by Thomas Mann
Then, very suddenly, he fell silent—the expression on his face changed, his arms and legs went slack. His little, round, deep-set eyes began to wander restlessly in all directions, and he passed his hand down his left side—it was as if he were listening for something inside him, where strange things were happening. He drank another glass of liqueur, which restored his spirits a little; he tried telling another story, but then, looking rather depressed, he got up to leave.
Frau Permaneder, who found it uncommonly easy to laugh of late and who had enjoyed herself immensely, was still in a merry mood as she accompanied her brother to the door. “Adieu, my agent for champagne and cognac,” she said. “Wandering minstrel mine! Come back soon, you old muttonhead!” She almost burst with laughter as he started on his way, and then she went back into her apartment.
But Christian Buddenbrook had paid no attention to her, had not even heard her—he was deep in thought. “Well,” he said to himself, “guess I’ll head on over to Quisisana now for a bit.” And, with his hat cocked slightly, and making good use of his cane with the nun’s bust on the knob, he slowly, stiffly limped down the stairs—almost as if he were a cripple.
2
IT WAS A SPRING EVENING in 1868, and at about ten o’clock Frau Permaneder stopped by her brother’s house on Fischer Grube and made her way to the second floor. Senator Buddenbrook was alone in the sitting room; he had drawn one of the chairs upholstered in olive rep up to the round table in the center of the room, just beneath the large gas lamp that hung from the ceiling. He was bent slightly over the table, reading the Berlin Financial News, which lay spread out before him; he was holding a cigarette in his left hand, between his index and middle fingers, and a gold pince-nez, which he had been using for some time now for reading, was perched on his nose. Hearing his sister’s steps in the dining room, he removed the pince-nez and gazed anxiously into the darkness until Tony entered through the portieres and moved out into the light.
“Oh, it’s you. Good evening. Back already from Pöppenrade? How is your old girlfriend doing?”
“Good evening, Tom. Armgard is quite well, thanks. You’re here all by yourself?”
“Yes, I’m so glad you’ve come by. I had to eat my supper alone tonight, as solitary as the pope himself. That’s not counting Fräulein Jungmann, of course, but she’s no company, because she’s constantly popping up to run out and check on Hanno. Gerda is at the Casino—for a violin concert by Tamayo. Christian stopped by for her.”
“My word! as Mother would say. Yes, I’ve noticed, Tom, that of late Gerda and Christian are getting along quite well.”
“So have I. Since he’s moved back here, she’s begun to take a liking to him. She sits and listens attentively whenever he is describing his ailments. Good heavens, he amuses her. Just recently she said to me, ‘He’s not a solid citizen, Tom. He’s even less of a solid citizen than you.’ ”
“Solid citizen … solid citizen, Tom? Well, it seems to me that there’s no more solid citizen on God’s earth than you.”
“Well, yes, but that’s not quite how she meant it. Now, take off your things, my girl. You look splendid. So the country air did you some good?”
“It was magnificent,” she said, and after removing her mantilla and the hood of her cloak tied with purple silk ribbons, she majestically took a seat in one of the easy chairs by the table. “I slept well, my stomach is better—everything much improved in just that short time. Milk still warm from the cow, and sausage and ham—why, you can’t help thriving like the cattle and the crops. And the fresh honey, Tom—I’ve always said it was the best nourishment. It’s a pure product of nature. You know what you’re eating there. Yes, and it was really quite sweet of Armgard to remember me after all these years since we were friends at boarding school and invite me. And Herr von Maiboom was terribly polite as well. They simply begged me to stay on for another few weeks, but you know how difficult it is for Erika to handle things without me, and especially now, with little Elisabeth.”
“Ah yes, how is the baby doing?”
“She’s holding her own, Tom, thanks. She’s really doing quite nicely for just four months, even though Friederike, Henriette, and Pfiffi claimed she couldn’t live.”
“And Weinschenk? How does he like being a father? I never see him except on Thursdays, really.”
