Soul of the Age (16 page)

I'm delighted that the book of verse
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has found such an appreciative reader. It's never possible to make that kind of book seem entirely unobjectionable, but I think it's good; at least it represents what I find best in poetry. There are only a very few instances of less than profound tones, which I included out of a sense of fairness.

The war has put me in a somewhat awkward position. Although I feel that I'm on Germany's side and can understand the all-consuming nationalistic fervor that has taken hold there, I'm not a completely enthusiastic participant in this development. I live abroad, and thus at some remove from the origins of the acute psychosis; I cannot quite get over what happened to Belgium;
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my family origins have shaped my outlook, and my own experience has become so cosmopolitan that I would seem somewhat suspect in the eyes of a pure patriot. My father was a Russian of German origin, a Balt, and my grandmother came from Neuchâtel; ever since childhood, I have regarded Switzerland as my second homeland, although only the German part. I also feel like traveling and getting to know the literatures of foreign countries. Germany now sees little point in behaving decently and exercising restraint; war calls for a severe state of psychosis or even mania. I fail to see anything delightful or splendid in this war, and don't anticipate a rosy future afterward. As soon as the war is over, we shall have to become better friends with England and France than we were in prewar days; I feel that will prove indispensable in the future, and would have come about more easily without the war. Now we shall have to pay for the miserable policies of France, the envy of the English, and our own political mistakes; Austria, Belgium, and France are also bleeding. There is no point trying to identify the “guilty” party; each side needs to believe that it is in the right. So the whole thing is just a pathetic scrap about values that are far from clear-cut. The war has created a wonderful spirit of unity and self-sacrifice in Germany, but the same applies to the enemy. It's easy enough for those of us who have stayed at home to say that a war which has created that sort of atmosphere is worthwhile. But those who are rotting in the woods, those whose cities, villages, fields, and aspirations have been ravaged and destroyed do not agree, and I cannot think about the war without hearing those voices.

We're having our first symphony concert this evening, a splendid program, just Beethoven, beginning with
Coriolanus
and ending with the
Eroica.
A few weeks ago, I wouldn't have enjoyed that very much; now I can again enjoy music or a good book, and allow myself to get carried away. Otherwise things are the same as ever; I would love to work a lot, but usually cannot, since my eyes are always sore.

There are moments when I too sense the harmony of the universe. Since I cannot find any real corroboration for these intuitions in my physical and instinctual life, I try to detect it in the intellectual sphere. And to be consistent, a person has to rely entirely on the intellect, the only organ of ours that identifies strongly with the natural order and defends it to the hilt, even where there is a conflict with our instinctual urges. But much remains unexplained, since the rational intellect doesn't control phenomena such as war, the life of nations, and also the most valuable forms of art.

I have just noticed that it's high time to get dressed for the concert, and since I shan't get around to writing any more tomorrow, I shall end here and try to dig up a fresh collar.

TO VOLKMAR ANDREÄ

Bern, December 26, 1914

My dear friend Andreä,

[ … ] I know what you're going through—the awful depression that you evaded or lessened by serving as an officer in the early days of the war. The rest of us have more or less come to terms with it. I have so many friends in the various armies, have lost so many too, that I am still deeply concerned. I haven't been able to do any real work of my own since August, and have taken refuge instead in projects of a historical-mechanical sort. It is still quite possible that I may have to enlist in the German militia—I don't relish the prospect at all. As a result of universal conscription, we seem to be witnessing one of those historic crises in modern statecraft in the course of which meaningful statements degenerate rapidly into murderous gibberish. Even though I feel very German, I have always considered nationalism an elementary form of education, an introductory course in ideal humanity. I have never relished the thought of nationalism as a goal in itself.

I find that, on the whole, the moral impact of the war has been very positive. For many people, it was good to be shaken up out of that silly capitalist peace, and also for Germany. I think genuine artists will value a nation more highly if its menfolk have confronted death and experienced life in the POW camps. I don't expect much else of the war, and we probably won't be spared a new outbreak of jingoism.

I simply don't believe that the war is annihilating any genuine form of culture. While it's true that beautiful individual works of art and, of course, valuable people too are being destroyed, the experience of war will strengthen the notion of culture, which can only thrive in a select intellectual environment. Even if the war induced only a fraction of enlisted youths to feel more deeply about life, and to pay more attention to indestructible values, and become less taken with silly nonsense, that gain would outweigh the loss of a few cities and cathedrals.

This war is utterly extraordinary; I like the fact that it doesn't make “sense,” isn't about some trifling issue, and constitutes the upheaval signaling a major atmospheric change. Since the atmosphere used to be quite putrid, the change might even be a good thing. It's not for to us to decide whether the price was high, perhaps excessive. Nature is always profligate; she places little value on individual lives. As for us artists or intellectuals, we have always kept apart and lived in a rather timeless world, so the only losses we have to fear are material ones, and that can always be endured. People with a profound understanding of Bach, or Plato, or Goethe's
Faust
know in their heart of hearts that there is only one realm where peace and lasting meaning can be found. That realm is indestructible; it's possible for each one of us to live there, and feel at home, and help expand it. But there are people who feel that they lost everything along with their material comforts, and so their suffering is greater than ours. They could, of course, also learn a lot from the experience. It may be good for them to realize that such things as stock-market indexes and menus, clubs, etc., no longer govern their lives, but rather such basic natural urges as hunger and the fear of death.

