Faumf,
1
33. eenen Pan Shnmn.
and inde
ject. The book hasddge—
vantage of beieg practicable for
hdme use.
M. P. W.
f. ih0
orles,
ipany
aFForergn Shelf
most
mong
Schnitzler'’s
#e/to
Also
Latest Novel
hans
Traumnovelle by Arthur Schnitzich.
S to
(S. Fischer, Verlag, gerlin.)
em¬
Reality is never solejy reality, and a
dream is never Just g dreum; one is
always part of tue other. This is the
theme of Schnitzlerg latest novel,
105
Dream Story.“
A young Viennese hyysician exgeri¬
ences, in a few pours ofthe night, 31
the opportunitieg of loye that he has
missed. The dauchter of a dying pa¬
tient; a good-naggred, Gegent prostitute;
a young girl, tije daughiter of a cos.
tumier, and finally masked and
the naked dancer ig 4 ##ysterious night
4a1 club tempt him and try te lure hiln,
ur. each in her fürn, ungi the point is
teg Freached where tge voling man is rendy
ablto leave his wiré and çhild in order
thie
that he may go forth in search of the
scemingly more potent joves.
#.
Butlthe fantasies and nightmares
ung disappear with (e ahproaching day.
light, and he returns 0 his daily work
at the hospital. At home he tells his
wife of the happenings ofthe night.
Andwhat shall we do?“ he finishes
his story.
Be thankful hat we escaped tlie
adventure, the getual ones and the
The
irst imaginary oncs.
Are you sure ofit?“ ge aske.
nser
As sure,“ says she. 'as I believe
that the reality of one pight, and even
the reality of a jife, does not express
its inner truth.“
And no dream, he gdds, “is solely
a dream.“
and
Schnitzler depelops this difficnlt
Valls'
probim and desgribes an Grbelievable
episode so convineingl# that the read¬
Ter cannot help hutsbeljeve. The plot
is laid in Vienng, and oue can often
Trecognize houses in which the episodes
take place. Schpitzler js a Viennese,
and knows and undergtands Vienna
better than anyone eise does. He loveg
Tthe old buildings, the parrow streets,
the famous“ Prater“; he loves the peo¬
ple of Vienna, he Fnowg their eustomg
and habits, and ne knogs how to por¬
ling
tray them masterfully.
week
HENRY J WERNER.
that
hile,
cago
The Literary Review publisned ev¬
ery Friday in-ne Chjgago Evening
with
Post, 31.35 n vear
GAIS L 0
W
box 5/7
203
REPUBLIC
ous and delightful; and in doing this it helps to conquer
that last heritage of Puritanism—constant preoccupation
with goals instead of with goings. Your conscience there¬
fore approving, I leave you, gentle reader, in the hands
of Brownell—a guide who gives you much, very much,
information while at the same time he—greater be his
praise—upon your lifted foreheed pours the boon of
endless quest.''
T. V. Sturn.
The New Schnitzler
Rhapsody, a Dream Novel, by Arthur Schnitzler. Trans¬
lated by Otto P. Schinnerer. Neu York: Simon and
Schuster. 91.50.
OW lightly Arthur Schnitzler can lift up that heavy
1 4 object, an American reader, can carry him a long
way in a short time, and set him down in an unfamiliar
world, European, Viennese, Freudian, Schnitzler’s own!
His world is European: his men and women have fewer
engrossing interests besides love than we, when quite adult,
like to believe we have. They know that desire creates
love in them, while with us, as we prefer to flatter our¬
selves, it is, or was, the other way round. His world is
Viennese: the weary libertines who dwell there have wit,
imagination, sensitiveness, brains that they think with.
Tragedy is everywhere, even little actresses and süsse Mädl
being capable of tragic experience. His world is Freudian,
a region where hate is like love, love like death, waking life
like dreams; where the strangest shapes appear above the
threshold sometimes, sometimes stay below and work the
puppets; where wishes fulfill themselves in many ways, all
strange. And Schnitzler’s world is his own: mystery is
the element his clearest women move in, surely the most de¬
sirable and unattainable, almost the loveliest women created
in our day. We find them in his one long novel, in his
plays, long and short, in those short narrative masterpieces
which appear so casual, which are so packed and rapid, and
in which, while we read in breathless suspense, Schnitzler
has all the quiet he needs for the deep exploration of a
consciousness.
From Schnitzler’s thirty-odd volumes his present Ameri¬
can püblishers are making wise chofccs. Readers Wio sec
all things-i Freud are säid to rank“ Beatrice' as high as
those two masterpieces, None But the Brave, written in
1900, and Fräulein Elsa, wrinzen two or three years ago.
Rhapsody, Schnitzler’s latest story, is neither flawiess,
like these two, nor so terrifying as Beatrice,'' but it is ex¬
citing, it keeps you breathless, it is rich in profound little
pictures of the soul.
A small child is reading aloud to her parents, Fridolin
and Albertina. She stops reading and goes to bed. They
talk, each is jealous of the other’s past. The night before,
they had been at a masked ball, where Lthe spirit of adven¬
ture, freedom and danger had beckoned them. He is
called out to sce a dying patient, and his adventures begin.
They last until four in the morning, and cach is a freedom,
a danger, or both. Each, in other words, is a woman—
Marianne, Mizzi, Pierrette, or the naked woman with
masked face. All four women tempt him, threc are with¬
in reach, but something stops him, a fear, a distaste, always
something. How sure he is that nothing could come be¬
tween him and the fourth woman, if only he could find her
again! When Fridolin comes home he finds a contrast
with his adventures, real and thwarted, in his wife’s adven¬
tures that saie night, dreamed and consummated. Which
1
33. eenen Pan Shnmn.
and inde
ject. The book hasddge—
vantage of beieg practicable for
hdme use.
