Hanns Heinz Ewers Alraune

by Joe Bandel

  “Ten,” counters the princess.

  Frieda Gontram nods. It doesn’t matter to her. She will give away twenty sins so she doesn’t have to write.

  Olga sits at the table, picks up the quill and looks questioningly.

  “Now write,” says the Legal Councilor.

  “Honorable Princess–”

  “Is this for Mama?” the princess asks.

  “Naturally, who else would it be for? Write!”

  “Honorable Princess–”

  The princess doesn’t write. “If it’s for Mama, I can only write, ‘Dear Mama’.”

  The Legal Councilor is impatient.

  “Write what you want child, just write!”

  She writes, “Dear Mama!”

  Then the Legal Councilor dictates:

  “Unfortunately I must inform you that there is a problem. There are so many things that I must consider and you can’t consider things when you have nothing to drink. We don’t have a drop of champagne in the house. In the interests of your case please send us a basket of spiced champagne, a basket of Pommery and six bottles of–”

  “St. Marceaux!” cries the little attorney.

  “St. Marceaux,” continues the Legal Councilor. That is namely the favorite of my colleague, Manasse, who so often helps.

  With best Greetings,

  Your–”

  “Now see, Colleague!” he says. “You need to correct me! I didn’t dictate this letter alone but I will sign it single handedly, and he puts his name on it.

  Frieda turns away from the window, “Are you finished? Yes? Well, I can only say that you didn’t need to write the letter. Olga’s Mama is coming and she’s in the garden now!”

  She had seen the princess a long time ago but had kept quiet and not interrupted. If Olga wanted to get ten beautiful sins she should at least work for them!

  All the Gontrams were like that, father, mother and children. They are very, very unwilling to work but are very willing to let others do it.

  The princess enters, obese and sweaty, large diamonds on her fingers, in her ears, around her neck and in her hair in a vulgar display of extravagance.

  She is a Hungarian Countess or Baroness. She met the prince somewhere in the Orient. A marriage was arranged, that was certain, but also certain, was that right from the beginning it was a fraud on both sides.

  She wanted the marriage to make her impossible pregnancy legal. The prince wanted the same marriage to prevent an international scandal and hide his small mistake. It was a net of lies and impudent fraud, a legal feast for Herr Sebastian Gontram, everything was in motion, and nothing was solid. Every smallest assertion would prompt legal opposition from the other side. Every shadow would be extinguished through a court ruling.

  Only one thing stayed the same, the little princess. Both the prince and the princess proclaimed themselves as father and mother and claimed her as their own. This product of their strange marriage is heir to many millions of dollars. The mother has the advantage, has custody.

  “Have a seat, princess!”

  The Legal Councilor would sooner bite his tongue than call this woman, ‘Highness’. She is his client and he doesn’t treat her a hair better than a peasant woman.

  “Take your coat off!” but he doesn’t help her with it.

  “We have just written you a letter,” he continues and reads the beautiful letter to her.

  “But of course,” cries the princess. “I will take care of it first thing tomorrow morning!”

  She opens her purse and pulls out a heavy envelope.

  “Look at this, Honorable Legal Councilor. I came straight here with it. It is a letter from Lord, Count Ormes of Greater-Becskerekgyartelep, you know him.”

  Herr Gontram furrows his brow. This isn’t good. The King himself would not be permitted to demand him to conduct any business while at home. He stands up and takes the letter.

  “That’s very good,” he says. “Very good. We will clear this up in the morning at the office.”

  She defends herself, “But it’s very urgent! It’s very important!”

  The Legal Councilor interrupts her, “Urgent? Important? Let me tell you what is urgent and important, absolutely nothing. Only in the office can a person judge what is urgent and important.”

  He reproaches her, “Princess, you are an educated woman! You know all about proper manners and enjoy them all the time. You must know that you don’t bring business home at night.”

