With the Childlike People

by Hermann Hesse

　　Siddhartha went to Kamaswami the merchant, he was directed into a richhouse, servants led him between precious carpets into a chamber, wherehe awaited the master of the house.Kamaswami entered, a swiftly, smoothly moving man with very gray hair,with very intelligent, cautious eyes, with a greedy mouth. Politely,the host and the guest greeted one another."I have been told," the merchant began, "that you were a Brahman, alearned man, but that you seek to be in the service of a merchant.Might you have become destitute, Brahman, so that you seek to serve?""No," said Siddhartha, "I have not become destitute and have never beendestitute. You should know that I'm coming from the Samanas, withwhom I have lived for a long time.""If you're coming from the Samanas, how could you be anything butdestitute? Aren't the Samanas entirely without possessions?""I am without possessions," said Siddhartha, "if this is what you mean.Surely, I am without possessions. But I am so voluntarily, andtherefore I am not destitute.""But what are you planning to live of, being without possessions?""I haven't thought of this yet, sir. For more than three years, I havebeen without possessions, and have never thought about of what I shouldlive.""So you've lived of the possessions of others.""Presumable this is how it is. After all, a merchant also lives ofwhat other people own.""Well said. But he wouldn't take anything from another person fornothing; he would give his merchandise in return.""So it seems to be indeed. Everyone takes, everyone gives, such islife.""But if you don't mind me asking: being without possessions, what wouldyou like to give?""Everyone gives what he has. The warrior gives strength, the merchantgives merchandise, the teacher teachings, the farmer rice, the fisherfish.""Yes indeed. And what is it now what you've got to give? What is itthat you've learned, what you're able to do?""I can think. I can wait. I can fast.""That's everything?""I believe, that's everything!""And what's the use of that? For example, the fasting-- what is itgood for?""It is very good, sir. When a person has nothing to eat, fasting is thesmartest thing he could do. When, for example, Siddhartha hadn'tlearned to fast, he would have to accept any kind of service before thisday is up, whether it may be with you or wherever, because hunger wouldforce him to do so. But like this, Siddhartha can wait calmly, he knowsno impatience, he knows no emergency, for a long time he can allowhunger to besiege him and can laugh about it. This, sir, is whatfasting is good for.""You're right, Samana. Wait for a moment."Kamaswami left the room and returned with a scroll, which he handed tohis guest while asking: "Can you read this?"Siddhartha looked at the scroll, on which a sales-contract had beenwritten down, and began to read out its contents."Excellent," said Kamaswami. "And would you write something for me onthis piece of paper?"He handed him a piece of paper and a pen, and Siddhartha wrote andreturned the paper.Kamaswami read: "Writing is good, thinking is better. Being smart isgood, being patient is better.""It is excellent how you're able to write," the merchant praised him."Many a thing we will still have to discuss with one another. Fortoday, I'm asking you to be my guest and to live in this house."Siddhartha thanked and accepted, and lived in the dealers house from nowon. Clothes were brought to him, and shoes, and every day, a servantprepared a bath for him. Twice a day, a plentiful meal was served, butSiddhartha only ate once a day, and ate neither meat nor did he drinkwine. Kamaswami told him about his trade, showed him the merchandiseand storage-rooms, showed him calculations. Siddhartha got to knowmany new things, he heard a lot and spoke little. And thinking ofKamala's words, he was never subservient to the merchant, forced himto treat him as an equal, yes even more than an equal. Kamaswamiconducted his business with care and often with passion, but Siddharthalooked upon all of this as if it was a game, the rules of which hetried hard to learn precisely, but the contents of which did not touchhis heart.He was not in Kamaswami's house for long, when he already took part inhis landlords business. But daily, at the hour appointed by her, hevisited beautiful Kamala, wearing pretty clothes, fine shoes, and soonhe brought her gifts as well. Much he learned from her red, smartmouth. Much he learned from her tender, supple hand. Him, who was,regarding love, still a boy and had a tendency to plunge blindly andinsatiably into lust like into a bottomless pit, him she taught,thoroughly starting with the basics, about that school of thought whichteaches that pleasure cannot be be taken without giving pleasure, andthat every gesture, every caress, every touch, every look, every spotof the body, however small it was, had its secret, which would bringhappiness to those who know about it and unleash it. She taught him,that lovers must not part from one another after celebrating love,without one admiring the other, without being just as defeated as theyhave been victorious, so that with none of them should start feelingfed up or bored and get that evil feeling of having abused or havingbeen abused. Wonderful hours he spent with the beautiful