April 13, 1916 
L A X IJ ^ \\ A T !•: R 
^7 
transiorm it and you failed ; you tried to understand it 
and you shuddered ; you tried to deny it in a wild, 
hysterical cry, and the same silent, patient eyes still look 
at vou with amazement. Poor amaaing German folk I 
You do not even know how to suffer. Your conceit i:i 
too great, your achievements are too magnificent, your 
philosophy is too highly developed. You have asked 
Russian life for its philosophische, erkenntnisslhcoretische 
Errungcnschaflen* and you got no answer ; so you called 
the Russians barbarians. Then why do you fear them '< 
And by God, you do fear them. 
There was a German poet who wrote many fine, 
delicate lyrics, that skim the lesthetic surface of the life of 
the educated rich. He has also written several novels 
^vhich describe the unreal \acc cf the meaningless German 
yachllebzn (is it not funny, your petty vice of the 
body and your great spiritual discovery that it is not 
vice ?). The writer's name was Otto Julius Bierbaum. 
He was very dciUscli and in the year 1912 set out to study 
iidas Phnovienon iJostojeu'ski. He has come very near 
being tragic. He escaped it by a hair-breadth. He saw 
a strange god, and did not strive with him. He shut his 
eyes and did not dare to keep them shut : and he finished 
by playing hide-and-seek like a little child, he, the great 
spokesman of a Kultur-Sation. He did not dare to keep 
his eyes shut, for he suffered from an europdisches 
Kuliurgewissen (a European conscience for culture) 
and he did not dare to keep them open, for he felt that he 
was shaken in his conceit as he gazed at the calm, open 
features of the man who had the courage to see, because 
he had neither the desire to judg^% nor the impulse to 
change the things which he saw. 
The German writer feels that " a kind of perversion 
of his natural feelings overcomes him," his pride on which 
he prides himself is in danger of vanishing before the 
suffering, the understanding and the crushing humility 
of that simple, human giant Dostojewski. Bierbaum 
wishes for a N'ietzschean " transvaluation of all values." 
but values must remain ; there must be definite values, 
other .vise, how could there be pride of achievement ? 
Dostojewski is truly great, says Bierbaum, " though 
at bottom I don't Uke him ; he oppresses me more often 
than he uplifts me. I know it now, he is not a peak, he 
is a mountain-system. All our modem peaks, excepting 
only one. reach scarcely to half the height of his middle- 
chain. The one wfio excels his height is Nietzsche ; 
but beside the enormous massif of live-rock that peak 
looks to a terrifying degree hke a work of art, like some- 
thing made, beside things elemental." Nietzsche's 
ideal expressed itself at its best in one giant statue, in 
his superman Zarathustra. Dostojewski has created 
crowds of men ; none of them takes thought to add to 
his own stature, they bow to the ground in the sad, 
humble consciousness of their human Uvcs. And yet, 
when looking from a distance at his living crowd, one 
perceives " a colossal figure resembling the images of 
those Indian gods with hundreds of heads, with thousands 
of arms, uniting in their bodies all the generations : the 
giant people of Russia." 
Moments come when the German feels that he can no 
longer stand up as judge, as a wise and cultured judge 
against the poor, groat man Dostojewski. He follows 
him as in the old legend the children followed the mystic 
piper. He look-s to him as to a saint, he would adore him, 
and pray to him for miracles. " His works are . . - 
self-crucifixion ; all literary confessions vanish before the 
stations of his Cross, there is no word which could express 
the adoration . . . when one sees that suffering man 
rise up again and again on his path toward Calvary ; 
he loves the pain, and with the pain he loves humanity. 
. . . But without any pathf>s, without any pose. 
One might think of the images of the Byzantine Christ. 
But only for a moment. For the magnificence of Byzan- 
tium is lacking. Dostojewski is the very opposite of a 
schoueSeele (a beautiful soul). He was too great for that." 
