The World of Yesterday

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The World of Yesterday

The World of Yesterday (Die Welt von Gestern: Erinnerungen eines Europäers) book cover, 1942
Author	Stefan Zweig
Original title	Die Welt von Gestern
Language	German
Publication date	1942
Publication place	Sweden
Published in English	1943
Media type	Print

The World of Yesterday: Memoires of a European (German title Die Welt von Gestern: Erinnerungen eines Europäers) is the memoir^[1][2][3] of Austrian writer Stefan Zweig.^[4] It has been called the most famous book on the Habsburg Empire.^[5] He started writing it in 1934 when, anticipating Anschluss and Nazi persecution, he uprooted himself from Austria to England and later to Brazil. He posted the manuscript, typed by his second wife Lotte Altmann, to the publisher the day before Zweig and Altmann both committed suicide in February 1942. The book was first published in the original German-language by an anti-Nazi Exilliteratur publishing firm based in Stockholm (1942), as Die Welt von Gestern.^[6] It was first published in English in April 1943 by Viking Press.^[4] In 2011, Plunkett Lake Press reissued it in eBook form.^[7] In 2013, the University of Nebraska Press published a translation by the noted British translator Anthea Bell.^[8]

The book describes life in Vienna at the start of the 20th century with detailed anecdotes.^[4] It depicts the dying days of Austria-Hungary under Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria and Karl I of Austria, including literature, the arts, the system of education, and the sexual ethics prevalent at the time, the same that provided the backdrop to the emergence of psychoanalysis. Zweig also describes the stability of Viennese society after centuries of Habsburg rule.

Zweig sets out to write his autobiography following the terrible events and upheavals experienced by his generation. He feels the need to bear witness to the next generation of what his age has gone through. He realizes that his past is "out of reach." Zweig makes it clear that his biography is based entirely on his memories.

Zweig looks back upon pre-war Austrian and Viennese society, focusing primarily on Viennese. "When I attempt to find a simple formula for the period in which I grew up, before the First World War, I hope that I convey its fullness by calling it the Golden Age of Security."^[4] Austria had a stable political system and a currency backed by gold, and everyone could see themselves comfortably into the future. Many inventions revolutionized lives: the telephone, electricity, and the car.

Originally from Moravia, Zweig's father made his fortune by running a small weaving factory. Zweig's mother comes from a wealthy Italian banking family born in Ancona. The author's family represents the cosmopolitan "good Jewish bourgeoisie," which had primarily become a patron of Viennese culture. Vienna had become the city of culture, and Zweig states all Viennese had desirable tastes. The artists, especially the theatre actors, were Austria's only significant famous figures.

Zweig's time in school was quite unpleasant. Sport had a minimal place, performed in a dusty gymnasium. Zweig bitterly criticizes the old way of impersonal, cold, and distant teaching.

In society, there was a certain distrust of young people. The young tried to appear more mature, for example, by growing a beard. Respect for the elders was vital. Zweig even claims that the school's purpose was to discipline and calm the youth's ardor.

However, in the face of this pressure, the students harbored a deep hatred toward authority. A turning point took place when they reached the age of 14: school no longer satisfied them, and they became entranced by the abundance of art in Vienna. All the pupils turned entirely to art: avid readers of literature and philosophy, listeners to concerts, spectators of plays, etc. Viennese cafés played an essential role in the lives of these young students as a cultural center. Passion gradually shifted away from the classics, and students became more interested in rising stars, especially young artists. A typical example of this interest is the case of Rainer Maria Rilke: a young poet prodigy whose precocity came late enough in his youth that most students could easily identify with him—along with the precocious genius Hugo von Hofmannsthal, who had shown his gifts at an even earlier age—as symbols of a whole movement of rising young artists.

During this time, the first mass movements affected Austria, starting with the socialist movement, then the Christian Democratic Movement, and finally, the German Reich's unification movement. In addition, the anti-Semitic trend began to gain momentum, although it was still relatively moderate in its early stages.

In this chapter, Zweig discusses the period of puberty and the transition to adulthood. Earlier European societies, where Christianity had a central role, condemned sexual impulses as diabolical. The late 19th century had abandoned these ideas but was left with no language to describe sexual impulses, which became unmentionable. Prostitution became a more common practice and venereal diseases were both prevalent and horrifying. Young men abandoned the prudery of their elders, seeing it as hypocritical.

