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The Southern Israelite
The Skeptic of Vienna
Arthur Schnitzler, in His Seventieth Year, Smiles But Makes Us Cr\
By REUBEN BRAININ
Arthur Schnitzler's entry into his seventieth year is being
celebrated throughout the literary ivorld. His works,
ranging from “Anatol to Casanova s Homecoming ,
are hailed as masterpieces of contemporary literature,
stamping him as one of the foremost story-tellers of our
time. Reuben Brainin. dean of Hebrew literature and
personal friend of Arthur Schnitzler, here gives an
appreciation of the Austrian Jewish author as he under
stands him—as a man, a writer, and a Jew.
At the beginning of the twentieth
century Arthur Schnitzler’s most
famous writings were his “Anatol”,
“Liebelei”, “Sterben”, “Lieutenant
(Just I". A light sort of writing, in
form and in content. Dialogues: be
tween people of elegant manners and
well-manicured ideas; between grace
ful and polite sentimentalists; be
tween people disappointed in love, but
still hunting for the supreme thrill;
between intellectual esthetes unfit
for the hardships of life, with too-
soft hands and backbones; between
women who avidly seek the perfect
lover ami try to escape the everyday
drabness of their prosaic existence.
And above the tribulations and often
petty tragedies of Schnitzler*s pup
pets there always hung the cloud of
inevitable death, which whipped them
into life and yet, at the same time,
paralyzed them. The thought of the
end, which made them realize the
futility of love, yet drove them on
to find that elusive something which
might cheat the Grim Reaper of his
victim. This is the essence of
Schnitzler *s first literary decade.
But to that should be added a fine,
skeptical, often ironic smile, the
smile of Arthur Schnitzler—who, in
stead of pitying his contemporaries
just looks at them sadly as they
struggle against their fate. A smile
that makes us weep.
I still remember my surprise when
I met Arthur Schnitzler for the first
time at Vienna, in September, 1903.
I had expected to find a snob, an
elegant idler, a middle-aged “Ana-
tol". His reputation—conceptions of
authors by readers are mostly mis
leading—was that of a polished,
brilliant ami rather superficial lit
terateur in his personal life. But the
Schnitzler 1 met, then in his forties,
impressed me much more as a scholar
than as a novelist in vogue, llis
medical training—Schnitzler is a
graduate physician, and for some
years was attached to a Vienna hos
pital—had influenced him strongly.
His interest in psychology was that
of a man of science. When he spoke
ot people and of sociological currents
it was in the language of a sober ob
server, a studious research worker
and a pitiless prober. It had been
his lot, as a physician, to handle the
human species naked, without official
garb, without the distinction of rank.
He had found himself almost in the
role of a spiritual and physical father
confessor. During our conversation,
on my first visit to him, we spoke
primarily of the Jewish renaissance
movement and the awakening of the
Jewish national consciousness. He
modestly assumed the role of the lis
tener eager to be informed. There
were moments when he struck me
as pedantic, rather too serious, al
most solemn.
In later years, at subsequent meet
ings, my first impressions were mere
ly confirmed. Arthur Schnitzler the
man was the very antithesis of the
ARTHUR SCHNITZLER
Celebrated Austrian Jewish author, whote
novels are well known in this country,
is being feted on his entry into his
70th year.
dandy as whom the intelligentsia of
Europe visualized him. It was the
old trap into which readers fall so
readily—that of shaping the author
in accordance with the personages or
heroes of his works—which was re
sponsible for the distorted legend
that had been created around Arthur
Schnitzler the Viennese author.
Schnitzler began his literary career
when he was over thirty. This, per
haps, explains why even his first
writings are technically mature and
finished and reveal the mastery of
the skilled craftsman. Under the sur
face of his polished style, however,
the beat of a genuine creative force
does pulsate. He is one of the very
few German authors who combine
suppleness of style with depth. Since
he began writing there have been
multitudes of literary schools to
which even such dignified veterans
as Gerhardt Hauptmann have fallen
victim from time to time. Schnitzler.
however, throughout the almost forty
years of his career as a modern clas-
>ieist has never been tempted to sac
rifice beauty to clarity, has always
striven to combine both. To me he
appears as the true European intel
lectual, in whom are blended the best
of the Teutonic and of the Latin lit
erary traditions.
