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Updated: June 28, 2025
Martin Culpepper threw up his hat five times before a bullet hit it; but he went bareheaded the rest of the day, and John Barclay, in sheer fear, began to dig a hole under him. After he had been on his belly for an hour, Henry Schnitzler got tired and rose. The men begged him to lie down. But his only reply when they told him he was a fool was, "Vell, vot of it?"
Damn her cheerfulness! It was inconsiderate of Jerry to set me to squiring middle-aged dames while he spooned with his Freudian miracle in the conservatory. Strindberg indeed! Schnitzler, too, in all probability! While I invented mid-Victorian platitudes for the prosaic, "not very pretty" Miss Gore Bore! Bore Gore! Bah! I gave the necessary orders and went in to my work.
He handed me back my probe, pocketed his lamp, released the catch of the lock on the door, and turned away along the dark, musty-smelling hall. "Do you happen to know the name of Johann Schnitzler?" he asked. I replied that I had no recollection of ever having heard the name before. "Neither have I," said he; "but I think we may form a pretty shrewd guess as to his avocation.
Surely an old Irishman mending an old army coat under a dusty electric light bulb in the basement of a court-house, wherein he is janitor by grace of the united demand of Henry Schnitzler Post of the G.A.R. No. 432, is not a particularly inspiring picture. But he has bitten the last thread with his teeth, and is putting away the sewing outfit. And now Mr.
The play, in four acts, is a variation on its author's early theme, Honour. That he does it so well is a tribute to his technical prowess. He knows how to write a play. This play would succeed in foreign countries where the Hauptmann and Schnitzler plays would fall down.
"Stretch your neck ye bantam," laughed Jake Dolan. "Walk turkey fashion, Watts," cried Henry Schnitzler, rushing up behind Watts and grabbing his waistband. The crowd roared. Watts looked imploringly at the recruiting officer and blubbered in wrath: "Yes, damn you yea; that's right. Of course; you won't let me die for my bleedin' country because I ain't nine feet tall."
Wasn't the Elizabethinum Roman Catholic, after all? There can be no doubt that the reason Arthur Schnitzler enjoyed handling the difficulties of such a theme is because his father was a well-known laryngologist of the University of Vienna, and he himself studied medicine and was an assistant doctor from 1886 to 1888 in the principal hospital of Vienna.
At the end of the piece both priest and surgeon stand alike in your regard. That the incident hardly suggests dramatic treatment is beside the mark; Schnitzler, with his invariable deftness of touch, has painted a dozen vital portraits; the priest is superb, the character values of exquisite balance.
The advertisement in the Minneapolis paper leaped from the page to her eyes: The Cosmos School of Music, Oratory, and Dramatic Art announces a program of four one-act plays by Schnitzler, Shaw, Yeats, and Lord Dunsany. She had to be there! She begged Kennicott to "run down to the Cities" with her. "Well, I don't know.
There are more of us out on the Hill now than in town, Watts; I spent some time with David Frye and Henry Schnitzler and Jim Lord Lee this morning, and called on General Hendricks for a little while." "Did you find him sociable?" asks the poet, grinning up from his bench. "Oh, so-so about as usual," answers the general. "He was always a proud one," comments Watts.
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