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shame
art of
aupt-
——

box 36/4
Panphlets offorints
41
PAUL H. GRUNMANN
which it is cast. The main plot stands out with remarkable cleanness, and
countless episodes and characters are related to it with great skill. So, for
instance, the self-sacrificing love of Anna, who loves George and receives
no attention from him — dying finally as a nurse in the service; che sturdy
character of Mrs. Klahr’s brother, who has a fine scorn for flamboyant
patriotism, but knows how to die when the occasion demands it; the petty
schemes of a pasteboard prince in their relation to the intrigues of various
adventurers; the enigmatical ambition of Helene in whom the vanity of this
family finds its most consistent and pathetic representative; these and
other elements are all fused into a drama that will certainly live as long as
higher aims are followed on the stage. Incidentally the drama is a most
convincing satire upon war. What Bertha von Suttner attempted to do
in Ground Arms' Schnitzler accomplished here in a really artistic manner.
Instead of giving us pages of moralizing and preaching, Schnitzler allows
his almost uncanny talent for characterization full play and convinces us
of the folly of many of the emotions sanctified by war.
Rudolph Lothar has stated that Schnitzler has steadily deepened,
but that he has failed to broaden his art. One is tempted to agree with
this opinion, yet The Way into the Open'’ and Young Medardus’ give
evidence that Schnitzler is striving to do more comprehensive work.
Whether he will accomplish this remains a serious question. As an Austrian
resident in Vienna, he lacks the proper arena. Thoroughly German in the
best sense, he is conscious of the foibles of Vienna, which he has depicted with
a good-natured humor that springs from genuine love. In a certain sense
he may suffer as Grillparzer did, by not having his greatest possibilities
awakened by his environment. However much the poets of Germany may
feel out of sympathy with the trend of German affairs, they do have an
environment which spurs them on to noble efforts; for back of the mili¬
tarism and jingoism on the surface remains the Germany of science and
art, the Germany of social endeavor which must be a joy to any poet.
What Schnitzler has already done places him among the foremost writers
of the day. Not since Heine have the Germans produced such wit — and
coupled with this is a sense of form, an artistic sensitiveness, quite unique.
He is not the flippant dandy of literature as some have supposed, but a
man who takes his art and himself seriously.