and smartartist, became her student, her lover, her friend. Here with Kamalawas the worth and purpose of his present life, nit with the businessof Kamaswami.The merchant passed to duties of writing important letters and contractson to him and got into the habit of discussing all important affairswith him. He soon saw that Siddhartha knew little about rice and wool,shipping and trade, but that he acted in a fortunate manner, and thatSiddhartha surpassed him, the merchant, in calmness and equanimity, andin the art of listening and deeply understanding previously unknownpeople. "This Brahman," he said to a friend, "is no proper merchant andwill never be one, there is never any passion in his soul when heconducts our business. But he has that mysterious quality of thosepeople to whom success comes all by itself, whether this may be a goodstar of his birth, magic, or something he has learned among Samanas.He always seems to be merely playing with out business-affairs, theynever fully become a part of him, they never rule over him, he is neverafraid of failure, he is never upset by a loss."The friend advised the merchant: "Give him from the business heconducts for you a third of the profits, but let him also be liable forthe same amount of the losses, when there is a loss. Then, he'll becomemore zealous."Kamaswami followed the advice. But Siddhartha cared little about this.When he made a profit, he accepted it with equanimity; when he madelosses, he laughed and said: "Well, look at this, so this one turnedout badly!"It seemed indeed, as if he did not care about the business. At onetime, he travelled to a village to buy a large harvest of rice there.But when he got there, the rice had already been sold to anothermerchant. Nevertheless, Siddhartha stayed for several days in thatvillage, treated the farmers for a drink, gave copper-coins to theirchildren, joined in the celebration of a wedding, and returned extremelysatisfied from his trip. Kamaswami held against him that he had notturned back right away, that he had wasted time and money. Siddharthaanswered: "Stop scolding, dear friend! Nothing was ever achieved byscolding. If a loss has occurred, let me bear that loss. I am verysatisfied with this trip. I have gotten to know many kinds of people,a Brahman has become my friend, children have sat on my knees, farmershave shown me their fields, nobody knew that I was a merchant.""That's all very nice," exclaimed Kamaswami indignantly, "but in fact,you are a merchant after all, one ought to think! Or might you haveonly travelled for your amusement?""Surely," Siddhartha laughed, "surely I have travelled for my amusement.For what else? I have gotten to know people and places, I have receivedkindness and trust, I have found friendship. Look, my dear, if I hadbeen Kamaswami, I would have travelled back, being annoyed and in ahurry, as soon as I had seen that my purchase had been renderedimpossible, and time and money would indeed have been lost. But likethis, I've had a few good days, I've learned, had joy, I've neitherharmed myself nor others by annoyance and hastiness. And if I'll everreturn there again, perhaps to buy an upcoming harvest, or for whateverpurpose it might be, friendly people will receive me in a friendly andhappy manner, and I will praise myself for not showing any hurry anddispleasure at that time. So, leave it as it is, my friend, and don'tharm yourself by scolding! If the day will come, when you will see:this Siddhartha is harming me, then speak a word and Siddhartha will goon his own path. But until then, let's be satisfied with one another."Futile were also the merchant's attempts, to convince Siddhartha that heshould eat his bread. Siddhartha ate his own bread, or rather they bothate other people's bread, all people's bread. Siddhartha never listenedto Kamaswami's worries and Kamaswami had many worries. Whether therewas a business-deal going on which was in danger of failing, or whethera shipment of merchandise seemed to have been lost, or a debtor seemedto be unable to pay, Kamaswami could never convince his partner that itwould be useful to utter a few words of worry or anger, to have wrinkleson the forehead, to sleep badly. When, one day, Kamaswami held againsthim that he had learned everything he knew from him, he replied: "Wouldyou please not kid me with such jokes! What I've learned from you ishow much a basket of fish costs and how much interests may be charged onloaned money. These are your areas of expertise. I haven't learned tothink from you, my dear Kamaswami, you ought to be the one seeking tolearn from me."Indeed his soul was not with the trade. The business was good enoughto provide him with the money for Kamala, and it earned him much morethan he needed. Besides from this, Siddhartha's interest and curiositywas only concerned with the people, whose businesses, crafts, worries,pleasures, and acts of foolishness used to be as alien and distant tohim as the moon. However easily he succeeded in talking to all of them,in living with all of them, in learning from all of them, he was stillaware that there was something which separated him from them and thisseparating factor was him being a Samana. He saw mankind going troughlife in a childlike or animallike manner, which he loved and alsodespised at