t has ever been a much-coveted spot. After the conquest of the
original Celtic settlement by the Romans, Teutons, Huns, and Turks have
successively fought for its possession and have left their imprint upon
its physiognomy. Intermarriage with the neighboring Czechs and Magyars,
the affiliations of the court with Spain, Italy, and France, and the
final permeation of all social strata by the Hebrew element, have
produced what may be called the Viennese soul. Political conditions,
too, have influenced it: to maintain peace in a country which is a
heterogeneous conglomerate of states rather than an organic growth,
requires a diplomacy the chief aim of which is to prevent anything from
happening. This attitude of the Viennese court and its vast machinery
of functionaries slowly affected other classes, until the people of
Vienna as a body seem to refrain from anything that means action. It is
this passive fatalism which has hampered the intellectual development
of Vienna. Oldest in culture among the German-speaking cities of Europe
it has never been and is not likely ever to be a leader.

Minds that entered upon this local heritage were only too ready to
receive the seeds of skepticism abundant in the spiritual atmosphere of
the century's end. But Nietzsche's gospel of the Superman, Ibsen's
heretical analysis of human motives and Zola's cry for truth did not
affect the young generation of Vienna intellectuals as they did those
of Paris or Berlin, where the revision of old standards of life and
letters was promptly followed by daring experiments with new ideals.
Young Vienna heard the keynotes of the new time, but it was content
to evolve a new variety of an old tune. Time-honored pessimism,
world-sorrow, gave way to a sophisticated and cynical world-weariness
which is symptomatic of decadence. Widely different as their
individualities present themselves, between the pages of their books
and on the stage, both Schnitzler and Hofmannsthal reflect that
attitude of mind.

In the work of Arthur Schnitzler the Hebrew element predominates; it
has quickened the somewhat inert Vienna blood and finds expression in
analytical keenness and sharpness of vision, a wit of Gallic refinement
and a language of sparkling brilliancy. Schnitzler's profession, too,
has not been without some influence upon his poetical work. A physician
facing humanity daily not in strength and health, but in weakness and
disease, cannot divest himself of a certai