A simple young man traveled from Hamburg, his native city, to Davos-Platz in Graubünden in midsummer. He went to visit for three weeks.

From Hamburg up there, that’s a long journey; too far actually in relation to such a short stay. It goes through several countries, uphill and downhill, from the southern German plateau down to the shores of the Swabian Sea and by ship over its leaping waves, there over gorges that used to be considered unfathomable.

From then on, the journey, which had been generous and in direct lines for so long, got bogged down. There are stays and hassles. At the town of Rorschach, on Swiss territory, you trust the railway again, but for the time being you can only get as far as Landquart, a small Alpine station, where you are forced to change trains. It’s a narrow-gauge railway that you board after standing around for a long time in a windy and unattractive area, and the moment the small but obviously unusually powerful machine starts to move, the really adventurous part of the journey begins, a sudden and tough ascent , which doesn’t seem to want to end. Because station Landquart is comparativelystill at a moderate level; but now it’s going on a wild, busy rocky road in all seriousness into the high mountains.

Hans Castorp – that was the young man’s name – found himself alone with his crocodile leather handbag, a gift from his uncle and foster father, Consul Tienappel, to mention that name right here, – his winter coat swinging on a hook, and his plaid roll in a small gray padded compartment; He was sitting with the window closed, and since the afternoon was getting colder and colder, he, the family’s son and tenderling, had turned down the collar of his fashionably wide, silk summer overcoat. Beside him on the bench was a paperback book called Ocean steamships‘, in which he had sometimes studied at the beginning of the journey; but now it lay neglected, while the rushing breath of the heavily panting locomotive soiled its cover with particles of coal.

Two days of travel remove people – and especially young people who are not yet firmly rooted in life – from their everyday world, from everything they call their duties, interests, worries, prospects, much more than they could possibly dream of on the cab ride to the train station let. The space that rolls, turning and fleeing, between him and his plantation, demonstrates powers that are usually thought to be reserved for time; hour by hour he produces inner changes very similar to, but in some ways surpassing, those she produces. Like you, he creates oblivion; but he does it by detaching the person of man from its relations, and placing him in a free and pristine state–yes, he makes even of the pedant and the post-citizensomething like a vagabond in no time. Time, they say, is Lethe; but long-distance air is also such a potion, and if it works less thoroughly, it does so all the more quickly.

