海森堡：我為什麼選擇實體而不是音樂

編者按：本文内容為偉大的理論實體學家、量子力學的創立者海森堡回憶其在年輕時為什麼選擇實體而不是音樂作為自己的事業的思考以及與朋友的對話，摘自海森堡的回憶錄Physics and beyond: encounters and conversions中的第二章,根據英文版翻譯。從這些對話可以看出年輕的海森堡和他的朋友們對于實體學如何發展、科學發展的真正動力以及音樂及其曆史發展的深入了解，同時也可以看出海森堡當時所處的非常活躍的思想環境以及濃厚的科學與藝術氛圍。這些對話非常精彩，很難想象有人能夠寫出一篇可堪匹敵的反方論述：為什麼選擇音樂而不是實體！這些對話非常值得認真閱讀和思考。當然，如果有可堪匹敵的反方論述，那也非常值得期待。

撰文 | 海森堡

翻譯 | 廖玮

那年秋天，我經常見到那個在普魯恩城堡如此出色地演奏巴赫的恰空舞曲的男孩。我們會在我們共同的朋友沃爾特的家裡見面，沃爾特是一名優秀的大提琴手，我們一起為一個舒伯特B大調三重奏的私人演奏做練習。沃爾特的父親很早就去世了，他的母親照顧她的兩個兒子，住在伊麗莎白大街上一所家具非常優雅的大房子裡，離我父母在霍亨索倫大街的房子隻有幾分鐘的步行路程。客廳裡那架宏偉的貝希斯坦鋼琴是我們經常去的另一個原因。演奏之後，我們常常聊到深夜。有一次，我們的話題轉到了我的學習計劃上。沃爾特的母親想知道為什麼我沒有決定把音樂作為我的事業。

“從你演奏和談論音樂的方式來看，我覺得你對藝術比對科學和技術更熟悉，你更喜歡音樂而不是科學儀器、公式和機械裝置。”如果我是對的，你為什麼選擇自然科學? 畢竟，世界的未來将由你們年輕人決定。如果青年選擇美，那麼就會有更多的美; 如果它選擇效用，那麼就會有更多有用的東西。每個人的決定不僅對他自己，而且對整個人類都很重要。”

“我真不敢相信我們會面臨這樣的選擇，”我頗為辯解地說。“除了我可能不會成為一個很好的音樂家這一事實之外，問題仍然是在哪個領域我可以貢獻最大。現在我有一個深刻的印象，近年來音樂已經失去了它早期的力量。在17世紀，音樂仍然深深浸淫在宗教生活方式中; 在18世紀，個人情感的世界被征服了;在19世紀，浪漫主義音樂探索了人類靈魂的最深處。但在最近幾年裡，音樂似乎故意進入了一個奇怪的、混亂的、相當薄弱的實驗階段，在這個階段，理論概念先于沿着既定道路前進的願望。在科學領域，特别是在實體學領域，情況就大不相同了。在這裡，沿着固定的道路追求明确的目标——在20年前導緻人們了解某些電磁現象的同樣的道路——自然而然地提出了一些問題，這些問題挑戰了整個科學的哲學基礎、空間和時間的結構，甚至是因果規律的有效性。我們處在一個未知的領域，可能需要幾代實體學家才能發現最終的答案。 我坦率地承認，我非常想在這一切中發揮一些作用。”

我的朋友小提琴家羅爾夫不同意我的觀點。“據我所知，你對現代實體學的評論同樣适用于現代音樂。在這一點上，道路似乎也被清晰地描繪了出來。舊的音調壁壘正在崩潰，我們發現自己處于充滿希望的處女地，幾乎完全自由地選擇我們喜歡的聲音和節奏。是以，音樂家完全有機會做出科學家一樣多的發現。”