That sounds fine, you may think, but what's the point when thousands are shedding their blood each day? It's certainly appalling. But life in the raw is always appalling, except that we're now being reminded of this more savagely than usual. In peacetime, we denizens of the intellectual realm know little about the despair rampant everywhere, about the abominable practices in business and the rat race in general, the miserable conditions in the factories, coal mines, etc. I don't find the ordinary life of the common herd much more preferable to war, and many of them now realize this themselves; they return from the front with a yearning for a life that is more rational, more beautiful, and better, in every respect, than their previous existence. If this is so, then the war will ultimately bring about some good. I view everything else much more skeptically, the frenzied patriotism, the spirit of sacrifice, etc. Like the war itself, that is transitory, and I don't devote much attention in the top compartments of my mind to such transitory issues. I have seen in the eyes of hundreds of injured German soldiers the expression, either tired or excited, but always calm and superior, of men who have come face to face with death and no longer take anything else very seriously. The ordinary citizen would never be exposed otherwise to that attitude toward life. And a fine attitude it is.

Carissimo,
I have started preaching. I'm merely repeating some of my recent thoughts about the war. Culture, in our sense of the term, may indeed spell happiness. But at least until the first of August, official attitudes in Europe were of a different order: happiness was considered virtually synonymous with material comfort. People were preoccupied with the latter and had little time and resources left for real culture; then they went crazy and started killing one another. The only good thing about it is that the killing and slaughtering are no more meaningless than the previous state of supposed happiness.

I was miserable again. But that is transitory. Long live Shakespeare!

Greetings to your dear wife! The children are doing their best to wreck their new toys. That's life.

TO ROMAIN ROLLAND
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Bern, February 28, 1915

I was really delighted to receive your kind note. I'm answering in German, since I have enough French for comprehension and reading, but not for writing.

I don't know whether you have heard about the plans to start an international review in Switzerland. The journal would offer a neutral forum for dialogue and debate among intellectuals in the belligerent countries. French contributors are needed; there are already enough Germans. I was asked to manage the journal and people were also hoping to rope you in. I'm a retiring poet, and lack the necessary stamina. And, as a result, the review is being set up by a Swiss-German
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and a Genevan. I'm letting you know just in case. Herr G. de Reynold is the Genevan editor.

I don't have any personal connections with
Die Weissen Blätter,
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but I wrote to the publisher saying you would like to get to know them. Although there are quite a few crude youngsters among them, many are decent and well intentioned.

You already know how deeply I regret the silly hatred that is creating such strife concerning supranational issues among thinking people. I have become convinced in the meantime that more and more people will begin to recognize the absolute necessity of your “
union de l'esprit européen.
” At the moment, I'm refraining from all political-sounding pronouncements; there seems to be a magic wand transforming every burst of applause into an expression of hostility. There is still a lot of hatred, but that will eventually wear off. I was glad to discover that you're acquainted with a few of my books. So you can imagine why I especially cherish the childhood story of Jean Christophe.

TO ALFRED SCHLENKER

[
ca. March/April 1915
]

My dear Fredi,

[ … ] People with reasonable ideas about the war are talking increasingly about the future of Europe, and not just of Germany. Although that pleases me, I see the unification of Europe merely as an early stage in the history of mankind. The methodical mentality of Europe will rule the world for some time to come, but in matters of spirituality and religious values, the Russians and Asians have a greater depth, which we shall eventually need again. Now that the morality, self-discipline, and rational capacities of our leading intellectuals have sunk to such depths, we can finally acknowledge that nationalism isn't all that ideal. I like to consider myself a patriot, but first a human being, and whenever a conflict arises, I side with the human being. As Goethe said to Eckermann: “The most fervent expression of nationalistic hatred occurs at the lowest cultural levels.”

By the way, there are now quite a few good, clear voices to be heard preaching reason, and many soldiers in the field no longer accept the notion that entire peoples are at war; they regard their adversaries as brothers, with whom there has been a quarrel over some blunder or misunderstanding, and they will soon be brothers again. And before long the people who wrote those venomous articles and hate-filled songs about England, Russia, etc., will have to hang their heads in shame. Then there are the jaded hacks who suddenly “saw the light” about the war and started contradicting their previous convictions, only to reverse themselves again with equal flexibility.

I have nothing but admiration for the vitality and unity characteristic of the current mood in Germany, but my love for the country is such that I cannot abide any outbursts of jingoistic patriotism. We cannot go on blaming everything on England, Russia, etc.: if we don't start examining ourselves critically and rooting out our flaws, things will only get worse.

I'm expecting some good news in the near future. The truce, which I also consider sacrosanct, shouldn't restrict our freedom, and it won't. Many patriots are sick of the phrasemongering; the very best of them are still in the trenches, and when they finally get back, they will help with the cleaning-up. That will do some good. The soldiers are bravely proving their mettle, whereas the literati and many of the scholars are showing their cowardice by hastily joining the chorus of philistines, even if they happened to have been leading liberals at a time when that didn't require much courage.

Well, things will work out eventually, although not necessarily right away. There will be some setbacks, but I think some progress will be made and that a sense of responsibility will develop. It's a good sign that there was a remarkable consensus along these lines among the younger literati. If you can lay hands on a copy of
Das Forum
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or
Die Weissen Blätter,
you will see how true this is.

Would have really liked to come and see you at some point, both to show you my teeth, which have not been checked for ages, and to find out what's up and how you people are doing. But I cannot get away now; crossing the border is both difficult and expensive, and I must wait till I see what my military future is.

Let's hear from you again! [ … ]

TO MATHILDE SCHWARZENBACH
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