You will ask me: “But to what
extent is Arthur Schnitzler a Jew?
If you will forgive me—the question
is rather unnecessary and petty.
Jewishness cannot be measured in
doses or percentages. And surely not
when it comes to a personality like
Arthur Schnitzler, with so distinct
an outlook upon life. Born at Vienna
of what we are wont to call an as
similated family—his father was a
distinguished physician and a profes
sor at the University of Vienna—
Arthur Schnitzler, although he per
sonally ditl not experience any viru
lent anti-Semitism, clearly recognized
the anomalous position of the Aus
trian Jew. He pondered on the Jew
ish question long and sincerely. He
gathered material laboriously. When,
a year before the world war, he pub
lished “Professor Bernhardi”, a play
centering around a medical Dreyfus
case and exposing the anti-Semitic
tendencies in Vienna's medical and
government circles, he stamped him
self as a foe of the assimilationist
movement. But the story of Profes
sor Bernhardi is told with an ironic
smile. Xo attempt is made to effect
a reform; nor is the author inclined
to let his indignation get the best of
him. The last word before the cur
tain goes down is characteristic of
Schnitzler. Somehow it leaves you
doubtful as to whether Professor
Bernhardi, who was condemned to
two months in jail because he forbade
a priest to give absolution to a pa
tient, was an idealist or merely a
fool. None the less the play created
a furore and showed clearly where
Schnitzler stood with regard to his
• ewishness. Xo more ruthless carica
ture of the assimilated and converted
Jew has been written than Schnitz
ler s ‘Professor Bernhardi”.
Thus Schnitzler is inscribed in the
German literary Who’s Who as a
Jewish author, although—except in
’’Professor Bernhardi” and his novel
“Der Weg Ins Freie"—1 has not
concerned himself with Jc
tions. He was satisfied L-
the Viennese, of the sentimental,
romantic loves of half-ba ed girl>,
of elegant officers, of di-i
'servant girls, derailed doctors. After
the war, it is true, he gave us •• Cas
anova’s Homecoming", a pseudfe
historical novel in which lie reveal'
himself at the very acme of his cre
ative talent and which constitute'
one of his rare excursions outside ot
Vienna.
One cannot even attempt to con
dense so prolific an author and so
genuine a personality as Schnitzler
into the framework of an article.
In contemporary literature Arthur
Schnitzler is considered one of the
great trio of which Gerhardt Haupt
mann and Thomas Mann are the other
members. This despite the subject-
matter of his works, which, as al
ready mentioned, deal with rather
superficial joys of life. For the criti
cal reader, however, there are alway-
two stories in any Schnitzler book.
One that plays in the foreground and
is of apparently only local interest
and skin-deep significance; but in the
background, if one cares to delve
deeper into Schnitzler s storie>, there
is enacted the eternal human tragedy
of man in search of love, in tear ot
death and in a fruitless struggle to
liberate himself from the material
and sensual world. It is on this sec
ond plane that Arthur Schnitzler re
minds one of Anatole France a skep
tic to whom nothing human is for
eign, an observer who finds the
eternal problems in the everyday life
of a harlot or a soldier just as tragic
as the tribulations of a statesman
or an artist.
As Schnitzler enters his seventieth
year—a commanding figure who ha^
managed to keep himself above all
the petty political gibbering oI
Europe, whose creative output has
always been marked by an aristocratic
distinction that made it possible 1
him to say and discuss everything
without ever becoming vulgar u
represents the genuine artist. Then
is nothing of the professional man o
letters in him. Xo jealousies, no
best-seller attitude to literature. (
hates, and always has hated, the ht
erary charlatan who strives J"r e
feet and hastens to catch the latest
literary vogue or school, hoping .'
means of his ability to be up-t
to squeeze through the narrow - M '
of immortality. Schnitzler s boo'*
may not live much longer tlu
first half of the twentieth cer. 'O'
but to us, his contemporaries,
a vital, nay, inspiring pe
and author.
(Copyright 1931 by S. A.