clear perception of one
opinions from putridity and prevents the world from
truth does not prevent him from seeing, with equal
being poisoned by opposite fanaticisms. He confidently
clearness, that other truth which appears to have been
anticipates the time when millions of right-minded men
created in order to give thefirst the lie. He has but a poor
and women will pore over these pages in the spirit in
opinion of the man who does not contradict himself at
which they were penned, drawn thereto by the magnet¬
least once a day. Of himself, the present writer would
ism of their actuality, and departing therefrom refreshed
say what has so well been said of Saadi:“ The real
uid invigorated; for the Don’s thoughts on the serious
charm of him lies not in his consistency, but in his
things of life, though lacking the incentive of impro¬
catholicity.?
ptiety, are set forth with a detail and an insistence
which must in the end carry conviction. The wiser the
Besides, this is not a criminal code, but a perfectly
world grows the more deeply it will feel the wisdom of
harmless bundle of Confessions. It follows that these,
a writer who pleads, like Cervantes, through wit,
like all genuine“ Confessions,?’ are not only unmetho¬
humour, and fancy, for the dominion of commonsense.
dical and contradictory, but also, for the most part
introspective, at times irrelevant, and usually inconclu¬
sive. Indeed, the work is more remarkable for the range
and novelty of its ideas than for their careful co¬
ordination; in this bearing a close family resemblance
Modern Dramatists.
to all great philosophical works. The original thinker
pelts vou with pearls; it is the pedant who endeavours
By Ashley Dukes.
to string them into ropes. The author feels compelled
V.— Arthur Schnitzler.
to make this modest statement, lest some well-meaning,
but sadly uninspired, admirer of the future should seek
Tnx Austrian and the German drama are often confused.
to construct a cut-and-dry “philosophical system,?'
In reality, they have nothing in common but language,
“symbol of faith,' or some other ambitious ineptitude
and the difference between them may be measured by
out of what in reality is nothing more than a living
the difference between the spirit of Berlin and the spirit
gospel, uncanonical and inconsequent, that is to say,
of Vienna. The German piaywrights reflect phases of
human.
their national temperament clearly enough. Sudermann,
It would be a mistake, however, to class these con¬
fessions with the effusions which popularly pass under
for example, is always heavily Prussian. The stucco
that name. The author is quite exempt from that
palaces of" Die Ehre? and“ Sodoms Ende?’ belong
unseemly and, to him, incomprehensible, vanity which
essentially to upper middle class Berlin; the farms and
impels so many men and women nowadays to hide none
country houses of“ Johannisfeuer?’ and“ Das Glück im
of their maladies physical or moral, to dissect their
Winkel'' are as distinctively North German as their
complaints of body and of soul in public, and if they