【有声英语文学名著】德米安（7b）

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by Hermann Hesse

 

I stood dazed and shaken under the tall trees, not knowing whether I was more awake or more in a dream than ever. The rain dripped gently from the branches. Slowly I walked out into the garden that extended some way along the river. Finally I found Demian. He was standing¹ in an open summer house, stripped to the waist, punching a suspended sandbag.

I stopped, astonished. Demian looked strikingly handsome with his broad chest, and firm, manly² features; the raised arms with taut³ muscles were strong and capable, the movements sprang playfully and smoothly⁴ from hips⁵, shoulders, and wrists.

"Demian," I called out. "What are you doing there?"

He laughed happily.

"Practicing. I've promised the Japanese a boxing match, the little fellow is as agile⁶ as a cat and, of course, just as sly, but he won't be able to beat me. There's a very slight humiliation⁷ for which I have to pay him back."

He put on his shirt and coat.

"You've seen my mother?" he asked.

"Yes, Demian, what a wonderful mother you have! Frau Eva! The name fits her perfectly⁸. Sheis like a universal mother."

For a moment he looked thoughtfully into my face.

"So you know her name already? You can be proud of yourself. You are the first person she has told it to during the first meeting."

From this day on I went in and out of the house like a son or brother -- but also as someone in love. As soon as I opened the gate, as soon as I caught sight of the tall trees in the garden, I felt happy and rich. Outside was reality: streets and houses, people and institutions, libraries and lecture halls -- but here inside was love; here lived the legend and the dream. And yet we lived in no way cut off from the outside world; in our thoughts and conversations we often lived in the midst of it, only on an entirely⁹ different plane. We were not separated from the majority of men by a boundary but simply by another mode of vision. Our task was to represent an island in the world, a prototype perhaps, or at least a prospect¹⁰ of a different way of life. I, who had been isolated¹¹ for so long, learned about the companionship which is possible between people who have tasted complete loneliness. I never again hankered after the tables of the fortunate and the feasts of the blessed. Never again did envy or nostalgia¹² overcome me when I witnessed the collective pleasures of others. And gradually I was initiated¹³ into the secret of those who wear the sign in their faces.

We who wore the sign might justly be considered "odd" by the world; yes, even crazy, and dangerous. We wereaware or in the process of becoming aware and our striving was directed toward achieving a more and more complete state of awareness¹⁴ while the striving of the others was a quest aimed at binding¹⁵ their opinions, ideals, duties, their lives and fortunes more and more closely to those of the herd¹⁶. There, too, was striving, there, too, were power and greatness. But whereas we, who were marked, believed that we represented the will of Nature to something new, to the individualism of the future, the others sought to perpetuate¹⁷ the status quo. Humanity -- which they loved as we did -- was for them something complete that must be maintained and protected. For us, humanity was a distant goal toward which all men were moving, whose image no one knew, whose laws were nowhere written down.

Apart from Frau Eva, Max, and myself, various other seekers were more or less closely attached to the circle. Quite a few had set out on very individual paths, had set themselves quite unusual goals, and clung to specific ideas and duties. They included astrologers and cabalists, also a disciple¹⁸ of Count Tolstoi, and all kinds of delicate, shy, and vulnerable creatures, followers¹⁹ of new sects²⁰, devotees of Indian asceticism²¹, vegetarians²², and so forth²³. We actually had no mental bonds in common save the respect which each one accorded the ideals of the other. Those with whom we felt a close kinship were concerned with mankind's past search for gods and ideals -- their studies often reminded me of Pistorius. They brought books with them, translated aloud texts in ancient languages, showed us illustrations of ancient symbols and rites²⁴ and taught us to see how humanity's entire store of ideals so far consisted of dreams that had emanated²⁵ from the unconscious, of dreams in which humanity groped after its intimations of future potentialities. Thus we became acquainted with the wonderful thousand-headed tangle²⁶ of gods from prehistory to the dawn of the Christian²⁷ conversion²⁸. We heard the creeds²⁹ of solitary³⁰ holy men, of the transformations³¹ religions undergo in their migrations³² from one people to another. Thus, from everything we collected in this manner, we gained a critical understanding of our time and of contemporary Europe: with prodigious³³ efforts mighty³⁴ new weapons had been created for mankind but the end was flagrant, deep desolation of the spirit. Europe had conquered the whole world only to lose her own soul.

