by Ricarda Huch
MEIKE ZIERVOGEL
PEIRENE PRESS
I came upon this novel in the original German two years ago. And I loved it. It’s a proper epistolary novel. Even though written more than 100 years ago, it feels as relevant now as then. The Last Summer asks how people can be trapped by an ideology. A topical story. An enjoyable read. A gem.
Contents
Title Page
The Last Summer
About the Author and Translator
Copyright
LYU TO KONSTANTIN
Kremskoye, 5th May 19—
Dear Konstantin,
Having taken up my post, I will outline the situation as I find it here. I do not doubt that my plan will succeed; indeed, the circumstances appear even more favourable than might have been expected. The whole family seems well disposed towards me and I detect no hint of any suspicion, which is entirely natural, as only we in the know could fear the contrary. If the governor has made enquiries into my person, this cannot have done any harm, as all the way from elementary school to university my reports have been outstanding. The one thing that might paint me in a damaging light – my quarrel with my father – is mitigated by the fact that his domineering and eccentric personality is widely known. But I rather think that he has not undertaken such enquiries; the man is so completely free of mistrust that in his position his behaviour would be verging on naivety if it were not more a reflection of his fearlessness and his poor judgement of people. Besides, my appointment seems to be entirely his wife’s doing. An anxious woman by nature, ever since she received the threatening letter she thinks only of how she can protect her husband’s life. Mistrust is not a feature of her character either; whilst she senses implausible dangers lurking at every turn, she would offer the murderer a spoonful of soup if she felt the poor man’s belly were crying out for a drop of something warm.
She told me that the letter you wrote gave her the idea of seeking a young man who, under the pretext of working as her husband’s secretary, would protect him from possible attacks without his realizing it. She had failed, however, to keep her fears or her plan secret from her husband. Eventually he gave in to her incessant pleading for the sake of peace, but also because he has been suffering recently from a type of neuralgia in his right arm, which is making writing difficult. His one stipulation was that – at night-time at least – he should be under the sole protection of his wife. The two of them laughed and he added that his wife was such a dab hand at making the bedroom secure that he could confidently place his trust in her. She never went to bed without first checking every single cupboard and especially the curtains, all of which she regarded as potential hiding places for criminals. Of course, she said spiritedly, one had to be circumspect, but she certainly wasn’t afraid; why, she even left the windows open at night because she liked the fresh air. She was, however, toying with the idea of having bars fixed in front of them. For seeing as all the doors to the house were locked, those people with malicious intent would have no choice but to climb in through the window. Still, she did concede that she feels less apprehensive now that I am here. As she uttered these words there was something tremendously endearing about her expression. I said, ‘I do hope so. Any worries you might have now I would deem an affront to my professional pride.’ During our conversation their son came into the room. He gave me a look of concern and said, ‘Are you starting today already?’ This made us all laugh so much that it lightened the atmosphere at once. The son, his name is Velya, is a handsome and terribly droll young chap, not much younger than I, but he still behaves as a child of five, albeit with a slightly different set of toys. He is studying law in the hope of one day pursuing a diplomatic career, although you would not suppose any of this. Velya is a smart, modern individual with numerous unrestrained impulses. His susceptibility knows no bounds. All one can say about his character is that he has none, and this makes him thoroughly inconsequential. Things only interest him in so far as he can adorn them with his witticisms, the great and irresistible charm of which lies in the languid way he utters them.
