Demian
of the merry. I no longer felt envious or homesick when I saw others
living in community. And slowly I was initiated into the mystery of
those who bore “the sign.”
We, who bore the sign, were probably justly considered by the world
as peculiar--yes, mad even, and dangerous. For we were awake, or were
waking, and our endeavor was to be more and more completely awake,
whereas the others strove to be happy, attaching themselves to the
herd, the opinions and ideals of which they made their own, taking
up the same duties, making their life and happiness depend on common
interests. True, there was a certain greatness, a vigorousness, in
their endeavor. But whereas, from our point of view, we who bore the
sign carried out the will of nature as individuals and as men of the
future, the others persisted in a stubbornness which hindered all
progress. For them mankind, which they loved just as we did--was
something already complete, which must be maintained and protected. For
us mankind was a distant future, to which we were all on the way. No
one could image this future, neither did its laws stand written in any
book.
Besides Mother Eve, Max and myself, there belonged to our circle in
a greater or lesser degree of intimacy many seekers of very various
sorts. Many of them were going along their own special paths, had set
up special aims and adhered to special opinions and duties. Amongst
these were astrologers and cabbalists, also an adherent of Count
Tolstoy, and all kinds of tender, timid, sensitive people, followers of
new sects, men who practised Indian cults, vegetarians and others. With
all these we had really nothing of a spiritual nature in common, except
the esteem which each accorded the secret life-dream of the other.
Some were in closer contact with us, such as those who traced the
searchings of mankind after gods and new ideals in the past, and whose
studies often reminded me of my friend Pistorius. They brought books
with them, translated for us texts from ancient tongues and showed us
illustrations of ancient symbols and rites. They taught us to see how
all the ideals of mankind up to the present have their origin in dreams
of the subconscious soul, dreams in which humanity is, as it were,
feeling its way forward into the future, guided by premonitions of the
future’s potentialities. So we went through the religious history of
the ancient world with its thousand gods, to the dawn of Christianity.
The confessions of the isolated saints were known to us, and the
changes of religion from race to race. And from all the knowledge
we thus acquired resulted a criticism of our era and of present-day
Europe, of this continent which through enormous exertions had created
powerful new weapons for humanity, only to fall finally into a deep
spiritual devastation, the effects of which were at last being felt.
For it had gained the whole world, only to lose its own soul.
There were with us believers as well, advocates of doctrines of
salvation, in the efficacy of which they were very hopeful. There were
Buddhists who wished to convert Europe, and disciples of Tolstoy, and
of other confessions. We in our narrow circle listened, but accepted
none of these doctrines except as symbols. We who bore the sign had no
cares as regarded the formation of the future. To us every confession,
every doctrine of salvation appeared in advance dead and useless. Our
whole duty, our destiny, was, we felt, to attain to self-realization,
in order that in us nature might find scope for its full activities,
and that the unknown future might find us ready to fill any rôle which
should be allotted us.
Whether we expressed our opinion in so many words or not, it was clear
to all of us that a break-up of the present-day world was approaching,
to be followed by a new birth. Demian said to me on more than one
occasion: “What will come is beyond conception. The soul of Europe
is an animal which has been chained up for an immeasurably long
period. When it is set free, its first movements will not display much
amiability. But the way it will take, whether direct or indirect, is
not of importance, provided that the soul’s true need is realized,
this soul which has been deluded and dulled for so long. Then our day
will come, then we shall be needed, not as guides or new law-givers--we
shall not live to see the new laws--but rather as volunteers, as those
who are ready to follow and to stand wherever fate shall call us. Look,
all men are ready to perform the incredible, when their ideals are
threatened. But no one comes forward when a new ideal, a new, perhaps
dangerous and uncanny impulse of spiritual growth declares itself. We
shall be of those few who are there, ready to go forward. For that
purpose have we been singled out just as Cain was marked with the sign
to inspire fear and hate, to drive the men of his time out of a narrow
idyllic existence into the broad pastures of a greater destiny. All men
whose influence has affected the march of humanity, all such, without
differentiation, owe their capabilities and their efficacy to the fact
that they were ready to do the bidding of destiny. That applies to
Napoleon and Bismarck. The immediate purpose to which they direct their
energies does not lie within their choice. If Bismarck had understood
the social democrats and had thrown in his lot with them, he would have
been a prudent fellow, but he would never have been the instrument of
fate. The same applies to Napoleon, to Caesar, to Loyola, to all of
them! One must always look at such things from the point of view of
biology and evolution! When the changes which took place in the earth’s
surface transferred to the land animals which lived in water, and vice
versa, then those specimens which were ready to fulfill their functions
as instruments of fate, brought new and unheard-of things to pass and
were able, through new adaptations, to save their kind. Whether these
specimens were the same that had previously been conservatives and
preservers of the status quo or the eccentrics and revolutionaries, is
not known. They were ready to be used by fate, and for that reason were
able to help their race through a new stage of evolution. That we do
know. For that reason we want to be ready.”
