Part 5 (1/2)
”I don't know, really, Herr Settembrini. I've seen him only casually. And I am not very quick in my judgments. I am inclined to look at people and say: 'So that's you, is it? Very good.' ”
”That is apathetic of you. You should judge-to that end you have been given your eyes and your understanding. You felt that I spoke maliciously, just now. If I did, perhaps it was not without intent to teach. We humanists have all of us a pedagogic itch. Humanism and schoolmasters-there is a historical connexion between them, and it rests upon psychological fact: the office of schoolmaster should not-cannot- be taken from the humanist, for the tradition of the beauty and dignity of man rests in his hands. The priest, who in troubled and inhuman times arrogated to himself the office of guide to youth, has been dismissed; since when, my dear sirs, no special type of teacher has arisen. The humanistic grammar-school-you may call me reactionary, Engineer, but in abstracto in abstracto, generally speaking, you understand, I remain an adherent-”
He continued in the lift to expatiate upon this theme, and left off only when the cousins got out as the second storey was reached. He himself went up to the third, where he had, Joachim said, a little back room.
”He hasn't much money, I suppose,” Hans Castorp said, entering Joachim's room, which looked precisely like his own.
”No, I suppose not,” Joachim answered, ”or only so much as just makes his stay possible. His father was a literary man too, you know, and, I believe, his grandfather
as well.” ”Yes, of course,” Hans Castorp said. ”Is he seriously ill?”
”Not dangerously, so far as I know, but obstinate, keeps coming back. He has had it for years, and goes away in between, but soon has to return again.”
”Poor chap! So frightfully keen on work as he seems to be! Enormously chatty, goes from one thing to another so easily. Rather objectionable, though, it seemed to me, with that girl. I was quite put off, for the moment. But when he talked about human dignity, afterwards, I thought it was great-sounded like an address. Do you see much of him?”
Mental Gymnastic
JOACHIM'S reply came impeded and incoherent. He had taken a small thermometer from a red leather, velvet-lined case on his table, and put the mercury-filled end under his tongue on the left side, so that the gla.s.s instrument stuck slantingly upwards out of his mouth. Then he changed into indoor clothes, put on shoes and a braided jacket, took a printed form and pencil from his table, also a book, a Russian grammar-for he was studying Russian with the idea that it would be of advantage to him in the service-and, thus equipped, took his place in the reclining-chair on his balcony, throwing his camel's-hair rug lightly across his feet.
It was scarcely needed. During the last quarter-hour the layer of cloud had grown steadily thinner, and now the sun broke through in summerlike warmth, so dazzlingly that Joachim protected his head with a white linen shade which was fastened to the arm of his chair, and furnished with a device by means of which it could be adjusted to the position of the sun. Hans Castorp praised this contrivance. He wished to await the result of Joachim's measurement, and meanwhile looked about to see how everything was done: observed the fur-lined sleeping-sack that stood against the wall in a corner of the loggia, for Joachim to use on cold days; and gazed down into the garden, with his elbows on the bal.u.s.trade. The general rest-hall was populated by reclining patients, reading, writing, or conversing. He could see only a part of the interior, some four or five chairs. ”How long does that go on?” he asked, turning round. Joachim raised seven fingers. ”Seven minutes! But they must be up!”
Joachim shook his head. A little later he took the thermometer out of his mouth, looked at it, and said: ”Yes, when you watch it, the time, it goes very slowly. I quite like the measuring, four times a day; for then you know what a minute-or seven of them actually amounts to, up here in this place, where the seven days of the week whisk by the way they do!”
”You say 'actually,' ” Hans Castorp answered. He sat with one leg flung over the bal.u.s.trade, and his eyes looked bloodshot. ”But after all, time isn't isn't 'actual.' When it seems long to you, then it 'actual.' When it seems long to you, then it is is long; when it seems short, why, then it is short. But how long, or how short, it actually is, that n.o.body knows.” He was unaccustomed to philosophize, yet somehow felt an impulse to do so. long; when it seems short, why, then it is short. But how long, or how short, it actually is, that n.o.body knows.” He was unaccustomed to philosophize, yet somehow felt an impulse to do so.
Joachim gainsaid him. ”How so?-we do measure it. We have watches and calendars for the purpose; and when a month is up up, why, then up it is, for you, and for me, and for all of us.”
”Wait,” said Hans Castorp. He held up his forefinger, close to his tired eyes. ”A minute, then, is as long as it seems to you when you measure yourself?”
”A minute is as long-it lasts lasts as long-as it takes the second hand of my watch to complete a circuit.” as long-as it takes the second hand of my watch to complete a circuit.”
