Chapter 6 On the Baptismal Font and the Two-Person Grandfather

Hans Castorp did not remember his parents' hometown very well.He barely remembers his parents.They died within a short period of time between the ages of five and six, the first being the mother, who died quite unexpectedly on the eve of her delivery, from clogging of the blood vessels following a bout of neuritis - says Dr. Heidekind This is called a blood clot - stopping the heart immediately.She happened to be sitting on the bed laughing; on the surface she appeared to have passed out from laughing too much, but in fact she was dead.This was an incomprehensible blow to his father, Hans Hermann Castorp, because he had a very strong affection for his wife, and at the same time he was not the strongest of nature, and he was still unable to relieve his pain.His spirits were thus devastated; and because of his trance, he suffered a setback in his career, and the Castorps and Sons suffered a great loss.In the spring of the following year, when he inspected the warehouse on the cold and windy pier, he contracted pneumonia.He died on the fifth day in spite of Dr. Heidekind's intensive treatment, as his broken heart could not stand the high fever.Escorted by a large crowd of mourning citizens, he followed his wife into the castorp cemetery for generations, in St. Catherine's cemetery, which has a beautiful view overlooking the botanical garden.

His senator father outlived him, though not by much.He also died of pneumonia, but he died in agony and fought the disease with tenacity, for Hans Lorenz Castorp, unlike his son, was extremely vigorous and would not Fall down easily.For a short time before his death—only a year and a half—the helpless Hans Castorp lived in his grandfather's house in a small plot near the "square" at the beginning of the last century. A northern classical style house was built on the land. The house is gloomy and has been eroded by wind and rain for many years, making it look a little dilapidated.There are semi-exposed pillars on both sides of the gate, and there are five stone steps on the flat ground in the middle.In addition to the building with long windows falling to the ground and decorated with wrought iron bars, there are two other buildings.

It was filled with drawing rooms, including a bright, stuccoed dining room.The dining-room had three windows, hung with crimson curtains, which looked out into the rear garden.There, the grandparent and grandson had lunch together at four o'clock every day for eighteen months.They were served by an old man named Fiette, with earrings and silver buttons.Like his master, he also wore a cravat of muslin, into which his clean-shaven chin could be buried, just like his master.The grandfather addressed the child as "you" and spoke in the native German dialect, not for the sake of humor—for he had no humor in his nature—but in all seriousness, not to mention that he, like most people, (such as the warehouse keeper, the postman, the coachman, and the servant) speak in the same way.Hans Castorp liked to hear this dialect very much, and at the same time he liked to hear the way Fuet answered in dialect-when he was serving his master, he always bent down and put it in the other's right ear. The right ear is much better than the left ear in terms of hearing.The old man understood what he meant, nodded, and continued to eat, sitting upright between the high back of the mahogany chair and the table, hardly bending over to eat on the plate.At this time, the grandson sat opposite him, watching intently and silently watching how the grandfather's white, beautiful and bony hands picked up the fork with neat and methodical movements, and used the fork tip to pick up a piece of meat, some vegetables or some potatoes. , bowing his head a little to bring them to his mouth; his grandfather had arched, pointed nails and a green heraldic ring on his right index finger.Hans Castorp looked at his clumsy hands and wondered how he could handle the knife and fork like his grandfather.

Another question was whether he would be able to bury his chin in the cavity like in his grandfather's specially formed collar, the tip of which just touched his grandfather's cheek.To do this he would have to live as long as his grandfather; no one, far or near, wears such collars and collars now, except his old man and old man Fiette.It was a pity, because little Hans Castorp was delighted to see his grandfather resting his chin on the high, white collar.As he grew up, he remembered the incident vividly.Deep down in his heart he had a fair degree of fondness for it. When they had finished their meal and rolled up their napkins and put them on a silver plate (Hans Castorp was not very comfortable with this at the time, because the napkins were as big as small tablecloths), the deputies left their chairs Standing up, leaving Fiette behind, he shuffled into his "office" and picked up a cigarette.Sometimes the grandson also followed him in.

