Well though I understood Auntie's enthusiasm, I could not share it, I could not commend it. If for every ten wounded men such another enthusiastic nurse came along, then these ladies' happiness cost too much.


No, I could not share the joy over the great time, and so it came about that from the beginning I suffered miserably from the war, and for a period of years strove in desperation to protect myself against a misfortune that had seemed to fall upon me out of a clear blue sky, while everybody around me acted as though they were full of happy enthusiasm over this same misery. And when I read newspaper articles by prominent writers in which they disclosed the blessings of the war, and the clarion call of the professors, and all the war poems issuing from the studies of famous poets, then I became more wretched still.


One day in 1915 a public confession of this wretchedness escaped me, together with an expression of regret that even so called spiritual people could find nothing better to do than preach hatred, spread lies, and praise the great misfortune to the skies.