Besides the son there are two daughters, Jessika and Katya, between twenty and twenty-three. Both are sweet, blonde creatures, so similar they could be twins. Initially they were prejudiced against me because they consider their mother’s fear to be foolish and they were concerned that their summer seclusion might be disturbed. But as they find me handsome and stylish, and Velya, who is their role model, feels drawn to me, they’re gradually coming round to the idea of my being here. I don’t know why, but these three children remind me of little canaries huddled close together on their perch, chirruping away. There is something childishly harmless about the family overall, which could make me and my mission appear ridiculous to my eyes, but I’m sufficiently acquainted with the human soul to know that at its foundation is bottomless pride. Hatred, even ill-will assumes a certain familiarity with these people; deep down they feel themselves to be alone in a world that belongs to them. None of the others here are of particular significance and do not encroach upon their peace. The servants consist of a coachman, Ivan, who likes to drink – Velya calls him ‘the gaffer’ – and three maids. All of them are old-school Russians: they still feel like serfs, worship their masters and yet pass judgement on them with an unwitting sense of superiority because they are closer to the primary source of life. Dear creatures who, like animals, fill me with a certain awe.
Such are my initial impressions. You’ll be hearing more from me soon.
Lyu
VELYA TO PETER
Kremskoye, 6th May
Dear Peter,
I’ve reconciled myself to having to stay here in the country for the entire duration of Papa’s leave. This closing of the university is a very silly affair. I was surely right when I advocated a calm response, for it was predictable that in any struggle we’d come off second best. But of course there was no stopping you; you just had to dive in head first, and it’s pure chance that you’re not being sent to the gallows by my own father. There is absolutely no shame in submitting to a superior authority; on the contrary, trying to fight it is sheer stupidity, raving madness – something I don’t suffer from. If I didn’t feel so sorry for the poor fellows who, driven by their holy zeal, fell into the trap so helplessly, I’d be reconciled to the whole business. After all, the summer is best enjoyed out here, and if I’d stayed in Petersburg I wouldn’t have been able to extricate myself so easily from the affair with Lisabeth, which I’d instigated rather imprudently. Even though Papa and Mama are a touch reactionary, they do have intellect and taste, and are far better company than the brutal characters you love surrounding your antediluvian thick skin with. To ensure peace at the table here, one mustn’t challenge Papa too seriously, but on occasion Mama quite enjoys hearing a rebellious opinion and she will defy Papa with a certain panache. He likes this in her, so long as it’s kept within respectable limits. But if he emphatically clears his throat or frowns, she will immediately back down, her subordination leading by example. Katya is here too, so it’s not merely tolerable, it’s positively agreeable.
Our guardian angel has arrived. Mama is convinced that he has the skill to divert all poisons, weapons, sticks of dynamite and other mishaps away from father and onto himself. She has an awfully high opinion of this talented young man. We were expecting someone with a bushy beard, trusty fists and a pompous manner of speaking. Instead he’s slim, clean-shaven, reserved; more of an English type. He told me his father was insisting he apply for a professorship – he studied philosophy, you see – but he says he doesn’t want to start out on a career and he has a particular dislike of professional philosophers. To force him, his father has stopped all his funds, which is why he accepted this post with us, for which he does not con
sider himself especially competent. He said, ‘I think to begin with I can make myself useful by calming your mother’s nerves, a task I do not regard as particularly difficult. She possesses the wonderful quality of being free of scepticism, and will happily regard me as a natural lightning conductor if I make a small effort to present myself as one.’ I said, ‘Just so long as you don’t get bored.’ He laughed and said, ‘I never get bored. Wherever he is, man is at the centre of a mystery. But, quite apart from that, I love country life and good company, so I’m well provided for here.’ He has a penetrating look, and I am convinced that he has already dissected and categorized each one of us with a fair degree of accuracy. He seems inscrutable himself, but despite his apparent coolness I think he’s audacious, ambitious and full of passion. It would be a shame if he were to become a professor. I feel he wants more and is capable of more than other people. I suspect his views are no less revolutionary than our own, but so far he has given nothing away about himself in discussion. In fact, it is his objectivity that impresses me the most, especially as it doesn’t prevent his conversation from being stimulating. Jessika and Katya, of course, are terribly susceptible to this, although there’s no need for you to start getting jealous, you old dinosaur.