M. P. W.
f. ih0
orles,
ipany
aFForergn Shelf
most
mong
Schnitzler'’s
#e/to
Also
Latest Novel
hans
Traumnovelle by Arthur Schnitzich.
S to
(S. Fischer, Verlag, gerlin.)
em¬
Reality is never solejy reality, and a
dream is never Just g dreum; one is
always part of tue other. This is the
theme of Schnitzlerg latest novel,
105
Dream Story.“
A young Viennese hyysician exgeri¬
ences, in a few pours ofthe night, 31
the opportunitieg of loye that he has
missed. The dauchter of a dying pa¬
tient; a good-naggred, Gegent prostitute;
a young girl, tije daughiter of a cos.
tumier, and finally masked and
the naked dancer ig 4 ##ysterious night
4a1 club tempt him and try te lure hiln,
ur. each in her fürn, ungi the point is
teg Freached where tge voling man is rendy
ablto leave his wiré and çhild in order
thie
that he may go forth in search of the
scemingly more potent joves.
#.
Butlthe fantasies and nightmares
ung disappear with (e ahproaching day.
light, and he returns 0 his daily work
at the hospital. At home he tells his
wife of the happenings ofthe night.
Andwhat shall we do?“ he finishes
his story.
Be thankful hat we escaped tlie
adventure, the getual ones and the
The
irst imaginary oncs.
Are you sure ofit?“ ge aske.
nser
As sure,“ says she. 'as I believe
that the reality of one pight, and even
the reality of a jife, does not express
its inner truth.“
And no dream, he gdds, “is solely
a dream.“
and
Schnitzler depelops this difficnlt
Valls'
probim and desgribes an Grbelievable
episode so convineingl# that the read¬
Ter cannot help hutsbeljeve. The plot
is laid in Vienng, and oue can often
Trecognize houses in which the episodes
take place. Schpitzler js a Viennese,
and knows and undergtands Vienna
better than anyone eise does. He loveg
Tthe old buildings, the parrow streets,
the famous“ Prater“; he loves the peo¬
ple of Vienna, he Fnowg their eustomg
and habits, and ne knogs how to por¬
ling
tray them masterfully.
week
HENRY J WERNER.
that
hile,
cago
The Literary Review publisned ev¬
ery Friday in-ne Chjgago Evening
with
Post, 31.35 n vear
GAIS L 0
W
box 5/7
203
REPUBLIC
ous and delightful; and in doing this it helps to conquer
that last heritage of Puritanism—constant preoccupation
with goals instead of with goings. Your conscience there¬
fore approving, I leave you, gentle reader, in the hands
of Brownell—a guide who gives you much, very much,
information while at the same time he—greater be his
praise—upon your lifted foreheed pours the boon of
endless quest.''
T. V. Sturn.
The New Schnitzler
Rhapsody, a Dream Novel, by Arthur Schnitzler. Trans¬
lated by Otto P. Schinnerer. Neu York: Simon and
Schuster. 91.50.
OW lightly Arthur Schnitzler can lift up that heavy
1 4 object, an American reader, can carry him a long
way in a short time, and set him down in an unfamiliar
world, European, Viennese, Freudian, Schnitzler’s own!
His world is European: his men and women have fewer
engrossing interests besides love than we, when quite adult,
like to believe we have. They know that desire creates
love in them, while with us, as we prefer to flatter our¬
selves, it is, or was, the other way round. His world is
Viennese: the weary libertines who dwell there have wit,
imagination, sensitiveness, brains that they think with.
Tragedy is everywhere, even little actresses and süsse Mädl
being capable of tragic experience. His world is Freudian,
a region where hate is like love, love like death, waking life
like dreams; where the strangest shapes appear above the
threshold sometimes, sometimes stay below and work the
puppets; where wishes fulfill themselves in many ways, all
strange. And Schnitzler’s world is his own: mystery is
the element his clearest women move in, surely the most de¬
sirable and unattainable, almost the loveliest women created
in our day. We find them in his one long novel, in his
plays, long and short, in those short narrative masterpieces
which appear so casual, which are so packed and rapid, and
in which, while we read in breathless suspense, Schnitzler
has all the quiet he needs for the deep exploration of a
consciousness.
From Schnitzler’s thirty-odd volumes his present Ameri¬
can püblishers are making wise chofccs. Readers Wio sec
all things-i Freud are säid to rank“ Beatrice' as high as
those two masterpieces, None But the Brave, written in
1900, and Fräulein Elsa, wrinzen two or three years ago.
Rhapsody, Schnitzler’s latest story, is neither flawiess,
like these two, nor so terrifying as Beatrice,'' but it is ex¬
citing, it keeps you breathless, it is rich in profound little
pictures of the soul.
A small child is reading aloud to her parents, Fridolin
and Albertina. She stops reading and goes to bed. They
talk, each is jealous of the other’s past. The night before,
they had been at a masked ball, where Lthe spirit of adven¬
ture, freedom and danger had beckoned them. He is
called out to sce a dying patient, and his adventures begin.
They last until four in the morning, and cach is a freedom,
a danger, or both. Each, in other words, is a woman—
Marianne, Mizzi, Pierrette, or the naked woman with
masked face. All four women tempt him, threc are with¬
in reach, but something stops him, a fear, a distaste, always
something. How sure he is that nothing could come be¬
tween him and the fourth woman, if only he could find her
again! When Fridolin comes home he finds a contrast
with his adventures, real and thwarted, in his wife’s adven¬
tures that saie night, dreamed and consummated. Which