Buddenbrooks (42 page)

before he arrived at the headship of the gods; and every now and then he listened into the other room, where they were going at length into the future of poor Aunt Clothilde. Clothilde, on this evening, was far and away the happiest of them all, A smile lighted up her colourless face as she 145 received congratulations and teasing from all sides; her voice even broke now and then out of joyful emotion. She had al last been made a member of the Order of St. John. The Sen-ator had succeeded by subterranean methods in getting her ad-mitted, not without some private grumblings about nepotism, on the part of certain gentlemen. Now the family all dis-cussed the excellent institution, which was similar to the homes in Mecklenburg, Dobberthien, and Ribnitz, for ladies from noble families. The object of these establishments was the suitable care of portionless women from old and worthy fam-ilies. Poor Clothilde was now assured of a small but certain income, which would increase with the years, and finally, when she had succeeded to the highest class, would secure her a decent home in the cloister itself. Little Hanno stopped awhile with the grown-ups, but soon strayed back to the dining-room, which displayed a new charm now that the brilliant light did not fairly dazzle one with its splendours. It was an extraordinary pleasure to roam abn11' there, as if on a half-darkened stage after the performance, and see a little behind the scenes. He touched the lilies on flip big fir-tree, with their golden.stamens; handled the liny fig-ures of people and animals in the manger, found the candks that lighted the transparency for the star of Bethlehem over the stable; lifted up the long cloth that covered the present-table, and saw quantities of wrapping-paper and pasteboard boxes stacked beneath. The con\ersation in the landscape-room was growing IPS.* and less agreeable. Inevitably, irresistiblv, it had nrri\ed �U the one dismal theme which hail been in everybody's niiml, but which they had thus far avoided, as a tribute to the f(Mal e\ening. Hugo Weinschcnk himself dilated upon it, with a wild levity of manner and gesture. He explained certain de-tails of the procedure--the examination of witnesses had now been interrupted by the Christmas recess--condemned the very obvious bias of the President, Dr. Philander, and poured scorn on the attitude which the Public Prosecutor, Dr. Hagenstriim, thought it proper to assume toward himself and the witnesses for the defence. Breslauer had succeeded in drawing the sting of several of his most slanderous remarks; and he had assured the Director that, for the present, there need be no fear of a conviction. The Senator threw in a question now and then, out of courtesy; and Frau Permaneder, sitting on the sofa with elevated shoulders, would utter fearful imprecations against Dr. Moritz Ha�enstrbm. But the others were silent: so profoundly silent that the Director at length fell silent too. For little Hanno, over in the dining-room, the time sped by on angels' wings; but in the landscape-room there reigned an oppressive silence, which dragged on till Christian came back from the club, where he had celebrated Christmas with the bachelors and good fellows. The cold stump of a cigar hung between his lips, and his haggard cheeks were flushed. He came through the dining-room and said, as he entered the landscape-room, "Well, chil-dren, the tree was simply gorgeous. Weinschenk, we might to have had Breslauer come to see it. He has never seen any-thing like it, I am sure.'7 He encountered one of his mother's quiet, reproachful side-glances, and returned it with an easy, unembarrassed questioning look. At nine o'clock the party sat down to supper. It was laid, as always on these occasions, in the pillared hall. The Frau Consul recited the ancient grace with sincere conviction: "Gome, Lord Jesus, be our guest, And bless the bread thou gavest us" --to which, as usual on the holy evening, she added a brief prayer, the substance of which was an admonition to re-member those who, on this blessed night, did not fare so well as the Buddenbrook family. This accomplished, they all sat down with good consciences to a lengthy repast, beginning with carp and butter sauce and old Rhine wine .147 BUDDENBRDDK5 The Senator put two fish-scales into his pocket, to help him save money during the coming year. Christian, however, rue- fully remarked that he hadn't much faith in the prescription; and Consul Kroger had no need of it. His pittance had long since been invested securely, beyond the reach of fluctuations in the exchange. The old man sat as far away as possible from his wife, to whom he hardly ever spoke nowadays. She