Yours, Velya
JESSIKA TO TATYANA
Kremskoye, 7th May
Dear Aunt,
As it’s a closely guarded secret that Mama has engaged a secretary for Papa, whose real task is to protect Papa from the bombs he’s been threatened with, I can assume that it’s common knowledge. Perhaps it’s better for the matter to be widely known, for then the anarchists won’t start their bombing, which will make our guardian angel’s work easier. You can see that I look with favour upon him; he’s already earned my approval as his being here has such a positive influence on Mama’s mood. At lunch on the first day Mama asked him what he had dreamed, since she believes the first dream one has in a new house is significant. I think he didn’t dream anything at all, but without a moment’s hesitation he launched into a long story about how he found himself in a magnificent palace, wandering from one room to another, and described them all in great detail. Finally he came to a chamber which was pitch black inside; as he stood on the threshold he was overcome by an inexplicable trepidation. He hesitated to go on, then composed himself, then paused again before waking up with his heart pounding. Mama’s eyes were growing ever bigger. ‘It’s a good thing you didn’t go in,’ she said. ‘I’m certain there would have been something terrible inside.’ ‘A bath, perhaps,’ Velya said softly, and all of us burst out laughing. As Katya only started when the rest of us had finished, this went on for quite a while. I said, ‘Please continue with this dream tonight and take a bath to reassure Mama, for bathing can only be a good omen.’ No, Mama said, water was ambiguous; only fire was a definite sign of good luck and she’d dreamed of this last night. Then she recounted her dream; it was so sweet. As she and Papa were getting ready for the night she noticed their beds were ablaze, beautiful flames without any smoke (this is very important!) and she kept blowing, thinking she could extinguish the fire. Papa said, ‘Lusinya, stop blowing!’ barely able to speak for laughter, and she also started laughing, then woke up laughing. Mama related this dream to Lyu, whose arrival has brought us luck, she said; she calls Lyu our guardian angel. He proceeded to explain where the popular belief in the significance of dreams comes from, why all peoples interpret fire and water in the same way, and what of all this is actually true. I’m afraid I can’t describe it to you as elegantly as he did. Papa listened with great interest too, even though he understands nothing of dreams and suchlike, eventually saying with a sigh, ‘You’d make the perfect secretary for my wife!’ Now I’m going to tell you something delightful that happened at lunch today. I asked Velya whether he wanted some more pudding and he said, as is his wont, ‘Thy will be done, Father!’ Lyu gave him a look of curiosity, upon which Mama explained that this was Velya’s favourite expression, which he always used to mean ‘I don’t care’. She added, however, that she hoped he would now ditch this nasty habit, because she couldn’t suffer any blasphemy. ‘Blasphemy?’ Velya said in surprise. ‘What do you mean by that?’ ‘Velya,’ Mama said in disgust, ‘stop pretending you don’t know that these words are in the Bible!’ ‘But, honest to God, I had no idea,’ Velya countered. ‘If I’d known that the Bible contained such rotten expressions, I’d have given it a read!’ Oh, the innocence of it all; the most honest look of surprise beamed from his wide-open eyes. Lyu couldn’t stop laughing; I think he’s charmed by Velya.
Papa’s nerves are holding up well. He grumbled at Ivan once when he thought he was drunk – coincidentally, he wasn’t on that occasion – and another time when he thought the rice was burnt, but he hasn’t caused a real fuss yet, even though we’ve been here for four days.
Dearest Auntie, every day I place bunches of thyme, lavender and rosemary in our guest room, not just on the table, but in the chests of drawers and wardrobes, gradually filling it with a lovely homely smell. Please reward my attentiveness by coming to see us.