Our circle also included believers, adherents³⁵ of certain hopes and healing faiths. There were Buddhists³⁶ who sought to convert Europe, a disciple of Tolstoi who preached nonresistance to evil, as well as other sects. We in the inner circle listened but accepted none of these teachings as anything but metaphors³⁸. We, who bore the mark, felt no anxiety about the shape the future was to take. All of these faiths and teachings seemed to us already dead and useless. The only duty and destiny we acknowledged was that each one of us should become so completely himself, so utterly³⁹ faithful to the active seed which Nature planted within him, that in living out its growth he could be surprised by nothing unknown to come.

Although we might not have been able to express it, we all felt distinctly that a new birth amid the collapse⁴⁰ of this present world was imminent⁴¹, already discernible. Demian often said to me: "What will come is beyond imagining. The soul of Europe is a beast that has lain fettered⁴² for an infinitely⁴³ long time. And when it's free, its first movements won't be the gentlest. But the means are unimportant if only the real needs of the soul -- which has for so long been repeatedly stunted⁴⁴ and anesthetized -- come to light. Then our day will come, then we will be needed. Not as leaders and lawgivers -- we won't be there to see the new laws -- but rather as those who are willing, as men who are ready to go forth and stand prepared wherever fate may need them. Look, all men are prepared to accomplish the incredibleif their ideals are threatened. But no one is ready when a new ideal, a new and perhaps dangerous and ominous⁴⁵ impulse, makes itself felt. The few who will be ready at that time and who will go forth -- will be us. That is why we are marked -- as Cain was -- to arouse fear and hatred⁴⁶ and drive men out of a confining idyl into more dangerous reaches. All men who have had an effect on the course of human history, all of them without exception, were capable and effective only because they were ready to accept the inevitable⁴⁷. It is true of Moses and Buddha⁴⁸, of Napoleon and Bismarck. What particular movement one serves and what pole one is directed from are matters outside one's own choice. If Bismarck had understood the Social Democrats⁴⁹ and compromised with them he would have merely been shrewd but no man of destiny. The same applies to Napoleon, Caesar, Loyola, all men of that species in fact. Always, you must think of these things in evolutionary⁵⁰, in historical terms! When the upheavals⁵¹ of the earth's surface flung the creatures of the sea onto the land and the land creatures into the sea, the specimens⁵² of the various orders that were ready to follow their destiny were the ones that accomplished⁵³ the new and unprecedented⁵⁴; by making new biological adjustments they were able to save their species from destruction. We do not know whether these were the same specimens that had previously⁵⁵ distinguished⁵⁶ themselves among their fellows as conservative, upholders of the status quo, or rather as eccentrics, revolutionaries; but we do know they were ready, and could therefore lead their species into new phases of evolution. That is why we want to beready ."

Frau Eva was often present during these conversations yet she did not participate in quite the same manner. She was a listener, full of trust and understanding, an echo for each one of us who explained his thoughts. It seemed as though all thinking emanated from her and in the end went back to her. My happiness consisted in sitting near her, hearing her voice occasionally and sharing the rich, soulful atmosphere surrounding her.

She was immediately aware of any change, any unhappiness or new development within me. It even seemed to me that my dreams at night were inspired by her. I would often recount them to her and she found them comprehensible and natural; there was no unusual turn in them that she could not follow. For a time my dreams repeated patterns of our daytime conversations. I dreamed that the whole world was in turmoil⁵⁸ and that by myself, or with Demian, I was tensely waiting for the great moment. The face of fate remained obscured but somehow bore the features of Frau Eva: to be chosen or spurned⁵⁹ by her, that was fate.