This "office" was formed in this way: the dining room originally opened three windows across the entire room, so this room is different from others of the same type, there is no room for three reception rooms, only two rooms are left.But one of them is at right angles to the dining room, with only one window facing the street, and its depth is very asymmetrical.So about a quarter of the length is split off and happens to be the "office".It was a small, dark place, with a skylight, and not much decoration.There is a small tiered bookshelf with the Senator's cigar case, a small table for playing cards, and some fascinating items in the table drawers: whist cards, chips, small scorecards with the tines that flip up board, a slate and some slate pens, paper cigar holders, and other things; finally, in the corner there is a rosewood Rococo, a style of architecture and art in Europe in the eighteenth century, characterized by its slenderness. , Flashy, cumbersome.A cabinet with a yellow silk curtain behind the glass door.

"Grandpa," little Hans Castorp in the office would sometimes tiptoe into the old man's ear and say, "please show me the baptismal basin!" At this time, my grandfather had lifted the hem of his long, soft gown, took out a bunch of keys from his trouser pocket, and opened the glass cabinet.A pleasant and strange smell came over the child from inside the cupboard.Inside the cabinet were all sorts of unused and attractive objects: a pair of bent silver candlesticks, a broken barometer in a wooden case engraved with meaningful figures; a Daguerreotype. Daguerre (1789-1851), inventor of the French daguerreotype.A daguerreotyped album, a cedar vat of brandy; and an elusive little Turk, clad in variegated silks, with a machine inside; Going back and forth on the desktop, but the machine has been out of order for ages now.There's also a quirky model ship that even has a mousetrap at the bottom.The old man took out a tarnished silver round basin from the middle layer, and there was a silver plate on top of the basin.He separated the two things and showed them to the boy, and twirled them in the palm of his hand as he told his usual story.

The basin and the plate were not connected together, as it was clearly seen, at this time the child heard the old man's teaching again.But my grandfather said they had been used together for a full hundred years, in other words, from the time the font was made.The basin is beautiful, plain and elegant in shape, with the stately flavor of the early nineteenth century.It was smooth and solid, and beneath it was a circular base plated with gold, but the gold had faded with age, leaving only a pale yellow sheen.Its only ornament is a stately garland of rosettes with jagged clusters of leaves on the upper edge.As for the plate, it is much older, as can be recognized from the inside of the plate.There are several brilliant and eye-catching characters engraved there: "One thousand six hundred and fifty years", surrounded by various curved carvings.They were engraved in the "Modernist" style of the time, ostentatious, with arabesques, half stars, half flowers.But the names of the holders passed down from generation to generation are engraved on the back one after another. There are seven of them together, and the year of inheritance is also written on it.The old man in the collar used his ring-wearing index finger to point out everyone's name to the child: here is the father's name, there is the grandfather's own name; The first, second, and third generations traced back from the mouth of the old grandpa with countless treasures, while the child tilted his head to the side and listened intently, sometimes thoughtfully, sometimes with his eyes open in a daze, and the corners of his mouth showed reverence and faintness. In German, Ur (Ur) is a prefix of many nouns, meaning primitive or ancestor, such as Urgroβvater, great-grandfather. Because of Hans Castorp’s grandfather love Talking about the performance of the ancestors, so it goes. …

Ur... Ur... Ur". The sombre sound reminds of tombs and lost years, but at the same time shows that there is still something between the world, his own life, and the lost years. There was an indescribable effect upon him--it showed on the child's face, too, with a pious connection. He heard his grandfather's voice, and he seemed to breathe into Kettering's Church or Michael's Underground Church. The mildewy, cold air also seemed to smell the smell of a place where people took off their hats, stooped, and walked on tiptoe with respect; The secluded and silent atmosphere of a secluded place that can emit echoes. Religious feelings, the feeling of death, and the artistic conception of the grandfather telling family history in a gloomy and heavy voice, all of which are deeply rooted. It touched the child's heart, and was a great comfort to him. Indeed, perhaps it was because of this repeated sound that the child repeatedly asked to have a closer look at the font.