”But it takes such a varied length of time-to our senses! And as a matter of fact-I say taking it just as a matter of fact,” he repeated, pressing his forefinger so hard against his nose that he bent the end of it quite round, ”it is motion, isn't it, motion in s.p.a.ce? Wait a minute! That means that we measure time by s.p.a.ce. But that is no better than measuring s.p.a.ce by time, a thing only very unscientific people do. From Hamburg to Davos is twenty hours-that is, by train. But on foot how long is it? And in the mind, how long? Not a second!”
”I say,” Joachim said, ”what's the matter with you? Seems to me it goes to your head to be up here with us!”
”Keep quiet! I'm very clear-headed to-day. Well, then, what is is time?” asked Hans Castorp, and bent the tip of his nose so far round that it became white and bloodless. ”Can you answer me that? s.p.a.ce we perceive with our organs, with our senses of sight and touch. Good. But which is our organ of time-tell me that if you can. You see, that's where you stick. But how can we possibly measure anything about which we actually know nothing, not even a single one of its properties? We say of time that it pa.s.ses. Very good, let it pa.s.s. But to be able to measure it-wait a minute: to be susceptible of being measured, time must flow evenly, but who ever said it did that? As far as our consciousness is concerned it doesn't, we only a.s.sume that it does, for the sake of convenience; and our units of measurement are purely arbitrary, sheer conventions-” time?” asked Hans Castorp, and bent the tip of his nose so far round that it became white and bloodless. ”Can you answer me that? s.p.a.ce we perceive with our organs, with our senses of sight and touch. Good. But which is our organ of time-tell me that if you can. You see, that's where you stick. But how can we possibly measure anything about which we actually know nothing, not even a single one of its properties? We say of time that it pa.s.ses. Very good, let it pa.s.s. But to be able to measure it-wait a minute: to be susceptible of being measured, time must flow evenly, but who ever said it did that? As far as our consciousness is concerned it doesn't, we only a.s.sume that it does, for the sake of convenience; and our units of measurement are purely arbitrary, sheer conventions-”
”Good,” Joachim said. ”Then perhaps it is pure convention that I have five pointstoo much here on my thermometer. But on account of those lines I have to drool abouthere instead of joining up, which is a disgusting fact.”
”Have you 99.3?”
”It's going down already,” and Joachim made the entry on his chart. ”Last night it was almost 100-that was your arrival. A visit always makes it go up. But it is a good thing, notwithstanding.”
”I'll go now,” said Hans Castorp. ”I've still a great many ideas in my head about the time-a whole complex, if I may say so. But I won't excite you with them now, you've too many degrees as it is. I'll keep them all and return to them later, perhaps after breakfast. You will call me when it is time, I suppose. I'll go now and lie down; it won't hurt me, thank goodness.” With which he pa.s.sed round the gla.s.s part.i.tion into his loggia, where stood his own reclining-chair and side-table. He fetched Ocean Ocean Steams.h.i.+ps Steams.h.i.+ps and his beautiful, soft, dark-red and green plaid from within the room, which had already been put into perfect order, and sat himself down. and his beautiful, soft, dark-red and green plaid from within the room, which had already been put into perfect order, and sat himself down.
Soon he too had to put up the little sunshade; the heat became unbearable as he lay. But he was uncommonly comfortable, he decided, with distinct satisfaction. He did not recall in all his experience so acceptable an easy-chair. The frame-a little oldfas.h.i.+oned, perhaps, a mere matter of taste, for the chair was obviously new-was of polished red-brown wood, and the mattress was covered in a soft cotton material; or rather, it was not a mattress, but three thick cus.h.i.+ons, extending from the foot to the very top of the chair-back. There was a head-roll besides, neither too hard nor too yielding, with an embroidered linen cover, fastened on by a cord to the chair, and wondrously agreeable to the neck. Hans Castorp supported his elbow on the broad, smooth surface of the chair-arm, blinked, and reposed himself. The landscape, rather severe and spa.r.s.e, though brightly sunny, looked like a framed painting as viewed through the arch of the loggia. Hans Castorp gazed thoughtfully at it. Suddenly he thought of something, and said aloud in the stillness: ”That was a dwarf, wasn't it, that waited on us at breakfast?” ”Sh-h,” went Joachim. ”Don't speak loud. Yes, a dwarf. Why?”
”Nothing. We hadn't mentioned it.”
He mused on. It had been ten o'clock when he lay down. An hour pa.s.sed. It was anordinary hour, not long, not short. At its close a bell sounded through the house andgarden, first afar, then near, then from afar again.