Hands Around [Reigen]: A Cycle of Ten Dialogues
Part 1
HANDS AROUND
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HANDS AROUND [REIGEN]
A CYCLE OF TEN DIALOGUES
_By_ ARTHUR SCHNITZLER
COMPLETELY RENDERED INTO ENGLISH
AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION
NEW YORK _Privately Printed for Subscribers_ MCMXX
Copyright, 1920 By A. KOREN
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. It can treat with the most charming insouciance subjects which in another age would have been awkward or even vulgar. 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.
But the exquisite handling of the licentious was elaborated into a perfect technique in eighteenth century France. The spirit of the Rococo with its predilection for the well-measured pose was singularly well adapted to the artistic expression of what in a cruder age could only have been voiced with coarseness and vulgarity. In the literature of this period we meet again the spirit that animates the gracious paintings of Watteau and Fragonard. The scenes we admire in their panels recur in literary style in works like Choderlos de Laclos’ _Liaisons dangereuses_ and Louvet de Couvray’s _Les amours du Chevalier de Faublas_. Again the same note is heard in Beaumarchais’ _Le Mariage de Figaro_, in which the society of the period is travestied with brilliant wit and worldly philosophy. The court of Louis XVI., quite unaware, looked on and applauded a play which Napoleon later characterized as “the revolution already in action.”
During the closing years of the nineteenth century a similar spirit has hovered over Vienna, when it was the last and staunchest stronghold of aristocracy in the modern world. Its literature reflected the charm of a fastidious amatory etiquette which is forbidden in sterner and soberer environment, while it gayly ignored the slow gathering of the clouds which foreshadowed its own catastrophe and martyrdom. As Percival Pollard once so well put it: “All that rises out of that air has had fascination, grace, insinuation, and intrigue. 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. He studied medicine himself, took his degree in 1885, and was for two years connected with a hospital. Since then he has practised privately, and has also found the time to write a long series of plays, both in prose and verse, several novels, and many shorter stories. Of these a considerable number have appeared in English.
_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 soul, done with freedom and finesse. There are no grim questions of right and wrong in these subtle revelations of the merely human. In fact one might call them studies in the etiquette of the liaison and all its nuances.
The cycle begins with a girl of the streets and a soldier. Then come the soldier and a parlor-maid, the parlor-maid and a young man, the young man and a young wife, the young wife and her husband, the husband and a sweet young miss, the sweet young miss and a poet, the poet and an actress, the actress and a count, until finally the cycle is completed with the count and the girl of the streets. 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.
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 the curious observations of a faunic mind, but through the finer eyes of a connoisseur of things human.
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. The translators, however, hope that they have accomplished their task with reasonable success, thinking always of the spirit rather than the letter. They also take this occasion to express their appreciation to Dr. Arthur Schnitzler for his kindness in granting them his authorization for this translation of _Reigen_.
F. L. G. L. D. E.
New York 1920
HANDS AROUND
CHARACTERS
THE GIRL OF THE STREETS, THE SOLDIER, THE PARLOR MAID, THE YOUNG MAN, THE YOUNG WIFE, THE HUSBAND, THE SWEET YOUNG MISS, THE POET, THE ACTRESS, THE COUNT.
THE GIRL OF THE STREETS AND THE SOLDIER
_Late in the evening near the Augarten Bridge._
SOLDIER
(_Enters whistling, on his way home_)
GIRL
Hello, my beautiful angel!
SOLDIER
(_Turns and continues on his way_)
GIRL
Don’t you want to come with me?
SOLDIER
Oh, I am the beautiful angel?
GIRL
Sure, who else? Do come with me. I live very near here.
SOLDIER
I’ve no time. I must get back to the barracks.
GIRL
You’ll get to your barracks in plenty of time. It’s much nicer with me.
SOLDIER
(_Close to her_) That’s possible.
GIRL
Ps-st! A guard may pass any minute.
