Buddenbrooks (4 page)

CHAPTER VIII

THEY were rising from table. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, gesegnete Mahlzeit! Cigars and coffee in the next room, and a liqueur if Madame feels generous.... Billiards for whoever chooses. Jean, you will show them the way back to the billiard-room? Madame K�n, may I have the honour?" Full of well-being, laughing and chattering, the company trooped back through the folding doors into the landsrape-room. The Consul remained behind, and collected about him the gentlemen who wanted to play billiards. "You won't try a game, Father?" No, Lebrenht Kr� would stop with the ladies, but Justus might go if he liked.... Senator Langhals, K�n, Grat-jens, and Doctor Grabow went with the Consul, and Jean Jacques Hoffstede said he would join them later. "Johann Buddenbrook is going to play the flute," he said. "I must stop for that. Au revoir, messieurs." As the gentlemen passed through the hall, they could hear from the landscape-room the first notes of the flute, accom-panied by the Frau Consul on the harmonium: an airy, charming little melody that floated sweetly through the lofty rooms. The Consul listened as long as he could. He would have liked to stop behind in an easy-chair in the landscape-room and indulge the reveries that the music conjured up; but his duties as host... "Bring some coffee and cigars into the billiard-room," he said to the maid whom he met in the entry. "Yes, Line, coffee!" Herr K�n echoed, in a rich, well-fed voice, trying to pinch the girl's red arm. The c came 33 from far back in his throat, as if he were already swallowing the coffee. "I'm sure Madame K�n saw you through the glass," Con-sul Kr� remarked. "So you live up there, Buddenbrook?" asked Senator Lang-hals. To the right a broad white staircase with a carved baluster led up to the sleeping-chambers of the Consul's fam-ily in the second storey; to the left came another row of rooms. The party descended the stairs, smoking, and the Consul halted at the landing. "The entresol has three rooms," he explained--the breakfast-room, my parents' sleeping-chamber, and a third room which is seldom used. A corridor runs along all three.... This way, please. The wagons drive through the entry; they can go all the way out to Bakers' Alley at the back." The broad echoing passage-way below was paved with great square flagstones. At either end of it were several offices. The odour of the onion sauce still floated out from the kitchen, which, with the entrance to the cellars, lay on the, left of the steps. On the right, at the height of a storey above the passageway, a scaffolding of ungainly but neatly varnished rafters thrust out from the wall, supporting the servants' quar-ters above. A sort of ladder which led up to them from the passage was their only means of ingress or egress. Below the scaffolding were some enormous old cupboards and a carved chest. Two low, worn steps led through a glass door out to the courtyard and the small wash-house. From here you could look into the pretty little garden, which was well laid out, though just now brown and sodden with the autumn rains, its beds protected with straw mats against the cold. At the other end of the garden rose the "portal," the rococo fa�e of the summer house. From the courtyard, however, the party took the path to the left, leading between two walls through another courtyard to the annexe. They entered by slippery steps into a cellar-like vault with an earthen floor, which was used as a granary and provided with a rope for hauling up the sacks. A pair of stairs led up to the first storey, where the Consul opened a white door and admitted his guests to the billiard-room. It was a bare, severe-looking room, with stiff chairs ranged round the sides. Herr K�n flung himself exhausted into one of them. "I'll look on for a while," said he, brushing the wet from his coat. "It's the devil of a Sabbath day's journey through your house, Buddenbrook!" Here too the stove was burning merrily, behind a brass lattice. Through the three high, narrow windows one looked out over red roofs gleaming with the wet, grey gables and court-yards. The Consul took the cues out of the rack. "Shall we play a carambolage, Senator?" he asked. He went around and closed the pockets on both tables. "Who is playing with us? Gratjens? The Doctor? All right. Then will you take the other table, Gratjens and Justus? K�n, you'll have to play." - The wine-merchant stood up and listened, with his mouth full of smoke. A violent gust of wind whistled between the houses, lashed the window-panes with rain, and howled down the chimney. "Good Lord!" he said, blowing out the smoke. "Do you think the Wullenwewer will get into port, Buddenbrook? What abominable weather!" Yes, and the news from Travem�as not of the best, Consul Kr� agreed, chalking his cue. Storms everywhere on the coast. Nearly as bad as in 1824, the year of the great flood in St. Petersburg. Well, here was the coffee. They poured it out and drank a little and began their game. The talk turned upon the Customs Union, and Consul Budden-brook waxed enthusiastic. "An inspiration, gentlemen," he said. He finished a shot and turned to the other table, where the topic had begun. "We ought to join at the earliest opportunity." Herr K�n disagreed. He fairly snorted in opposition. "How about our independence?" he asked incensed, supporting himself belligerently on his CUB. "How about our self-determination? Would Hamburg consent to be a party to this Prussian scheme? We might as well be annexed at once! Heaven save us, what do we want of a customs union? Aren't we Well enough as we are?" "Yes, you and your red wine, K�n. And the Russian products are all right. But there is little or nothing else im-ported. As for exports, well, we send a little corn to Holland and England, it is true. But I think we are far from being well enough as we are. In days gone by a very different busi-ness went on. Now, with the Customs Union, the Mecklen-burgs and Schleswig-Holstein would be opened up--and pri-vate business would increase beyond all reckoning...." "But look here, Buddenbrook," Cratjens broke in, leaning far over the table and shifting his cue in his bony hand as he took careful aim, "I don't get the idea. Certainly our own system is perfectly simple and practical. Clearing on the security of a civic oath--" "A fine old institution," the Consul admitted. "Do you call it fine, Herr Consul?" Senator Langhals spoke with some heat. '"I am not a merchant; but to speak frankly--well, I think this civic oath business has become little short of a farce: everybody makes light of it, and the State pockets the loss. One hears things that are simply scandalous. I am convinced that our entry into the Customs Union, so far as the Senate is concerned--" Herr K�n flung down his cue. "Then there will be a conflick," he said heatedly, forgetting to be careful with his pronunciation." I know what I'm sayin'--God help you, but you don't know what you're talkin' about, beggin' your par-don." Well, thank goodness! thought the rest of the company, as Jean Jacques entered at this point. He and Pastor Wunderlich came together, arm in arm, two cheerful, unaf-fected old men from another and less troubled age. "Here, my friends," he began. "I have something for you: a little rhymed epigram from the French." He sat down comfortably opposite the billiard-players, who leaned upon their rues across the tables. Drawing a paper from his pocket and laying his long finger with the signet ring to the side of his pointed nose, he read aloud, with a mock-heroic intonation: "When the Marechal Saxe and the proud Pompadour Were driving out gaily in gilt coach and four, Frelon spied the pair: 'Oh, see them,' he cried: 'The sword of our king--and his sheath, side by side.'" Herr K�n looked disconcerted for a minute. Then he dropped the "conflick" where it was and joined in the hearty laughter that echoed to the ceiling of the billiard-room. Pas-tor Wunderlich withdrew to the window, but the movement of his shoulders betrayed that he was chuckling to himself. Herr Hoffstede had more ammunition of the same sort in his pocket, and the gentlemen remained for some time in the billiard-room. Herr K�n unbuttoned his waistcoat all the way down, and felt much more at ease here than in the dining-room. He gave vent to droll low-German expressions at every turn, and at frequent intervals began reciting to himself with enormous relish: "When the Mar�al Saxe..." It sounded quite different in his harsh bass.

