From a drawing by Ivan Opffer in THE BOOKMAN.
In 1909 M. Duhamel received his degree in medicine and shortly after appeared the four plays which, with his poetry, “Des Légendes, des Batailles,” a collection of verse published by “L'Abbaye” in 1907; “L'Homme en Tête,” in 1909; “Selon ma Loi,” in 1910; and “Compagnons,” in 1912, gave him a definite place in the literary hierarchy. These plays were “La Lumière,” which appeared in 1911; “Dans l'Ombre des Statues,” in 1912; “Le Combat,” a symbolic drama in vers libres, in 1912; and “L'Œuvre des Athlètes” in 1920. All of these were produced on the Paris stage and all save the last have appeared in translations by Sasha Best in Poet Lore, Boston, in 1914 and 1915.
These dramas, as well as his early poetry, show the influence of Walt Whitman. His message is conveyed through the medium of symbolism, his method being to create types rather than individual studies, and his purpose to bring art closer to the masses. The result, as might have been expected, is drama of no great popularity.
Almost simultaneously with his work as poet and dramatist M. Duhamel achieved prominence as a critic. For some years he was critic of poetry for Le Mercure de France, and his articles contributed to that publication were collected in book form in 1914 under the title of “Les Poètes et la Poésie.” His earliest critical work, however, was a collaboration with M. Charles Vildrac, called “Mots sur la Technique Poétique.” “Propos Critique,” published in 1912, is largely devoted to comments on the efforts of the younger and, at that time, comparatively unknown writers, and it is of special interest that many of these writers are now famous.
“Paul Claudel: le philosophe—le poète—l'ecrivain—le dramaturge,” published in 1913, is considered by some of Duhamel's admirers as the best of his critical works, marked as it is by the same gifts of analysis and charm of style which distinguished his briefer critical writings.
It is, however, chiefly of his work since the beginning of the war, and the direction which his ideas and aims have taken under the influence of the war, that this article is concerned.
When the war broke out it found Georges Duhamel—then about thirty years of age—intent upon his literary work: poetry, criticism, interpretation, which had put him in the first rank of littérateurs of his country. Mobilised in the Medical Corps he first went to Verdun and found himself in the thick of the carnage; but he was soon transferred to the Marne where in the comparative quiet of a hospital he was able to make the observations and write the reflections which have carried his name throughout the civilised world. During the four years of the war he produced four remarkable volumes: “Vie des Martyrs” (The New Book of Martyrs), “Civilisation,” “Possession du Monde” (The Heart's Domain), and “Entretiens dans le Tumulte” (Interviews in the Tumult), four of the most noteworthy and important books inspired by the war.
Plunged at once into the great war hopper whose purpose was to reduce all human material to a homogeneous mass that would furnish energy for the war machine, Duhamel preserved his perspective and his individual outlook both upon the war and upon life. Nothing illustrates this so strikingly as some of his stories in “Civilisation,” gathered from scenes with which he came into contact after he had become a seasoned soldier.
No stronger proof is needed of the essential wholesomeness and strength of Duhamel's make-up than the fact that while these stories, and those of “Vie des Martyrs,” were inspired by the horrors of the war, they do not depict horrors, nor do they create an atmosphere of horror. It is not the picture of healthy men in the flower of youth, in the vigour of virility fed to the war machine and left lacerated and broken, that Duhamel impresses upon the imaginations of his readers. It was thus that he had seen them in the first days of the siege of Verdun, in an improvised ambulance where from minute to minute new torments developed to increase their previous torments, while the fragile roof over their heads became a great resounding board for the projectiles of the siegers and the assieged. He had, however, the vision to see them in another light, and he was filled with pity and admiration for the French poilu. It is these two emotions, rather than horror, which make the atmosphere and colour of the two books of war stories. He sensed the significance of pain and saw the reactions of strong men to suffering. He saw man in his agony give the lie to the most misleading of all statements: that man is born equal. For neither in living nor in dying is there equality. Men are equal, we trust, before God, and they are alleged to be equal before the law, but after that equality of man does not exist.
It is this book particularly that makes Duhamel the interpreter of the poor, the obscure, the stupid, the inarticulate. With an unerring intuition he reaches the soul. His sympathies are so large, his understanding so comprehensive, and his reflection of them so complete, that his readers suffer with the suffering. It seems impossible to depict the sufferings of these poor martyrs, sent like droves of cattle to be struck down for what purpose they knew not, more accurately and convincingly than he does. With the reader's sympathy thus awakened, one wonders that the individual can be deprived of his own right to judge whether the cause is great enough for him to lay down his all; to be crushed by the chariots of the god of war.