According to Zweig, fashion contributed to this peculiar oppression by denying the female body and constraining it with corsets, distorting the female figure and breaking its grace. This concealment merely served to draw the thoughts to what was hidden. Young girls were guarded and occupied so that they could never think about sexuality.

Zweig notes that the situation had dramatically improved for both women and men, and the generation after him was much more fortunate. Women now had much more freedom, and men were no longer forced to force their sexuality into the shadows.

Zweig recounts his transition to university. At this time, the university was crowned with a particular glory inherited from ancient privileges linked to its creation in the Middle Ages. According to Zweig, the ideal student was a scarred brute, often alcoholic, student body member.

Zweig went to college for the sole purpose of earning a doctorate in any field—to satisfy his family's aspirations, not to learn. He decides to study philosophy to give himself as much time as possible to discover other things. Therefore, this chapter is mainly devoted to what Zweig did outside the university during his studies.

He began by collecting his first poems and looking for a publishing house to publish them. He enjoyed some success early on, to the point that Max Reger asked him for permission to set some of his poems to music. Later, he offered one of his works to the "Neue Freie Presse"—the cultural pages of reference in Austria-Hungary at that time—and had the honor of being published at only 19 years old. Finally, Zweig met Theodor Herzl, for whom he nourishes a deep admiration. Of Jewish origin, like him, Herzl, who attended the public impeachment of Dreyfus, had published a text promoting the creation of a Jewish state in Palestine. The text was the object of intense criticism in Western Europe, but was relatively well received in Eastern Europe.

Zweig decided to continue his studies in Berlin to change the atmosphere, escape his young celebrity, and meet people beyond the circle of the Jewish bourgeoisie in Vienna. Berlin began to attract and seek new talent, embracing novelty. Zweig met people from all walks of life, including the poet Peter Hille and anthroposophy's founder Rudolf Steiner. He decided to translate poems and literary texts into his mother tongue to perfect his German.

Émile Verhaeren is the subject of a long digression. Zweig recounts his first meeting with Verhaeren while visiting the studio of Charles van der Stappen. After speaking at great length, Zweig decided to make Verhaeren's work known by translating it, a task he observed as a duty and an opportunity to refine his literary talents.

After these many rich encounters, Zweig presented his thesis in philosophy.

After finishing his studies, Zweig decides to go to Paris to discover the city. Zweig launches into a lengthy description of the Parisian atmosphere, of the state of mind of Parisians. Paris represents a city where people of all classes, from all walks of life, come together on an equal footing, a city where good humor and joviality reign.

Zweig discovers Paris through his friendships, especially with Léon Bazalgette, to whom he became very close with. He admires Bazalgette's sense of service, magnanimity, and simplicity. However, Rilke undoubtedly impressed him the most, by the aura he radiated and for whom he had tremendous respect. Zweig recounts several anecdotes about Rilke, taking it upon himself to paint a portrait of a young man—or somewhat of a genius. He saw Rilke as someone who was compassionate, reserved, and refined.

Zweig's meeting with Auguste Rodin also holds significance. Because of Rodin, Zweig came to understand that creative genius requires total concentration. Rodin gives a tour of his studio and his last still unfinished creation before beginning to retouch his creation, and ends up forgetting Zweig's presence altogether.

Zweig then leaves Paris for London to improve his spoken English. Unfortunately, before leaving for London, he has the misfortune of having his suitcase stolen; the thief is quickly found and arrested. Having pity and a certain sympathy for the thief, Zweig decides not to file a complaint, thus earning for himself the whole neighborhood's antipathy, leading to his leaving rather quickly.

Unfortunately, in London, Zweig does not have the opportunity to meet many people and discover the city. He does, however, attend the very well-organized private reading of poems by William Butler Yeats. On the advice of his friend Archibald GB Russell, Zweig also obtains a portrait of "King John" by William Blake.

Zweig remembers his many travels and says that he has tried never to settle permanently in one place. If he considered this way of doing things as a mistake during his life, with hindsight, he recognizes that it allowed him to let go more quickly and accept losses without difficulty. Therefore, the only valuables he carries with him are autographs and other writings from authors he admires.