CHAPTER IX

IT was rather late, nearly eleven, when the party began to break up. They had reassembled in the landscape-room, and they all made their adieux at the same time. The Frau Con-sul, as soon as her hand had been kissed in farewell, went upstairs to see how Christian was doing. To Mamsell Jung-mann was left the supervision of the maids as they set things to rights and put away the silver. Madame Antoinette re-tired to the entresol. But the Consul accompanied his guests downstairs, across the entry, and outside the house. A high wind was driving the rain slantwise through the streets as the old Kr�s, wrapped in heavy fur mantles, slipped as fast as they could into their carriage. It had been waiting for hours before the door. The street was lighted by the flickering yellow rays from oil lamps hanging on posts before the houses or suspended on heavy chains across the streets. The projecting fronts of some of the houses jutted out into the roadway; others had porticos or raised benches added on. The street ran steeply down to the River Trave; it was badly paved, and sodden grass sprang up between the cracks. The church of St. Mary'a was entirely shrouded in rain and darkness. "Merci" said Lebreiht Kr�, shaking the Consul's hand as he stood by the carriage door. "Merci, Jean; it was too charming!" The door slammed, and the carriage drove off. Pastor Wunderlich and Broker Gratjens expressed their thanks and went their way. Herr K�n, in a mantle with a five-fold cape and a broad grey hat, took his plump wife on his arm and said in his gruff bass: "G'night, Buddenbrook. Go in, go in; don't catch cold. Best thanks for everything-- BUDDENBRDOK5 don't know when I've fed so well! So you like my red wine at four marks? Well, g'night, again." The K�ns went in the same direction as the Kr�s, down toward the river; Senator Langhals, Doctor Grabow, and Jean Jacques Hoffstede turned the other way. Consul Bud-denbrook stood with his hands in his trousers pockets and listened to their footsteps as they died away down the empty, damp, dimly-lighted street. He shivered a little in his light clothes as he stood there a few paces from his own house, and turned to look up at its grey gabled fa�e. His eyes lin-gered upon the motto carved in the stone over the entrance, in antique lettering: Dorninus providebit--"The Lord will pro-vide." He bowed his head a little and went in, bolting the door carefully behind him. Then he locked the vestibule door and walked slowly across the echoing floor of the great entry. The cook was coming down the stairs with a tray of glasses in her hands, and he asked her, "Where's the master, Trina?" "In the dining-room, Herr Consul," said she, and her face went as'red as her arms, for she came from the country and was very bashful. As he passed through the dark hall, he felt in his pocket for the letter. Then he went quickly into the dining-room, where a few small candle-ends in one of the candelabra cast a dim light over the empty table. The sour smell of the onion sauce still hung on the air. Over by the windows Johann Buddenbrook was pacing comfortably up and down, with his hands behind his back.

