Arthur Schnitzler

“ Actress
Old man!
[205]
Count
You don’t quite understand me. What I mean has rather to do, how shall I express myself, rather concerns the soul.
Actress
What concern of mine is your soul?
Count
Believe me, it has much to do with it. It seems all wrong to me, this notion, that you can separate the two.
Actress
Don’t bother me with your philosophy. If I want any of that, I can read books.
Count
One never learns from books.
Actress
Very true! And that’s why you ought to wait for me to-night. As to the soul, we will come to some sort of an understanding, you villain! ”

“ The Puritan fanatic with his jaundiced inhibitions or the moral ideologist with his heart of leather may toss the book aside resentful because of its inherent truth. The philosopher of human life, taking the larger aspect of this drama, will close it with the serene smile of understanding.
Any attempt to turn a dialogue so full of delicate shades as is this of Schnitzler into a language like English, whose genius tends rather toward a graphic concreteness and realism, is full of pitfalls and difficulties. ”

“ But as it is the silken portières of discreet alcoves are opened quietly before our eyes, and we hear the whisper of the most intimate secrets. But with all their realism there is no word in these dialogues which could antagonize the susceptibilities of any sincere student or true lover of humanity. All stratagems of sex are uncovered not through [xiii] the curious observations of a faunic mind, but through the finer eyes of a connoisseur of things human. ”

“ But with the riper experience of a period approaching its end the writers feel untrammeled in the choice of theme by pride or prejudice knowing that they will never transgress the line of good taste.
So it was in the declining days of the Roman civilization when Lucian of Samosata wrote his Dialogues of the Hetærai and countless poets penned their intricate epigrams on the art and experience of love. So it was in England when the fine vigor of the Elizabethan and Miltonic age gave way to the Restoration and the calculating brilliance of a Congreve or a Wycherly. ”

“ Neither tremendous passion nor tremendous problems have stirred, to all appearances, these polite artists of Vienna. Passion might be there, but what was to be artistically expressed was, rather, the witty or ironically mournful surfaces of passion.”
The literary master of this world is concededly Arthur Schnitzler, in whom are curiously combined the sophisticated elegance of the Viennese man of letters and the disenchanting wisdom of the practising physician. He was born in Vienna in 1862, the son of a doctor. ”

“ It is hot enough as it is. I don’t need any cognac. Listen, Marie, bring me a glass of water. Wait, Marie,—let it run, till it gets quite cold.
Exit Maid. The Young Man gazes after her. At the door the Maid looks back at him, and the Young Man glances into the air. The Maid turns on the water and lets it run. Meanwhile, she goes into her room, washes her hands, and arranges her curls before the mirror. Then she brings the glass of water to the Young Man. She approaches the couch. The Young Man raises himself upon his elbow. The Maid gives him the glass of water and their fingers touch. ”

“ One cannot always be a lover, sometimes one has to go out into the cold world to struggle and achieve! Don’t forget that, my child. There is a time for everything in marriage—that is the beauty of it. ”

“ A vicious circle, some may say, and such it surely would have been in the hands of a lesser artist than Schnitzler, for he would only have made the book hideously fleshly, instead of a marvelous psychological study in the ecstacies and disillusions of love and the whole tragedy of human wishes unsatisfied even in their apparent gratification. ”

“ A reddish light plays from the fire-place in the corner of the bedroom upon the hangings of the bed. The Young Man now inspects the bedroom. He takes an atomizer from the dressing-table, and sprays the bed-pillows with a fine rain of violet perfume. Then he carries the atomizer through both rooms, constantly pressing upon the bulb, so that soon the odor of violets pervades the place. He then takes off his hat and coat. He sits down in a blue velvet armchair, lights a cigarette, and smokes. ”

“ Actress
Please go on; they are delightful!
Count
Do you know, the nice thing about you is the way [193] one can chat with you, Bobby told me all about it. And it’s so seldom one can find any one like that.
Actress
Down there in Hungary, I suppose.
Count
But it’s quite the same in Vienna! People are always the same. Where there are more of them, the crowd is larger. That’s the whole difference. Tell me, do you really like people?
Actress
Like them—? I hate them! I hate to look at them. I never see any one. I’m always alone. Nobody enters my house. ”