Zweig nurtures an almost religious devotion to the writings that preceded great artists' masterpieces, notably Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. His obsession is such that he boasts of having been able to meet Goethe's niece—on whom Goethe's gaze has lovingly rested.

He shares his participation in the Insel Verlag Publishing House, whose deep respect and passion for works he admires. With this publishing house, he published his first dramas, notably Thersites, based on the character of the same name in Homer's Iliad. Zweig then recounts the strange twist of fate that has fallen on him and his creations. Four times, the performances that could have quickly propelled him to glory were stopped by the star actor or director's death. Zweig initially thought he was being chased by fate, but he recognizes afterward that very often, chance takes on the appearance of destiny. The title of the chapter then takes on its meaning: it was by chance that he did not enter the golden books of literature for his dramas, but rather his novels. The detours of his life finally brought him back to his first vocation, that of a writer.

In retrospect, Zweig recognizes the men who brought him back to reality as more critical to his life than those who turned it away for literature. This is particularly the case with Walther Rathenau, whom he deeply admires. He considers him one of the most innovative, most open, and polymath individuals. However, Rathenau maintained a global incoherence he acquired when he had to save the German state following defeat, with the ultimate aim of saving Europe.

Zweig has a bad memory of India because he saw the evils of discrimination in the Indian caste system at work. However, through the meetings he has made, he says he has learned a lot. This trip helped him to take a step back and appreciate Europe better. He meets Karl Haushofer, whom he regards with high esteem during his journey, although he is saddened by the recovery of his ideas by the Nazi regime.

Zweig then traveled to the United States, which left him with a powerful impression. He is pleased to see how easy it is for any individual to find work and make a living without asking for his origin, papers, or anything else. Zweig ends his trip to America by contemplating the Panama Canal's technical prowess.

Zweig understands that it can be difficult for a generation to live through crises and catastrophes and still maintain optimism. His generation witnessed a rapid improvement in living conditions, a series of discoveries and innovations, and the liberation of youth. Progress in transport had upset the maps; the air's conquest had questioned the meaning of borders. Widespread optimism gave everyone ever-growing confidence, as it thwarted any attempt to seek peace—each believing that the other side valued peace more than anything else.

The artists and the new youth were devoted to the European cause and peace between nations, but no one took the gradually emerging threats seriously. Instead, all were content to remain in a generalized idealism. Zweig strives to restore the prevailing atmosphere by recounting small events. The Redl affair represents the first event in which tensions were palpable.

When Zweig went to the cinema in the small town of Tours, he was amazed to see that the hatred displayed against Kaiser Wilhelm II had already spread throughout France. However, he left still confident in Vienna, already considering what he intended to achieve in the coming months.

Notable episodes include the Austrian public's reaction to the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife in Sarajevo in 1914, the departure from Austria by a train of the last Emperor Charles I of Austria in 1918, the beginning of the Salzburg festival, and the Austrian hyperinflation of 1921–22.

According to Zweig, the summer of 1914 would have been unforgettable in its sweetness and beauty. The news of the death of Franz Ferdinand of Austria, although it hurt those who had just learned about it at the time, did not leave lasting traces. Franz Ferdinand was hardly appreciated, and Zweig himself found him cold, distant, unfriendly. The most controversial was his funeral: he had entered into a misalliance, and it was unacceptable that his wife and children could rest with the rest of the Hapsburgs.

The world never imagined that a war could break out. Zweig had visited with friends in Belgium a few days before war was declared. Even seeing the Belgian soldiers, Zweig was convinced that Belgium would not be attacked. However, ominous events multiplied until the declaration of war by Austria against Serbia.

The young soldiers went cheerfully to the front, to the crowd's cheers. National solidarity and brotherhood were at their peak. Compared to the abatement of 1939, this enthusiasm is explained by an idealization of war, possible by the heightened optimism of the century and the almost blind confidence in governments' honesty. This enthusiasm quickly turned into a deep hatred towards the enemies of the fatherland.

Zweig does not participate in this widespread hatred, as he knows the now rival nations too well to hate them overnight. Physically unfit to go to the front, he committed his forces to work as a librarian within the military archives. He sees his whole country sinking in the apology of the opposing camp's deep and sincere hatred. Rejected by his friends who consider him almost a traitor to his nation, Zweig undertakes a personal war against this murderous passion.