Sometimes she would say with a smile: "Your dream is incomplete, Sinclair. You've left out the best part." And then I would remember the part I had left out and not understand how I could have forgotten it.

At times I was dissatisfied with myself and tortured with desire: I believed I could no longer bear to have her near me without taking her in my arms. She sensed this, too, at once. Once when I had stayed away for several days and returned bewildered she took me aside and said: "You must not give way to desires which you don't believe in. I know what you desire. You should, however, either be capable of renouncing⁶⁰ these desires or feel wholly justified⁶¹ in having them. Once you are able to make your request in such a way that you will be quite certain of its fulfillment, then the fulfillment will come. But at present you alternate between desire and renunciation and are afraid all the time. All that must be overcome. Let me tell you a story."

And she told me about a youth who had fallen in love with a planet. He stood by the sea, stretched out his arms and prayed to the planet, dreamed of it, and directed all his thoughts to it. But he knew, or felt he knew, that a star cannot be embraced by a human being. He considered it to be his fate to love a heavenly body without any hope of fulfillment and out of this insight he constructed an entire philosophy of renunciation and silent, faithful suffering that would improve and purify him. Yet all his dreams reached the planet. Once he stood again on the high cliff at night by the sea and gazed at the planet and burned with love for it. And at the height of his longing⁶² he leaped into the emptiness toward the planet, but at the instant of leaping "it's impossible" flashed once more through his mind. There he lay on the shore, shattered. He had not understood how to love. If at the instant of leaping he had had the strength of faith in the fulfillment of his love he would have soared into the heights and been united with the star.

"Love must not entreat," she added, "or demand. Love must have the strength to become certain within itself. Then it ceases merely to be attracted and begins to attract. Sinclair, your love is attracted to me. Once it begins to attract me, I will come. I will not make a gift of myself, I must be won."

Another time she told me a different story, concerning a lover whose love was unrequited. He withdrew completely within himself, believing his love would consume him. The world became lost to him, he no longer noticed blue sky and green woods, he no longer heard the brook⁶³ murmur⁶⁴; his ears had turned deaf to the notes of the harp⁶⁵: nothing mattered any more; he had become poor and wretched. Yet his love increased and he would rather have died or been ruined than renounce⁶⁶ possessing this beautiful woman. Then he felt that his passion had consumed everything else within him and become so strong, so magnetic that the beautiful woman must follow. She came to him and he stood with outstretched arms ready to draw her to him. As she stood before him she was completely transformed and with awe⁶⁷ he felt and saw that he had won back all he had previously lost. She stood before him and surrendered herself to him and sky, forest, and brook all came toward him in new and resplendent colors, belonged to him, and spoke⁶⁸ to him in his own language. And instead of merely winning a woman he embraced the entire world and every star in heaven glowed within him and sparkled with joy in his soul. He had loved and had found himself. But most people love to lose themselves.

My love for Frau Eva seemed to fill my whole life. But every day it manifested itself differently. Sometimes I felt certain that it was not she as a person whom I was attracted to and yearned⁶⁹ for with all my being, but that she existed only as a metaphor³⁷ of my inner self, a metaphor whose sole purpose was to lead me more deeply into myself. Things she said often sounded like replies from my subconscious⁷⁰ to questions that tormented⁷¹ me. There were other moments when I sat beside her and burned with sensual desire and kissed objects she had touched. And little by little, sensual and spiritual love, reality and symbol began to overlap⁷². Then it would happen that as I thought about her in my room at home in tranquil⁷³ intimacy⁷⁴ I felt her hand in mine and her lips touching⁷⁵ my lips. Or I would be at her house, would look into her face and hear her voice, yet not know whether she was real or a dream. I began to sense how one can possess a love constantly and eternally. I would have an insight while reading a book -- and this would feel the same as Eva's kiss. She caressed⁷⁶ my hair and smiled at me affectionately and this felt like taking a step forward within myself. Everything significant and full of fate for me adopted her form. She could transform herself into any of my thoughts and each of my thoughts could be transformed into her.