SOLDIER
Rot! A guard! I carry a saber too!
GIRL
Ah, come with me.
SOLDIER
Let me alone. I have no money anyway.
GIRL
I don’t want any money.
SOLDIER
(_Stopping. They are under a street-lamp_) You don’t want any money? What kind of a girl are you, then?
GIRL
The civilians pay me. Chaps like you don’t have to pay me for anything.
SOLDIER
Maybe you’re the girl my pal told me about.
GIRL
I don’t know any pal of yours.
SOLDIER
You’re she, all right! You know—in the café down the street—He went home with you from there.
GIRL
Lots have gone home with me from that café… Oh, lots!
SOLDIER
All right. Let’s go!
GIRL
So, you’re in a hurry now?
SOLDIER
Well, what are we waiting for? Anyhow, I must be back at the barracks by ten.
GIRL
Been in service long?
SOLDIER
What business is that of yours? Is it far?
GIRL
Ten minutes’ walk.
SOLDIER
That’s too far for me. Give me a kiss.
GIRL
(_Kissing him_) I like that best anyway—when I love some one.
SOLDIER
I don’t. No, I can’t go with you. It’s too far.
GIRL
Say, come to-morrow afternoon.
SOLDIER
Sure. Give me your address.
GIRL
But maybe you won’t come.
SOLDIER
If I promise!
GIRL
Look here—if my place is too far to-night—there … there…
(_She points toward the Danube_)
SOLDIER
What’s there?
GIRL
It’s nice and quiet there, too … no one is around.
SOLDIER
Oh, that’s not the real thing.
GIRL
It’s always the real thing with me. Come, stay with me now. Who knows, if we’ll be alive to-morrow.
SOLDIER
Come along then—but quick.
GIRL
Be careful! It’s dark here. If you slip, you’ll fall in the river.
SOLDIER
Would be the best thing, perhaps.
GIRL
Sh-h. Wait a minute. We’ll come to a bench soon.
SOLDIER
You seem to know this place pretty well.
GIRL
I’d like to have you for a sweetheart.
SOLDIER
I’d fight too much.
GIRL
I’d cure you of that soon enough.
SOLDIER
Humph—
GIRL
Don’t make so much noise. Sometimes a guard stumbles down here. Would you believe we are in the middle of Vienna?
SOLDIER
Come here. Come over here.
GIRL
You are crazy! If we slipped here, we’d fall into the river.
SOLDIER
(_Has grabbed her_) Oh you—
GIRL
Hold tight to me.
SOLDIER
Don’t be afraid…
* * * * *
GIRL
It would have been nicer on the bench.
SOLDIER
Here or there, it doesn’t matter to me… Well, pick yourself up.
GIRL
What’s your hurry—?
SOLDIER
I must get to the barracks. I’ll be late anyhow.
GIRL
Say, what’s your name?
SOLDIER
What’s that to you?
GIRL
My name is Leocadia.
SOLDIER
Humph! I never heard such a name before.
GIRL
Listen!
SOLDIER
Well, what do you want?
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_)
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. THE PARLOR-MAID._
MAID
Now tell me why you wanted to leave.
SOLDIER
(_Grins sheepishly_)
MAID
It was so beautiful and I so love to dance.
SOLDIER
(_Puts his arm around her waist_)
MAID
(_Submitting_) But we aren’t dancing now. Why do you hold me so tight?
SOLDIER
What’s your name? Katy?
MAID
You’ve always got a “Katy” on your mind.
SOLDIER
I know—I know … Marie.
MAID
Goodness, it’s dark here. I’m afraid.
SOLDIER
You needn’t be afraid when I’m with you. I can take care of myself!
MAID
But where are we going? There’s no one around. Come, let’s go back!… It’s so dark!
SOLDIER
(_Pulling at his cigar until it glows brightly_) There … it’s already getting brighter. Ha—! Oh, you dearie!
MAID
Oh! what are you doing there? If I had known this before!