Hans Castorp experienced the same thing. He hadn’t intended to take this journey very seriously, to engage with it inwardly. Rather, his intention had been to dismiss it quickly, because it had to be dismissed, to return quite as he had left, and to pick up his life exactly where he had had to leave it for a moment. Yesterday he had been caught up in the usual circle of thoughts, occupied with the recent past, his exams, and the imminent one, his entry into practice at Tunder & Wilms (shipyard, machine shop and boilermaker), and the next three Weeks looked away with as much impatience as his temper would ever allow. But now he felt as if the circumstances demanded his full attention and as if they were not to be taken lightly. This being lifted up into regions where he had never breathed and where, as he knew, completely unfamiliar, strangely thin and sparse living conditions prevailed – it began to excite him, to fill him with a certain anxiety. Home and order were not only far behind, they were mainly fathoms below him, and he was still climbing above them. Hovering between them and the unknown, he wondered how he would fare up there. Perhaps it was unwise and unhealthy that, born and accustomed to breathing only a few meters above sea level, he should suddenly allow himself to be transported to these extreme regions without spending at least a few days This being lifted up into regions where he had never breathed and where, as he knew, completely unfamiliar, strangely thin and sparse living conditions prevailed – it began to excite him, to fill him with a certain anxiety. Home and order were not only far behind, they were mainly fathoms below him, and he was still climbing above them. Hovering between them and the unknown, he wondered how he would fare up there. Perhaps it was unwise and unhealthy that, born and accustomed to breathing only a few meters above sea level, he should suddenly allow himself to be transported to these extreme regions without spending at least a few days This being lifted up into regions where he had never breathed and where, as he knew, completely unfamiliar, strangely thin and sparse living conditions prevailed – it began to excite him, to fill him with a certain anxiety. Home and order were not only far behind, they were mainly fathoms below him, and he was still climbing above them. Hovering between them and the unknown, he wondered how he would fare up there. Perhaps it was unwise and unhealthy that, born and accustomed to breathing only a few meters above sea level, he should suddenly allow himself to be transported to these extreme regions without spending at least a few days to excite him, to fill him with a certain anxiety. Home and order were not only far behind, they were mainly fathoms below him, and he was still climbing above them. Hovering between them and the unknown, he wondered how he would fare up there. Perhaps it was unwise and unhealthy that, born and accustomed to breathing only a few meters above sea level, he should suddenly allow himself to be transported to these extreme regions without spending at least a few days to excite him, to fill him with a certain anxiety. Home and order were not only far behind, they were mainly fathoms below him, and he was still climbing above them. Hovering between them and the unknown, he wondered how he would fare up there. Perhaps it was unwise and unhealthy that, born and accustomed to breathing only a few meters above sea level, he should suddenly allow himself to be transported to these extreme regions without spending at least a few daysto have lingered in a place in the middle? He wished he had reached his goal, because once at the top, he thought, one would live like everywhere else and not be reminded of the inappropriate spheres in which one found oneself as now when climbing. He looked out: the procession curved in a narrow pass; one could see the cars in front, one could see the machine, which in its toil was emitting masses of brown, green, and black smoke that were wafting away. Water rushed in the deep to the right; on the left, dark spruce trees rose between boulders against a stone-grey sky. Pitch black tunnels came, and when it was day again, wide chasms with towns below opened up. They closed, new bottlenecks followed, with the remains of snow in their cracks and crevices. There were stops at poor station houses, terminal stations, which the train left in the opposite direction, which was confusing because one no longer knew how to go and no longer remembered the parts of the sky. Great long-distance views of the holy, phantasmagorical towering peaks of the high mountains, into which one strived up and in, opened up and were lost again to the reverent eye through path bends. Hans Castorp considered that he had left the zone of deciduous trees below him, and probably also that of the songbirds, if he liked it, and this thought of stopping and impoverishment made him, overcome by a slight dizziness and feeling sick, for two seconds covered his eyes with his hand. That passed. He saw that the ascent had come to an end, the pass had been conquered. The train now rolled more comfortably on the level valley floor. which was confusing, since one no longer knew how to drive and no longer remembered the parts of the sky. Great long-distance views of the holy, phantasmagorical towering peaks of the high mountains, into which one strived up and in, opened up and were lost again to the reverent eye through path bends. Hans Castorp considered that he had left the zone of deciduous trees below him, and probably also that of the songbirds, if he liked it, and this thought of stopping and impoverishment made him, overcome by a slight dizziness and feeling sick, for two seconds covered his eyes with his hand. That passed. He saw that the ascent had come to an end, the pass had been conquered. The train now rolled more comfortably on the level valley floor. which was confusing, since one no longer knew how to drive and no longer remembered the parts of the sky. Great long-distance views of the holy, phantasmagorical towering peaks of the high mountains, into which one strived up and in, opened up and were lost again to the reverent eye through path bends. Hans Castorp considered that he had left the zone of deciduous trees below him, and probably also that of the songbirds, if he liked it, and this thought of stopping and impoverishment made him, overcome by a slight dizziness and feeling sick, for two seconds covered his eyes with his hand. That passed. He saw that the ascent had come to an end, the pass had been conquered. The train now rolled more comfortably on the level valley floor. how one drove and no longer remembered the quarters of the sky. Great long-distance views of the holy, phantasmagorical towering peaks of the high mountains, into which one strived up and in, opened up and were lost again to the reverent eye through path bends. Hans Castorp considered that he had left the zone of deciduous trees below him, and probably also that of the songbirds, if he liked it, and this thought of stopping and impoverishment made him, overcome by a slight dizziness and feeling sick, for two seconds covered his eyes with his hand. That passed. He saw that the ascent had come to an end, the pass had been conquered. The train now rolled more comfortably on the level valley floor. how one drove and no longer remembered the quarters of the sky. Great long-distance views of the holy, phantasmagorical towering peaks of the high mountains, into which one strived up and in, opened up and were lost again to the reverent eye through path bends. Hans Castorp considered that he had left the zone of deciduous trees below him, and probably also that of the songbirds, if he liked it, and this thought of stopping and impoverishment made him, overcome by a slight dizziness and feeling sick, for two seconds covered his eyes with his hand. That passed. He saw that the ascent had come to an end, the pass had been conquered. The train now rolled more comfortably on the level valley floor. Great long-distance views of the holy, phantasmagorical towering peaks of the high mountains, into which one strived up and in, opened up and were lost again to the reverent eye through path bends. Hans Castorp considered that he had left the zone of deciduous trees below him, and probably also that of the songbirds, if he liked it, and this thought of stopping and impoverishment made him, overcome by a slight dizziness and feeling sick, for two seconds covered his eyes with his hand. That passed. He saw that the ascent had come to an end, the pass had been conquered. The train now rolled more comfortably on the level valley floor. Great long-distance views of the holy, phantasmagorical towering peaks of the high mountains, into which one strived up and in, opened up and were lost again to the reverent eye through path bends. Hans Castorp considered that he had left the zone of deciduous trees below him, and probably also that of the songbirds, if he liked it, and this thought of stopping and impoverishment made him, overcome by a slight dizziness and feeling sick, for two seconds covered his eyes with his hand. That passed. He saw that the ascent had come to an end, the pass had been conquered. The train now rolled more comfortably on the level valley floor. that he had left the zone of deciduous trees below him, also that of the songbirds, if he liked it, and this thought of stopping and impoverishment caused him, overcome by a slight dizziness and feeling sick, to close his eyes for two seconds with the hand covered. That passed. He saw that the ascent had come to an end, the pass had been conquered. The train now rolled more comfortably on the level valley floor. that he had left the zone of deciduous trees below him, also that of the songbirds, if he liked it, and this thought of stopping and impoverishment caused him, overcome by a slight dizziness and feeling sick, to close his eyes for two seconds with the hand covered. That passed. He saw that the ascent had come to an end, the pass had been conquered. The train now rolled more comfortably on the level valley floor.