Affectionately, Jessika
KATYA TO PETER
Kremskoye, 9th May
Dear Peter,
You’re a silly billy if you actually took offence at my not having been at home when you wanted to bid me adieu. How could I know that you were coming? And in any case I was paying a visit to the old general’s wife, which is truly no pleasure. Taking offence is so terribly petit bourgeois; I do hope Velya was lying to me. If I didn’t find it so outrageous that Papa closed the university, I’d feel happy to be here. I do nothing but eat, sleep, read and cycle. The new secretary is very elegant, even though he has no money, and he’s a brilliant man, phenomenally clever. He comes cycling with us too, although he doesn’t enjoy it. He finds it old-fashioned and says we ought to travel by motorcar. I think he’s absolutely right and we’re going to try to persuade Papa to get us one; for the time being we are subscribing to a motoring journal.
Regards, Katya
LYU TO KONSTANTIN
Kremskoye, 10th May
My stay here is fascinating from a psychological viewpoint. The family has all the virtues and defects of its class. Perhaps one cannot even talk of defects; they merely have the one: belonging to an era that must pass and standing in the way of one that is emerging. When a beautiful old tree has to be felled to make way for a railway line, it’s painful to watch; you stand beside it like an old friend, gazing admiringly and in grief until it comes down. It is undeniably a shame about the governor, who is a splendid example of his kind, but I believe that he has already passed his peak. If only he could realize this and resign from his position, or if he did it to avoid imperilling his life, nobody would welcome this more heartily than I. But he is too proud; he believes that only those who work and achieve something have a right to live. He cannot conceive of a life without work, which is why he wants to work and why he believes that if he does what the doctors advise, he will gradually recover his former strength. Recently he fell asleep while sitting at his desk, allowing me to observe him undisturbed. Without those handsome, dark and passionate eyes of his animating it, his face seemed terribly limp and exhausted, although this could not erase the impression of mature virility he gives overall. When he awoke he immediately sat up straight, cast a rapid glance at me and was visibly heartened by the fact that I appeared to have noticed nothing. It is typical of him that he is loath to admit to being tired or sleepy. So he finds it most agreeable that I can relieve him of the small amount of work he is doing during the holiday, or at least mitigate the burden. He tells me this, but he would not like anyone to think that he’s too weary to undertake the work on his own; indeed, merely to think it would make him unhappy.
As often with people who in office are regarded as strict and merciless, he is affable in company, infinitely good-natured even, when he encounters affectionate compliance and submission. Insubordination leaves him speechless, as the only thing he feels
intuitively is his own will, and he is naive enough to assume that it must be just as authoritative for others. To me he seems like a beautiful and loyal, if a little careless, sun, assiduously sustaining its world. He rises, shines and warms with all his might, harbouring no doubt that the planets fulfil their mission by orbiting him throughout their life. Essentially he doesn’t believe in the existence of comets and anomalies, unless they are from within him; I could imagine that the actual desertion of a satellite would send him mad rather than make him angry. In general, his children do as they please, although in theory they refrain from infringing upon his authority, for they are his own children and he is a man of strong instincts, and ultimately he likes his comforts, which is compatible with his industriousness; at home he wants to be at ease.
Velya is a charming young man, although he is out of place here. He has the soul of a Neapolitan fishing boy or a princely favourite, wearing attractive clothes, coming out with striking, bold utterances and drawing little distinction between dreams and real life. The two daughters are not so like twins as I’d first imagined, not even in appearance. Both are on the shorter side, and have masses of blonde hair above their dainty faces. They are as different as a tea rose is from a moss rose. When Jessika moves, it is as if a soft wind is blowing a fallen leaf through the room; Katya stands firmly on the ground, and anything that fails to get out of her way may well be emphatically cast aside. Jessika is delicate, she is often in pain, and her vulnerability lends her a particular, refined allure; one gets the impression that it would be impossible to embrace the poor creature without hurting her. Katya is healthy, sincere and not at all agitating: a clever, spirited and delightful girl. On occasion Jessika appears to be languishing for something, then she will surprise one with a charming joke, which is never hurtful, but rather like a choice caress. There is something enchanting about developing an influence over these young people, which I’m enjoying for the time being. I have not, however, abandoned my gravity and toughness.