Then the grandfather put the container back on the plate and showed the child the smooth, lightly gilded cavity inside.The light from the skylight casts on it, making it sparkle. "Well," said he, "it's been nearly eight years since we cast you on the font and let the holy water drip.  … Larsen of St. Bugenhagen's palms, and from there rolled over your head into the basin. We warmed up the holy water first, so you wouldn't start crying, but the result was unexpected. You cried and cried beforehand. De Bugenhagen cannot perform the sacrament smoothly. But when the holy water is dropped on your head, you are silent, we hope this is a sign of your respect for the sacrament. Blessed are you again in a few days It was forty-four years since my father was baptized, when the holy water flowed from his head into the basin. He was also born in this house, which was his parents' house, just in front of the window in the middle of the hall, and he was baptized by the same black Old Reverend Zekiel, he was almost shot by the French when he was young, because he was against burning and looting when he preached. Now he has gone to heaven. Well, seventy-five years ago, I myself was baptized in this hall .They put my head on this basin, just like the basin is placed on the plate at this moment. The words of the sacrament are spoken, and the words are said to you and your father. The warm and clear holy water also flows from my hair into a font of gold. I had no more hair then than I have now."

The child looked up at the little silver-gray head of his grandfather.At this time, the grandfather was hanging his head on the baptismal font again, just like the scene he described a long time ago.The child experiences a very familiar feeling, which is a strange, dreamlike, blurred feeling, with movement in the stillness, which makes people feel both vicissitudes and bewilderment.He had felt it before, and now he looked forward, hoped, longed for it.That's what he felt when this relic passed down from generation to generation was on display. The young man asked himself later and found that the image of his grandfather in his mind was much deeper, clearer, and more important than his father.The reason may be that they share thick and thin together, and their physical characteristics are also very similar.The grandson is very similar to his grandfather. Just judging from his beard that just grew when he was growing up, he looks a bit like a pale and dull grandfather in his seventies.But the main thing is that the old man is undoubtedly the real character and unique figure in the family.

