Narcissus and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse Read Free Book Online Page A

or by his bearing. To put it plainly: you learned men are arrogant, you always think everybody else stupid. One can be extremely intelligent without learning.”
    Narcissus: “I am glad that you’re beginning to realize that. You’ll soon realize, too, that I don’t mean intelligence when I speak of the difference between us. I do not say, you are more intelligent, or less intelligent; better or worse. I merely say, you are different.”
    Goldmund: “That’s easy enough to understand. But you don’t speak only of our difference in character; you often speak also of the differences in fate, in destiny. Why, for instance, should your destiny be different from mine? We are both Christians, we are both resolved to lead the life of the cloister, we are both children of our good Father in heaven. Our goal is the same: eternal bliss. Our destiny is the same: the return to God.”
    Narcissus: “Very good. True, in the view of dogma, one man is exactly like another, but not in life. Take Our Saviour’s favorite disciple, John, on whose breast he rested his head, and that other disciple who betrayed him—you hardly can say that they had the same destiny.”
    Goldmund: “Narcissus, you are a sophist. We’ll never come together on that kind of road.”
    Narcissus: “No road will bring us together.”
    Goldmund: “Don’t speak like that.”
    Narcissus: “I’m serious. We are not meant to come together, not any more than sun and moon were meant to come together, or sea and land. We are sun and moon, dear friend; we are sea and land. It is not our purpose to become each other; it is to recognize each other, to learn to see the other and honor him for what he is: each the other’s opposite and complement.”
    Goldmund was perplexed. He bowed his head, and his face was sad.
    Finally he said: “Is that why you so often don’t take my thoughts seriously?”
    Narcissus hesitated before he answered. His voice was clear and hard when he said: “Yes, that is why. I take only you seriously, dear Goldmund; you’ll have to get used to that. Believe me, there isn’t an intonation in your voice, not a gesture, not a smile that I don’t take seriously. But your thoughts I take less seriously. I take seriously all that I find essential and necessary in you. Why do you want particular attention paid to your thoughts, when you have so many other gifts?”
    Goldmund smiled bitterly: “You’ve always considered me a child; I’ve said it before.”
    Narcissus remained firm: “Part of your thought I consider a child’s thought. Remember what we said earlier: an intelligent child need not be less intelligent than a learned scholar. But when the child wants to assert its opinion in matters of learning, then the scholar doesn’t take it seriously.”
    Goldmund said with violence: “You smile at me even when we don’t discuss matters of learning! For instance, you always act as though all my piety, my efforts to advance my studies, my desire to become a monk were so many childish fantasies.”
    Narcissus looked at him gravely: “I take you seriously when you are Goldmund. But you’re not always Goldmund. I wish nothing more than to see you become Goldmund through and through. You are not a scholar, you are not a monk—scholars and monks can have a coarser grain. You think you’re not learned or logical or pious enough for me. On the contrary, you are not enough yourself.”
    Perplexed and even hurt, Goldmund had withdrawn after this conversation. And yet a few days later he himself wished to hear more. And this time Narcissus was able to give Goldmund a picture of their different natures that he found more acceptable.
    Narcissus had talked himself into a fever; he felt that Goldmund was accepting his words more openly and willingly, that he had power over him. His success made him