Buddenbrooks (31 page)

CHAPTER XI

TONY lost no time. She went resolutely about her affair. In the hope of quieting her, of bringing her slowly to a different frame of mind, the Consul said but little. He asked only one thing: that she should be very quiet and stop entirely in the house--and Erica as well. Perhaps it would blow over. The town did not need to know. The family Thurs-day afternoon was put off on some pretext. But on the very next day she wrote to Dr. Cieseke and summoned him to Meng Street. She received him alone, in the middle corridor room on the first floor, where a fire was laid, and she had arranged a heavy table with ink and writing materials and a quantity of foolscap paper from the of-fice. They sat down in two easy-chairs. "Doctor Gieseke," said Tony. She folded her arms, flung back her head, and looked at the ceiling while she spoke. "You are a man of experience, both professionally and per-sonally. I can speak openly with you." And thereupon she revealed to him the whole story about Babette and what had happened in her sleeping-chamber. Dr. Gieseke regretted being obliged to explain to her that neither the affair on the stairs nor the insult she had undoubtedly received, the pre-cise nature of which she hesitated to divulge, was sufficient ground for a divorce. "Very good," she said. "Thank you." And then, at her request, he gave an exposition of the existing legal grounds for divorce, and an even longer dis-course after it, which had for its subject-matter the law touching dowry rights. She listened with open mind and strained attention; and then, with cordial thanks, dismissed Dr. Gieseke for the time being .385 She went downstairs and demanded audience of her brother in his private office. 'Thomas," she said, "please write to the man at once--I do not like to mention his name. As far as the money goes, I am perfectly informed on that subject. Let him speak. Me he shall never see again, whatever he decides. If he agrees to a divorce, we will ask him to give an accounting end restore my dos. If he refuses, we need not be discouraged. For, as you probably know, Permaneder's right to my dos, is, legally speaking a property right. We grant that. But on the other hand, thank goodness, I have certain material rights on my side--" The Consul walked up and down with his hands behind his back, his shoulders twitching nervously. Tony's face, as she uttered the word dos was too unutterably self-satisfied! He had no time. Heaven knew he had no time. Let her have patience, and wait, and bethink herself a hundred times. His nearest duty was a journey to Hamburg--indeed, he must go the very next day, for the purpose of a personal interview with Christian. Christian had written for help, for money which would have to come out of the Frau Consul's inheri-tance. His business was in frightful condition; he was in constant difficulties. Yet he seemed to amuse himself royally and went everywhere, to theatres, restaurants, and concert halls. To judge from the debts now coming to light, which he had been able to pile up on the credit of his family name, he had been living far, far beyond his means. And they knew in Meng Street, and at the club--yes, the whole town knew--who was responsible. It was a certain female, a certain Aline Puvogel, who lived alone with her two pretty children. Chris-tian was not the only Hamburg business man who possessed her favours and spent money on her. In short, Tony's intentions in the matter of her divorce were not the only dark spot in the Consul's sky; and the journey to Hamburg was pressing. Besides, it was altogether likely that they would hear from Herr Permaneder. The Consul went to Hamburg, and came back angry and depressed. No word had come from Munich, and he felt obliged to take the first step. He wrote; wrote rather coldly, with curt condescension, to this effect: Antonie, during her life with Permaneder, had been subjected to great disappointments--that would not be denied. Without going into detail, it was evident that she could never find happiness in this marriage. Her wish that it should be dissolved must be justified, to the mind of any reasonable person; and her determination not to return to Munich was entirely unshakable. And he put the question as to what were Herr Permaneder's feelings in view of the facts which he had just stated. There were more days of suspense. And then came Herr Permaneder's reply. He answered as no one had expected him to answer--not Dr. Gieseke, nor the Frau Consul, not Thomas, nor Antonie herself. He agreed, quite simply, to