“Oh, he hasn’t changed. You know what a straightforward, hardworking man he is, a perfect model of a husband in a certain sense—he has no use for taverns, always comes directly home from the office and spends his spare time with us. But the thing is, Tom—we can speak openly, I know—he demands that Erika always be in a good mood, constantly wants her to talk and make little jokes, because, when he comes home exhausted and out of sorts, he says that’s when he needs a wife who can divert him by being bright and gay, who can amuse him and cheer him up. That’s what wives are for, he says.”
“Idiot,” the senator muttered.
“Pardon? Well, the worst part about it is that Erika tends to be melancholy, Tom—she must get that from me. There are times when she’s more quiet and serious and caught up in her own thoughts, and then he scolds her and flares up, says things that, to be honest, are not exactly considerate. It’s only too apparent sometimes that he’s not from the best of families, that unfortunately he did not enjoy what people call good breeding. Yes, to be frank—a few days before I left for Pöppenrade, he threw the lid of the soup tureen to the floor, smashed it to bits, because the soup was too salty.”
“How charming!”
“No, quite the contrary. But let us not judge him by things like that. My Lord, we all have our faults, and he is such a competent, high-principled, hardworking man. No, no, we mustn’t judge, Tom. A rough exterior, but good to the core—there are worse things in this earthly life. I’ve just returned from a situation that is much sadder, let me tell you. When we were all alone, Armgard wept bitter tears.”
“You don’t say! Herr von Maiboom?”
“Yes, Tom, that’s really what I wanted to talk to you about. We’re sitting here just chatting, but in fact I’ve come to see you this evening about a very serious and important matter.”
“Well, what is Herr von Maiboom’s problem?”
“Ralf von Maiboom is a charming man, Thomas, but he is Squire Sport, a regular harum-scarum. He gambles in Rostock, he gambles in Warnemünde, and he has more debts than there’s sand on the shore. You’d never know it spending a few weeks at Pöppenrade. The manor is quite elegant, and everything looks prosperous all around, and there’s no lack of milk and sausage and ham. On an estate like that you lose all sense of proportion for the real situation. In short, things have actually gone to rack and ruin, Tom, and that’s what Armgard confessed to me with the most heartbreaking sobs.”
“Sad, very sad.”
“You can say that again. But the thing is that, as I came to realize, they did not invite me there out of totally unselfish motives.”
“How do you mean?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Tom. Herr von Maiboom needs money, he needs a great deal of money very soon. He knew that his wife and I were old friends, and that I’m your sister, and since he was in such straits, he had his wife do his work for him, and in turn she has enlisted me—you see?”
The senator ran the fingertips of his right hand along the part in his hair and scowled slightly. “I think I see, yes,” he said. “Your serious and important matter appears to come down to some sort of advance on the harvest at Pöppenrade, if I’m not mistaken. But I’m afraid that you, and your friends, have approached the wrong man. First, I’ve never done business with Herr von Maiboom before, and this would be a rather curious way to strike up a relationship. Second, although there have been occasions over the years when we—Great-grandfather, Grandfather, Father, and I—have provided advances to some of the landed gentry, we did so only if their character or other circumstances guaranteed us a certain security. But as you yourself described Herr von Maiboom�
��s character and circumstances not two minutes ago, any such guarantees are out of the question in this case.”
“You’re wrong, Tom. I let you have your say, but you’re wrong. This is not about an advance. Maiboom needs thirty-five thousand marks courant.”
“I’ll be damned!”
“Thirty-five thousand marks courant, due within less than two weeks. The knife is being held to his throat, and, to put it bluntly, he has to find some way to sell now, at once.”
“The whole crop? Oh, the poor man!” And the senator shook his head and tapped his pince-nez on the table. “But it would be a very unusual arrangement for our kind of house,” he said. “I’ve heard of such deals, but mainly in Hessia, where quite a few of the gentry have ended up in the hands of Jews. Who knows what sort of cutthroat will get his clutches on poor Herr von Maiboom.”
“Jews? Cutthroats?” Frau Permaneder cried in considerable amazement. “But we’re talking about you, Tom, about you!”