“ But, it might happen that you ... in fact it often happens that such women, whose reputations are not of the best, seek out good women, partly to give them standing, and partly because they feel ... how shall I say?... because they feel a certain homesickness for virtue.
Young Wife
Do they?
Husband
Yes. I believe what I just said is very true. Homesickness for virtue. For all of these women are at heart very unhappy; you can believe that.
Young Wife
Why?
Husband
You ask me, Emma?—How can you even ask?—Just imagine what a life these women lead! Full of lies, perfidy, vulgarity, and danger. ”

“ Count
That little lady isn’t a problem at all, although ... I really know her only very slightly.
Actress
Oh!
Count
That’s the actual truth. But you are a problem. I’ve always had a yearning for a problem. It’s really been a deep personal loss to me, that until yesterday... I never saw you act.
Actress
Really?
Count
Yes! You see, going to the theater is so complicated. I am used to dining late ... then when I get there, the best part of the play is over. Isn’t that true? ”

“ You young girls of good family, who wait quietly under the care of your parents for the man who desires you in marriage,—you won’t know the misery that drives most of these poor creatures into the arms of sin. ”

“ Actress
Who told you that? I haven’t the slightest notion what I’m living for!
Count
But really—to be famous—to be fêted—
Actress
Does that mean happiness?
[194]
Count
Happiness? There really is no such thing as happiness. All the things that people talk about most, don’t exist ... for instance, love. That’s one of them.
Actress
I suppose you are right.
Count
Enjoyment ... intoxication ... very good, nobody can deny them ... they are something real. Now, when I am enjoying myself ... very good, I am aware that I am enjoying myself. Or I am intoxicated, good. That also is something real. ”

“ Reigen, here translated as Hands Around, is a series of ten comedies—miniatures in dialogue between man and woman in various ages and walks of life. But transgressing the merely literary they are psychological studies of the interplay of sex, and keen analyses of the sophisticated modern [xii] soul, done with freedom and finesse. ”

“ His hat lies on the floor at the head of the sofa.
Count
(Stirs, rubs his eyes, sits up suddenly, remains seated, and looks around) Where am I?... Oh, yes ... I actually went home with the woman, it seems... (He rises quickly, notices her bed) Oh, there she is... Queer, what sort of things [210] can happen, even at my age. I haven’t the faintest notion, did they carry me up here? No... I remember—coming into the room... I was still awake then, or waked up ... or ... or maybe it’s only the room that reminds of something?... ’Pon my soul, yes, of course ... it was yesterday I saw it... ”

“ Count
’Pon my soul, it’s too bad that you ... aren’t something different... You could make your fortune!
Girl
You talk just like Frank.
Count
Who is Frank?
Girl
The waiter in our café.
Count
In what way am I just like Frank?
Girl
He is also always telling me I might make my fortune, and wanting me to marry him.
Count
Why don’t you?
Girl
No thank you... I don’t want to marry, no, not for any price... Later on, perhaps.
Count
The eyes ... the very same eyes... Bobby would surely call me a fool.—But I must kiss your [219] eyes once more ... so ... and now God bless you, now I must go. ”

“ You women, of course, hear a lot of things, you know a lot of things, no doubt read too much, but you can’t have any real idea of the things men experience. We men really become quite disgusted with this thing people call love, for the kind of creatures to which we are restricted really are... ”

“ Bobby would say again, I’m philosophizing, but the truth is, sleep makes all equal, so it seems to me—like its brother, death... Hm, I should like to know, whether... No, I’d remember that... No, no, I dropped like a log on the sofa right away ... and nothing happened... It is unbelievable how much alike all women sometimes look... Well, let’s go (He is about to go) Oh, of course.
(He takes his wallet, and is about to take out a banknote)
Girl
(Awakening) Well ... who’s there so early in the morning—? (Recognizing him) Good morning, sonny!
Count
Good morning. Have a good sleep? ”

“ What is the matter?... (He has opened her blouse. In a matter of fact tone) You have a beautiful white skin, Marie.
Maid
You are flattering me, Sir.
Young Man
(Kissing her on the breast) That can’t hurt you.
Maid
Oh, no.
Young Man
But you sigh so. Why are you sighing?
Maid
Oh, Mr. Alfred...
[51]
Young Man
And what charming little slippers you have...
Maid
... But ... Sir ... if the doorbell should ring.—
Young Man
Who will ring now?
Maid
But, Sir ... look ... it is so light...
Young Man
You needn’t feel at all shy with me. You needn’t feel shy with anybody ... any one as pretty as you. ”

“ Well, for a man [95] who has looked about in the world a bit—come, lay your head on my shoulder—who has seen something of the world, marriage is really something much more mysterious than it is for you sheltered young girls. ”