Zweig makes it his mission to actively fight against the hateful propaganda, publishing an article in the "Berliner Tageblatt", urging others to remain faithful to friendships beyond borders. Shortly after, he receives a letter from his friend Romain Rolland, and the two decide to promote reconciliation. They try to organize a conference bringing together the great thinkers of all nations to encourage mutual understanding. The pair continues their commitment through their writings, comforting those in despair in this dark time.

Zweig then takes the opportunity to observe the ravages of war on the Russian front with his own eyes. He sees the dramatic situation in which the soldiers find themselves; considering the solidarity formed between the soldiers of the two camps who feel powerless in the face of current events. Zweig is initially shocked to see that officers can walk almost carefree with young ladies. However, very quickly, he forgives them because the real culprits are those who, in his eyes, encourage the feeling of hatred towards the "enemy."

Zweig finds another way to fight propaganda by writing a drama, emphasizing Biblical themes, particularly Jewish wanderings and trials, praising the losers' destiny. He produced this work to free himself of society's censorship.

Zweig expected poor reception when published his drama "Jeremias" in October 1917. However, to his surprise, his work was very well received, and he was offered to represent the work in Zurich. Therefore, Zweig decides to leave for Switzerland. He meets two Austrians on his journey who would play a significant role once Austria had surrendered: Heinrich Lammasch and Ignaz Seipel. These two pacifists had planned and convinced the Emperor of Austria to negotiate a separate peace if the Germans refused.

When Zweig arrives in Switzerland, he is immediately relieved and happy to enter a country at peace. He is pleased to find his friend Rolland and other French acquaintances, feeling fraternally united. During the stay, the director of the anti-militarist newspaper Demain, Henri Guilbeaux, marks Zweig deeply. Zweig learns that in intense periods, simple men could exceptionally become central figures of a current. Moreover, he has the opportunity to see many refugees who could not choose their camps, such as James Joyce.

After the relative success of his play, Zweig gradually realizes that Switzerland is not only a land of refuge, but of espionage and counter-espionage. During his stay, the German and Austrian defeat becomes more and more inevitable, and the world begins to rejoice in the chorus of a finally better and more human world.

Once the German and Austrian defeat has been confirmed, Zweig decides to join his country in ruins, driven by a patriotic impulse. He gives himself the mission of helping his country accept its defeat. Winter is approaching, and the country is now in the greatest need. During Zweig's return, he attends the last Austrian Emperor's departure in the station, an event that holds significance to him as an Austrian once under Emperor rule.

Soon, Zweig recognizes a generalized regression of life. Everything of value has been stolen, such as leather, copper, and nickel. Trains are in such bad condition that the journey times are considerably extended. Once at home in Salzburg, now Zweig's everyday life has been made difficult by shortages and cold. His roof is ripped through and repairs are now impossible due to the scarcity of materials. He watches helplessly as Austrian life deteriorates.

Paradoxically, theaters, concerts, and operas are active, and artistic and cultural life is in full swing, something that Zweig attributes to the general feeling that any performance could be the last. At the same time, the young generation rebels against the old authority: homosexuality becomes a sign of protest, young writers think outside the box, and painters abandon classicism for cubism and surrealism. Meanwhile, Zweig set himself the task of reconciling the European nations by taking care of the German side, first alongside Henri Barbusse. After the communist radicalization of Barbusse's newspaper, Clarté, Zweig continues reconciliation on his own.

After surviving the three years after the war in Salzburg, Zweig decides to travel with his wife to Italy. Full of apprehension, he is surprised by the Italians' hospitality and thoughtfulness. He tells himself that the masses have not changed profoundly because of the propaganda. He meets friends, such as poet Giuseppe Antonio Borgese and painter Alberto Stringa. Zweig admits to being, at that moment, still lulled by the illusion that the war is over, although he has the opportunity to hear young Italians singing "Giovinezza."

Zweig then goes to Germany. He has time to see his friend Rathenau, who is now Minister of Foreign Affairs. He admires this man who knows fully that only time can heal the wounds left by war. After the assassination of Rathenau, Germany sinks into hyperinflation, debauchery, and disorder. According to Zweig, this sad episode was decisive for the rise of the Nazi Party.

Zweig has the chance to experience unexpected success from his work. He says he has carried out important synthesis work, notably with Marie-Antoinette, and sees his capacity for conciseness as a defining element of his success. Zweig finds pleasure in seeing Maxim Gorky, whom he already admired at school, write the preface to one of his works.

