Part 18 (1/2)
”These papers,” he said, ”bear the stamp, in French, of the International League for the Organization of Progress. I have them from Lugano, where there is an office of a branch of the League. You inquire after its principles, its scope? I will define them for you, in two words. The League for the Organization of Progress deduces from Darwinian theory the philosophic concept that man's profoundest natural impulse is in the direction of self-realization. From this it follows that all those who seek satisfaction of this impulse must become co-labourers in the cause of human progress. Many are those who have responded to the call; there is a considerable members.h.i.+p, in France, Italy, Spain, Turkey, and in Germany itself. I myself have the honour or having my name inscribed on the roll. A comprehensive and scientifically executed programme has been drawn up, embracing all the projects for human improvement conceivable at the moment. We are studying the problem of our health as a race, and the means for combating the degeneration which is a regrettable accompanying phenomenon of our increasing industrialization. The League envisages the founding of universities for the people, the resolution of the cla.s.s conflict by means of all the social ameliorations which recommend themselves for the purpose, and finally the doing away with national conflicts, the abolition of war through the development of international law. You perceive that the objects toward which the League directs its efforts are ambitious and broad in their scope. Several international periodicals are evidence of its activities-monthly reviews, which contain articles in three or four languages on the subject of the progressive evolution of civilized humanity. Numerous local groups have been established in the various countries; it is expected that they will exert an edifying and enlightening influence by means of discussion evenings and appropriate Sunday observances. Above all, the League will strive its utmost to aid with the material at its disposal the political party of progress in every country. You follow me, Engineer?”
”Absolutely,” Hans Castorp replied, with precipitation. He had, as he spoke, the feeling of a man who finds himself slipping, but for the moment contrives to keep his feet.
Herr Settembrini appeared satisfied. ”I a.s.sume that these are new and surprising ideas to you?”
”Yes, I confess this is the first time I have heard of these-these endeavours.”
”Ah,” Settembrini murmured, ”ah, if you had only heard of them earlier! But perhaps it is not yet too late. These circulars-you would like to know what they say? Listen. Last spring a formal meeting of the League was called, at Barcelona. You are aware that that city can boast of a quite special affinity with progressive political ideas. The congress sat for a week, with banquets and festivities. I wanted to go- good G.o.d, I yearned to be there and take part in the deliberations. But that scurvy rascal of a Hofrat forbade me on pain of death, so-well, I was afraid I should die, and I didn't go. I was in despair, as you may imagine, over the trick my unreliable health had played me. Nothing is more painful than to be prevented by our physical, our animal nature from being of service to reason. My satisfaction, therefore, over this communication from Lugano is the more lively. You are curious to know what it says? I can imagine. But first, a few brief explanations: the League for the Organization of Progress, mindful of its task of furthering human happiness-in other words, of combating human suffering by the available social methods, to the end of finally eliminating it altogether; mindful also of the fact that this lofty task can only be accomplished by the aid of sociology, the end and aim of which is the perfect State, the League, in session at Barcelona, determined upon the publication of a series of volumes bearing the general t.i.tle: The Sociology of Suffering The Sociology of Suffering. It should be the aim of the series to cla.s.sify human suffering according to cla.s.ses and categories, and to treat it systematically and exhaustively. You ask what is the use of cla.s.sification, arrangement, systematization? I answer you: order and simplification are the first steps toward the mastery of a subject-the actual enemy is the unknown. We must lead the human race up out of the primitive stages of fear and patient stupidity, and set its feet on the path of conscious activity. We must enlighten it upon two points: first, that given effects become void when one first recognizes and then removes their causes; and second, that almost all individual suffering is due to disease of the social organism. Very well; this is the object of the Sociological Pathology Sociological Pathology. It will be issued in some twenty folio volumes, treating every species of human suffering, from the most personal and intimate to the great collective struggles arising from the conflicting interests of cla.s.ses and nations; it will, in short, exhibit the chemical elements whose combination in various proportions results in all the ills to which our human flesh is heir. The publication will in every case take as its norm the dignity and happiness of mankind, and seek to indicate the measures and remedies calculated to remove the cause of each deviation. Famous European specialists, physicians, psychologists, and economists will share in the composition of this encyclopaedia of suffering, and the general editorial bureau at Lugano will act as the reservoir to collect all the articles which shall flow into it. I can read in your eyes the question as to what my share is to be in all these activities. Hear me to the end. This great work will not neglect the belletrist in so far as he deals with human suffering: a volume is projected which shall contain a compilation and brief a.n.a.lysis of such masterpieces of the world's literature as come into question by depicting one or other kind of conflict- for the consolation and instruction of the suffering. This, then, is the task entrusted to your humble servant, in the letter you see here.”
”You don't say, Herr Settembrini! Allow me to offer you my heartiest congratulations! That is a magnificent commission, just in your line, I should think. No wonder the League thought of you! And what joy you must feel to aid in the elimination of human suffering!”
