THE EUROPEAN CONSCIENCE
As on so many previous occasions in his life of action, this man of
inviolable faith had issued to the world an appeal for fellowship, and
had issued it once more in vain. The writers, the men of science, the
philosophers, the artists, all took the side of the country to which
they happened to belong; the Germans spoke for Germany, the Frenchmen
for France, the Englishmen for England. No one would espouse the
universal cause; no one would rise superior to the device, my country
right or wrong. In every land, among those of every nation, there were
to be found plenty of enthusiastic advocates, persons willing blindly to
justify all their country's doings, including its errors and its crimes,
to excuse these errors and crimes upon the plea of necessity. There was
only one land, the land common to them all, Europe, motherland of all
the fatherlands, which found no advocate, no defender. There was only
one idea, the most self-evident to a Christian world, which found no
spokesman--the idea of ideas, humanity.
During these days, Rolland may well have recalled sacred memories of the
time when Leo Tolstoi's letter came to give him a mission in life.
Tolstoi had stood alone in the utterance of his celebrated outcry, "I
can no longer keep silence." At that time his country was at war. He
arose to defend the invisible rights of human beings, uttering a protest
against the command that men should murder their brothers. Now his voice
was no longer heard; his place was empty; the conscience of mankind was
dumb. To Rolland, the consequent silence, the terrible silence of the
free spirit amid the hurly-burly of the slaves, seemed more hateful than
the roar of the cannon. Those to whom he had appealed for help had
refused to answer the call. The ultimate truth, the truth of conscience,
had no organized fellowship to sustain it. No one would aid him in the
struggle for the freedom of the European soul, the struggle of truth
against falsehood, the struggle of human lovingkindness against frenzied
hate. Rolland once again was alone with his faith, more alone than
during the bitterest years of solitude.
But Rolland has never been one to resign himself to loneliness. In youth
he had already felt that those who are passive while wrong is being done
are as criminal as the very wrongdoer. "Ceux qui subissent le mal sont
aussi criminels que ceux qui le font." Upon the poet, above all, it
seemed to him incumbent to find words for thought, and to vivify the
words by action. It is not enough to write ornamental comments upon the
history of one's time. The poet must be part of the very being of his
time, must fight to make his ideas realize themselves in action. "The
elite of the intellect constitutes an aristocracy which would fain
replace the aristocracy of birth. But the aristocracy of intellect is
apt to forget that the aristocracy of birth won its privileges with
blood. For hundreds of years men have listened to the words of wisdom,
but seldom have they seen a sage offering himself up to the sacrifice.
If we would inspire others with faith we must show that our own faith is
real. Mere words do not suffice." Fame is a sword as well as a laurel
crown. Faith imposes obligations. One who had made Jean Christophe utter
the gospel of a free conscience, could not, when the world had fashioned
his cross, play the part of Peter denying the Lord. He must take up his
apostolate, be ready should need arise to face martyrdom. Thus, while
almost all the artists of the day, in their "passion d'abdiquer," in
their mad desire to shout with the crowd, were not merely extolling
force and victory as the masters of the hour, but were actually
maintaining that force was the very meaning of civilization, that
victory was the vital energy of the world, Rolland stood forth against
them all, proclaiming the might of the incorruptible conscience. "Force
is always hateful to me," wrote Rolland to Jouve in this decisive hour.
"If the world cannot get on without force, it still behooves me to
refrain from making terms with force. I must uphold an opposing
principle, one which will invalidate the principle of force. Each must
play his own part; each must obey his own inward monitor." He did not
fail to recognize the titanic nature of the struggle into which he was
entering, but the words he had written in youth still resounded in his
memory. "Our first duty is to be great, and to defend greatness on
earth."
Just as in those earlier days, when he had wished by means of his dramas
to restore faith to his nation, when he had set up the images of the
heroes as examples to a petty time, when throughout a decade of quiet
effort he had summoned the people towards love and freedom, so now,
Rolland set to work alone. He had no party, no newspaper, no influence.
He had nothing but his passionate enthusiasm, and that indomitable
courage to which the forlorn hope makes an irresistible appeal. Alone he
began his onslaught upon the illusions of the multitude, when the
European conscience, hunted with scorn and hatred from all countries and
all hearts, had taken sanctuary in his heart.