a divorce. He wrote that he deeply regretted what had happened, but that he respected Antonie's wishes, as he saw that he and she had "never hit it off." If it were true that she had suffered during those years through him, he begged her to forget and forgive. As he would probably never see her and Erica again, he sent them both his hearty good wishes for all happiness on this earth. And he signed himself, Alois Permaneder. In a postscript he offered to make immediate restitution of the dowry. He had enough without it to lead a life free from care. He did not require to have notice given, for business there was none to wind up, the house belonged to him, and the money was ready any time. Tony felt a slight twinge of shame, and was almost inclined, for the first time, to admit that Herr Permaneder's indiffer-ence to money matters might have something good about it. Now it was Dr. Gieseke's turn again. He communicated with the husband, and a plea of "mutual incompatibility" was set up as ground for the divorce. The hearing began--Tony's second divorce case. She talked about it night and 387 day, and the Consul lost his temper several times. Tony was in no state to share his feelings. She was entirely taken up with words like "tangibilities," "improvabilities," "acces-sions," "productivity," "dowry rights," and the like, which she used in season and out of season, with marvellous fluency, her shoulders slightly raised. One point in Dr. Grieseke's long disquisitions had made a great impression on her: it had to do with "treasure" found in any piece of property that has constituted part of a dowry, which was to be re-garded as a component part of the dowry, to be liquidated if the marriage came to an end. About this "treasure"--which was, of course, non-existent--she talked to every soul she knew: Ida Jungmann, Uncle Justus, poor Clothilde, the Broad Street Buddenbrooks--and they, when they heard how matters stood, just folded their hands in their laps and looked at each other in speechless joy that this satisfaction, too, had been vouchsafed them. Therese Weichbrodt was told of it--Erica had gone to stay at the pension again--and Madame Kethelsen too, though this last, for more than one reason, understood not a single word. Then came the day when the divorce was pronounced; when the last formalities were gone through, and Tony asked Thomas for the family papers and set down this last event with her own hand. Yes, it was done. All that re-mained was to get used to it. She did it gallantly. She bore, with unscathed dignity, the tiny dagger-thrusts of the ladies from Broad Street; she met the Hagenstrbms and Mb'llendorpfs on the street and looked with chilling indifference straight over their heads; and she quite gave up going into society--the more easily that it had for some years past forsaken her Mother's house for her brother's. She had her own immediate family, the Frau Consul, Tom, and Gerda; she had Ida Jungmann and her motherly friend Sesemi Weichbrodt; and she had Erica, upon whose future she probably built her own last secrrt hopes, and upon whose aristocratic upbringing she expended much care and thought. Thus she lived, and thus time went on. Later, in some way that was never quite clear, there came to certain members of the family knowledge of that "word/7 the desperate word which had escaped from Herr Permaneder on that never-to-be-forgotten night. What was it, then, that he had said? "Go to the devil, you filthy sprat-eating slut!" And thus Tony Buddenbrook's second marriage came tc an end.

END OF VOLUME I

PART SEVEN

CHAPTER I

A CHRISTENING--a christening in Broad Street! All, everything is there that was dreamed of by Madame Permaneder in the days of her expectancy. In the dining-room, the maid-servant, moving noiselessly so as not to disturb the services in the next room, is filling the cups with steaming hot chocolate and whipped cream. There are quantities of cups, crowded together on the^reat round tray with the gilded shell-shaped handles. And Anton the butler is cutting a towering layer-cake into slices, and Mamsell Jungmann is arranging flowers and sweets in silver dessert-dishes, with her head on one side, and both little fingers stuck out. Soon the company will have seated themselves in the salon and sitting-room, and all these delicacies will be handed round. It is to be hoped they will hold out, since it is the whole family which has gathered here, in the broader, if not quite in the broadest sense of the word. For it is, through the Dverdiecks, connected distantly with the Kistenmakerg, and