Journey to the East

“The whole of world history often seems to me nothing more than a picture book which portrays humanity’s most powerful and senseless desire—the desire to forget.” 

Much of H.H.’s mysticism and worldview are rooted in the necessity for living in the moment. Ironically, this is at odds with what he calls a “senseless” desire to forget the past. Forgetting would enable one to live only in the moment, making forgetfulness a rational pursuit. But there is a larger comment on the nature of history itself: it is a relentless story of bloodshed and trauma. In this sense, forgetting has the power to heal. 

"The heights to which our deeds rose, the spiritual plane of experience to which they belong might be made proportionately more comprehensible to the reader if I were permitted to disclose to him the essence of the League's secret. But a great deal, perhaps everything, will remain incredible and incomprehensible."

H.H. is earnest in his assessment of his potential shortcomings as a writer, but he also sees himself as impeded by his inability to convey the League’s secret. One must be a member of the League to know the essence of the secret. By the end of the story, the reader has had many revelations along with H.H., but it is never clear whether the League’s ultimate secret has ever been revealed. If it has been revealed however, it would signify that the reader had gained entry to the League and was also on the Journey to the East. 

“‘We cannot aid him. He has made it very difficult for himself to have faith again. I fear that he would not see and recognize us even if we passed closed by; he has become blind.’” 

The young doubting man is released from the vow he made to the League. The Speaker says that he is beyond help for now and implies that he may never have faith again. His potential failure to recognize his erstwhile companions in the future is a foreshadowing of H.H.’s uncertainty when he meets Leo again and Leo does not confirm all versions of his memories. H.H. struggles to have faith as a result of his doubts. His faith is restored once he can see again that the League still exists. 

“Each one of them had his own dream, his wish, his secret heart’s desire, and yet they all flowed together in the same stream and all belonged to each other, shared the same reverence and the same faith, and had made the same vow!”

Although the members of the League all have the same goal—to reach the East, whatever, or whenever it might be—they are all able to pursue their individual goals in the process. The stream in which they flow can be seen as the stream of life, or as consciousness. Each member can make a vow to find what is precious to him and still serve the League, because his goal will ensure that he lives a well-intentioned, focused life. 

“Our goal was not only the East, or rather the East was not only a country and something geographical, but it was the home and youth of the soul, it was everywhere and nowhere, it was the union of all times.” 

Much of the novella has the character of a Zen kōan—a story which incites doubt—and it is possible that Hesse intends to raise more questions for the reader than he wishes to answer. Hesse challenges the reader to infer meaning from the questions, such as how something defined as the geographical location East be everywhere and nowhere; how one can pursue a goal that seems to have no foundation or benchmarks on the journey towards it; and how something can be a home if it cannot be found.

“But however animated and lovable the personalities of these artists were, yet without exception their imaginary characters were more animated, more beautiful, happier, and certainly finer and more real than the poets and creators themselves.”

Poems and sculptures and paintings are presented as more vital and alive than their creators, despite their static nature. Even the imaginary characters are seen as more real than the artists who created them, among whose number Hesse is included as the author of this book. There are suggestions throughout the novel that art is the truest representation of the real self of the artist, and that art is an attempt to express something inexpressible. Art literally saves Lukas’s life, freeing him from suicidal impulses, while also allowing himself to express his experiences in a way that can be meaningful for other people.  

“‘It is just the same with mothers. When they have borne their children and given them their milk and beauty and strength, they themselves become invisible, and no one asks about them any more.’”

Leo compares the situation of a mother to that of an artist who has given everything to a project. Once a piece of art has been brought into the world, it becomes the subject of the viewer’s focus, which is no longer on the artist. An artist may wish to be questioned or flattered, but these are wishes of the ego. Leo maintains that one who seeks master through pure endeavor ends in nothing. 

“‘He who wishes to live long must serve.’”

Leo tells H.H. that artists live on through their art: immortality is granted only to those who produce works that can be appreciated after their creators die. He compares the artist to a mother, and the art to the child which the mother produces. A mother can experience immortality through the passing of her life and genes into her offspring, and the offspring will necessarily become more vital than she as she ages and dwindles. 

“It is a well-known human weakness that a thing at the time we miss it has an exaggerated value and seems less dispensable than the things we have.” 