SOLDIER
The devil take me, if any one at the dance to-day felt softer and rounder than you, Miss Marie.
MAID
Did you find it out in the same way with all the others?
SOLDIER
You notice things … dancing. You find out lots that way!
MAID
But you danced much oftener with that cross-eyed blonde than with me.
SOLDIER
She’s an old friend of one of my pals.
MAID
Of the corporal with the upturned mustache?
SOLDIER
Oh no, I mean the civilian. You know, the one who was talking with me at the table in the beginning. The one who has such a husky voice.
MAID
Oh I know. He’s fresh.
SOLDIER
Did he do anything to you? I’ll show him! What did he do to you?
MAID
Oh nothing… I only noticed how he was with the others.
SOLDIER
Tell me, Miss Marie…
MAID
You’ll burn me with your cigar.
SOLDIER
Pardon me!—Miss Marie—or may I say Marie?
MAID
We’re not such good friends yet…
SOLDIER
There’re many who don’t like each-other, and yet use first names.
MAID
Next time, if we… But, Frank!
SOLDIER
Oh, you remember my name?
MAID
But, Frank…
SOLDIER
That’s right, call me Frank, Miss Marie.
MAID
Don’t be so fresh—but, sh-h, suppose some one should come!
SOLDIER
What if some one did come? They couldn’t see anything two steps off.
MAID
For goodness’ sake, where are we going?
SOLDIER
Look! There’s two just like us.
MAID
Where? I don’t see anything.
SOLDIER
There … just ahead of us.
MAID
Why do you say: “two like us”—
SOLDIER
Well, I mean, they like each other too.
MAID
Look out! What’s that there? I nearly fell.
SOLDIER
Oh, that’s the meadow-gate.
MAID
Don’t shove me so. I’ll fall.
SOLDIER
Sh-h, not so loud.
MAID
Stop! Now I’m really going to scream—What are you doing?… Stop now—
SOLDIER
There’s no one anywhere around.
MAID
Then, let’s go back where the people are.
SOLDIER
We don’t need them. Why—Marie, we need … for that…
MAID
Stop, Frank, please, for Heaven’s sake! Listen to me, if I had … known … oh … come!
* * * * *
SOLDIER
(_Blissfully_) Once more… Oh…
MAID
… I can’t see your face at all.
SOLDIER
Don’t matter—my face…
* * * * *
SOLDIER
Well, Miss Marie, you can’t stay here on the grass all night.
MAID
Please, Frank, help me.
SOLDIER
Oh, come along.
MAID
Oh, Lord help me, Frank.
SOLDIER
Well, what’s the matter with me?
MAID
You’re a bad man, Frank.
SOLDIER
Yes, yes. Say, wait a minute.
MAID
Why do you leave me alone?
SOLDIER
Can’t you let me light my cigar!
MAID
It’s so dark.
SOLDIER
It’ll be light again to-morrow morning.
MAID
Tell me, at least, you love me.
SOLDIER
Well, you must have felt that, Miss Marie!
MAID
Where are we going now?
SOLDIER
Back, of course.
MAID
Please, don’t walk so fast.
SOLDIER
Well, what’s wrong? I don’t like to walk around in the dark.
MAID
Tell me, Frank … do you love me?
SOLDIER
But I just told you that I loved you!
MAID
Won’t you give me a little kiss?
SOLDIER
(_Condescendingly_) There… Listen—There’s the music again.
MAID
Would you really like to go back, and dance again?
SOLDIER
Of course, why not?
MAID
But, Frank, see, I have to get home. Madame will scold me anyway,—she’s cranky … she’d like it best if I never went out.
SOLDIER
Well, you can go home.
MAID
But, I thought, Frank, you’d take me home.
SOLDIER
Take you home? Oh!
MAID
Please, it’s so sad to go home alone.
SOLDIER
Where do you live?
MAID
Not very far—in Porzellanstrasse.