It was around eight o’clock and the day was still lasting. A lake appeared in the distant landscape, its tide was gray, and black spruce forests rose up beside its banks on the surrounding heights, thinning higher up, disappearing and leaving behind misty-bare rock. They stopped at a small station, it was Davos-Dorf, as Hans Castorp heard exclaiming outside, he would soon be at his destination. And suddenly he heard Joachim Ziemßen’s voice next to him, his cousin’s leisurely Hamburg voice, saying: “Hello, you, just get out”; and when he looked out, under his window Joachim himself was standing on the platform, in brown ulster, completely bareheaded and looking healthier than he had ever been in his life. He laughed and said again:

“Come out, don’t be embarrassed!”

“But I’m not there yet,” said Hans Castorp, puzzled and still sitting.

“Yes, you are there. This is the village. It is closer to the sanatorium from here. I have a car with me. Give me your things.”

And laughing, confused, in the excitement of arriving and seeing each other again, Hans Castorp handed him his handbag and winter coat, the plaid roll with stick and umbrella, and finally “ Ocean steamships ”. Then he ran down the narrow corridor and jumped onto the platform for the actual and, so to speak, only now personal greeting with his cousin, which took place without exuberance, as between people of cool and aloof manners. It’s strange to say, but they’d always avoided calling each other by their first names, purely out of feartoo much warmth. However, since they weren’t good at addressing each other by their last names, they limited themselves to the first form. This was an ingrained habit between the cousins.

A man in livery, with a trefoil cap, watched them – young Ziemssen in a military bearing – shake hands quickly and a little embarrassed, and then came up to ask Hans Castorp’s luggage tag; because he was the concierge of the international sanatorium “Berghof” and showed himself willing to fetch the guest’s large suitcase from the “Platz” train station, while the gentlemen drove directly to the car for supper. The man limped conspicuously, and so the first thing Hans Castorp asked Joachim Ziemßen was:

“Is that a war veteran? Why is he limping?”