CHAPTER X

"WELL, Johann, my son, where are you going?" He stood still and put his hand out to his son--his white Buddenbrook hand, a little too short, though finely modelled. His active figure showed indistinctly against the dark red curtains, the only gleams of white being from his powdered hair and the lace frill at his throat. "Aren't you sleepy? I've been here listening to the wind; the weather is something fearful. Captain Kloht is on his way from Riga...." "Oh, Father, with God's help all will be well." "Well, do you think I can depend on that? I know you are on intimate terms with the Almighty--" The Consul felt his courage rise at this display of good humour. "Well, to get to the point," he began, "I came in here not to bid you good night, but to--you won't be angry, will you, Papa?... I didn't want to disturb you with this letter on such a festive occasion... it came this afternoon...." "Monsieur Gotthold, voila!" The old man affected to be quite unmoved as he took the sealed blue paper. "Herr Jo-hann Buddenbrook, Senior. Personal. A careful man, your step-brother, Jean! Have I answered his second letter, that came the other day? And so now he writes me a third." The old man's rosy face grew sterner as he opened the seal with one finger, unfolded the thin paper, and gave it a smart rap with the back of his hand as he turned about to catch the light from the candles. The very handwriting of this letter seemed to express revolt and disloyalty. All the Bud-denbrooks wrote a fine, flowing hand; but these tall straight letters were full of heavy strokes, and many of the words were hastily underlined. The Consul had drawn back a little to where the row of chairs stood against the wall; he did not sit down, as his father did not,' hut he grasped one of the high chair-backs nervously and watched the old man while he read, his lips moving rapidly, his brows drawn together, and his head on one side.