While he recognizes that this success fills him with joy, Zweig refuses to be an object of admiration. He naively enjoys his fame at first on his travels, but it weighs on him. He states he wishes he had written under a pseudonym to enjoy his celebrity in serenity.

Zweig says that before Hitler came to power, travel in Europe was at a high. He continues his travels, particularly because of his career and fame as a writer. However, despite his success, Zweig says he remains humble and does not change his habits.

Russia had always been on Zweig's list of future travel locations. Finally, he has the opportunity to officially go to Russia: on the birthday of Leo Tolstoy, a great Russian writer. At first, Zweig is fascinated by the authenticity of the inhabitants, their friendliness, and their warm welcome. Following a visit to Tolstoy's tomb, he realizes that someone has slipped him a letter in French, warning him of the propaganda of the Soviet regime. Zweig begins to reflect.

Later, Zweig receives the opportunity to use his celebrity to ask a favor of Benito Mussolini, to spare the life of Giuseppe Germani. His wife encourages him to pressure on Mussolini by organizing an international protest. Instead, Zweig preferred to send a letter personally to Duce, and Mussolini granted his request.

Back in Salzburg, Zweig is impressed by the cultural scope of the city, now the artistic center of Europe. Seeing fellow artists and writers allows him to complete his autographs and first drafts collection. However, with Hitler's rise to power, his collection gradually fell apart.

Before tragic events, Zweig reveals to have wondered about his success, a success he had not ardently desired. A thought crossed him at this time:

Wäre es nicht besser für mich—so träumte es in mir weiter—etwas anderes käme, etwas Neues, etwas das mich unruhiger, gespannter, das mich jünger machte, indem es mich herausforderte zu neuem und vielleicht noch gefährlicherem Kampf?

— Zweig, Sonnenuntergang, Die Welt von Gestern (1942)

"Wouldn't it be better for me—so that thought continued within me—if something else happened, something new, something that troubles me, torments me, rejuvenates me, demanding of me a new and perhaps more dangerous fight?"

Zweig's rash wish—in his words—came true, shattering his surroundings, him, and what he had accomplished.

Zweig begins the chapter by stating a law: no witness to significant changes can recognize them at their beginnings. After his failed coup, Hitler was merely one agitator among many, and his name quickly faded into insignificance. However, organized gangs of young men in Nazi insignia were starting to cause trouble. Germany never could have imagined that a man as uneducated as Hitler could come to power. However, he succeeded by promising everything to all parties. Everyone thought they could use a leader like him.

Zweig admits that as a young man, he had not recognized the coming danger of the Nazis, who started organizing and agitating in Austria in the 1920s. Zweig was a committed pacifist, but hated politics and shunned political engagement. He shows some reluctance to analyze Nazism as a political ideology; he regards it as the rule of one particularly evil man, Hitler. Nevertheless, Zweig was struck that the Berghof, Hitler's mountain residence in Berchtesgaden, an area of early Nazi activity, was just across the valley from his own house outside Salzburg.

Zweig had told his publisher that his books would be banned as soon as the Reichstag was burnt down—something he once believed was impossible. He then describes the progressive censorship that descended on his opera Die schweigsame Frau as he witnessed the artistic power of his composer and collaborator Richard Strauss. Due to Zweig's politically neutral writings and Strauss' unrivaled fame in Germany, it was at first impossible to censor the opera. After reading Zweig's libretto, Hitler himself even authorized the performance and attended it in person. However, after the Gestapo intercepted a letter from Strauss about his principles as President of the Reich Music Chamber, the opera was censored, and Strauss was forced to give up his position.

During these first troubles, Zweig went to France, then to England, where he undertook the biography of Mary, Queen of Scots, noting the need for an objective and accurate work. Once completed, he returned to Salzburg, where he realized the critical situation of his country: even with shootings breaking out daily in the streets, foreign newspapers were better informed than he was. Zweig chooses to flee to London when the police forcibly search his residence, a previously unthinkable violation of civil liberties.

Zweig sets the tone for the last chapter with a quote from Shakespeare:

The sun of Rome is set. Our day is gone.
Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done.