Before he goes missing, Leo is viewed as a pleasant addition to the group, but no more essential than the other members. After he disappears, each member—according to H.H.—begins to see Leo as their key member. The tasks he performed gain increased importance in his absence, and soon no one can bear the thought of going on without someone of whom they had previously spent little thought on. The author uses the metaphor to signal that people have an innate ability to ignore the value of what they have until they lose it.  

After Capricorn is arrested for driving without a license, Rain explains that mainstream society values rules over common sense. To both Rain and Capricorn, it seems inconceivable that a person would not do everything in their power to save another human being, even if it meant breaking a law. Even though Rain is correct in this situation, she is unable to accept that rules govern civilization, and without them there would be chaos.

H.H. sees the role of a historian as something akin to a scientist. Science requires metrics in order to measure units and create opportunities for experimentation. In similar fashion, a historian requires a cohesive timeline in order to tell a story with a beginning and an end. Hesse uses H.H. and the Journey to the East to question the nature of causality itself and to highlight the possibility that historians create the entire human story.

“Everything becomes questionable as soon as I consider it closely, everything slips away and dissolves.” 

Under scrutiny, much of what H.H. considers factual knowledge evaporates. Even the timeline of his own life is suspect when he studies it too closely. Elsewhere, he refers to the Journey to the East as the most unforgettable, happiest time of his life, and yet clear memories of it elude him when he tries too hard to recreate it in words. Reason relies on study and close consideration, which H.H. will later come to regard with disdain. His situation becomes clearer to him in the final pages in the book when he becomes more of an accepting observer than someone trying to solve a riddle. 

“As far as it is now still possible, I will be mindful of the first principal of our great period, never to rely on and let myself be disconcerted by reason, always to know that faith is stronger than so-called reality.” 

The society in which H.H. lived gives the appearance of being chaotic and of constantly shifting. The Journey to the East leads through various time periods and includes fictional and deceased characters. When faith is the governing principal of an organization, some rationality must be sacrificed. H.H. takes it a step further and states that the period in which he lived dictated that he must never rely on reason. To discard reason entirely would mean that groups would have no way to reach consensus on observable phenomena whose explanations were not given in faith-based works. 

“‘It was only possible for me to do it,’ he said, ‘because it was necessary. I either had to write the book or be reduced to despair; it was the only means of saving me from nothingness, chaos and suicide. The book was written under this pressure and brought me the expected cure, simply because it was written, irrespective of whether it was good or bad.’” 

Lukas speaks of the choice he faced when he was at the lowest point of his sorrow. His life was chaos and, in his view, not worth living. He believed writing his book imposed order in his life. The quality of the book became irrelevant to him; that the book was written was enough to “cure” him. This encourages H.H. to try to keep writing and to detach from any outcome beyond the finishing of his account. 

“‘Free yourself. Throw Leo overboard; he seems to be becoming a fixed idea.’” 

Lukas gives H.H. a straightforward piece of editorial feedback. H.H. is so focused on Leo’s significance to the story that he is rendering himself unable to adapt to new avenues of exploration, or to let the story unfold in its own way. Lukas suggests that H.H. cannot be free as long as he is tied to Leo’s essential presence in the story. The rest of the novel contradicts Lukas’s claims, which may be a signal of Hesse’s attitude towards academic attitudes towards mysticism, or even fiction. 

“Psychologists are, of course, people who always win.” 

H.H.’s disparaging view of psychologists is rooted in the fact that psychologists have a set of tools and models from which they work. Their models are contingent upon their understanding of the human mind and human behavior. They can always “win” because they believe that they have a superior method of treatment and are bound by the narrow horizons of their field. These hard and fast rules are unappealing to H.H., whose own mind—and even his history—are often incomprehensible to even him. Psychologists work with an agenda: to heal the patient. But the flaw in their system, in H.H.’s worldview, is that the system is rigid and capable of asking only certain questions. 

“I am only aiming at the same thing as Mr. Lukas with his war-book; namely, at saving my life by giving it meaning again.” 

