Hermann Hesse : Books on Trial (1919)

Hermann Hesse

Essays, 1904-1961

Books on Trial

Recently I had to sort out my books again, because circumstances forced me to give away part of my library. And so I stood in front of the bookcases, went step by step along the rows of books, and thought to myself, “Do you need this book? Do you love it? Are you sure that you will read it again? Would it pain you to part with it?”

Since I am one of those people who have never been able to “think historically,” not even in those times when historical thinking was officially put far ahead of human thought, I began with the historical books and had little difficulty there. Handsome editions of memoirs, Italian and French biographies, court histories, diaries of politicians — away with them! Had the politicians ever been right? Has not a single verse by Hélderlin not been of more value than all the wisdom of the potentates ? Away with them!

History of art came next. Pretty works by specialists on Italian, Dutch, Belgian, English painting, Vasari. Collections of artists’ letters — discarding them didn’t really hurt. Away with them!

The philosophers. Was it necessary to own Mauthner’s dictionary ? No. Would I ever again read Eduard von Hartmann ? Oh no. But Kant? There I hesitated. You could never tell. And I let him stay. Nietzsche? Indispensable, together with his letters. Fechner? He would be a loss, and so remains. Emerson? Let him go! Kierkegaard? He’s someone we'll still keep. Schopenhauer without question. The anthologies and collections, of course, looked pretty —The German Soul — Book of Ghosts — The Ghetto Book — Germans Seen in Caricature — does one need any of this ? Away with it! Away with it all !

But now the poets. I won’t talk about the moderns. But Goethe’s correspondence? Part of it was rejected. What about all the volumes of Grillparzer? Must that be? No, it must not be. And all of Von Arnim? Oh, but that would cause me pain. He stays. Like Tieck, likewise Wieland. Herder was substantially plucked. Balzac was questioned, then retained. Anatole France gave me pause for thought. Toward one’s enemies one is chivalrous; he was preserved. Stendhal? Many volumes but indispensable. Mann, without question. On the other hand, Maeterlinck was decimated. Four editions of Boccaccio’s Decameron! Only one was left standing. Then the sections with the writers of eastern Asia. A few volumes “ A few of Lafcadio Hearn were dismissed, all others were left.

About the English writers many questions arose. So many volumes of Shaw? Some must go. And all of Thackeray? Half is enough. Fielding, Sterne, Dickens remain, even their trivia.

Of the Russians too almost all remain. With Gorky and with Turgenev there were hesitations and indecisions. Tolstoy’s tracts were sharply reduced. From among the Scandinavians a few slid away. Hermann Bang remained, Hamsun remained, Strindberg remained. Björnson melted down, Geijerstam disappeared. Who collects war literature ? Some hundredweight are easily given away. I bought little of it, most simply flew into. the house. I have not read a twentieth part of it. And what good paper there was as late as 1915 and 16 !

Days later, when I was finished with the job, I realized for the first time how much my relationship to books had altered during these years, along with other things. There are whole categories of literature that I now cheerfully give away. There are authors whom it is no longer possible to take seriously. But what a comfort that Knut Hamsun is still alive! How fortunate that there is Jammes ! And how nice - it is to have cleaned out all the thick biographies of poets, with their boredom and their meager psychology. The rooms look brighter. Treasures remain behind and now they gleam far more brightly. Goethe stands there, Hölderlin stands there, all of Dostoevsky stands there, Mörike smiles, Arnim flashes

audaciously, the Icelandic sagas outlast all troubles. Märchen and folk tales remain indestructible. And the old books, the books in pigskin with a theological look, which for the

most part are so much dearer than all the new books, they too are still there. They are something that for once one doesn’t mind being outlived by.

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