“Yes, thank you!” Joachim replied a little bitterly. “A war veteran! He has it in his knee – or he did, because then he had his kneecap removed.”

Hans Castorp thought it over as quickly as he could. “Yes, so!” he said, raising his head as he went and glancing around briefly. “You can’t be trying to tell me that you still have something like that, are you? You look as if you already have your portepee and just came out of the manoeuvre.” And he looked sideways at the cousin.

Joachim was taller and broader than he was, a picture of youthful strength and made for the uniform. He was of the very brown type that his fair-haired homeland often produces, and his already dark complexion was almost bronzed by burns. With his big black eyes and dark mustache over his full, well-circled mouth he would be downrightwould have been nice if he hadn’t had protruding ears. They had been his only sorrow and pain in life up to a point. Now he had other worries. Hans Castorp continued:

“Are you coming down with me? I really don’t see any obstacle.”

“Similar to you?” asked the cousin, turning his large eyes towards him, which had always been gentle, but in these five months had taken on a somewhat tired, even sad expression. “Right away?”

“Well, in three weeks.”

“Oh, you’re probably going home in your thoughts,” Joachim answered. “Well, just wait, you’ve only just arrived. Of course, three weeks is almost nothing for us up here, but for you, who are visiting here and are only supposed to stay for three weeks, it’s a lot of time for you. First acclimatize, it’s not that easy, you should see. And then the climate is not the only strange thing about us. You will see a lot of new things here, watch out. And what you say about me doesn’t go so quickly with me, you, ‘home in three weeks’, those are ideas from below. I’m probably brown, but that’s mostly snow burn and doesn’t mean much, like Behrens always says, and at the last general check-up he said

“Half a year? Are you mad?” shouted Hans Castorp. They had just gotten into the yellow cabriolet that was waiting there on the stony ground in front of the station building, which was little more than a shed, and whileWhen the two brown horses got dressed, Hans Castorp threw himself around indignantly on the hard pillow. “Half a year? you’ve been here for almost half a year! You don’t have that much time –!”

“Yes, it’s about time,” said Joachim and nodded straight ahead several times, ignoring his cousin’s honest indignation. “They jump around here with human time, you wouldn’t believe that. Three weeks is like a day before you. You will see. You’ll learn all that,” he said, adding, “You’re changing your terms here.”

Hans Castorp kept looking at him from the side.

“But you’ve recovered splendidly,” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes, you mean?” answered Joachim. “Don’t you, I think so too!” he said, and sat higher back on the pillow; but he immediately assumed a more oblique position. “I’m better,” he explained; “But I’m not healthy yet. On the top left, where rattling used to be heard, it now sounds rough, that’s not so bad, but it’s still very rough down below, and then there are noises in the second intercostal space as well.”

“How learned you’ve become,” said Hans Castorp.

“Yes, that is, God knows, a nice scholarship. I would have liked to have sweated it out again while I was on duty,” Joachim replied. “But I still have sputum,” he said, with a shrug that was both casual and violent, which didn’t look good on him, and let his cousin see something, which he pulled half out of the side pocket of his ulster that was facing him, and put it away again: a flat, curved bottle of blue glass with a metal stopper. “Themost of us have up here,” he said. “It also has a name with us, a nickname, really jolly. Are you looking around?”

That’s what Hans Castorp did, and he said: “Great!”

“Do you think so?” asked Joachim.