沃爾特現在提出了他自己的反對意見。“我真的不知道‘言論自由’和‘有前途的處女地’是否一定是一回事。乍一看，似乎更大的自由必然意味着更豐富、更廣闊的可能性; 但我知道這在藝術中是不正确的，就這一點而言我對藝術比對科學更熟悉。我認為藝術的進步是這樣發生的:首先，緩慢的曆史程序會不由自主地改變人們的生活，進而産生新的思想。然後，一些有才華的藝術家試圖使用他們的材料——色彩或樂器——擷取新的表達方式，進而使這些思想具有可見或可聽的形式。這種互相作用，或者，如果你喜歡，這種表現内容和表現媒介的局限性之間的鬥争，我認為，是真正的藝術出現的關鍵條件。如果表現媒介的限制被消除——例如，在音樂中，我們可以産生任何我們喜歡的聲音——那麼鬥争就會結束，藝術家的努力就會進入空虛。是以，我對過多的自由持懷疑态度。”

“在科學上，”沃爾特繼續說，“新技術的不斷出現使新實驗的不斷出現成為可能; 有了新的經驗，是以就可能産生新的内容。在這裡，表達的手段是用來把握和闡明新思想的概念。例如，我讀到過，讓你很感興趣的愛因斯坦的相對論是在某些實驗失敗後誕生的，這些實驗旨在通過光線的幹涉來示範地球在空間中的運動。當這種論證失敗的時候，人們就清楚地認識到，新的結果或者說新的觀念要求擴充表達的手段，即擴充實體學特有的概念體系。很有可能，沒有人預料到這會要求空間和時間等基本概念發生根本性的變化。 愛因斯坦的偉大成就在于，他比任何人都更早地認識到，空間和時間的概念不僅允許被改變，而且實際上必須被改變。”

“你所說的實體學的最新發展可以合理地與18世紀中期音樂的發展相比較。當時，一個漸進的曆史過程導緻了對個人情感世界的日益認識——正如我們從盧梭和後來的歌德的《維特》中所知道的那樣——然後，偉大的古典主義者——海頓、莫紮特、貝多芬和舒伯特——成功地擴充了表達方式，進而發現了描繪這種情感世界所需的音樂語言。另一方面，在現代音樂中，新的内容似乎是高度模糊和不真實的，過剩的可能表達使我充滿了深深的憂慮。現代音樂的道路似乎是由一個純粹消極的假設所決定的:舊的調性必須被抛棄，因為我們相信它的力量已經耗盡，而不是因為有新的、更有力的思想是它所無法表達的。音樂家完全不知道下一步該怎麼做;他們最多隻能摸索着前進。在現代科學中，問題是明确提出來的，任務是找到正确的答案。然而，在現代藝術中，甚至這些問題都是不确定的。不過，也許你最好多告訴我們一些你打算在實體學領域探索的新領域。”

我試圖傳達我在生病期間收集到的一些知識，主要是來自原子實體學的普及書籍。

“在相對論中，”我告訴沃爾特，“你提到的實驗，連同其他實驗，使愛因斯坦抛棄了流行的同時性概念。這本身就足夠令人興奮了。我們每個人都認為自己确切地知道‘同時’這個詞的含義，即使它指的是發生在很遠的地方的事件。但是我們搞錯了。因為如果我們問一個人如何确定兩個這樣的事件是否實際上是同時發生的，然後用驗證結果來評價各種驗證方法，自然本身告訴我們，答案根本不是明确的，而是取決于觀察者的運動狀态。是以，空間和時間并不像我們以前認為的那樣是互相獨立的。愛因斯坦能夠使用一個簡單而連貫的數學公式來表達空間和時間的‘新’結構。當我生病的時候，我試圖探索這個數學世界。正如我從索末菲那裡學到的那樣，這個世界已經被相當廣泛地揭開了，是以不再是一個未被探索的領域。”