persisted in sending money to Jacob, who was still roaming about, nobody knew where, unless his mother did. IJHill- Justus scowled forbiddingly when the conversation, with the advent of the second course, turned upon the absent members of the family, and he saw the foolish mother wipe her eyes. They spoke of the Frankfort Buddenbronks and the Durhamps in Hamburg, and of Pastor Tiberlius in Riga, too. without any ill-will. And the Senator and his sister touched glas^e^ in silence to the health of Messrs Criinlirh and Permanrder-- for. after all, did they not in a sense belong to the family loo? The turkey, stuffed with chestnuts, raisins, and apples, was universally praised. They compared it with other years, and decided that this one was the largest for a long lime. With the turkey ramp roast potatoes and two kinds of compote, and each dish held enough to satisfy the appetite of a family all by ilself. The old red wine came from the firm of Mcillendorpf. Little Johann sat between his parents and choked ilrmn wilh difficulty a small piece of while meat with stuffing. He could not begin to compete with Aunt Tilda, and he felt tired and out of sorts. But it was a great thing none the IPSS to be din- ing with the grown-ups, and to have one of the beautiful lit- tle rolls wilh pappy-seed in his elaborately folded serviclle, and three wine-glasses in fronl of his plane. He usually drank out of the little gold mug which Uncle Justus gave him. But when the red, white, and brown meringues appeared, and Uncle Justus poured some oily, yellow Greek wine into the smallest of the three glasses, his appetite revived. He ate a whole red ice, then half a white one, then a litlle pierr nf the chocolate, his teeth hurting horribly all the while. Then he sipped his sweet wine gingerly and listened to Uncle Christian, who had begun to talk. He told about the Christmas celebration at the club, which had been very jolly, it seemed. "Good God!" he said, just as if he were about to relate the story of Johnny Thunder-storm, "those fellows drank Swedish punch just like water.'7 "Ugh!" said the Frau Consul shortly, and cast down her eyes. But he paid no heed. His eyes began to wander--and thought and memory became so vivid that they flickered like shadows across his haggard face. "Do any of you know," he asked, "how it feels to drink too much Swedish punch? I don't mean getting drunk: I mean the feeling you have the next day--the after-effects. They are very queer and unpleasant; yes, queer and unpleasant at the same lime." "Reason enough for describing them," said the Senator. "Asscz, Christian. That does not interest us in the least," said the Frau Consul. But he paid no attention. It was his peculiarity that at such times nothing made any impression on him. He was silent awhile, and then it seemed that the thing uhirh moved him was ripe for speech. "You go about feeling ghastly," he said, turning to his brother and wrinkling up his nose. "Headache, and upset stomach--oh, well, you have that with other things, too. But you ferl filthy"--here he rubbed his hands together, his face entirely distorted. "You wash your hands, but it does no good; they feel dirty and clammy, and there is grease under the nails. You take a bath: no good, your whole body is sticky and unclean. You itch all over, and you feel dis-gusted with yourself. Do you know the feeling, Thomas? you do know il, don't you?" "Yes, yes," said the Senator, making a gesture of repulsion with his hand. But Christian's extraordinary tactlessness had so increased with the years that he never perceived how 149 unpleasant he was making himself to the company, nor how out of place his conversation was in these surroundings and on this evening. He continued to describe the evil effects of too much Swedish punch; and when he felt that he had exhausted the subject, he gradually subsided. Before they arrived at the butter and cheese, the Frau Consul found occasion for another little speech to hrr family. If, she said, not quite everything in the course of the years had gone as we, in our short-sightedness, desired, there remained such manifold blessings as should fill our hearts with gratitude and love. For it was precisely this mingling of trials with blessings which showed that Cod never lifted his hand from the family, but ever guided its destinies according to His wise design, which we mi^ht not seek ID question. And now, with hopeful hearts, we might rlrink together to the family health and to its future--that future when all the old and elderly of the present company would be laid to rest; and to the children, to whom the Christmas feast most properly belonged. As Director Weinschenk's small daughter was no