through them with the Moll end orpfs--and so on. One simply must draw the line somewhere! But the Overdiecks are represented, and, indeed, by no less a personage than the head of the family, the venerable Doctor Kaspar Over- dieck, reigning Burgomaster, more than eighty years old. He came in a carriage, and mounted the steps leaning on his staff and Thomas Buddenbrook's arm. His presence en- hances the dignity of the occasion--and, beyond a question, this occasion is worthy of every dignity! For within, in the salon, there is a flower-decked small table, serving as an altar, with a young priest in black vestments and a stiff snowy ruff like a millstone round his neck, 3 reciting the service; and there is a great, strapping, particu-larly well-nourished person, richly arrayed in red and gold, bearing upon her billowing arms a small something, half smothered in laces and satin bows: an heir--a first-born son! A Buddenbrook! Do we really grasp the meaning of the fact? Can we realize the thrill of that first whisper, that first little hint that travelled from Broad Street to Mengstrasse? Or Frau Permaneder's speechless ecstasy, as she embraced her mother, her brother, and--very gently--her sister-in-law? And now, with the spring--the spring of the year 1861--he has come: he, the heir of so many hopes, whom they have expected for so many years, talked of him, longed for him, prayed to God and tormented Dr. Grabow for him; at length he has come--and looks most unimposing. His tiny hands play among the gilt trimmings of his nurse's waist; his head, in a lace cap trimmed with pale blue ribbons, lies sidewise on the pillow, turned heedlessly away from the preacher; he stares out into the room, at all his relatives, with an old, knowing look. Those eyes, under their long-lashed lids, blend the light blue of the Father's and the brown of the Mother's iris into a pale, indefinite, 'changeful golden-brown; but bluish shadows lie in the deep corners on both sides of the nose, and these give the little face, which is hardly yet a face at all, an aged look not suited to its four weeks of existence. But, please Cod, they mean nothing--for has not his Mother the same? And she is in perfectly good health. And anyhow, he lives--he lives, and is a son; which was the cause, four weeks ago, fur great rejoicing. He lives--and it might have been otherwise. The Consul will never forget the grip of good Dr. Grabow's hand, as he said to him, four weeks ago, when he could leave the mother and chili: "Give thanks to God, my dear friend--there wasn't much to spare." The Consul has not dared to ask his meaning. He put from him in horror the thought that his son--this tiny creature, yearned for in vain so many years-- had slipped into the world without breath to cry out, almost --almost--like Antonie's second daughter. But he knows that that hour, four weeks ago, was a desperate one for mother and child; and he bends tenderly over Gerda, who reclines in an easy-chair in front of him, next his Mother, her feet, in patent-leather shoes, crossed before her on a velvet cushion. How pale she still is! And how strangely loVely in her pal- lor, with that heavy dark-red hair and those mysterious eyea that rest upon the preacher in half-veiled mockery! Herr Andreas Pringsheim, pastor marianus, succeeded thus young to the headship of St. Mary's after old Rolling's sudden death. He holds his chin in the air and his hands prayerfully folded beneath it. He has short, curly blond hair and a smooth- shaven, bony face, with a somewhat theatrical range of ex- pression, from fanatical zeal to an exalted serenity. He comes frDin Franconia, where he has been for some years, serving a small Lutheran community among Catholics; and his effort after a clear and moving delivery has resulted in exaggerated mannerisms; an r rolled upon his front teeth and long, obscure, or crudely accented vowel-sounds, He gives thanks to Cod, in a voice now low and soft, now loud and swelling--and the family listen: Frau Permaneder, clothed in a dignity that hides her pride and her delight; Erica Gr�, now almost fifteen years old, a blooming young girl with a long braid and her father's rosy skin; and Chris-tian, who has arrived that morning, and sits letting his deep-set eyes rove from side to side all over the room. Pastor Tiburtius and his wife have not shrunk from the long jour-ney, but have come from Riga to be present at the ceremony. The ends of Sievert Tiburtius' long, thin whiskers are parted over his shoulders, and his small grey eyes now and then open wider and