“現在最有趣的問題出現在另一個領域，即原子實體學。在這裡，我們将面對這樣一個基本問題：為什麼物質世界表現出不斷重複出現的形式和性質——例如，為什麼在冰的融化、蒸汽的凝結或氫的燃燒過程中，具有所有特征性質的水總是會再現出來。這在實體學中被認為是理所當然的，但從來沒有得到充分的解釋。讓我們假設物質——在我們的例子中是水——是由原子組成的。化學早就成功地利用了這個想法。現在，我們在學校學到的牛頓定律不能告訴我們，為什麼相關粒子的運動應該像它們實際上那樣穩定。隻有完全不同的自然法則才能幫助我們解釋為什麼原子總是要重新排列自己，并以這樣一種方式運動，進而産生具有相同穩定性質的相同物質。20年前，在普朗克的量子理論中，我們第一次瞥見了這些定律。從那以後，丹麥實體學家尼爾斯·玻爾将普朗克的理論與盧瑟福勳爵的原子模型結合起來。在這樣做的過程中，他第一個闡明了我剛才提到的原子的奇怪的穩定性。但索末菲認為，在這個領域，我們距離清晰地了解自然的運作方式還有很長的路要走。在這裡，我們有一個廣闊的未開發領域，在未來的幾十年裡，可能會發現新的關系。例如，通過适當地重新表述自然規律和使用正确的新概念，我們也許能夠把整個化學歸結為原子實體學。簡而言之，我堅信，在原子實體學中，我們正在探索遠比在音樂中重要得多的關系和結構。但我坦率地承認，150年前的情況正好相反。”

“換句話說，”沃爾特問道，“你認為任何關心文化進步的人都必須利用他所生活的時代的曆史可能性嗎?”如果莫紮特出生在我們這個時代，他也會創作無調性和實驗音樂嗎?”

“是的，我就是這麼想的。如果愛因斯坦生活在12世紀，他就不可能做出重要的科學發現。”

“也許一直培養莫紮特和愛因斯坦這樣的偉人是錯誤的，”沃爾特的母親說。“很少有人有機會扮演如此決定性的角色。我們大多數人必須滿足于在一個小圈子裡安靜地工作，并且應該簡單地問一下，演奏舒伯特的B大調三重奏是否比制作樂器或寫下數學公式更令人滿意。”

我承認我自己也有不少疑慮，并提到了索末菲引用席勒的話：“當國王大興建造時，車夫就有更多的事要做。”

“我們對此都有同樣的感受，”羅爾夫宣稱。“我們這些想成為音樂家的人必須承受無限的痛苦來掌握他們的樂器，即使這樣，也隻能希望演奏出少量的、已有數百名更好的音樂家更精通的作品。而你自己将不得不花很長時間擺弄别人制造得比你強得多的儀器，或者追溯大師們的數學思想。的确，當這一切都完成後，我們中間的音樂駕馭者就會有一種很大的成就感:不斷地與美妙的音樂交流，偶爾還能享受到特别成功的演繹帶來的喜悅。同樣，你們這些科學家偶爾也會設法比前人更好地解釋一種關系，或者比前人更準确地确定一個特定的過程。但是我們誰也不應該指望他會做開創性的工作，他會做出決定性的發現。即使他在一塊尚未開發的土地上工作，也不會這樣。”

沃爾特的母親一直在專心地聽着，現在她說了些什麼，與其說是對我們說，不如說是對她自己說，仿佛她在說話的時候試圖把她的思想組織起來：

“國王和車夫的寓言可能有完全不同的含義。當然，從表面上看，似乎榮耀完全屬于國王，似乎車夫的工作純粹是輔助性的、不重要的。 但事實可能恰恰相反。也許國王的榮耀依賴于車夫們的工作，依賴于車夫們付出了多年的辛勤努力并且收獲了歡樂和成功。也許像巴赫或莫紮特這樣的人之是以能成為音樂之王，隻是因為在長達兩個世紀的時間裡他們使許多不那麼優秀的音樂家有機會用愛和對細節的認真關注來重新诠釋他們的思想。即使是觀衆，當他們聆聽到偉大音樂家傳遞的資訊時，也會參與到這個細心的诠釋工作中。”

