l possessions. Here it found itself face to
face with tasks which far surpassed anything demanded heretofore of it
as fulfillment of duty. And now there came to pass a wonder which will
be unforgettable for every one who lived through this period. Everything
dry, petty, pedantic, connected with German ways, which had often made
many of us impatient with ourselves, was suddenly swept away by the
storm of these days.

A gigantic wave of fiery hot feeling passed through our country flaming
up like a beautiful sacrificial pyre. It was no longer a duty to offer
one's self and one's life--it was supreme bliss. That might easily sound
like a hollow phrase. But there is a proof, which is more genuine than
words, than songs, and cheers. That is the expression in the faces of
the people, their uncontrolled spontaneous movements. I saw the eyes
light up of an old woman who had sent four sons into battle and
exclaimed: "It is glorious to be allowed to give the Fatherland so
much!" I saw the controlled calm in the features of sorrowing mothers
who knew that their only sons had fallen. But the expression in the
faces of many wounded who were already returning home gripped me the
most. They had lived through the horror of the battle, their feet had
waded through blood, their young bodies were horribly maimed. I saw this
strangely serene, quietly friendly expression in the young faces. They
were men who had sacrificed their ego. They were great patient
conquerors of selfishness. And with what tenderness, what goodness are
they surrounded, to lighten their lot, to give them joy. How the general
sentiment is often expressed in the gesture of a single person--you did
that for us--how can we sufficiently requite you?

A stream of love is flowing through our Fatherland and is uniting all
hearts. The unobtrusive mother "duty" gave birth to the genial child
"feeling." She bestowed on it her strong vitality so that it can defy a
world of hatred--and conquer it.

FOOTNOTES:

[B] Gabriele Reuter is one of the foremost German woman authors.

*A Letter to Gerhart Hauptmann*

*By Romain Rolland.*

I am not, Gerhart Hauptmann, of those Frenchmen who call Germany
barbarian. I recognize the intellectual and moral grandeur of your
mighty race. I realize all that I owe to the thinkers of old Germany;
and even at this extreme hour I recall to mind the example and the words
of our Goethe--for he belongs to all humanity--repudiating nationa