From a social point of view, long before Hans Lorenz Castorp died, his ways and views were far behind the pace of the times.He is a typical Christian, believes in Protestantism, and is very conservative in his thinking. He stubbornly believes that only nobles have the ability to rule in society, as if he lived in the fourteenth century.At that time, the artisans were beginning to fight doggedly against the old liberal aristocracy for seats and a voice in the city council.He doesn't like new things very much.The era of his activities happened to be a decade of great turbulence, great transformation, and a decade of rapid progress, which placed extremely high demands on the dedication and adventurous spirit of the public.The new spirit of the age was triumphant, and old Castorp found it all out of place.He strove to defend the customs and old institutions of his fathers, and dismissed the adventurous attempts to expand the ports and the foolish plans to build big cities without God.Wherever he could he sought to check or weaken them; and had he had his way, the appearance of municipal administration today might have retained the pastoral and ancient Frankish sentiments of his day. This is the image left by the old man in the minds of the citizens before and after his death.Since the young Hans Castorp knew nothing about politics, he basically kept the same image in his childish mind.These are silent and uncritical feelings, but they are vivid.These feelings were completely preserved as conscious memory images in his later life. They could not be expressed in words and could not be analyzed, but the impression was still very deep.As mentioned above, this is the role of sharing weal and woe in life, or the reason for the close blood relationship between grandparents and grandchildren.This situation is not uncommon.Children and grandchildren often observe first, then develop a heart of admiration, and then develop a desire to learn from admiration, and cultivate their own personality from the qualities inherited from previous generations. Senator Castorp was tall and thin.Years had arched his back and neck, but he tried to compensate in other ways: he bent the corners of his mouth majesticly downwards, though he had no teeth left in his mouth, only a row of gums, now supported by a Dentures for chewing food.His head had already started to shake a little, this way, the sense of instability in his head could be diluted, and he still looked dignified, and at the same time, his chin could be supported on the scarf.Such a posture pleased little Castorp.He favored a snuffbox—he used a long, narrow turtle-shell box with a gilded interior—and smoked with a red handkerchief, the corner of which often hung from the pocket on the back of his coat.If it detracted from his appearance, it gave the impression of being old and dissolute, with no regard for trifles, which, as time went on, he let it go either deliberately or willingly, or even without his being aware of it.In any case, to Hans Castorp's penetrating young eyes, this was the only flaw in his grandfather's appearance.But neither what the seven-year-old saw at the time nor the daily image of the old man he remembered when he grew up was not the original true face.His real face was very different, far more beautiful and more lifelike than usual--this is clearly shown in a portrait.This is a portrait of the same stature as the old man. It was originally hung in the bedroom of Hans Castorp Jr.'s parents. Later, when he moved to the "square", the painting was also moved there and hung in the reception room. The top of the big red satin sofa. In this painting, Hans Lorenz Castorp wears his official uniform as a city councilor.It was the stately and extremely homely burgher dress of the last century, a relic of the majestic and adventurous republic, which had once distinguished itself in him.It makes people sometimes feel that the situation has changed, that the present is not the same as yesterday, and it also shows that everything in the world is always closely related to each other, and the old man is very sure about things.It shows a full-length portrait of Senator Castorp standing on a red-brick floor beside a column and pointed arch, a perspective drawing.He stood with his chin down and the corners of his mouth curled down, looking out into the distance with large, blue, pensive eyes with tear sacs showing beneath them.He wore a black suit, or rather a robe like a vestment that fell down to the knees, and was fringed with fur in the open front and all around.The upper sleeves are wide and raised, also decorated with fur; the lower sleeves are narrow and made of coarse cloth, with lace cuffs that reach to the hands and hide the joints.On her thin legs were black stockings, and on her feet were shoes with silver buckles.Around his neck was a broad, starched cravat, turned down at the front and rising at the sides, and beneath which, as icing on the cake, there were ruffles of fine linen over the waistcoat.In his hand he was carrying an old-fashioned wide-brimmed hat that tapered at the top. It is the work of a well-known painter, with a strong theme and a style similar to that of the old masters, reminding the viewer of works of Spanish, Dutch, and medieval times.Hans Castorp gazed at this painting often when he was a child, not because he knew art, of course, but because he had a wider and even deeper understanding.Like the grandfather depicted on the canvas, although he saw it only once in real life, and only for a moment (at that time, his grandfather was striding towards the House of Commons), he still couldn't help feeling that this vivid portrait was his grandfather. His true face, and the grandfather he sees every day is just a so-called "temporary" grandfather, a secondary image that cannot properly reflect the grandfather's style.For it is obvious that the picture, which is different from his everyday image, is based on an imperfect and perhaps unsuccessful deliberate imitation. His high stiff collar and high white collar are both It is old-fashioned; but such a title cannot be applied to this admirable dress, and it only has a "temporary" meaning-the dress here refers to the Spanish ruff.The unusual arched top hat that my grandfather wore in the street was very similar to the wide-brimmed felt hat in the painting, and the pleated robe seemed to Hans Castorp the younger Just a vestment trimmed with lace and fur. Therefore, when he said goodbye to his grandfather one day, he was very relieved to see that his grandfather still maintained his original rigorous and intact style.They were all in the hall, where they used to sit and dine face to face; Hans Lorenz Castorp lay in the center of the hall in a silver-gilt coffin, All