Mother Eve was often present when such conversations took place, but
she did not join in. For each of us who chose to express his thoughts
she was as it were a listener and an echo, full of confidence, full
of understanding. It appeared as if our ideas all emanated from her
and returned to her again. My happiness consisted in sitting near her,
in hearing her voice from time to time, and in participating in that
atmosphere of maturity and of the soul, which surrounded her.
She felt immediately when a change was taking place in me, when my soul
was troubled, or when a renewal was in progress. It seemed to me as if
the dreams I had in my sleep were inspired by her. I often related
them to her. She found them quite comprehensible and natural, there
were no peculiarities which she could not follow clearly. For a time
I had dreams which were like reproductions of the day’s conversation.
I dreamed that the whole world was in revolt, and that I, alone or
with Demian, tensely waited the signal of fate. Fate remained half
concealed, but bore somehow or other the traits of Mother Eve--to be
chosen or rejected by her, that was fate.
Sometimes she said with a smile: “Your dream is not complete, Sinclair,
you have forgotten the best part”--and it sometimes happened that I
recalled it then, and I could not understand how I had come to forget
any of it.
At times I was discontented and was tormented by desire, I thought I
could not bear to see her near me any longer without taking her in my
arms. She noticed that immediately. Once, when I had stayed away for
several days and had returned distraught, she took me aside and said:
“You should not give yourself up to wishes in which you do not believe,
I know what you wish. You must give up these desires, or else surrender
yourself to them completely. If one day you are able to ask, convinced
that your wishes will be fulfilled, then you will find satisfaction.
But you wish, and repent again, and are afraid. You must overcome all
that. I will tell you a fairy-tale.”
And she told me of a youth who was in love with a star. He stood on the
sea-shore, stretched out his hands, and prayed to the star. He dreamed
of it and all his thoughts were of it. But he knew, or thought he
knew, that a star could not be embraced by a man. He held it to be his
fate to love a star without hope of fulfillment, and he created from
this thought a whole life-poem about renunciation, and mute, faithful
suffering which should better him and purify him. But his dreams all
went up to the star. Once again he stood at night by the sea-shore,
on a high cliff. He gazed at the star, and his love for it flamed up
within him. And in a moment of great longing he made a spring, throwing
himself into space to meet the star. But at the moment of leaping,
the thought flashed through his mind: it is impossible! And so he was
dashed to pieces on the rocks below. He did not know how to love. Had
he had the strength of soul, at the moment of leaping, to believe in
the fulfillment of his wish, he would have flown up and have been
united with the star.
“Love must not beg,” she said, “nor demand either. Love must have the
force to be absolutely certain of itself. Then it is attracted no
longer, but attracts. Sinclair, I am attracting your love. As soon as
you attract my love, I shall come. I do not want to make a present of
myself. I want to be won.”
On a later occasion she told me another fairy-story. There was a lover,
who loved without hope of success. He withdrew entirely into himself
and thought his love would consume him. The world was lost to him, he
saw the blue sky and the green wood no longer, he did not hear the
murmuring of the stream, or the notes of the harp; all that meant
nothing to him, and he became poor and miserable. But his love grew,
and he would much rather have died and have made an end of it all than
renounce the chance of possessing the beautiful woman whom he loved.
Then he suddenly felt that his love had consumed everything else in
him, it became powerful and exercised an irresistible attraction, the
beautiful woman had to follow, she came and he stood with outstretched
arms to draw her to him. But as she stood before him, she was
completely transformed, and with a thrill he felt and saw that he had
drawn into his embrace the whole world, which he had lost. She stood
before him and surrendered herself to him, sky and wood and brook, all
was decked out in lovely new colors, all belonged to him, and spoke
his tongue. And instead of merely winning a woman, he had taken the
whole world to his heart, and each star in the heaven glowed in him,
and twinkling, communicated desire to his soul. He had loved, and
thereby had found himself. But most people love only to lose themselves
thereby.
My whole life seemed to be contained in my love for Mother Eve. But
every day she looked different. Many times I felt decidedly that it was
not her person for which my whole being was striving, but that she was
a symbol of my inward self, and that she wished only to lead me to see
more deeply into myself. I often heard words fall from her lips, which
sounded like answers to the burning questions asked by my subconscious
self. Then again there were moments when in her presence I burnt with
desire, and afterwards kissed objects she had touched. And by degrees
sensual and unsensual love, reality and symbol merged into one another.
Then it happened that I could think of her at home in my room with