The Magic Mountain

Hans sits out on his balcony and looks at the columbine that has started to grow in the meadow now that summer has arrived. He frequently walks out to the same spot where he had his nosebleed and his vision of Pribislav Hippe one year ago—either to enjoy the columbine that grows there, or to marvel at the fact that he has been here a full year. These days, he doesn’t get nosebleeds, his Maria Mancinis have started to taste good again, and he no longer has visions of Pribislav Hippe, meaning that his “acclimatization [is] complete” and he’s now fully at home in the mountains.

Hans pulls out the X-ray image Clavdia gave him before she left the sanatorium—he carries it with him in his wallet—and holds it up to the sky. He feels his heart flutter as he looks at the image. Looking at it makes Hans consider big questions, lofty philosophical ideas that Joachim never bothers with, like “form and freedom, mind and body, honor and disgrace, time and eternity.” Hans refers to the thinking he does at this place on the hill as “playing king,” a term he got from games he played as a child.

Hans feels obligated to visit Naphta—something Settembrini clearly disapproves of, having tried to delay Naphta’s introduction to Hans and Joachim. Hans grumbles to himself at Settembrini’s habit of talking down to him and gatekeeping knowledge—something all teachers do—and is grateful that he can’t actually prevent Hans from visiting Naphta.   

Now, Hans and Joachim take the short walk from the Berghof to the tailor’s house where Settembrini and Naphta live. Lukačnek, the tailor, answers the door and sends a page to ask if Naphta will receive Hans and Joachim. The page returns, announcing that Naphta will see Hans and Joachim now, and leads the cousins to Naphta’s room. To the cousins’ surprise, Naphta’s room is luxuriously and elegantly decorated, with silk upholstery and tapestries covering nearly every surface. There’s a pieta sculpture displayed in a corner—it, too, is draped in silk, giving it an “almost grotesque” appearance. Hans compliments the sculpture, and Naphta explains that good works of art “are always beautiful to the point of ugliness and ugly to the point of beauty.” He says that only “inner beauty”—the sort one gets through religious experience—is real beauty.

Naphta explains that the sculpture is Gothic, from the late Middle Ages. He prattles on about the superiority of that era’s art, which didn’t “prettif[y]” its subjects, focusing solely on “suffering and the weakness of the flesh.” Hans gushes over everything Naphta says, declaring it all incredibly interesting. Just then, a page arrives with their afternoon snack (slices of layer cake) and, much to Hans and Joachim’s surprise, Settembrini enters behind him. Naphta’s casual greeting makes it clear that, despite their opposite opinions, he and Settembrini visit with each other regularly.

Everyone eats their snack, and the conversation lingers on the pieta, which Settembrini clearly hates, though he tries not to say so overtly to be polite. Instead, he remarks on the sculpture’s errors in proportion. Naphta explains that this was an intentional choice on the part of the sculptor to convey “the emancipation of the Spirit from the bonds of nature.” Hans interjects to praise Gothic art’s rejection of nature, arguing that it’s just as “honorable” as Enlightenment thinkers like Voltaire refusing to submit to nature. Settembrini laughs at Hans’s suggestion, then he reminds him that the only truly “honorable” protest against nature is one that does so to dignify humankind.

Naphta continues to defend religion, claiming that even Church-sanctioned acts of brutality, like the burning of people at the stake, were intended for good. Burning people at the stake, he argues, was supposed to spare their souls from eternal damnation. The same can’t be said of the Jacobins’ exterminations. Furthermore, he claims that the major contributions of the Renaissance and the Enlightenment have only minimized humanity’s importance, with modern astronomy, for instance, turning the universe—which used to the heavenly realm of God—into meaningless planets.

Settembrini argues that pure knowledge is superior to religious knowledge, but Naphta counters that faith is the basis of all understanding. Further, he claims that there’s no such thing as objective science, since bias is always present where voluntary will is involved. What’s more, truth is always centered around humankind: truth is whatever “profits” humans. Because of this, abstract knowledge that has no bearing on “man’s salvation” is uninteresting and useless. Naphta insists that it’s incorrect and even “childish” to claim that the Church kept people in the dark while Enlightenment thinking brought people into the light—the Church did what was right. If anything has led people into darkness, it’s the natural sciences. Settembrini thinks that this worldview sanctions all kinds of crimes and will do away with justice, truth, and democracy.

Naphta poses two possibilities. The first possibility is that Ptolemy and the scholastics are right that time and space are finite and only God transcends human experience. In this case, humanity’s conflict lies between what humans can sense and what “transcends” human sensory experience. And this, in turn, would mean that all human, social issues are basically meaningless. This is the view Naphta embraces. The other possibility is that Settembrini’s Renaissance astronomers are correct—the cosmos is infinite, meaning there is no duality—no world beyond that which humans can sense. In this case, all human conflict comes from a conflict between the individual and society. This would mean the state dictates what is moral, not god. Settembrini disagrees that the modern nation state imprisons people. To the contrary, he thinks modern democracy frees individuals from answering to more powerful forces.  

Naphta and Settembrini also debate which economic systems imprison or dignify humanity, with Naphta arguing in favor of a Christian strain of communism, which condemns trade (making money off goods and services by merely exchanging them and placing arbitrary value on them rather than improving them) and lauds practical, physical labor. In fact, it's Settembrini’s enlightened capitalism that enslaves humanity and stifles individualism. Settembrini disagrees, claiming that Naphta’s “Christian communism” rejects technology and progress and therefore rejects freedom. It takes people back to the dark ages, back when all human relationships and even an individual’s personality were “bound to the soil.”

Hans’s enthusiastic interest in Naphta’s viewpoint puts Settembrini on edge, and he abruptly announces that it’s time for himself and the cousins to leave. Settembrini shows Hans and Joachim to his own living quarters, which are sparsely furnished but cozy, before walking them back to the Berghof. As they walk, Settembrini cautions the cousins against getting too close to Naphta, who sounds rational on the surface but in reality is quite confused. Settembrini explains that he engages with Naphta because it allows him to argue and defend his own opinions, and he needs this “friction” in his life. But this only works because Settembrini is firm in his opinions—Hans and Joachim are younger, more naïve, and more in danger of Naphta negatively influencing their bodies and souls.

Cautiously, Hans points out that for all Naphta’s talk of the evils of capitalism and property, his living quarters were really quite lavishly furnished. Settembrini smiles as he explains that this is “very characteristic” of Naphta’s people, who always take care of their own. Then Settembrini reveals a fact that shocks the cousins: Naphta is a Jesuit. He’s not a priest, but only because his illness set him back.

Hans, Joachim, and Settembrini have reached the Berghof by this point. Before parting ways with the cousins, Settembrini repeats his grave warning to Hans and Joachim to be careful around Naphta. Settembrini states that Naphta’s brand of intellect is dangerous because all his thoughts “stand under the aegis of death,” which is by nature opposed to life, progress, and morality. With this, Settembrini departs. The narrator explains that this would be one of a few visits Hans and Joachim would make to Naphta, and each of these visits would give Hans lots to think about as he sat in his spot in the meadow and “played king.”