SOLDIER
So? Then we go the same way … but it’s still too early for me … me for the dance… I’ve got late leave to-day… I don’t need to be back at the barracks before twelve o’clock. I’m going to dance.
MAID
Oh, I see, now it’s that cross-eyed blonde’s turn.
SOLDIER
Humph!—Her face isn’t so bad.
MAID
Oh Lord, how wicked men are. I’m sure you do the same to every one.
SOLDIER
That’d be too much!—
MAID
Please, Frank, no more to-day—stay with me to-day, you see—
SOLDIER
Oh, very well, all right. But I suppose I may dance.
MAID
I’m not going to dance with any one else to-night.
SOLDIER
There it is already…
MAID
What?
SOLDIER
The hall! How quick we got back. They’re still playing the same thing … that tatata-tum tatata-tum (_He hums with the band_)… Well, I’ll take you home, if you want to wait for me … if not … good-by—
MAID
Yes, I’ll wait.
(_They enter the dancehall_)
SOLDIER
Say, Miss Marie, get yourself a glass of beer. (_Turning to a blonde who is just dancing past him in the arms of another, very formally_) Miss, may I ask for a dance?—
THE PARLOR MAID AND THE YOUNG MAN
_Sultry summer afternoon. The parents of the YOUNG MAN are away in the country. The cook has gone out. The PARLOR-MAID is in the kitchen writing a letter to the soldier who is now her sweetheart. The YOUNG MAN’S bell rings. She gets up and goes to his room. The YOUNG MAN is lying on a couch, smoking a cigarette and reading a French novel._
MAID
Yes, Sir?
YOUNG MAN
Oh, yes, Marie, oh, yes; I rang, yes … I only wanted … yes, of course… Oh, yes, of course, let the blinds down, Marie… It’s cooler with the blinds down … yes…
(_The MAID goes to the window and pulls down the blinds_)
YOUNG MAN
(_Continues reading_) What are you doing, Marie? Oh, yes. But, now, I can’t see to read.
MAID
You are always so studious, Sir.
YOUNG MAN
(_Ignoring the remark_) There, that’s better.
(_MARIE goes._)
YOUNG MAN
(_Tries to go on with his reading, lets the book fall, and rings again_)
MAID
(_Enters_)
YOUNG MAN
I say, Marie … let’s see, what was it I wanted to say? … oh, yes… Is there any cognac in the house?
MAID
Yes, but it’s locked up.
YOUNG MAN
Well, who has the key?
MAID
Lini.
YOUNG MAN
Who is Lini?
MAID
The cook, Mr. Alfred.
YOUNG MAN
Well, then ask Lini for it.
MAID
Yes, but it’s Lini’s day out.
YOUNG MAN
So…
MAID
Can I get anything for you from the café, Sir?
YOUNG MAN
Thank you, no… 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._
YOUNG MAN
Thank you—Well, what is the matter?—Be careful. Put the glass back on the tray. (_He leans back, and stretches himself_) How late is it?
MAID
Five o’clock, Sir.
YOUNG MAN
Ah, five o’clock.—That’s fine.—
MAID
(_Goes. At the door she turns around. The YOUNG MAN has followed her with his eyes; she notices it, and smiles_)
YOUNG MAN
(_Remains stretched out awhile; then, suddenly, he gets up. He walks to the door, back again, and lies down on the couch. He again tries to read. After a few moments, he rings once more._)
MAID
(_Appears with a smile which she does not try to hide_)
YOUNG MAN
Listen, Marie, there was something I wanted to ask you. Didn’t Dr. Schueller call this morning?
MAID
No, Sir, nobody called this morning.
YOUNG MAN
That is strange. Then, Dr. Schueller didn’t call. Do you know Dr. Schueller by sight?
MAID
Of course, I do. He’s the big gentleman with the black beard.
YOUNG MAN
Yes. Then, perhaps, he called after all?