”It is a work very broad in its scope,” Herr Settembrini said thoughtfully, ”and will require much consideration and wide reading. Especially,” he added, and his gaze seemed to lose itself in the immensity of his task, ”since literature has regularly chosen to depict suffering, and even second- and third-rate masterpieces treat of it in one form or another. But what of that? So much the better! However comprehensive the work may be, it is at least of a nature that will permit me to carry it on, if needs must, even in this accursed place-though I hope I need not be here long enough to bring it to a conclusion. That is something,” he said, moving closer to Hans Castorp, and subduing his voice nearly to a whisper, ”that is something which can hardly be said of the duties nature lays upon you, Engineer! This is what I wanted to bring out, this is the word of warning I have been trying to utter. You know what admiration I feel for your profession. But as it is a practical, not an intellectual calling, you are differently situated from myself, in that you can only pursue it down in the world- only there can you be a true European, only there can you actively fight suffering, improve the time, further progress, with your own weapons and in your own way. If I have told you of the task that has fallen to my lot, it was only to remind you, only to recall you to yourself, only to clarify certain conceptions of yours which the atmospheric conditions up here were obviously beginning to becloud. I would urge it upon you: hold yourself upright, preserve your self-respect, do not give ground to the unknown. Flee from this sink of iniquity, this island of Circe, whereon you are not Odysseus enough to dwell in safety. You will be going on all fours-already you are inclining toward your forward extremities, and presently you will begin to grunt- have a care!”
The humanist had uttered these admonitions in the same low voice, shaking his head impressively. He finished with drawn brows and eyes directed toward the ground. To answer him slightly or jestingly, as Hans Castorp would once have done, was out of the question. The young man weighed that possibility for a second, standing with lowered lids. Then he lifted his shoulders and spoke, no louder than Herr Settembrini: ”What shall I do?” ”What I told you.” ”You mean-go away?”
Herr Settembrini was silent.
”What you mean to say is that I should leave for home?”
”It was the advice I gave you on the first evening, Engineer.”
”Yes-and then I was free to do so, though it seemed to me silly to throw up the sponge just because the air up here put me about a bit. But now it is a rather different state of affairs: I have been examined, and Hofrat Behrens told me in so many words that it would be no good my going home, I should only have to come back again; and that if I stopped down there, the whole lobe would be at the devil before you could say Jack Robinson.” ”I know; and now you have the evidence in your pocket.”
”You say that so ironically-with the right kind of irony, of course, that cannot for a moment be misunderstood, the direct and cla.s.sic device of oratory-you see, I remember the things you say. But do you mean that after you have seen this photograph, after the x-ray and Behrens's diagnosis, you take it upon yourself to advise me to go home?”
Settembrini hesitated for a second. Then he drew himself up, and directed the gaze of his black eyes full upon Hans Castorp's face. He answered, with an emphasis not quite without theatrical effect: ”Yes, Engineer, I take it upon myself.”
But Hans Castorp's bearing too had stiffened. He stood with his heels together, and looked straight at Herr Settembrini in his turn. This time it was a duel. Hans Castorp stood his ground. Influences from not far off gave him strength. Here was a schoolmaster-but yonder was a woman with narrow eyes. He made no apologies for his words, he did not beg Herr Settembrini not to take offence; he answered: ”Then you are more prudent for yourself than for others. You did not go to Barcelona in the face of the doctor's orders. You were afraid of death, and you stopped up here.”
To a certain point Herr Settembrini's pose was undeniably shaken; his smile, as he answered, was slightly forced.