“ Tell me, honestly, you didn’t have any notion that I am Biebitz?
Miss
Oh, pshaw, I don’t even know what you are talking about. I never heard of any Biebitz.
Poet
What is fame! No, forget what I have told you. Forget even the name. I am Robert and I want to remain Robert to you. I was only joking. (Lightly) I am not a writer at all. I’m a clerk, and in the evening I play the piano in a dancehall.
Miss
But now I’m all mixed up ... and the way you look at one. What is the matter, yes, what do you mean?
Poet
It is very strange—something that has never happened to me, sweetheart ”

“ That story of Stendhal’s is really interesting. I have always thought that only older people ... or people who ... you know, people who have lived fast...
Young Man
The idea! That has nothing to do with it. By the way, I had completely forgotten the prettiest of Stendhal’s stories. ”

“ Count
I’ve thought of that too. Or maybe I won’t dine at all. Dining isn’t a special pleasure anyhow.
Actress
Are there any pleasures left to an old man like you?
[191]
Count
That’s a question I often ask myself. But I am not an old man. There must be some other reason.
Actress
Do you think so?
Count
Yes. Bobby, for instance, says, that I am a philosopher. You know he means that I do too much thinking.
Actress
Yes ... thinking is a misfortune.
Count
I have too much time, that’s why I reflect. You see, I’ve often thought if they would transfer me to Vienna, things would be better. ”

“ Actress
But what do you know about my love for you? Everything leaves you cold. And I have been delirious for nights. In a high fever—hundred and four degrees.
Poet
Rather high for a mood.
Actress
You call that a mood? I am dying for love of you, and you call it a mood—?
[184]
Poet
And Dick...?
Actress
Dick?... Don’t talk to me about that galley-slave!—
[185]
[186]
[187]
THE ACTRESS AND THE COUNT The bedroom of the Actress, luxuriously furnished. It is midday. The curtains are still down; a candle is burning on the dressing-table. The Actress is disclosed in her four-poster bed. ”

“ Nothing is stirring. Then he closes the blue portières, which hang before the bedroom. The bell rings. He starts slightly. Then he sits down in the armchair, and rises only when the door has been opened and the Young Wife enters.
Young Wife
(Heavily veiled, closes the door behind her, pausing a moment with her left hand over her heart, as though mastering a strong emotion)
Young Man
(Goes toward her, takes her left hand, and [59] presses a kiss on the white glove with black stitching. He says softly.) Thank you.
Young Wife
Alfred—Alfred!
Young Man
Come, Madame... Come, Emma... ”

“ Good-by, Alfred—
Young Man
Emma!—You will leave me in this way!
Young Wife
Yes—so!—
[81]
Young Man
Five minutes more...
Young Wife
All right. Five minutes more. But you must promise me ... not to move?... Yes?... I want to give you a good-by kiss... Psst ... be still ... don’t move, I told you, otherwise I’ll get up at once, you, my sweetheart, sweet...
Young Man
Emma ... my ador... ...
Young Wife
My Alfred!
Young Man
Oh, it is heaven to be with you. ”

“ My name is Leocadia.
Soldier
Humph! I never heard such a name before.
Girl
Listen!
Soldier
Well, what do you want?
[28]
Girl
Give me just a dime for the janitor.
Soldier
Humph!... Do you think I’m your meal-ticket? Good-by, Leocadia...
Girl
Tightwad! Pimp!
(He disappears)
[29]
[30]
[31]
THE SOLDIER AND THE PARLOR-MAID Prater Gardens. Sunday Evening. A road which leads from the Wurstelprater [1] into dark tree arcades. Confused music from the Wurstelprater can still be heard; also strains from the cheap dancehall, a vulgar polka, played by a brass band. The Soldier. ”

“ HANDS AROUND
[REIGEN]
A Cycle of Ten Dialogues
By
ARTHUR SCHNITZLER
Completely Rendered
Into English
Authorized Translation
NEW YORK
Privately Printed for Subscribers
MCMXX
[vi]
Copyright, 1920
By
A. KOREN
[vii]
[viii]
[ix]
INTRODUCTION
Humanity seems gayest when dancing on the brink of a volcano. The culture of a period preceding a social cataclysm is marked by a spirit of light wit and sophisticated elegance which finds expression in a literature of a distinct type. This literature is light-hearted, audacious and self-conscious. ”