“如果你看看曆史的發展——在藝術上不亞于在科學上——你會發現每一門學科都有很長一段時間的沉寂或緩慢增長。然而，即使在這些時期，重要的事情也是認真的工作和對細節的關注。沒有全心全意去做的每件事都會被遺忘，事實上，也不值得被記住。然後，非常突然地，曆史發展給特定學科帶來了變化，開辟了新的可能性，開辟了意想不到的内容。有才華的人在這裡可以感受到成長的過程，感受到一種近乎神奇的吸引力，是以，在幾十年内，世界上一個相對較小的地區将産生重大的藝術作品或最重要的科學發現。例如，在18世紀晚期，古典音樂從維也納大量湧現;在15和16世紀，繪畫在荷蘭達到了鼎盛時期。 誠然，我們需要偉人來表達新的精神内容，創造可以塑造進一步發展的形式，但偉人實際上并不産生這些新内容。”

“很有可能，我們正處于一個碩果累累的科學時代的開端，在這種情況下，勸阻任何年輕人參與其中都是錯誤的。在一個以上的藝術或科學分支同時發生重要的發展似乎是不可能的; 如果它發生在任何一個領域，如果我們能以旁觀者或積極參與者的身份分享它的榮耀，我們應該心存感激。 期望更多是愚蠢的。這就是為什麼我覺得大衆對現代藝術——無論是繪畫還是音樂——的攻擊是如此不公正。一旦音樂和造型藝術解決了十八、十九世紀擺在它們面前的大問題，就必然會有一段更加甯靜的時期，在這段時期裡，許多古老的東西可以被儲存下來，而新的東西則通過反複試錯來檢驗。把現代作品與古典音樂偉大時代最傑出的成就相比，似乎是完全不公平的。也許我們應該用舒伯特B大調三重奏的慢樂章來結束這個晚上。讓我們看看你們能演奏得多好。”

我們照做了。從羅爾夫在樂章第二部分演奏有些憂郁的C大調的方式，我可以感覺到他想到歐洲音樂的偉大時代可能永遠消失時是多麼悲傷。

幾天後，當我走進索末菲經常講課的大廳時，我發現第三排坐着一個黑頭發、臉有些神秘的學生。在我第一次拜訪時，索末菲介紹了我們兩認識，然後告訴我，他認為這個男孩是他最有才華的學生之一，我可以從他身上學到很多東西。他的名字叫沃爾夫岡·泡利，從此之後他一直是我的好朋友，盡管他經常是一個非常嚴厲的批評者。我在他旁邊坐下，問他講座結束後我是否可以向他咨詢一下我的預備學習。這時，索末菲走進了大廳，他剛開始講課，沃爾夫岡就在我耳邊小聲說：“他看起來是不是像典型的老輕騎兵軍官?” 講座結束後，我們回到理論實體研究所，我問了沃爾夫岡兩個問題。我想知道，一個主要對理論感興趣的人要做多少實驗工作，以及他對相對論和原子理論各自的重要性有什麼看法………

附錄：英文翻譯,取自《Physics and beyond: encounters and conversions》, Werner Heisenberg, Translated from the German by Arnold.Pomerans, Harper & Row Publishers, 1971。

The Decision to Study Physics (1920)

Werner Heisenberg

That autumn, I saw a great deal of the boy who had played Bach's Chaconne so magnificently in Prunn Castle. We would meet in the house of our mutual friend, Walter, himself a fine cellist, and practice for a private recital of Schubert's B Major Trio. Walter's father had died at an early age, and his mother had been left to care for her two sons in a large and very elegantly furnished house in Elisabeth Strasse, just a few minutes' walk from my parents' house in Hohenzollern Strasse. The magnificent Bechstein grand in the living room was an added reason for our frequent visits. After we had finished playing, we would often talk deep into the night, and it was on one such occasion that the conversation came round to my proposed studies. Walter's mother wondered why I had not decided to make music my career.