longer present, little Johann had to make the round of the table alone and drink severally with all the company, from Grand-mamma to Mamsell Severin. When he came to his father, the Senator touched the child's glass with his and gently lifted Hanno's chin to look into his eyes. But his son did not meet his glance: the long, gold-brown laches lay deep, deep upon the delicate bluish shadows beneath his eyes. Therese Weichbrodt took his head in both her hands, kissed him explosively on both cheeks, and said with such a hearty emphasis that surely God must have heeded it, "Be happy, you good che-ild!" An hour later Hanno lay in his little bed, which now stood in the ante-chamber next to the Senator's dressing-room. He lay on his back, out of regard for his stomach, which feeling was far from pleasant over all the things he had put into it that evening. Ida came out of her room in her dressing-gown, waving a glass about in circles in the air in order to dissolve its contents. He drank the car-bonate of soda down quickly, made a wry face, and fell back again. "I think I'll just have to give it all up, Ida," he said. "Oh, nonsense, Hanno. Just lie still on your back. You see, now: who was it kept making signs to you to stop eating, and who was it that wouldn't do it?" "Well, perhaps I'll be all right. When will the things come, Ida?" "To-morrow morning, first thing, my dearie." "I wish they were here--I wish I had them now." "Yes, yes, my dearie--but just have a good sleep now." She kissed him, put out the light, and went away. He lay quietly, giving himself up to the operation of the soda he had taken. But before his eyes gleamed the dazzling brilliance of the Christmas tree. He saw his theatre and his harmonium, and his book of mythology; he heard the choir-boys singing in the distance: "Rejoice, Jerusalem!" Everything sparkled and glittered, His head felt dull and feverish; his heart, affected by the rebellious stomach, beat strong and irregularly. He lay for long, in a condition of mingled discomfort, excitement, and reminiscent bliss, and could not fall asleep. Next day there would be a third Christmas partv, at Fraulein Weirhbrodt's. He looked forward to it as to a comic performance in the theatre. Therese Weichbrodt had given up her pensionnat in the past year. Madame Kethelsen now occupied the first storey of the house on the Mill Brink, and she herself the ground floor, and there they lived alone. The burden of her deformed little body grew heavier with the years, and she concluded, with Christian humility and submission, that the end was not far off. For some years now she had believed that each Christmas was her last; and she strove with all the powers at her command to give a depart-151 ing brilliance to the feast that was held in her small over-heated rooms. Her means were very narrow, and she gave away each year a part of her possessions to swell the heap of gifts under the tree: knick-knacks, paper-weights, emery-bags, needle-cushions, glass vases, and fragments of her library, miscellaneous bnoks of every shape and size. Books like "The Secret Journal of a Student of Himself," Rebel's "Alemannian Poems," Krummacher's "Parables"--Han no had once received an edition of the "Pensees de Blaise Pascal," in such tiny print that it had to be read with a glass. Bishop flowed in streams, and Sesemi's ginger-bread was very spicy. But Fraulein Weichbrodt abandoned herself with such trembling emotion to the joys of earn Christmas party that none of them ever went off without a mishap. There was always some small catastrophe or other to make the guests laugh and enhance the silent fervour of the hostess' mien. A jug of bishop would be upset and overwhelm everything in a spicy, sticky red flood. Or the decorated tree would topple off its wooden support just as they solemnly entered the room. Hanno fell asleep with the mishap of the previous year before his eyes. It had happened just before the gifts were given out. Theresa Weichbrodt had read the Christmas chapter, in such impressive accents that all the vowels got inextricably commingled, and then retreated before her guests to the door, where she made a little speech. She stood upon the threshold, humped and tiny, her old hands clasped before her childish bosom, the green silk cap-ribbons falling over her fragile shoulders. Above her head, over the door, was a transparency, garlanded with evergreen, that said "Glory to God in the Highest." And Sesemi spoke of God's mercy; she mentioned that this was her last Christmas, and ended by reminding them that the words of the apostle commended them all to joy--wherewith she trembled from head to foot, so much did her whole poor little body share in