the same time. He saw them toiling, saw them suffering,and becoming gray for the sake of things which seemed to him to entirelyunworthy of this price, for money, for little pleasures, for beingslightly honoured, he saw them scolding and insulting each other, hesaw them complaining about pain at which a Samana would only smile, andsuffering because of deprivations which a Samana would not feel.He was open to everything, these people brought his way. Welcome wasthe merchant who offered him linen for sale, welcome was the debtor whosought another loan, welcome was the beggar who told him for one hourthe story of his poverty and who was not half as poor as any givenSamana. He did not treat the rich foreign merchant any different thanthe servant who shaved him and the street-vendor whom he let cheat himout of some small change when buying bananas. When Kamaswami came tohim, to complain about his worries or to reproach him concerning hisbusiness, he listened curiously and happily, was puzzled by him, triedto understand him, consented that he was a little bit right, only asmuch as he considered indispensable, and turned away from him, towardsthe next person who would ask for him. And there were many who came tohim, many to do business with him, many to cheat him, many to draw somesecret out of him, many to appeal to his sympathy, many to get hisadvice. He gave advice, he pitied, he made gifts, he let them cheat hima bit, and this entire game and the passion with which all people playedthis game occupied his thoughts just as much as the gods and Brahmansused to occupy them.At times he felt, deep in his chest, a dying, quiet voice, whichadmonished him quietly, lamented quietly; he hardly perceived it. Andthen, for an hour, he became aware of the strange life he was leading,of him doing lots of things which were only a game, of, though beinghappy and feeling joy at times, real life still passing him by and nottouching him. As a ball-player plays with his balls, he played withhis business-deals, with the people around him, watched them, foundamusement in them; with his heart, with the source of his being, he wasnot with them. The source ran somewhere, far away from him, ran andran invisibly, had nothing to do with his life any more. And at severaltimes he suddenly became scared on account of such thoughts and wishedthat he would also be gifted with the ability to participate in all ofthis childlike-naive occupations of the daytime with passion and withhis heart, really to live, really to act, really to enjoy and to liveinstead of just standing by as a spectator. But again and again, hecame back to beautiful Kamala, learned the art of love, practised thecult of lust, in which more than in anything else giving and takingbecomes one, chatted with her, learned from her, gave her advice,received advice. She understood him better than Govinda used tounderstand him, she was more similar to him.Once, he said to her: "You are like me, you are different from mostpeople. You are Kamala, nothing else, and inside of you, there is apeace and refuge, to which you can go at every hour of the day and beat home at yourself, as I can also do. Few people have this, and yetall could have it.""Not all people are smart," said Kamala."No," said Siddhartha, "that's not the reason why. Kamaswami is just assmart as I, and still has no refuge in himself. Others have it, who aresmall children with respect to their mind. Most people, Kamala, arelike a falling leaf, which is blown and is turning around through theair, and wavers, and tumbles to the ground. But others, a few, arelike stars, they go on a fixed course, no wind reaches them, inthemselves they have their law and their course. Among all the learnedmen and Samanas, of which I knew many, there was one of this kind, aperfected one, I'll never be able to forget him. It is that Gotama,the exalted one, who is spreading that teachings. Thousands offollowers are listening to his teachings every day, follow hisinstructions every hour, but they are all falling leaves, not inthemselves they have teachings and a law."Kamala looked at him with a smile. "Again, you're talking about him,"she said, "again, you're having a Samana's thoughts."Siddhartha said nothing, and they played the game of love, one of thethirty or forty different games Kamala knew. Her body was flexiblelike that of a jaguar and like the bow of a hunter; he who had learnedfrom her how to make love, was knowledgeable of many forms of lust, manysecrets. For a long time, she played with Siddhartha, enticed him,rejected him, forced him, embraced him: enjoyed his masterful skills,until he was defeated and rested exhausted by her side.The courtesan bent over him, took a long look at his face, at his eyes,which had grown tired."You are the best lover," she said thoughtfully, "I ever saw. You'restronger than others, more supple, more willing. You've learned my artwell, Siddhartha. At some time, when I'll be older, I'd want to bearyour child. And yet, my dear, you've remained a Samana, and yet youdo not love me, you love nobody. Isn't it so?""It might very well be so," Siddhartha said tiredly. "I am like you.You also do not love--how else could you practise love as a craft?Perhaps, people of our kind can't love. The childlike people can;that's their secret."