They had followed the unevenly built road that ran parallel to the railway for a while in the direction of the valley axis, had then crossed the narrow track to the left, crossed a watercourse and were now trotting on a gently ascending road towards wooded slopes, to where on a low protruding meadow plateau , the front facing south-west, a long building with a domed tower, which from afar looked porous and full of holes because of the balcony boxes, like a sponge, just put on the first lights. It was dawning quickly. A faint afterglow, which for a while had enlivened the evenly overcast sky, had already faded, and that colorless, lifeless, and sad transitional state prevailed in nature, which immediately precedes full nightfall. The populated valley, stretched out and somewhat tortuous, was now illuminated everywhere, on the ground as well as here and there on the two-sided leanings – especially on the right, which extended and on which the buildings rose in terraces. To the left, paths ran up the meadow slopes and were lost in the dull blackness of the coniferous forests. The more distant mountain scenery, at the back of the exit towards which the valley narrowed, showed a sober slate blue. As a wind had picked up, the evening chill became sensitive. showed a sober slate blue. As a wind had picked up, the evening chill became sensitive. showed a sober slate blue. As a wind had picked up, the evening chill became sensitive.

“No, I don’t find it that overwhelming to be honest,” said Hans Castorp. “Where are the glaciers and corn snowand the mighty mountain giants? Those things aren’t very tall, it seems to me.”

“Yes, they are high,” answered Joachim. “You see the tree line almost everywhere, it marks itself out remarkably sharply, the spruce trees end and that’s where everything ends, it’s over, rocks, as you can see. Over there, to the right of the Schwarzhorn, that spur there, you even have a glacier, can you still see the blue? It’s not big, but it’s a glacier as it should be, the Scaletta Glacier. Piz Michel and Tinzenhorn in the gap, you can’t see them from here, they’re always in the snow, all year round.”

“In eternal snow,” said Hans Castorp.

“Yes, forever if you want. Yes, it’s all high. But we ourselves are terribly high, you must consider. Sixteen hundred meters above sea level. The surveys don’t really come into their own there.”

“Yes, that was some climbing! I’ve gotten scared and anxious, I can tell you. Sixteen hundred meters! That’s almost five thousand feet when I do the math. I’ve never been that high in my life.” And Hans Castorp curiously took a deep, rehearsal breath of the unfamiliar air. It was fresh – and nothing more. It lacked scent, content, moisture, it shriveled easily and said nothing to the soul.

“Excellent!” he remarked politely.

“Yes, it is a famous air. By the way, the area is not looking good tonight. Sometimes she looks better, especially in the snow. But you get very fed up with her. All of us up here, believe me, are unspeakably fed up with them,” said Joachim, and hisMouth twisted in a look of disgust that seemed exaggerated and uncontrolled and in turn didn’t suit him well.

“You speak so strangely,” said Hans Castorp.

“Do I speak strangely?” asked Joachim with a certain concern and turned to his cousin…

“No, no, sorry, it only seemed like that for a moment!” Hans Castorp hastened to say. But he had meant the phrase “We up here,” which Joachim had used for the third or fourth time and which in some way struck him as oppressive and strange.

“Our sanatorium is even higher than the town, as you can see,” Joachim continued. “Fifty yards. The prospectus says ‘hundred’, but it’s only fifty. At the highest point is the Schatzalp sanatorium over there, you can’t see it. In winter, they have to bring their corpses down on bobsleds, because then the roads aren’t passable.”

“Their corpses? Oh right! Well, listen!” shouted Hans Castorp. And suddenly he burst out laughing, a violent, uncontrollable laugh that shook his chest and twisted his face, a little stiff from the chill, into a slightly painful grimace. “On the sled! And you’re telling me that with all your heart? You’ve become quite cynical in these five months!”

“Not cynical at all,” Joachim replied with a shrug. “How come? It doesn’t matter to the corpses… By the way, it’s possible that people here become cynical. Behrens himself is also one of those old cynics – a famous chicken by the way, old corps student and brilliant surgeon, it seems, you’ll like him. Then there’s Krokowski,the assistant – a very shy thing. In the prospectus, special reference is made to his activities. For he does soul dissection with the patients.”

“What is he up to? soul dismemberment? That’s disgusting!” exclaimed Hans Castorp, and now his cheerfulness got the upper hand. He was no longer her master, after all the dismembering of his soul had completely fascinated him, and he laughed so hard that the tears ran out from under the hand with which he, leaning forward, covered his eyes. Joachim laughed heartily too – it seemed to do him good – and so it was that the young people got out of their car in great good spirits.