what perilous liaison with a married woman, an
[—
aristecrat, by introducing him to a littie girl
of the pcople, Christine. The experiment is not
C4
Whollv euccessful. When Christine discovers
12
that Fritz, for tho sake of his aristocratie love,
1
has been actually killed in a duel with the in¬
sulted and ontraged husband, she suddenlyar
realises with intense conviction what sort of #.
person she is." What, then, am I?' she cries in
in passionate anguish. And this in varions ways
W
is a theme which constantlueccurs threughont, in
Aihe Schnitzierian drmna. Thechereine in shom w
he is throughout interested is the“ petite an
amie, das süsse Mädel, in her relations A.
with those to whom she allies herself in suchl pi
perilously fleeting bonds. Sometimes, because
CI
she realises the conditions, she gains a tempo¬
th
rary triumph, more often her fragile nature is
I1
shattered against those terrible awakenings
which leave her solitary and desolate.
7 ANATOL.“
Anatol'’ in various ways throws light on
this favourite heroine of Schnitzler. In one of
oft
these little pieces there is a farewell supper.
Anatol, who has ruined bis digestion by having
to eut twosuppers every night, one with Anna,
O1
his older friend, and the other with a gewer
C0
favourite, determines to give a’good-bye supper
O
to Anna, his friend Max, and himseif. He is
going to reveal to her the changes in his planssci
and position, but, to the intense and sardoniote
joy of his friend Max, Anna forestalls him with
in
che information that into her life also has come A
anew love. In another of these onc-act plays,
T
entitled" Question of Fate, Anatol, vervstl
anxions about the kindof love which Cora feels w.
for him, determines to hypnotise her and
W
draw from her anconscions lips thetrue answer.#1
Nevertheless, after the girl is hypnotised he
dares not“ put his fortune to the touch, to wint!
P
or lose it all,?' but pretends to Max that he is
quite satisfied; while all the time it is casy for##a
the spectator to see that he is as disquieted as
before, especially when Cora, awakened from###
her trance, shows a very troubled and uncasy) b
n
curiosity as to the results of the interrogation.
8
Perhaps one of the best-known pieccs of
Schnitzler—and it may be remarked, in pass¬
ing, that he is absolutely at his best in oneact
C
plays, and not nearly so successful in longer
pieces of work—is the tragi-comedy which hei
calls“ Literature.'' Alady who has gained no
little reputation in letters is on the eve of mar¬
riage with a wealthy baron, who wants her toln
give up her hterary career. She is not un- f.
willing to make the encrifice, but only asks thatib
she may publish one last novel, which, as a
matter of fact, has been composed of love-letters!!
received from a former friend. Of course, thelt
older love turns up, and it is discovered that.
he, too, is abont to produce a novel based on
their correspondence. The two books sittt
together like a glove, and discovery secms cer¬
tain. Fortunately, when the baron appears he
declares that he has bought up the whole edi¬
tion of his wife’s forthcoming novel and has
saved a single copy, which he proposes to read
with her at his own fireside. Quickly the
lady sees her chance.“ No, let the sacrifice
be complete,’ she cries, as she flings tho soli¬
tary surviving evidence of her folly into thel
fire.
MANT MOODS.
It will be observed from these and many
other instances of Schnitzler’s method that
he is a master of all the moods of modern
worldliness. He is callous, cynical, flippant
ratiriah, serious, by taurns; sometimes laugh¬
ing with a sour grimace, and sometimes pre¬
serving a sombre countenance, with a suspicion
of a laugh at the corners of his month. He ##s
full of romantic melancholy, and yet he is for
ever pointing out “ what shadows we are and
what shadows we pursue. It is part of the
connedy of existence that we disturb ourselves
about things that are really trifles, more inte¬
rested im the froth of the glass which life offers
to our lips than in tdie real quality and virtue
of the drink. Besides, how do we know, in the
midst of the confused phantasmagoria of
existence, which is dream and which is reality?
Mesmensm, for instance, a device wlich
Schnitzler is fond of in more than one of bis
plays, reveals to us à particular condition of
mind, in which the unconscious patient may
be telling the exact truth which in his waking
momants he would have concealed, or may be
merely repeating words suggested to him by
the operator. So, too, in actual life itsell.
In tihe little olume of“ Three Plays of
Schnitzler,'’ admirably translated into English,
and with a very interesting introduction by
Mr. Horace B. Samuel, we have that ingenious
1