aiety of Vienna as he
himself. And at last, in the early morning, after ineffectual searching,
after hours of assiduous nosing, he ends up at some _kaffeehaus_ near
the Schillerplatz, partakes of a chaste ice with _Wiener gebaeck_ and
goes dolorously home--a virgin of circumstance, an unwilling and
despondent Parsifal, a lofty and exquisite creature through lack of
opportunity, the chaste victim of a killjoy conspiracy. He is that most
tragic figure--an enforced pietist, a thwarted voluptuary. _Eheu! Eheu!
Dies faustus!_

In order to come into intimate touch with the night life of Vienna one
must live there and become a part of it. It is not for spectators and it
is not public. It involves every family in the city. It is inextricably
woven into the home life. It is elaborate because it is genuine, because
it is not looked upon as a mere outlet for the repressions of
puritanism. From an Anglo-Saxon point of view Vienna is perhaps the most
degenerate city in the world. But degeneracy is geographical; morals are
temperamental. This is why the Viennese resents intrusion and spying.
His night life involves the national spirit. His gaiety is not a
prerogative of the _demi-monde_, but the usufruct of all classes. Joy is
not exclusive or solitary with the Viennese. He is not ashamed of his
frolics and hilarities. He does not take his pleasures hypocritically
after the manner of the Occidental moralist. He is a gay bird, a
sybarite, a modern Lucullus, a Baron Chevrial--and admits it.

To be sure, there is in Vienna a miniature night life not unlike that
of the other European capitals, but it requires constant attention and
assiduous coddling to keep it alive. The better class Viennese will have
none of it. It is a by-product of the underworld and is no more
characteristic of Vienna than the gilded _cafes chantants_ which cluster
round the Place Pigalle on Montmartre are characteristic of Paris. These
places correspond to the Palais de Danse and the Admirals Palast in
Berlin; to the Villa Villa and the Astor Club in London; to
Reisenweber's in New York; to L'Abbaye and the Rat Mort in
Paris--allowing of course for the temperamental influences (and legal
restrictions) of the different nations.

Let us arouse a snoring cabman and make the rounds. Why not? All
merrymaking is shot through with youth, no matter how dolorous the joy
or how expensive the indulgence. So let us partake of the feast before
us. Our first encounter is wit