"From the way you play and speak about music, I get the impression that you are much more at home with art than with science and technology, that you prefer the muses to scientific instruments, formulae and machinery. If I am right, why ever have you chosen natural science? After all, the future of the world will be decided by you young people. If youth chooses beauty, then there will be more beauty; if it chooses utility, then there will be more useful things. The decision of each individual is of importance not only to himself but to the whole of man- kind."

"I can't really believe that we are faced with that sort of choice," I said rather defensively. "Quite apart from the fact that I probably wouldn't make a very good musician, the question remains in which field one can contribute most. Now I have the dear impression that in recent years music has lost much of its earlier force. In the seventeenth century music was still deeply steeped in the religious way of life; in the eighteenth century came the conquest of the world of individual emotions; in the nineteenth century romantic music plumbed the innermost depths of the human soul. But in the last few years music seems to have quite deliberately entered a strange, disturbed and rather feeble stage of experimentation, in which theoretical notions take precedence over the desire for progress along established paths. In science, and particularly in physics, things are quite different. Here the pursuit of clear objectives along fixed paths--the same paths that led to the understanding of certain electromagnetic phenomena twenty years ago--has quite automatically thrown up problems that challenge the whole philosophical basis of science, the structure of space and time, and even the validity of causal laws. Here we are on terra incognita, and it will probably take several generations of physicists to discover the final answers. And I frankly confess that I am highly tempted to play some part in all this."

My friend Rolf, the violinist, demurred. "As far as I can see, your remarks about modern physics apply equally well to modern music. Here, too, the path seems to be dearly mapped. The old tonal barriers are collapsing and we find ourselves on promising virgin soil, with almost complete freedom to choose what sounds and rhythms we like. Hence the musician has every chance of discovering as many riches as the scientist."

Walter now raised several objections of his own. "I don't really know whether 'freedom of expression' and 'promising virgin soil' are necessarily the same thing. At first sight it admittedly looks as if greater freedom must necessarily mean enrichment, wider possibilities; but this I know to be untrue in art, with which I am more familiar than with science. I would think that progress in art takes place in the following way: First a slow historical process transforms the life of men in spite of themselves, and thereby throws up fresh ideas. A few talented artists then try to give these ideas a visible or audible form by wresting new possibilities of expression from the material with which they work-from colors or musical instruments. This interplay or, if you like, this struggle between the expressive content and the limitations of the expressive medium is, I think, a sine qua non of the emergence of real art. If the limitations of the expressive medium were taken away--if in music, for instance, we could produce any sounds we liked--then the struggle would be over, and the artist's effort would reach into a void. For that reason I am skeptical about too much freedom.

"In science," Walter continued, "a continuous flow of new experiments is made possible by new techniques; there are new experiences and as a result new contents may be produced. Here the means of expression are the concepts by which the new ideas are grasped and made explicit. For instance, I have read that Einstein's relativity theory, which interests you so much, was born from the failure of certain experiments designed to demonstrate the motion of the earth through space by means of the interference of light rays. When this demonstration misfired, it became clear that the new results, or, what amounts to the same thing, the new ideas, called for an extension of the means of expression, i.e., of the conceptual system proper to physics. Quite likely, no one anticipated that this would demand radical changes in such fundamental concepts as space and time. It was Einstein's great achievement to appreciate before anyone else that the ideas of space and time were not only susceptible to change but, in fact, had to be changed.