I had been apprehensive⁷⁷ about the Christmas vacation -- to be spent at my parents' house -- because I thought it would be agony to be away from Frau Eva for two whole weeks. But it did not turn out like that. It was wonderful to be at home and yet be able to think of her. When I arrived back in H. I waited two more days before going to see her, so as to savor⁷⁸ this security, this being independent of her physical presence. I had dreams, too, in which my union with her was consummated⁷⁹ in new symbolic⁸⁰ acts. She was an ocean into which I streamed. She was a star and I another on my way to her, circling round each other. I told her this dream when I first visited her again.

'The dream is beautiful," she said quietly. "Make it come true."

There came a day in early spring that I have never forgotten. I entered the hallway, a window was open and a stream of air let in the heavy fragrance⁸¹ of the hyacinths. As no one was about, I went upstairs to Max Demian's study. I tapped lightly on the door and, as was my custom, went in without waiting for a reply.

The room was dark, all the curtains were drawn⁸². The door to the small adjoining room stood open. There Max had set up a chemical laboratory. That's where the only light came from. I thought no one was in and drew back one of the curtains.

Then I saw Max slumped⁸³ on a stool by the curtained window, looking oddly changed, and it flashed through me: You've seen this before! His arms hung limp, hands in his lap, his head bent⁸⁴ slightly forward, and his eyes, though open, were unseeing and dead; in one of his pupils as in a piece of glass a thin, harsh ray of light snapped the lens open and shut, open and shut. The wan⁵⁷ face was absorbed in itself and without expression, except for its immense rigidity⁸⁵; he resembled an age-old animal mask at the portal of a temple. He did not seem to breathe.

Overcome by dread⁸⁶ I quietly left the room and walked downstairs. In the hallway I met Frau Eva, pale and seemingly tired, which I had never known her to be before. Just then a shadow passed over the window, the white glare of the sun suddenly fled.

"I was in Max's room," I whispered rapidly. "Has something happened? He's either asleep or lost within himself, I don't know which; I saw him look like that once before."

"You didn't wake him, did you?" she quickly asked.

"No. He didn't hear me. I left the room immediately. Tell me, what is the matter with him?"

She swept the back of her hand once across her brow.

"Don't worry, Sinclair, nothing will happen to him. He has withdrawn⁸⁷. It will soon pass."

She stood up and went out into the garden -- although it was beginning to rain. I felt that she did not want me to accompany her and so I walked up and down the hallway, inhaled⁸⁸ the bewildering scent⁸⁹ of the hyacinths, stared at my bird picture above the doorway⁹⁰, and breathed the stifling⁹¹ atmosphere that filled the house that morning. What was it? What had happened?

Frau Eva returned before long. Raindrops clung to her black hair. She sat down in her armchair. She seemed weary. I stepped up to her, bent over her head, and kissed the rain out of her hair. Her eyes were bright and calm but the raindrops tasted like tears.

"Should I go and see how he is?" I asked in a whisper.

She smiled weakly.

"Don't be a little boy, Sinclair!" she admonished⁹² me, loudly as though trying to break a spell within herself. "Get along now and come back later. I can't talk to you now."

I half walked, half ran from the house and the town, toward the mountains. The fine rain slanted⁹³ into my face, low clouds swept by as though weighed down with fear. Near the ground there was hardly a breath of air but in the higher altitudes a storm seemed to rage. Several times the lurid⁹⁴ sun broke briefly⁹⁵ through harsh rifts⁹⁶ in the steel-gray clouds.