  She persists, “But I can never catch you at the office Honorable Legal Councilor. During this week alone I was–”

  Now he is almost angry. “Then come next week! Do you think that all I do is work on your stuff alone? Do you really believe that is all I do? Do you know what my time alone costs for the murderer Houten? And it’s on my head to handle your millions as well.”

  Then he begins to tell a funny story, incessantly relating an unending imaginary story of a strange crime lord and the heroic attorney that brings him to justice for all the horrible sex murders that he has committed.

  The princess sighs, but she listens to him. She laughs once in awhile, always in the wrong places. She is the only one of all his listeners that never knows when he lies and also the only one that doesn’t understand his jokes.

  “Nice story for the children!” barks Attorney Manasse.

  Both girls are listening eagerly, staring at the Legal Councilor with wide-open eyes and mouths. But he doesn’t allow himself to be interrupted. It is never too early to get accustomed to such things. He talks as if sex murderers were common, that they happen all the time in life and you can encounter dozens of them every day.

  He finally finishes, looks at the hour. “Ten already! You children must go to bed! Drink your spiced wine quickly.”

  The girls drink, but the princess declares that she will under no circumstances go back to her house. She is too afraid and can’t sleep by herself, perhaps there is a disguised sex murderer in the house. She wants to stay with her friend. She doesn’t ask her Mama. She asks only Frieda and her mother.

  “You can as far as I’m concerned,” says Frau Gontram. “But don’t you oversleep! You need to be in church on time.”

  The girls curtsey and go out, arm in arm, inseparable.

  “Are you afraid too?” asks the princess.

  Frieda says, “What Papa was saying is all lies.”

  But she is still afraid anyway and at the same time strangely longing for these things. Not to experience them, oh no, not to know that. But she is thinking how she wants to be able to tell stories like that! Yes, that is another sin for confession! She sighs.

  Above, they finish the spiced wine. Frau Gontram smokes one last cigar. Herr Manasse stands up to leave the room and the Legal Councilor is telling the princess a new story. She hides her yawn behind her fan, attempts again to get a word in.

  “Oh, yes, dear Legal Councilor,” she says quickly. “I almost forgot! May I pick your wife up at noon tomorrow in the carriage? I’d like to take her with me into Rolandseck for a bit.”

  “Certainly,” he answers. “Certainly, if she wants to.”

  But Frau Gontram says, “I can’t go out.”

  “And why not?” the princess asks. “It would do you some good to get out and breathe some fresh spring air.”

  “Frau Gontram slowly takes the cigar out from between her teeth. “I can’t go out. I don’t have a decent hat to wear–”

  The Princess laughs as if it is a good joke. She will also send the Milliner over in the morning with the newest spring fashions.

  “Then I’ll go,” says Frau Gontram. “But send Becker from Quirinusjass, they have the best.”

  “And now I must go to sleep–good night!”

  “Oh, yes, it is time I must get going too!” the princess cries hastily.

  Legal Councilor escorts her out, through the garden and into the street. He helps her up into her carriage and then deliberately shuts the garden gate.

  As he comes ba
ck, his wife is standing in the house door, a burning candle in her hand.

  “I can’t go to bed yet,” she says quietly.

  “What,” he asks. “Why not?”

  She replies, “I can’t go to bed yet because Manasse is lying in it!”

  They climb up the stairs to the second floor and go into the bedroom. In the giant marriage bed lies the little attorney pretty as can be and fast asleep. His clothing is hung carefully over the chair, his boots standing nearby. He has taken a clean nightgown out of the wardrobe and put it on. Near him lies his Cyclops like a crumpled young hedgehog.

  Legal Councilor Gontram takes the candle from the nightstand and lights it.

  “And the man insults me, says that I’m lazy!” he says shaking his head in wonderment.

  “–And he is too lazy to go home!”

  “Shh!” Frau Gontram says. “You’ll wake everyone up.”

  She takes bedding and linen out of the wardrobe and goes very quietly downstairs and makes up two beds on the sofas. They sleep there.