wider, most unexpectedly, and grow larger and more prominent till they almost jump out of his head. Clara's gaze is dark and solemn and severe, and she sometimes lifts her hand to a head that always seems to ache. But 5 they have brought a splendid present to the Buddenbrooks: a huge brown bear stuffed in a standing position. A relative of the Pastor's shot him somewhere in the heart of Russia, and now he stands below in the vestibule with a card-tray between his paws. The Krbgers have their son Jiirgen visiting them; he is a post-office official in Rostock, a quirt, simply-dressed man. Where Jacob is, nobody knows but his mother, who was an Overdieck. She, poor, weak woman, secretly sells the house-hold silver to send money to the disinherited son. And the ladies Buddenbrook are there, deeply rejoiced over the happy family event--which does not prevent Pfiffi from remarking that the child looks rather unhealthy: a view which the Frau Consul, born Stiiwing, and likewise Friederike and Henricttc, feel bound to endorse. But poor Clolhilde, lean, grey, re-signed, and hungry, is moved by the words of Pastor Prings-heim and the prospect of layer-cake and chocolate. The guests not belonging to the family are Herr Friedrich Wil-helm Marcus and Sesemi Weichbrodt. Now the Pastor turns to the god-parents and instructs them in their duty. Justus Kroger is one. Consul Buddenbrook refused at first to ask him. "Why invite the old man to com-mit a piece of folly?" he says. "He has frightful scenes with his wife every day over Jacob; their little properly is slowly melting away--out of pure worry he is even beginning to be careless in his dress! But you know what will happen: if we ask him, he will send the child a heavy gold service and refuse to be thanked for it!" But when Uncle Justus heard who was to be asked in his place--Stephan Kistenmaker had been mentioned--he was so enormously piqued that they had to ask him after all. The gold mug he presented was, to Thomas's great relief, not exaggeratedly heavy. And the second god-father? It is this dignified old gentle-man with the snow-white hair, high neck-band, and soft black broadcloth coat with the red handkerchief sticking out of the back pocket, sitting here bent over his stick, in the most comfortable arm-chair in the house. It is, of course, Burgo-master Dr. Overdieck. It is a great event--a triumph! Good heavens, how could it have come about? he is hardly even a relative! The Buddenbrooks must have dragged the old man in by the hair! In fact, it is rather a feat: a little intrigue planned by the Consul and Madame Permaneder. At first it was merely a joke, born of the great relief of knowing that mother and child were safe. "A boy, Tony," cried the Con-s'ul. "He ought to have the Burgomaster for god-father!" But she took it up in earnest, whereupon he considered the matter seriously and agreed to make a trial. They hid be-hind Uncle Justus, and got him to send his wife ta her sister-in-law, the wife of Ovcrdieck the lumber dealer. She ac-cepted the task of preparing the old father-in-law; then Thomas Buddenbrook made a visit to the head of the state and paid his respects--and the thing was done. Now the nurse lifts up the child's cap, and the Pastor cau-tiously sprinkles two or three drops out of the gilt-lined silver basin in front of him, upon the few hairs of little Budden-brook, as he slowly and impressively names the names with which he is baptizing him: Justus, Johann, Kaspar. Follows a short prayer, and then the relatives file by to bestow a kiss upon the brow of the unconcerned little creature. Therese Weichbrodt comes last, to whom the nurse has to stoop with her burden; in return for which Sesemi gives him two kisses, that go oil with small explosions, and says, between them: "You good che-ild!" Three minutes later, the guests have disposed themselves in salon and living-room, and the sweets are passed. Even Pastor Pringsheim, the toes of his broad, shiny boots showing under his black vestments, sits and sips the cool whipped cream off his hot chocolate, chatting easily the while, and wearing his serene expression, which is most effective by way of contrast with his sermon. His manner says, as plainly as words: "See how I can lay aside the priest and become the jolly ordinary guest!" He is a versatile, an accommodating 7 sort of man. To the Frau Consul he speaks rather unctuously, to Thomas and Gerda like a man of the world, and with Frau Permaneder he is downright jocose, making jokes and gesturing fluently. Now and then, whenever he thinks of it, he folds