her emotions. "Rejoice!" said she, laying her head on one side and nodding violently: "and again I say unto you, rejoice!" But at this moment the whole transparency, with a puffing, crackling, spitting noise, went up in flames, and Mademoiselle Weich-brodt gave a little shriek and a side-spring of unexpected picturesqueness and agility, and got herself out of the way of the rain of flying sparks. ' As Hanno recalled the leap which the old spinster per-formed, he giggled nervously for several minutes into his pillow, CHAPTER IX FRAU PERMANEDER was going along Broad Street in a great hurry. There was something abandoned about her air: she showed almost none of the impressive bearing usual to her on the street. Hunted and harassed, in almost violent haste, she had as it were been able to save only a remnant of her dignity--like a
beaten king who gathers what is left of his army about him to seek safety in (he arms of flight. She looked pitiable indeed. Her upper lip, that arched upper lip that had always done its share to give charm to her face, was quivering now, and the eyes were large with apprehension. They were very bright and stared fixedly ahead of her, as though they too were hurrying onward. Her hair came in disorder from under her close hat, and her face showed the pale yellow tint which it always had when her digestion took a turn for the worse. Her digestion was obviously worse in these days. The family noticed that on Thursdays. And no matter how hard every one tried to keep off the rocks, the conversation always made straight for them ahd stuck there: on the sub-ject of Hugo Weinschenk's trial. Frau Permaneder herself led up to it. She would call on Cod and her fellow men to tell her how Public Prosecutor Moritz Hagenstrom could sleep of nights. For her part, she could not understand it--she never would! Her agitation increased with every word. 'Thank you, I can't eat," she would say, and push away her plate. She would elevate her shoulders, toss her head, and in the height of her passion fall back upon the practice, acquired in her Munich years, of taking nothing but beer, cold Bavarian beer, poured into an empty stomach, the nerves of which were in rebellion and would revenge themselves bitterly. Toward the end of the meal she al-ways had tD get up and go down to the garden or the court, where she suffered the most dreadful fits of nausea, leaning upon Ida Jungmann or Riekchen Severin. Her stomach would finally relieve itself of its contents, and contract with spasms of pain, which sometimes lasted for minutes and would continue at intervals for a long time. It was about three in the afternoon, a windy, rainy January day. Frau Perrnaneder turned the corner at Fishers' Lane and hurried down the steep declivity to her brother's house. After a hasty knock she went from the court straight into the bureau, her eye flying across the desks to where the Senator sat in his seat by the window. She made such an im-ploring motion with her head that he put down his pen with-out more ado and went to her, "Well?" he said, one eyebrow lifted. "A moment, Thomas--it's very pressing; there's no time to waste." He opened the baize door of his private office, closed it behind him when they were both inside, and looked at his sister inquiringly. "Tom," she said, her voice quavering, wringing her hands inside her muff, "you must give it to us--lay it out for us--you will, won't you?--the money for the bond, I mean. We haven't it--where should WE get twenty-five thousand marks from, I should liks to know? You will get them back--you'll get them back all too soon, I'm afraid. You under-stand--the thing is this: in short, they have reached a point where Hagenstrom demands immediate arrest or else a bond of twenty-five thousand marks. And Weinschenk will give you his word not to stir from the spot--" "Has it really come to that?" the Senator said, shaking his head. "Yes. they have succeeded in getting that far, the villairta!" 155 Frau Permaneder sank upon the sofa with an impotent sob. "And they will go on; they will go on to the end, Tom." "Tony," he said, and sat down sidewise by his mahogany desk, crossing one leg over the other and leaning his heed on his hand, "tell me straight out, do you still have faith in hib innocence?" She sobbed once or twice before she answered, hopelessly: "Oh, no, Tom. How could I? I've seen so much evil in the world. I haven't believed in it from the beginning, even, though I tried my very best. Life makes it so very hard, you know, to believe in any one's innocence. Oh, no--I've had doubts of his good conscience for a long time, and Erica has not known what to make of him--she confessed it to me, with tears--on account