Like Gorky, Zweig's exile was not yet "real": he still had his passport to return home at any time. After the Munich peace agreement, Zweig suspected that negotiation with Hitler was pointless, as he would break every commitment at the right time. However, Zweig remained silent, knowing he could not influence England.

During his stay, Zweig attended a memorable debate between H. G. Wells and George Bernard Shaw, of whom he gives a long and admiring description. He also saw his friend Sigmund Freud, who had managed to reach England. Delighted to speak with Freud one last time, Zweig attended his funeral shortly after. As Zweig prepared for his new marriage, Hitler declared war on Poland, making him an "enemy national."

At a PEN conference, Zweig stopped in Vigo, Spain, then in the hands of General Franco, noting again with bitterness the young people swaggering in fascist uniforms. However, after moving to Argentina and seeing the Hispanic heritage still intact, he regained hope. He praises Brazil, his last host country, a land of immigrants looking to the future.

Zweig looks back to Austria's annexation. His friends had firmly believed that the neighboring countries would never accept such an event, but Zweig had already, in autumn of 1937, said goodbye to his mother and the rest of his family. He then watched as his family and nation were lost to Nazi barbarism.

Zweig then develops an extended meditation on the tribulations that pursue all the Jews, despite the great cultural and religious variety of those designated as such. He ends his work by admitting to being defeated by hatred, even by its shadow, but with this consolation:

The World of Yesterday details Zweig's career before, during, and after World War I. Of particular interest are Zweig's description of various intellectual personalities, including Theodor Herzl, the founder of modern political Zionism, Rainer Maria Rilke, the Belgian poet Emile Verhaeren, the composer Ferruccio Busoni, the philosopher and antifascist Benedetto Croce, Maxim Gorky, Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Arthur Schnitzler, Franz Werfel, Gerhart Hauptmann, James Joyce, Nobel Peace Prize laureate Bertha von Suttner, the German industrialist and politician Walther Rathenau and the pacifist and friend Romain Rolland.

Zweig also met Karl Haushofer during a trip to India. The two became friends. Haushofer was the founder of geopolitics and later became an influence on Adolf Hitler. Zweig was always aloof from politics and overlooked the dark potential of Haushofer's thoughts; he was surprised when later told of links between Hitler and Haushofer.

Zweig particularly admired the poetry of Hugo von Hofmannsthal and expressed this admiration and Hofmannsthal's influence on his generation in the chapter devoted to his school years:

"The appearance of the young Hofmannsthal is and remains notable as one of the greatest miracles of accomplishment early in life; in world literature, except for Keats and Rimbaud, I know no other youthful example of a similar impeccability in the mastering of language, no such breadth of spiritual buoyancy, nothing more permeated with a poetic substance even in the most simple lines, than in this magnificent genius, who already in his sixteenth and seventeenth year had inscribed himself in the eternal annals of the German language with unextinguishable verses and prose which today has still not been surpassed. His sudden beginning and simultaneous completion was a phenomenon that hardly occurs more than once in a generation."

Zweig also describes his passion for collecting manuscripts, primarily literary and musical.

Zweig collaborated in the early 1930s with composer Richard Strauss on the opera Die schweigsame Frau, which is based on a libretto by Zweig. Strauss was then admired by the Nazis, who were not happy that their favorite composer's new opera had a Jewish author's libretto. Zweig recounts that Strauss refused to withdraw the opera and even insisted that Zweig's authorship of the libretto be credited; the first performance in Dresden was said to have been authorized by Hitler himself. Zweig thought it prudent not to be present. The run was interrupted after the second performance, as the Gestapo had intercepted a private letter from Strauss to Zweig. The elderly composer invited Zweig to write the libretto for another opera. According to Zweig, this led to Strauss's resignation as president of the Reichsmusikkammer, the Nazi state institute for music.

The tragic effects of contemporary antisemitism are discussed, but Zweig does not analyze in detail his Jewish identity. Zweig's friendship with Sigmund Freud is described towards the end, mainly while both lived in London during the last year of Freud's life.

• 2016 : Le monde d'hier, a dramatic adaptation by Laurent Seksik, was staged, directed by Patrick Pineau and Jérôme Kircher at the Théâtre de Mathurins in Paris.^{[citation needed]}
• 2023: The World of Yesterday is performed as a one-man English language play for Famous Writers starring David Sibley as Zweig.^[9]

• The World of Yesterday at Faded Page (Canada)