FATHER,

I am probably mistaken in entertaining any further hope of your sense of justice or any appreciation of my feelings at receiving no reply from my second pressing letter con-cerning the matter in question. I do not comment again on the character of the reply I received to my first one. I feel compelled to say, however, that the way in which you, by your lamentable obstinacy, are widening the rift between us, is a sin for which you will one day have ID answer grievously before the judgment seat of God. It is sad enough that when I followed the dictates of my heart and married against your wishes, and further wounded your insensate pride by taking over a shop, you should have repulsed me so cruelly and remorselessly; but the way in which you now treat me cries out to Heaven, and you are utterly mistaken if you imagine that I intend to accept your silence without a struggle. The purchase price of your newly acquired house in the Mengstrasse was a hundred thousand marks; and I am aware that Johann, your business partner and your son by your second marriage, is living with you as your tenant, and after your death will become the sole proprietor of both house and business. With my step-sister in Frankfort, you have entered into agreements which are no concern of mine. But what does concern me, your eldest son, is that you carry your un-Christian spirit so far as to refuse me a penny of compensation for my share in the house. When you gave me a hundred thousand marks on my marriage and to set me up in business, and told me that a similar sum and no more should be bequeathed me by will, I said nothing, for T was not at the time sufficiently informed as to the amount of your fortune. Now I know more: and not regarding my-self as disinherited in principle, I claim as my right the sum of thirty-three thousand and three hundred and thirty-three marks current, or a third of the purchase price. I make no comment on the damnable influences which are responsible for the treatment I have received. But I protest against them with my whole sense of justice as a Christian and a business man. Let me tell you for the last time that, if you cannot bring yourself to recognize the justice of my claims, I shall no longer be able to respect you as a Christian, a parent, or a man of business. GOTTHOLD BUDDENBROOK. "You will excuse me for saying that I don't get much pleas-ure out of reading that rigmarole all over again.--Voila!" And Johann Buddenbrook tossed the letter to his son, with a contemptuous gesture. The Consul picked it up as it fluttered to his feet, and looked at his father with troubled eyes, while the old man took the long candle-snuffers from their place by the window and with angry strides crossed the room to the candelabrum in the corner. "Assez, I say. N'en parlons plus! To bed with you--en avant!" He quenched one flame after another under the little metal cap. There were only two candles left when the elder turned again to his son, whom he could hardly see at the far end of the room. "Eh bien--what are you standing there for? Why don't you say something?" "What shall I say, Father? I am thoroughly taken aback." "You are pretty easily taken aback, then," Johann Budden-brook rapped out irritably, though he knew that the reproach was far from being a just one. His son was in fact often his superior when it came to a quick decision upon the advan-tageous course. " 'Damnable influences,'" the Consul quoted. "That is the first line I can make out. Du you know how it makes me feel, Father? And he reproaches us with 'unchristian behaviour!' " "You'll let yourself be bluffed by this miserable scribble, will you?" Johann Buddenbrook strode across to his son, dragging the extinguisher on its long stick behind him. " 'Un-christian behaviour!' Ha! He shows good taste, doesn't he, this canting money-grabber? I don't know what to make of you young people! Your heads are full of fantastic religious humbug--practical idealism, the July Monarchy, and what not: and we old folk are supposed to be wretched cynics. And then you abuse your poor old Father in the coarsest way rather than give up a few thousand thaler.... So he deigns to look down upon me as a business man, does he? Well, as a business man, I know what faux-frais are!--Faux-frais" he repeated, rolling the r in his throat. "I sha'n't make this high-falutin scamp of a son any fonder of me by giving him what he asks for, it seems to me." "What can I say, Father? I don't care to feel that he ha3 any justification when he talks of 'influences.' As an interested party I don't like to tell you to stick out, but--It seems to me I'm as good a Christian as Gotthold... but still..." " 'Still'--that is exactly it, Jean, you are right to say 'still.' What is the real state of the case? He got infatuated with his Mademoiselle Stiiwing and wouldn't listen to reason; he made scene after scene, and finally he married her, after I had absolutely refused to give my consent. Then I wrote to him: 'Mon tres cher fits: you are marrying our shop--very well, that's an end of it. We cease to be on friendly terms from now on. I won't cut you off, or do anything melodra-matic. I am sending you a hundred thousand marks as a wedding present, and I'll leave you another hundred thou-sand in my will. But that is absolutely all you'll get, not another shilling!' That shut his mouth.--What have our arrangements got to do with him? Suppose you and your 43 sister do get a bit more, and the house has been bought out of your share?" "Father, surely you can understand how painful my position is! I ought to advise you in the interest of family har-mony--but..." The Consul sighed. Johann Buddenbrook peered at him, in the dim light, to see what his expression was. One of the two candles had gone out of itself; the other was flickering. Every now and then a tall, smiling white figure seemed to step momentarily out of the tapestry and then back again. "Father," said the Consul softly. "This affair with Gott-hold depresses me." "What's all this sentimentality, Jean? How does it depress you?" "We were all so happy here to-day, Father; we had a glorious celebration, and we felt proud and glad of what we have accomplished, and of having raised the family and firm to a position of honour and respect.... But this bitter feud with my own brother, with your eldest son, is like a hidden crack in the building we have erected. A family should be united, Father. It must keep together. 'A house divided against itself will fall.' " "There you are with your milk-and-water stuff, Jean! All I say is, he's an insolent young puppy." A pause ensued. The last candle burned lower and lower. "What are you doing, Jean?" asked Johann Buddenbrook. "I can't see you." The Consul said shortly, "I'm calculating." He was standing erect, and the expression in his eyes had changed. They had looked dreamy all the evening; but now they stared into the candle-flame with a cold sharp gaze. "Either you give thirty-three thousand, three hundred and thirty-three marks to Gotthold, and fifteen thousand to the family in Frankfort--that makes forty-eight thousand, three hundred and thirty-five in all--or, you give nothing to Gotthold, and twenty-five thou-sand to the family in Frankfort. That means a gain of twenty- three thousand, three hundred and thirty-five for the firm, But there is more to it than that. If you give Gotthold a compensation for the house, you've started the hall rolling. He is likely to demand equal shares with my sister and me after your death, which would mean a loss of hundreds of thousands to the firm. The firm could not face it, and I, as sole head, could not face it either." He made a vigorous ges-ture and drew himself more erect than before. "No, Papa," he said, and his tone bespoke finality, "I must advise you not to give in." "Bravo!" cried the old man. "There's an end of it! N'en parlons plus! En avant! Let's get to bed." And he extinguished the last candle. They groped through the pitch-dark hall, and at the foot of the stairs they stopped and shook hands. "Good night, Jean. And cheer up. These little worries aren't anything. See you at breakfast!" The Consul went up to his rooms, and the old man felt his way along the baluster and down to the entresol, Soon the rambling old house lay wrapped in darkness and silence. Hopes, fears, and ambitions all slumbered, while the rain fell and the autumn wind whistled around gables and street cor-ners.