are covered with wreaths.He had fought a life-and-death battle with pneumonia, a long and tenacious one, though his adaptability allowed him to remain calm and detached from the disease during his lifetime.Now he is lying there, and people don't know whether he has won or lost.But in any case, he lay down very peacefully.The struggle on the hospital bed had changed him greatly, his nose was also pointed, and his lower body was covered with a blanket with palm branches on it.His head was propped up on a silk pillow so that his chin sank beautifully into the indentation in front of the ruff.His hands, half hidden by lace cuffs, with stiff fingers artificially arranged in a natural and lively way, held an ivory crucifix, as if he were looking at it with lowered eyelids. Hans Castorp saw his grandfather a few times at first during his last illness, but never before his death.His family kept him from seeing his grandfather struggle, mostly at night.He only got in touch with it indirectly from the gloomy atmosphere in the house, the red and swollen eyes of old man Fiette, and the doctor's running back and forth.Standing in the hall now, he could not help drawing the conclusion in his mind that the "temporary" image of his grandfather had now been majestically lost, and at last he had returned to his original and proper true self.Even old man Fiette was weeping and shaking his head, and Hans Castorp himself was weeping bitterly—before, when he saw his mother die suddenly, and soon his father was as motionless as a stranger. He had wept like that when he lay before him like that—he still thought it a happy ending. For the third time in so short a time and at such a young age, death cast a shadow over little Castorp's mind and senses, especially the senses.For him, seeing death is not a new thing, he is very familiar with it, and he is at peace with death, it does not affect his nerves at all, but it is just a little sad.This time he did the same, but to a deeper degree.He didn't understand what the death of your lordship would actually mean for his life, and he treated it with naive indifference, imagining that in the future someone would take care of him anyway, and so he was indifferent, just dry, before the coffin. show off.This time, for the third time, he had, in addition to his experienced feelings and expressions, a certain queer and sophisticated appreciation.Originally, he often shed tears because of grief or the influence of others. Now, tears are no longer a natural reaction for him.Three or four months after his father passed away, he had already forgotten about his death, but now he remembered it all at once, and all the scenes at that time were reproduced clearly, profoundly and vividly in an incomparably strange form before his eyes. Try to analyze the above concepts and express them in words, which can be roughly summarized as the following words.Death, on the one hand, is certainly sacred, spiritual, and mournful, that is to say, a matter of the spiritual world, but on the other hand it is quite different, and on the contrary: it is purely physical, material, and cannot be Call it touching, spiritual, or sacred, and it can't even be called mournful.The solemn and spiritual aspect is reflected in the luxurious funeral ceremony of the body, in the brocade flowers and fan-like palm leaves; everyone knows that this symbolizes the peace of heaven.In addition, the grandfather held a cross in his cold fingers, and Bertel Thorwaldsen (Bertel Thorwaldsen, 1768-1844), a Danish sculptor, was placed on the top of the coffin.Most of the works are memorial images, and some are based on mythology.The bust of Jesus Christ, flanked by tall candelabra - these show this even more clearly.On this occasion, these also exude a religious air.All these arrangements clearly and unmistakably point to the fact that the grandfather has now returned to his true self forever.Besides, they had other meanings and relieving purposes, which little Hans Castorp knew in his heart, but he didn't say it out loud.All this, and especially so much tuberose, means that death is neither beautiful nor to be grieved at all, but an almost unseemly thing of flesh and blood, to be concealed, to be forgotten, It should not always be kept in mind. That is why the dead grandfather looked so queer, not even at all like himself, but like a wax figure of equal size replaced by death, and all this grandeur was now busy for him. of.There he lay, or rather something lay there, not the grandfather himself, but a shell; Hans Castorp knew that this shell was not made of wax, but his grandfather's. Ontology, and only ontology.It's unseemly, and there's nothing to be sad about -- as there's nothing to be sad about when it comes to flesh and blood and only flesh and blood.Little Hans Castorp looked at the sallow body, smooth and dry like cheese. It was exactly the same size as it was in life, and the face and hands were exactly the same as when his grandfather was alive.Just then a fly came and landed on my grandfather's motionless forehead, and its proboscis began to move up and down.Old Man Fiette drove it away with great care, and at the same time was afraid to touch the forehead of the dead man.His face was pious and sullen, as if he did not want or would like to know what he had just done.This look of humility obviously had something to do with the fact that there was nothing left of my grandfather but a shell.But the fly circled around and settled on the grandfather's finger near the ivory cross.While this was happening, Hans Castorp thought he smelled something, not faint, but stranger and stronger than anything he had ever smelled before, which made him wonder. I recall with shame that a classmate in the past also had this strange smell, so everyone avoided him.The tuberoses were there to dispel the smell, which, despite their luxuriance and fragrance, could not hide it. He had stood by the dead body many times: first with old man Fiette alone, then with his great-uncle Tien Napel, a wine merchant, and his two uncles Jims. Be with Peter.Now for the third time, a group of longshoremen in festive dress stood for a moment before the still-closed coffin, saying goodbye to the body of the former owner of Castorp & Sons.Then began the funeral, the hall was packed, and the eulogy was delivered by the priest of St. Michael's Church, Burgenhagen, in his Spanish ruff, the same priest who had baptized Hans Castorp.Then they rode to the cemetery in a carriage, theirs following the hearse, and there was a long line of carriages.The vicar was very kind to little Hans Castorp in the carriage.This period of life ended, and Hans Castorp immediately moved to a new house and new surroundings.For his young life, this is the second time.