MAID
No, Sir. Nobody called.
YOUNG MAN
(_Resolutely_) Come here, Marie.
MAID
(_Coming a little nearer_) Yes, Sir.
YOUNG MAN
Still nearer … so … ah … I only thought…
MAID
Do you want anything, Sir?
YOUNG MAN
I thought… Well, I thought—only about your blouse … what kind of a blouse is it … can’t you come closer. I won’t bite you.
MAID
(_Comes close to him_) What is the matter with my blouse? Don’t you like it, Sir?
YOUNG MAN
(_Takes hold of her blouse, and draws her down to him_) Blue? It is a nice blue. (_Simply_) You are very prettily dressed, Marie.
MAID
But, Sir…
YOUNG MAN
Ah… 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…
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. Yes, really, you are, Marie… Do you know your hair actually smells sweet.
MAID
Mr. Alfred…
YOUNG MAN
Don’t make such a fuss, Marie… Anyway, I’ve already seen you otherwise. When I came home the other night and went to get some water, the door to your room was open … well…
MAID
(_Covering her face_) Oh, my, I didn’t know that Mr. Alfred could be so wicked.
YOUNG MAN
I _saw_ lots then … _that_ … and _that_ … that … and—
MAID
Oh, Mr. Alfred!
YOUNG MAN
Come, come … here … so—that’s it…
MAID
But if the doorbell should ring now—
YOUNG MAN
Now forget that … we simply wouldn’t open the door.
* * * * *
(_The bell rings_)
YOUNG MAN
Confound it… What a noise that fellow makes—Perhaps he rang before, and we didn’t notice it.
MAID
Oh, no. I was listening all the while.
YOUNG MAN
Well, see what’s the matter. Peek through the curtains.
MAID
Mr. Alfred … you are … no … such a bad man.
YOUNG MAN
Please go and see…
(_Exit MAID_)
YOUNG MAN
(_Opens the blinds quickly_)
MAID
(_Returns_) He must have gone away again. Anyway, no one is there now. Perhaps, it was Dr. Schueller.
YOUNG MAN
(_Annoyed_) Thank you.
MAID
(_Drawing close to him_)
YOUNG MAN
(_Evading her_) Listen, Marie,—I’m going to the café now.
MAID
(_Tenderly_) So soon … Mr. Alfred.
YOUNG MAN
(_Formally_) I am going to the café now… If Dr. Schueller should call—
MAID
He won’t come any more to-day.
YOUNG MAN
(_Severely_) If Dr. Schueller should come, I—I am in the café.
(_He goes to the adjoining room. The MAID takes a cigar from the smoking-stand, puts it in her blouse and goes out._)
THE YOUNG MAN AND THE YOUNG WIFE
_Evening—A drawing-room furnished with cheap elegance in a house in Schwind street. The YOUNG MAN has just come in; and, still wearing his hat and overcoat, he lights the gas. Then he opens a door to a side-room and looks in. The light from the drawing-room shimmers over the inlaid floor as far as the Louis Quinze bed, which stands against the opposite wall. 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. After a short pause he rises again, and makes sure that the green shutters are closed. Suddenly, he goes into the bedroom, and opens a drawer in the dressing-table. He puts his hand in it, and finds a tortoise-shell hair-pin. He looks for a place to hide it, and finally puts it into a pocket of his overcoat. He opens the buffet in the drawing-room; takes a silver tray, with a bottle and two liqueur glasses, and puts them on the table. He goes back to his overcoat, and takes from it a small white package. Opening this, he places it beside the cognac. He goes again to the buffet, and takes two small plates and knives and forks. He takes a candied chestnut from the package and eats it. Then he pours himself a glass of cognac, and drinks it quickly. He then looks at his watch. He walks up and down the room. He stops a while before a large mirror, ordering his hair and small mustache with a pocket-comb. He next goes to the door of the vestibule and listens. 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 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…
YOUNG WIFE