Dostojewski understood the heart of man and knew 
the name of God. He loved that which the world des- 
pises and crushes in contempt, says Bierbaum, but 
" which internally is glorious and sublime." And hi-: 
love for it was not that of mercy, not even that of com- 
passion ; he wanted to change nothing, for he knew the 
secret glory which li% Ci in debasement and suffering, and 
rejoiced in it. Before Dmitri Fyodorovitch, the brazen, 
' lents io the philosophical theory of knowlerlg' 
animal, and yet so passionately human Karamazoff, 
Father Zosima fell to the ground in silent, feeling rever- 
ence ; and he sent his disciple .\lyosha into the world to 
live man's life, to learn the mystery of good and evil, 
and the meaning of things which lie beyond the borders 
of both. It is beyond those borders that reveals itself 
the true sense of existence, for redemption cannot be of 
this world, material achievements are froth, and freedom 
and power are to be found only in feeling and under- 
standing. 
Is that then his Gospel ? "If so, w(; have arrived at 
a jxjint w here the instinct of the man of Western Culture 
refuses to follow any further the sorcerer Dostojewski." 
He refu.scs to work miracles ? He is not " a saint of 
action " ? He will not use his power to any material 
purpose ? He cannot therefore crush us. Our simple 
and sane German mind and German wisdom are 
stronger than he I The charm is broken ; a broad, 
greasy grin spreads over the fat, angular face of 
the German writer. " \a, ja, Verehrleslcr, at the best 
we may use you as an interesting exhibit ! " It was only 
w hen dazed by fear that the eyes of the (ierman had seen 
the glories of things which lie beyond the reach of calcula- 
tion. The mystic piper has left the land of dreams, the 
golden stars of his magic robes have died away, his power 
has vanished. The German brings him back as captive 
into the land of values ; he is now hardly anything but 
an interesting fool — the div:iple has changed into his 
impressario. He will explain das Phdnomenon Dosto- 
jewski and charge an entrance-fee. The German nation is 
safe. It has no reason to fear ; it will make profits from 
trading in Russian " spiritual values " as for centuries it 
has by trading with the bodies, prop>erty and freedom of 
the Russian nation. Heroes, when it is safe, otherwise 
hucksters. 
" Sincerely prepared to admire those virtuosi of 
humility as extraordinary men." says Bierbaum, " and to 
ascribe to them jxjwers akin to those of saints, we refuse 
to accept them as examples and models for humanity 
at large .... And we enjoy the confident hope 
that,jf the Russian spirit is really affected by this 
inclination towards passi\nty, which we con.sider sublime, 
but yet diseased, then there is no danger of our being 
overwhelmed by it. Processions of flagellants do not 
conquer the world . . ." 
" That which has made Dostojewski so great, is 
perhaps just the thing which will prevent the Russian 
nation from becoming great as against ourselves. But 
even assuming that this spirit answers the Russian heart, 
and is therefore beneficial for it, it can hardly further our 
own development. For it seems that we are not made to 
enter into it in the way shown to us by that, after all for us 
very strange, phenomenon Dostojewski. To follow his 
spirit would mean to deny Goethe and to consider 
Nietzsche a disease . . ." 
The Germans will never do that , but Goethe did not 
care for Germany, and Nietzsche prided himself on his 
foreign Slav extraction. 
Sortes Sbahespcauiana: 
By SIR SIDNEY LEE 
The Clyde Strikers : 
Keep peace, upon ) our lives ; 
He dies that strikes again. 
tjmt \jtn \\: ii . 52-3. 
The German Chancellor's Last -S ^xiech : 
He speaks plain cannon fire — and svwke 
and bounce. 
K n< Joha II.. •.. ¥£. 
April r : The Doom of the Zeppelin: 
/ see thy glory like a shooting star 
Fall to the bise earth from the firTiiaiiient. 
Ridnrdir.. II., i.. l»-». 