his hands in his lap, tips back his head, glooms his brows, and makes a long face. When he laughs he draws the air in through his teeth in little jerks. Suddenly there is a stir in the corridor, the servants arb heard laughing, and in the doorway appears a singular figure, come to offer congratulations. It is Grobleben: Grobleben, from whose thin nose, no matter what the time of year, there ever hangs a drop, which never falls. Grobleben is a work-man in one of the Consul's granaries, and he has an extra job, too, at the house, as boots. Every morning early he appears in Broad Street, takes the boots frnm before the door, and cleans them below in the court. At family feasts he al-ways appears in holiday attire, presents flowers, and makes a speech, in a whining, unctuous voice, with the drop pendent from his nose. For this, he always gets a piece of money--but that is not why he does it! He wears a black coat--an old one of the Consul's--greased leather top-boots, and a blue woollen scarf round his neck. In his wizened red hand he holds a bunch of pale-coloured roses, which are a little past their best, and slowly shed their petals on the carpet. He blinks with his small red eyes, but apparently sees nothing. He stands still in the doorway, with his flowers held out in front of him, and be-gins straightway to speak. The old Frau Consul nods to him encouragingly and makes soothing little noises, the Con-sul regards him with one eyebrow lifted, and some of the family--Frau Permaneder, for instance--put their handker-chiefs to their mouths. "I be a poor man, yer honour 'n' ladies V gentlemen, but I've a feelin' hairt; 'n' the happiness of my master comes home to me, it do, seein's he's allus been so good t' me; 'n' so I've come, yer honour V ladies 'n' gentlemen, to congratu-late the Herr Consul 'n' the Frau Consul, 'n' the whole re-spected family, from a full hairt, 'n' that the child may pros-per, for that they desarve fr'm God 'n' man, for such a master as Consul Buddenbrook there aren't so many, he's a noble gentleman, 'n' our Lord will reward him for all...." "Splendid, Grobleben! That was a beautiful speech. Thank you very much, Grobleben, What are the roses for?" But Grobleben has not nearly done. He strains his whining voice and drowns the Consul out. "... 'n' I say th' Lord will reward him, him and the whole respected family; 'n' when his time has come to stan* before His throne, for stan' we all must, rich and poor, 'n' one'll have a fine polished hard-wood coffin 'n' 'tother V old box, yet all on 'us must come to mother earth at th' last, yes, we must all come to her at th' last--to mother earth--to mother--" "Oh, come, come, Grobleben! This isn't a funeral, it's a christening, Get along with your mother earth!" "... 'n' these be a few flowers," concludes Grobleben. "Thank you, Grobleben, thank you. This is too much--what did you pay for them, man? But I haven't heard such a speech as that for a long time! Wait a minute--here, go out and give yourself a treat, in honour of the day!" And the Consul puts his hand on the old man's shoulder and gives him a thaler. "Here, my good man," says the Frau Consul. "And I hope you love our blessed Lord?" "I be lovin' him from my hairt, Frau Consul, thet's the holy truth!" And Gobleben gets another thaler from her, and a third from Frau Permaneder, and retires with a bow and a scrape, taking the roses with him by mistake, except for those already fallen on the carpet. The Burgomaster takes his leave now, and the Consul ac-companies him down to his carriage. This is the signal for 9 the party to break up--for Gerda BuddenbrDok must rest. The old Frau Consul, Tony, Erica, and Mams ell Jug-mann are the last to go. "Well, Ida," says the Consul, "I have been thinking it over: you took care of us all, and when little Johann gets a bit older--He still has the monthly nurse now, and after that he will still need a day-nurse, I suppose--but will you be willing to move over to us when the time comes?" "Yes, indeed, Herr Consul, if your wife is satisfied." Gerda is content to have it so, and thus it is settled. In the act of leaving, however, and already at the door, Frau-Permaneder turns. She comes back to her brother and kisses him on both cheeks, and says: "It has been a lovely day, Tom. I am happier than I have been for years. We Buddenbrooks aren't quite at the last gasp yet, thank God, and whoever thinks we are is mightily mistaken. Now that we have little Johann--it is so beautiful that he is christened Johann--it looks lo me as if quite a new day will dawn for us all!"