"What you have said about recent developments in physics could reasonably be compared with developments in music in the middle of the eighteenth century. At that time, a gradual historical process had led to a growing awareness of the emotional world of the individual--as all of us know from Rousseau and later from Goethe's Werther--and it was then that the great classicists--Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert--succeeded in extending the means of expression and so discovered the musical language needed for depicting this emotional world. In modern music, on the other hand, the new contents appear to be highly obscure and implausible, and the plethora of possible expressions fills me with deep forebodings. The path of modern music seems to be determined by a purely negative postulate: the old tonality has to be discarded because we believe that its powers have been exhausted, and not because there are new and more forceful ideas which it is incapable of expressing. Musicians are entirely in the dark about the next step; at best they grope their way forward. In modern science the questions are clearly posed, and the task is to find the right answers. In modern art, however, even the questions are uncertain. But perhaps you had best tell us a bit more about the new fields you intend to explore in the world of physics."

I tried to convey what little bits of knowledge I had gleaned during my illness, mainly from popular books on atomic physics.

"In relativity theory," I told Walter, "the experiments you have mentioned, together with other experiments, caused Einstein to discard the prevailing concept of simultaneity. That in itself was exciting enough. Every one of us thinks that he knows precisely what the word 'simultaneous' means, even if it refers to events that take place at great distances. But we are mis- taken. For if we ask how one determines whether two such events are, in fact, simultaneous and then evaluates the various means of verification by their results, nature herself informs us that the answers are not at all clear-cut but depend on the observer's state of motion. Space and time are therefore not independent of each other, as we previously believed. Einstein was able to express the 'new' structure of space and time by means of a simple and coherent mathematical formula. While I was ill, I tried to probe into this mathematical world, which, as I have since learned from Sommerfeld, has already been opened up fairly extensively and has therefore ceased to be unexplored territory.

"The most interesting problems now lie in a different field, in atomic physics. Here we come face to face with the fundamental question why the material world manifests ever-recurring forms and qualities-why, for example, water with all its characteristic properties is invariably reproduced during the melting of ice, the condensation of steam or the combustion of hydrogen. This has been taken for granted in physics, but has never been fully explained. Let us suppose that material bodies--in our case, water--are composed of atoms. Chemistry has long made successful use of this idea. Now, the Newtonian laws we were taught at school cannot tell us why the motions of the particles involved should be as stable as they, in fact, are. Only quite different natural laws can help us to explain why atoms should invariably rearrange themselves and move in such a way as to produce the same substances with the same stable properties. We first caught a glimpse of these laws twenty years ago, in Planck's quantum theory. Since then, the Danish physicist, Niels Bohr, has combined Planck's theory with Lord Rutherford's atomic model. In so doing, he was the first to throw light on the curious stability of atoms which I have just mentioned. But Sommerfeld believes that in this sphere we are still a long way from a clear understanding of the ways of nature. Here we have a vast unexplored field, in which new relationships may be discovered for decades to come. By the ap- propriate reformulation of natural laws and with correct new concepts we might, for instance, be able to reduce the whole of chemistry to atomic physics. In short, I firmly believe that in atomic physics we are on the track of far more important relations, far more important structures, than in music. But I freely admit that 150 years ago things were the other way round."

"In other words," Walter asked, "you believe that anyone concerned with cultural progress must necessarily make use of the historical possibilities of the age in which he lives? That, if Mozart had been born in our day, he, too, would be writing atonal and experimental music?"

"Yes, I suspect just that. If Einstein had lived in the twelfth century, he would not have been able to make important scientific discoveries."

"Perhaps it is wrong to keep bringing up such great men as Mozart and Einstein," Walter's mother said. "Few individuals get the chance to play such decisive roles. Most of us must con- tent ourselves with working quietly in a small circle, and ought to ask simply whether playing Schubert's B Major Trio is not more satisfactory than building instruments or writing mathematical formulae."

I agreed that I myself had quite a few qualms and mentioned Sommerfeld's quotation from Schiller: "When kings go a-building, wagoners have more work."