  Everyone is sleeping in the white house. Downstairs by the kitchen the strong cook, Billa, sleeps, the three hounds next to her. In the next room the four wild rascals sleep, Philipp, Paulche, Emilche and Josefche. Upstairs in Frieda’s large balcony room the two friends are sleeping. Wülfche sleeps nearby with his black tobacco stub. In the living room sleep Herr Sebastian Gontram and his wife. Up the hall Herr Manasse and Cyclops contentedly snore and way up in the attic sleeps Sophia, the housemaid. She has come back from the dance hall and lightly sneaked up the stairs.

  Everyone is sleeping, twelve people and four sharp hounds. But something is not sleeping. It shuffles slowly around the white house–

  Outside by the garden flows the Rhine, rising and breasting its embankments. It appears in the sleeping village, presses itself against the old toll office.

  Cats and Tomcats are pushing through the bushes, hissing, biting, striking each other, their round hot glittering eyes possessed with aching, agonizing and denied lust–

  In the distance at the edge of the city you hear the drunken songs of the wild students–

  Something creeps all around the white house on the Rhine, sneaks through the garden, past a broken embankment and overturned benches. It looks in pleasure at the Sunday antics of the love hungry cats and climbs up to the house. It scratches with hard nails on the wall making a loose piece of plaster fall, pokes softly at the door so that it rattles lightly like the wind.

  Then it’s in the house shuffling up the stairs, creeping cautiously through all the rooms and stops, looks around, smiles.

  Heavy silver stands on the mahogany buffet, rich treasures from the time of the Kaiser. But the windowpanes are warped and patched with paper. Dutchmen hang on the wall. They are all good paintings from Koekoek, Verboekhuoeven, Verwee and Jan Stobbaerts, but they have holes and the old golden frames are black with spider webs.

  Something sneaks through the still house

  These magnificent beauties came from the ArchBishop’s old hall. But the broken crystal is sticky with flyspecks.

  Something sneaks through the still house and each time it comes it breaks something, almost nothing, an infinite smallness, a crack. But again and again, each time it comes, the crack grows in the night. There is a small noise, a light creaking in the hall, a nail loosens and the old furniture gives way. There is a rattle at the swollen shutters and a strange clanking between the windowpanes.

  Everyone sleeps in this big house on the Rhine but something slowly shuffles around.

  Chapter Two

  Expains how the idea for Alraune came about.

  THE sun had already set and the candles were burning on the chandelier in the Festival room as Privy Councilor ten Brinken entered. He appeared festive enough in his dress suit. There was a large star on his white vest and a gold chain in the buttonhole from which twenty small medals dangled.

  The Legal Councilor stood up, greeted him, and then he and the old gentleman went around the room with threadbare smiles, saying kind words to everyone. They stopped in front of the celebrating girls and the old gentleman took two gold rings out of a beautiful leather case and formally presented them. The one with a sapphire was for blond Frieda and the ruby was for dark Olga. Then he gave a very wise speech to both of them.

  “Would you like to sit for a spell?” asked Herr Sebastian Gontram. “We’ve been sitting over there for four hours. Seventeen courses! Isn’t that something! Here is the menu, is there anything you would like?”

  The Privy Councilor thanked him, but he had already eaten.

  Then Frau Gontram came into the room in a blue, somewhat old-fashioned silk gown with a train. Her hair was done up high.

  “I can’t eat anymore ice cream,” she cried. “Prince Puckler had Billa put all of it on the cinnamon noodles!”

  The guests laughed. They never knew what to expect in the Gontram house.

  Attorney Manasse cried, “Bring the dish in here! We haven’t seen Prince Puckler or fresh cinnamon noodles all day!”

  Privy Councilor ten Brinken looked around for a chair. He was a small man, smooth shaven, with thick watery bags under his eyes. He was repulsive enough with swollen hanging lips, a huge meaty nose, and the lid of his left eye drooped heavy but the right stood wide open, squinting around in a predatory manner. Someone behind him said:

  “Good Day Uncle Jakob.”

  was Frank Braun. The Privy Councilor turned around; it was very unusual to see his nephew here.