Then a loose, yellow cloud swept across the sky, collided with the other, gray bank of cloud. In a few seconds the wind had fashioned a shape out of this yellow and blue-gray mass, a gigantic bird that tore itself free of the steel-blue chaos⁹⁷ and flew off into the sky with a great beating of wings. Then the storm became audible and rain rattled⁹⁸ down mixed with hail. A brief, incredible, terrifying roar of thunder cracked across the rain-lashed landscape and immediately afterwards a gleam of sunshine burst through. On the nearby mountains the pale snow shone livid and unreal above the brown forest.

When, hours later, I returned wet and wind-blown, Demian himself opened the door.

He took me up to his room. A gas jet was burning in his laboratory and papers were strewn about the floor. He had evidently been working.

"Sit down," he invited, "you must be exhausted⁹⁹, it was horrible weather. One can see that you really were outside. There'll be tea in a moment."

"Something is the matter today," I began hesitantly. "It can't only be a

thunderstorm."

He looked at me inquiringly.

"Did you see something?"

"Yes. I saw a picture in the clouds, quite clearly for a moment."

"What kind of picture?"

"It was a bird."

"The sparrow hawk¹⁰⁰? Your dream bird?"

"Yes, it was my sparrow hawk. It was yellow and gigantic and it flew off into the

blue-black clouds."

Demian heaved a great sigh.

There was a knock on the door. The old servant brought in the tea.

"Help yourself, Sinclair, please. I don't believe you saw the bird just by chance."

"By chance? Does one get to see such things by chance?"

"Quite right. No, one doesn't. The bird has a significance. Do you know what?"

"No. I only feel that it signifies some shattering event, a move on the part of destiny.

I believe that it concerns all of us."

He was pacing excitedly back and forth.

"A move on the part of destiny!" he shouted. "I dreamed the same kind of thing last night and my mother had a presentiment¹⁰¹ yesterday which conveyed the same message. I dreamed I was climbing up a ladder placed against a tree trunk or tower. When I reached the top I saw the whole landscape ablaze¹⁰² -- a vast plain with innumerable towns and villages. I can't tell you the whole dream yet, everything is still somewhat confused."

"Do you feel that the dream concerns you personally?"

"Of course. No one dreams anything that doesn't 'concern him personally.' But it doesn't concern me only, you're right. I differentiate¹⁰³ quite sharply between dreams that reveal movements within my own soul and the other, far rarer dreams in which the fate of all mankind suggests itself. I have rarely had such dreams and never before one of which I could say that it was a prophecy which was fulfilled. The interpretations¹⁰⁴ are too uncertain. But I know for sure that I have dreamed something that doesn't concern me alone. For this dream links up with others, previous dreams I have had, to which it is a sequel. These are the dreams, Sinclair, which fill me with the forebodings I've spoken of to you. We both know that the world is quite rotten but that wouldn't be any reason to predict its imminent collapse or something of the kind. But for several years I have had dreams from which I conclude, or which make me feel, that the collapse of an old world is indeed Imminent. At first these were weak and remote intimations but they have become increasingly stronger and more distinct. I still know nothing except thatsomething is going to happen on a vast scale, something dreadful in which I myself will be involved. Sinclair, we will take part in this event that we have discussed so often. The world wants to renew itself. There's a smell of death in the air. Nothing can be born without first dying. But it is far more terrible than I had thought."

I stared at him aghast.

"Can't you tell me the rest of your dream?" I asked shyly.

He shook his head.

"No."

The door opened to let in Frau Eva.

"You're not feeling sad, I hope."

She looked refreshed, all trace of fatigue¹⁰⁵ had vanished. Demian smiled at her and she came up to us as a mother approaches frightened children.

"No, we are not sad, mother. We've merely tried to puzzle out these new omens¹⁰⁶. But it's no use anyway. Whatever happens will suddenly be here; then we shall learn soon enough what we need to know."

But I felt dispirited, and when I took my leave and walked alone through the hallway, the stale scent of the hyacinths seemed cadaverous. A shadow had fallen over us.

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