"We all feel the same way about it," Rolf declared. "Those of us who want to become musicians have to take infinite pains to master their instruments, and even then can only hope to play pieces that hundreds of better musicians have played much more proficiently. And you yourself will have to spend long hours with instruments that others have built much more competently, or retrace the mathematical thoughts of the masters. True, when all this has been done, the musical wagoners among us are left with no small sense of achievement: constant intercourse with glorious music and the occasional delight of a particularly successful interpretation. Likewise, you scientists will occasionally manage to interpret a relationship just that little bit better than anyone before you, or determine a particular process more accurately than your predecessors. But none of us ought to count on the fact that he will be doing trail-blazing work, that he will make decisive discoveries. Not even when he works in a field where a great deal of territory has still to be opened up."

Walter's mother, who had been listening attentively, now said something, more to herself than to us, as if she were trying to formulate her thoughts as she spoke:

"The parable of the kings and the wagoners may have quite a different import. Of course, superficially it looks as if the glory is entirely the kings', as if the wagoners' work were purely subsidiary and unimportant. But perhaps the very opposite is true. Perhaps the kings' glory rests on the work of the wagoners, on the fact that the wagoners have put in many years of laborious effort, reaping joy and success. Perhaps men like Bach or Mozart are kings of music only because, for two long centuries, they have offered so many lesser musicians the chance of reinterpreting their thoughts with love and conscientious attention to detail. And even the audience participates in this careful work as it hears the message of the great musicians.

"If you look at historical developments--in the arts no less than in the sciences--you will find that every discipline has long periods of quiescence or of slow growth. Even during these periods, however, the important thing is careful work, attention to detail. Everything that is not done with utter devotion falls into oblivion and, in fact, does not deserve to be remembered. And then, quite suddenly, this slow process, in which general historical developments introduce changes in the contents of a particular discipline, opens up new possibilities, quite unexpected contents. Talented men feel an almost magical attraction for the process of growth they can sense at work here, and so it happens that, within a few decades, a relatively small region of the world will produce major works of art or scientific discoveries of the greatest importance. In the late eighteenth century, for instance, classical music poured forth from Vienna; in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries painting had its heyday in the Netherlands. True, great men are needed to express the new spiritual contents, to create the forms in which further developments can be molded, but they do not actually produce these new contents.

"Of course, it is quite possible that we are on the threshold of an exceptionally fruitful scientific epoch, in which case it would be wrong to dissuade any young man from participating in it. It seems unlikely that important developments will take place in more than one branch of art or science at one time; we ought to be grateful enough if it happens in any one area, if we can share in its glory either as bystanders or as active participants. It would be foolish to expect more. That is precisely why I find popular attacks on modern art--be it painting or music--so unjust. Once music and the plastic arts had solved the great problems posed to them in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, there just had to be a more restful period, in which much of the old could be preserved and new things were tested by trial and error. To compare modern compositions with the finest achievements of the great epoch of classical music seems utterly unfair. Perhaps we ought to finish the evening with the slow movement of Schubert's B Major Trio. Let's see how well you can play it."

We did as we were asked, and from the way in which Rolf played the somewhat melancholic C major figures in the second part of the movement, I could sense how sad he was at the thought that the great epoch of European music might be gone forever.

A few days later, when I walked into the hall where Sommerfeld usually gave his lectures, I spotted a dark-haired student with a somewhat secretive face in the third row. Sommerfeld had introduced us during my first visit and had then told me that he considered this boy to be one of his most talented students, one from whom I could learn a great deal. His name was Wolfgang Pauli, and for the rest of his life he was to be a good friend, though often a very severe critic.I sat down beside him and asked him if, after the lecture, I might consult him about my preparatory studies. Sommerfeld now entered the hall, and as soon as he started to address us Wolfgang whispered in my ear: "Doesn't he look the typical old Hussar officer?" After the lecture, we went back to the Institute of Theoretical Physics, where I asked Wolfgang two questions. I wanted to know how much experimental work had to be done by someone interested chiefly in theory, and what he thought of the respective importance of relativity and atomic theory………

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