of his behaviour at home. We haven't talked about it, of course. He got ruder and ruder, and kept demanding all the time that Erica should be lively and divert his mind and make him forget his troubles. And he brnke the dished when she wasn't. You can't imagine what it was like, when he shut himself up evenings with his papers: when anybody knocked, you could hear him jump up and shout �Who's there?'" They were silent. "But suppose he is guilty, Tom. Suppose he did do it," began Frau Permaneder afresh, and her voice gathered strength. "He wasn't working for his own pocket, but for the company--and then--good Heavens, in this life, people have to realize--there are other things to be taken into consideration. He married into our family--he is one of us, now. They can't just go and stick him into prison like that!7' He shrugged his shoulders. "What are you shrugging your shoulders for, Tom? Do you mean that you are willing to sit down under the last and crowning insult these adventurers think they can offer us? We must do something! He mustn't be convicted! Aren't you the Burgomaster's right hand? My Cod, can't the Senate just pardon him if it likes? You know, before I came to you, I nearly went to Cremer, to get him--to implore him to inter-vene and take a stand in the matter--he is Chief of Police--" "Oh, child, that is all just nonsense." "Nonsense, Tom? And Erica? And the child?" said she, lifting up her muff, with her two imploring hands inside. She was still a moment, she let her arms fall, her chin began to quiver, and two great tears ran down from under her drooping lids. She added softly, "And me?" "Oh, Tony, be brave," said the Senator. Her helplessness went through him. He pushed his chair up to hers and stroked her hair, in an effort to console her. "Everything isn't over, yet. Perhaps it will come out all right. Df course I will give you the money--that goes without saying--and Breslauer's very clever." She shook her head, weeping. "No, Tom, it will not come out all right. I've no hope that it will. They will convict him, and put him in prison--and then the hard time will come for Erica and me. Her dowry is gone: it all went to the setting-out, the furniture and pictures; we sha'n't get a quarter of it back by selling. And the salary was always spent. We never put a penny by. We will go back to Mother, if she will take us, until he is free. And then where can we go? We'll just have to sit on the rocks." She sobbed. "On the rocks?" "Oh, that's just an expression--a figure. What I mean is, it won't turn out all right. I've had too much to bear--I don't know how I came to deserve it all--but I can't hope any more. Erica will be like me--with Grunlich and Perma-neder. But now you can see just how it is--and how it all comes over you! Could I help it? Could any one help it, I ask you, Tom?" she repeated drearily, and looked at him with her tear-swimming eyes. "Everything I've ever undertaken 157 has gone wrong and turned to misfortune--and I've meant everything so well. God knows I have! And now this too--This is the last straw--the very last." She wept, leaning on the arm which he gently put about her: wept over her ruined life and the quenching of this last hope. A week later, Herr Director Hugo Weinschenk was sen-tenced to three and a half years' imprisonment, and arrested at once. There was a very large crowd at the final session. Lawyer Breslauer of Berlin made a speech for the defence the like of which had never been heard before. Gosch the broker went about for weeks afterward bursting with enthusiasm for the masterly pathos and irony it displayed. Christian Buddenbrook heard it too, and afterward got behind a table at the club, with a pile of newspapers in front of him, and reproduced the whole speech. At home he declared that jurisprudence was the finest profession there was, and ho thought it would just have suited him. The Public Prosecutor himself, Dr. Moritz Hagenstrom, who was a great connoisseur, 9aid in private that the speech had been a genuine treat to him. But the famous advocate's talents did not prevent his col-leagues from thumping him on the back and telling him he had not pulled the wool over their eyes. The necessary sale followed upon the disappearance of the Director; and when it was over, people in town began gradually to forget about Hugo Weinschenk. But the Misses Buddenbrook, sitting on Thursday at the family table, declared that they had known the first moment, from the man's eyes, that he was not straight, that his conscience was bad, and that there would be trouble in the end. Certain con-siderations, which they wished now they had not regarded, had led them to suppress these painful observations.