THE CONTROVERSY WITH GERHART HAUPTMANN
Romain Rolland had never been personally acquainted with Gerhart
Hauptmann. He was familiar with the German's writings, and admired their
passionate participation in all that is human, loved them for the
goodness with which the individual figures are intentionally
characterized. On a visit to Berlin, he had called at Hauptmann's house,
but the playwright was away. The two had never before exchanged letters.
Nevertheless, Rolland decided to address Hauptmann as a representative
German author, as writer of _Die Weber_ and as creator of many other
figures typifying suffering. He wrote on August 29, 1914, the day on
which a telegram issued by Wolff's agency, ludicrously exaggerating in
pursuit of the policy of "frightfulness," had announced that "the old
town of Louvain, rich in works of art, exists no more to-day." An
outburst of indignation was assuredly justified, but Rolland endeavored
to exhibit the utmost self-control. He began as follows: "I am not,
Gerhart Hauptmann, one of those Frenchmen who regard Germany as a nation
of barbarians. I know the intellectual and moral greatness of your
mighty race. I know all that I owe to the thinkers of Old Germany; and
even now, at this hour, I recall the example and the words of _our_
Goethe--for he belongs to the whole of humanity--repudiating all
national hatreds and preserving the calmness of his soul on those
heights 'where we feel the happiness and the misfortunes of other
peoples as our own.'" He goes on with a pathetic self-consciousness for
the first time noticeable in the work of this most modest of writers.
Recognizing his mission, he lifts his voice above the controversies of
the moment. "I have labored all my life to bring together the minds of
our two nations; and the atrocities of this impious war in which, to the
ruin of European civilization, they are involved, will never lead me to
soil my spirit with hatred."
Now Rolland sounds a more impassioned note. He does not hold Germany
responsible for the war. "War springs from the weakness and stupidity of
nations." He ignores political questions, but protests vehemently
against the destruction of works of art, asking Hauptmann and his
countrymen, "Are you the grandchildren of Goethe or of Attila?"
Proceeding more quietly, he implores Hauptmann to refrain from any
attempt to justify such things. "In the name of our Europe, of which you
have hitherto been one of the most illustrious champions, in the name of
that civilization for which the greatest of men have striven all down
the ages, in the name of the very honor of your Germanic race, Gerhart
Hauptmann, I adjure you, I challenge you, you and the intellectuals of
Germany, among whom I reckon so many friends, to protest with the
utmost energy against this crime which will otherwise recoil upon
yourselves." Rolland's hope was that the Germans would, like himself,
refuse to condone the excesses of the war-makers, would refuse to accept
the war as a fatality. He hoped for a public protest from across the
Rhine. Rolland was not aware that at this time no one in Germany had or
could have any inkling of the true political situation. He was not aware
that such a public protest as he desired was quite impossible.
Gerhart Hauptmann's answer struck a fiercer note than Rolland's letter.
Instead of complying with the Frenchman's plea, instead of repudiating
the German militarist policy of frightfulness, he attempted, with
sinister enthusiasm, to justify that policy. Accepting the maxim, "war
is war," he, somewhat prematurely, defended the right of the stronger.
"The weak naturally have recourse to vituperation." He declared the
report of the destruction of Louvain to be false. It was, he said, a
matter of life or death for Germany that the German troops should effect
"their peaceful passage" through Belgium. He referred to the
pronouncements of the general staff, and quoted, as the highest
authority for truth, the words of "the Emperor himself."
Therewith the controversy passed from the spiritual to the political
plane. Rolland, embittered in his turn, rejected the views of Hauptmann,
who was lending his moral authority to the support of Schlieffen's
aggressive theories. Hauptmann, declared Rolland, was "accepting
responsibility for the crimes of those who wield authority." Instead of
promoting harmony, the correspondence was fostering discord. In reality
the two had no common ground for discussion. The attempt was ill-timed,
passion still ran too high; the mists of prevalent falsehood still
obscured vision on both sides. The waters of the flood continued to
rise, the infinite deluge of hatred and error. Brethren were as yet
unable to recognize one another in the darkness.