This is one of many suggestions that a life without meaning is not a life worth living. But the meaningful lives in the novel belong to those who have shouldered a responsibility and bear it without complaint. H.H. is talking about avoiding the desire for his own death to save his life. He believes sanctifying his life and treating it as a calling can achieve this. This idea is borne out from what Leo told him before the High Throne in Chapter 5. 

“That is just what life is when it is beautiful and happy—a game! Naturally, one can also do all kinds of other things with it, make a duty of it, or a battleground, or a prison, but that does not make it any prettier.” 

While H.H. is happiest, the Journey to the East has the character of a game. It is playful and has precepts, but the rules are not so rigid that there are no opportunities for improvisation. The players each get to win in their unique ways and all enjoy each other’s company. H.H. sees the alternatives to a game to be the stifling confinements of prison, duty, or the savagery of battle. When his life descends into despair following the breakup of his group, it is when he is trying to pursue what he considers the duty of writing an accurate history of the Journey. His project has no game-like qualities to it. 

“‘I am still on the journey, sir, and I still belong to the League. So many come and go; one knows people and yet does not know them; It is much easier with dogs.’” 

Leo reveals that he is still on the journey and still belongs to the League. He is obviously familiar with H.H., but there are various possible interpretations about what he is suggesting here. What is clear is that H.H. is no longer on the Journey. He is unsure as to whether he still belongs to the League, for he has come to doubt its existence. Dogs are more predictable than people because they cannot doubt or lose faith. They can be known in a way that humans cannot. 

“‘Well, what person really knows another or even himself? As for me, I am not one who understands people at all. I’m not interested in them. I don’t really know you, sir.’” 

Leo has been speaking to H.H. as if they are not on intimate terms, then goes as far as saying that he does not know H.H. Leo is later revealed as one who performs tests on his initiates and devotees in order to confirm their faith and allow them to demonstrate their intentions. By the end of the novel, there is evidence that Leo’s treatment of H.H. in this passage is itself another test, a test that H.H. passes when he writes the letter to Leo and earns an audience at the High Throne. 

“Once in their youth the light shone for them; they saw the light and followed the star, but then came reason and the mockery of the world; then came faint-heartedness and apparent failure; then came weariness and disillusionment, and so they lost their way again, they became blind again.” 

A childlike state of mind is shown to be closer to enlightenment than is the purported wisdom of adult life. For H.H., reason leads to mockery of the world, and the mockery results in weariness. In later chapters he will make it clear that mockery and scorn make it difficult to see clearly. Something that is mocked is set apart and excluded, which is at odds with his later epiphanies that everything is connected. 

“As soon as suffering becomes acute enough, one goes forward.” 

H.H. spends a good deal of the novel suffering. He suffers from uncertainty, from depression, from Leo’s apparent rejection of him, from the perceived dissolution of the League, and more. But his suffering does not lead him forward or produce anything. It is only when he writes the letter to Leo that his suffering has become acute enough to provoke change, similar to the manner in which Lukas’s suffering had to become suicidal before he could go forward with his book. Progress depends on suffering, but enlightenment is, finally, freedom from suffering. 

“Despair is the result of each earnest attempt to go through life with virtue, justice and understanding, and to fulfill their requirements. Children live on one side of despair, the awakened on the other side.” 

There is no sign that H.H. believes that virtue, justice, and understanding are to be avoided. But because despair is the earnest result of attempting to pursue virtue, justice, and understanding, it appears that he believes despair to be an inescapable part of existence. However, the awakened—those who are not children—are free of despair. This implies that H.H. is referring not to literal children (who are not often involved in the pursuit of anything as weighty as virtue and justice) but to those of childlike levels of understanding. It is a quote containing multiple contradictions and interpretations, and it is representative of the novella as a whole. 

“He finally remained behind on the march one day and did not appear again, it did not occur to anyone to stop on his behalf and look for him; it was evidently a case of desertion.” 

In the League archives, H.H. reads the account of another member who tried to recount the Journey to the East. In the quote above, the other member is referring to H.H. and the day he disappeared, shortly after Leo's disappearance. He believed that H.H. had willfully deserted the group, which is something that H.H. came to believe as well, as evidenced in his judgment before the High Throne. Realizing that no one had been looking for him vindicates the loneliness he felt in the absence of the League. It had still existed, but no one had been trying to find him and help him join again.