”I know how to value a ready answer-even though your logic smacks of sophistry. It would disgust me to enter the lists in the sort of rivalry that is too current up here; otherwise I might reply that my case is far more serious than yours-so much more, in fact, that it is only by artificial means, almost by deliberate self-deception, that I can keep alive the hope of leaving this place and having sight of the world below before I die. In the moment when that hope can no longer be decently sustained, in that moment I shall turn my back on this establishment, and take private lodgings somewhere in the valley. That will be sad; but as the sphere of my labours is the freest, the least material in the world, the change cannot prevent me from resisting the forces of disease and serving the cause of humanity, up to my latest breath. The difference between us, in this respect, I have already pointed out to you. Engineer, you are not the man to a.s.sert your better self in these surroundings. I saw it at our first meeting. You reproach me with not having gone to Barcelona. I submitted to the prohibition, not to destroy myself untimely. But I did so with the most stringent reservations; my spirit protested in pride and anguish against the dictates of my wretched body. Whether that protest survives in you, as you comply with the behests of our powers that be-whether it is not rather the body, the body and its evil propensities, to which you lend a ready ear-”
”What have you against the body?” interrupted Hans Castorp suddenly, and looked at him with wide blue eyes, the whites of which were veined with blood. He was giddy with his own temerity and showed as much.-Whatever am I saying? he thought. I'm getting out of my depth. But I I won't give way; now I have begun, I won't give him the last word if I can help it. Of course he will have it anyhow, but never mind, I will make the most of it while I can.-He enlarged upon his objection: ”But you are a humanist, are you not? What can you have to say against the body?” Settembrini's smile this time was unforced and confident. ” 'What have you against a.n.a.lysis?' ” he quoted, with his head on one side. ” 'Are you down on a.n.a.lysis?' You will always find me ready to answer you, Engineer,” he said, with a bow and a sweeping downward motion of the hand, ”particularly when your opposition is spirited; and you parry not without elegance. Humanist-yes, certainly, I am a humanist. You could never convict me of ascetic inclinations. I affirm, honour, and love the body, as I protest I affirm, honour, and love form, beauty, freedom, gaiety, the enjoyment of life. I represent the world, the interest of this life, against a sentimental withdrawal and negation, cla.s.sicism against romanticism. I think my position is unequivocal. But there is one power, one principle, which commands my deepest a.s.sent, my highest and fullest allegiance and love; and this power, this principle, is the intellect. However much I dislike hearing that conception of moons.h.i.+ne and cobwebs people call 'the soul' played off against the body, yet, within the ant.i.thesis of body and mind, the body is the evil, the devilish principle, for the body is nature, and nature-within the sphere, I repeat, of her antagonism to the mind, and to reason-is evil, mystical and evil. 'You are a humanist?' By all means I am a humanist, because I am a friend of mankind, like Prometheus, a lover of humanity and human n.o.bility. That n.o.bility is comprehended in the mind, in the reason, and therefore you will level against me in vain the reproach of Christian obscurantism-” Hans Castorp demurred. won't give way; now I have begun, I won't give him the last word if I can help it. Of course he will have it anyhow, but never mind, I will make the most of it while I can.-He enlarged upon his objection: ”But you are a humanist, are you not? What can you have to say against the body?” Settembrini's smile this time was unforced and confident. ” 'What have you against a.n.a.lysis?' ” he quoted, with his head on one side. ” 'Are you down on a.n.a.lysis?' You will always find me ready to answer you, Engineer,” he said, with a bow and a sweeping downward motion of the hand, ”particularly when your opposition is spirited; and you parry not without elegance. Humanist-yes, certainly, I am a humanist. You could never convict me of ascetic inclinations. I affirm, honour, and love the body, as I protest I affirm, honour, and love form, beauty, freedom, gaiety, the enjoyment of life. I represent the world, the interest of this life, against a sentimental withdrawal and negation, cla.s.sicism against romanticism. I think my position is unequivocal. But there is one power, one principle, which commands my deepest a.s.sent, my highest and fullest allegiance and love; and this power, this principle, is the intellect. However much I dislike hearing that conception of moons.h.i.+ne and cobwebs people call 'the soul' played off against the body, yet, within the ant.i.thesis of body and mind, the body is the evil, the devilish principle, for the body is nature, and nature-within the sphere, I repeat, of her antagonism to the mind, and to reason-is evil, mystical and evil. 'You are a humanist?' By all means I am a humanist, because I am a friend of mankind, like Prometheus, a lover of humanity and human n.o.bility. That n.o.bility is comprehended in the mind, in the reason, and therefore you will level against me in vain the reproach of Christian obscurantism-” Hans Castorp demurred.
”You will,” Herr Settembrini persisted, ”level this reproach in vain, if humanistic pride one day learns to feel as a debas.e.m.e.nt and disgrace the fact that the intellect is bound up with the body and with nature. Did you know that the great Plotinus is said to have made the remark that he was ashamed to have a body?” asked Settembrini. He seemed eager for a reply, and Hans Castorp was constrained to confess that this was the first he had heard of it.
”We have it from Porphyrius. An absurd remark, if you like. But the absurd is the intellectually honourable; and nothing can be more pitiable than the reproach of absurdity, levelled against the mind as it a.s.serts its dignity against nature, and refuses to abdicate before her.-Have you heard of the Lisbon earthquake, Engineer?” ”An earthquake? No-I see no newspapers up here-”
”You misunderstand me. En pa.s.sant En pa.s.sant, let me say it is a pity, and very indicative of the spirit of this place, that you neglect to read the papers. But you misunderstand me, the convulsion of nature to which I refer is not modern. It took place some hundred and fifty years ago.”
”I see. Oh, wait-I have it. I have read that Goethe said to his servant, that night in his bedchamber-”
”No, it was not of that I was speaking,” Settembrini interrupted him, closing hiseyes, and shaking his small sallow hand in the air. ”Besides, you are confusing twocatastrophes. You are thinking of the earthquake of Messina. I have in mind the onethat visited Lisbon in the year 1755.”
”Pardon.”
”Well, Voltaire was outraged by it.”
”Outraged? That is-how do you mean?”