  “You’re here?” he asked. “I can only imagine why.”

  The student laughed, “Naturally! But you are so wise uncle. You look good by the way, and very official, like a university professor in proud dress uniform with all your medals. I’m here incognito–over there with the other students stuck at the west table.”

  “That just proves your twisted thinking, where else would you be sitting?” his uncle said. “When you once–”

  “Yes, yes,” Frank Braun interrupted him. “When I finally get as old as you, then I will be permitted–and so on–That’s what you would tell me, isn’t it? All heaven be praised that I’m not yet twenty Uncle Jakob. I like it this way much better.”

  The Privy Councilor sat down. “Much better? I can believe that. In the fourth Semester and doing nothing but fighting, drinking, fencing, riding, loving and making poor grades! I wrote your mother about the grades the university gave you. Tell me youngster, just what are you doing in college anyway?”

  The student filled two glasses, “Here Uncle Jakob, drink, then your suffering will be lighter! Well, I’ve been in several classes already, not just one, but an entire series of classes. Now I’ve left and I’m not going back.”

  “Prosit!”

  “Prosit!” The Privy Councilor said. “Have you finished?”

  “Finished?” Frank Braun laughed. “I’m much more than finished. I’m overflowing! I’m done with college and I’m done with the Law. I’m going to travel. Why should I be in college? It’s possible that the other students can learn from you professors but their brains must then comply with your methods. My brain will not comply. I find every single one of you unbelievably foolish, boring and stupid.”

  The professor took a long look at him.

  “You are immensely arrogant, my dear boy,” he said quietly.

  “Really?” The student leaned back, put one leg over the other. “Really? I scarcely believe that. But if so, it doesn’t really matter. I know what I’m doing. First, I’m saying this to annoy you a bit–You look so funny when you are annoyed. Second, to hear back from you that I’m right.

  For example, you, uncle, are certainly a shrewd old fox, very intelligent, clever and you know a multitude of things–But in college weren’t you just as insufferable as the rest of your respected colleagues? Didn’t you at one time or another say to yourself that you wanted to perhaps just have some fun?”

  “Me? Most certainly not!” the professor said. “But that is something
else. When you once–Well, ok, you know already–Now tell me boy, where in all the world will you go from here? Your mother will not like to hear that you are not coming home.”

  “Very well,” cried Frank Braun. “I will answer you.”

  “But first, why have you have rented this house to Gontram? He is certainly not a person that does things by the book. Still, it is always good when you can have someone like that from time to time. His tubercular wife naturally interests you as a medical doctor. All the doctors in the city are enraptured by this phenomenon without lungs. Then there’s the Princess that you would gladly sell your castle in Mehlem to.

  Finally, dear uncle, there are the two teenagers over there, beautiful, fresh vegetables aren’t they? I know how you like young girls–Oh, in all honor, naturally. You are always honorable Uncle Jakob!”

  He stopped, lit a cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. The Privy Councilor squinted at him poisonously with a predatory right eye.

  “What did you want to tell me?” he asked lightly.

  The student gave a short laugh. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all!”

  He stood up, went to the corner table, picked up a cigar box and opened it. They were the expensive cigars of the Privy Councilor.

  “The smokes, dear uncle. Look, Romeo and Juliet, your brand. The Legal Councilor has certainly not spared any expense for you!”

  He offered one to the Privy Councilor.

  “Thank you,” growled the professor. “Thank you. Now once again, what is it that you want to tell me?”

  Frank Braun moved his chair closer.

  “I will tell you Uncle Jakob. But first I need to reproach you. I don’t like what you did, do you hear me? I know myself quite well, know that I’ve been wasting my life and that I continue–Leave that. You don’t care and I’m not asking you to pay any of my debts.

  I request that you never again write such a letter to our house. You will write back to mother and tell her that I am very virtuous, very moral, work very hard and that I’m moving on and such stuff. Do you understand?”