Suddenly Thomas Buddenbrook tossed his pince-nez on the table, sending it sliding some distance across his newspaper, and turned now with a jerk to face his sister head on. “About—me?” he said, mouthing the words soundlessly with his lips. And then aloud he said, “Go to bed, Tony. You’re too tired.”
“Yes, Tom, that’s what Ida Jungmann always used to say to us whenever we were just starting to have some fun. But I assure you that I’ve never been more awake and alert than I am now, coming here by stealth of night to present Armgard’s—and so, indirectly, Ralf von Maiboom’s—proposal to you.”
“Well, I’ll attribute that proposal to your naïveté and Maiboom’s hopeless situation.”
“Hopeless, naïve? I don’t understand you, Thomas, not in the least. You are offered the chance to do a good deed and at the same time to make the best business deal of your life, and …”
“Oh, my dear, you’re talking utter nonsense!” the senator shouted and threw himself back impatiently in his chair. “Forgive me, but you and your innocence can be quite exasperating. You don’t understand, do you, that you are suggesting I become involved in a highly unrespectable, shabby operation? You want me to fish in troubled waters? To brutally exploit a man? To take advantage of this landed gentleman, to fleece the poor, defenseless fellow? Force him to sell me a whole year’s harvest at half the price it will be worth, so that I can make a profit that is nothing but usury?”
“Oh, so that’s how you see it?” Frau Permaneder said, cowed somewhat into gathering her thoughts. But then she continued, as lively as before, “But, Tom, you really needn’t see it that way. Force him? But he’s coming to you. He needs the money, and he would like to arrange the matter in a friendly way, under the counter, so to speak, with no one the wiser. That’s why he picked up on the old connection with us, and that’s why I was invited.”
“Put quite simply, then, he is mistaken about me and the character of my firm. I have a tradition behind me. We have never made a transaction like that in over a century, and I am not inclined to be the first to be involved in such maneuvers.”
“Of course you have a tradition behind you, Tom, and I certainly respect it. To be sure, Father would never have got involved in something like this—heaven forbid. But who said he would? But, as stupid as I am, I know one thing: that you are a very different man from Father, and that when you took over the business you set quite a different breeze blowing, and that since then you have done many things he would never have done. That’s because you are young and enterprising. But I’m afraid that of late you’ve let yourself be intimidated by one setback or another. And if you’re not having the great success you had before, the reason is that you’ve been so cautious and conscientious and anxious that you let every chance for a coup slip through you fingers.”
“Oh, please, my dear child, you’re making me angry!” the senator said in a stern voice, squirming in his chair. “Let’s speak of something else.”
“Yes, you are angry, Thomas, I can see that well enough. You were from the start, and that’s why I’ve kept on talking, just to prove to you that you have no reason to be offended. But if I were to ask myself why you’re angry, I could only reply that ultimately it’s because you’re not so averse to the idea of getting involved in this. I may be a silly woman, but I’ve learned one thing about myself and others, and that is that one only gets upset and angry when one is not quite sure of one’s own power to resist an idea and is tempted deep down inside to go along with it.”
“That’s nice,” the senator said, biting the mouthpiece of his cigarette—and said no more.
“Nice? No, it’s the most basic lesson that life has taught me. But never mind, Tom. I don’t wish to press you. Can I convince you to enter into such a transaction? No, I lack the expertise for that. I’m just a silly goose. What a shame. Well, no matter. It simply interested me very much. On the one hand, I was shocked, of course, and felt sorry for Maiboom, but on the other, I was glad for you. I thought, Tom’s been wandering about rather glumly for quite a while now. He used to complain, but he doesn’t even complain anymore. He lost some money here and there, and these are hard times—just when my situation has improved again, thank God, and I’m feeling so happy. And then I thought: This would be something for him, a coup, a profitable deal. This will allow him to make up for many a setback and show people that good luck hasn’t quite deserted the firm of Johann Buddenbrook yet. And if you had picked up on it, I would have been very proud to have been the middleman, because you know it’s always been my dream, my fondest hope, to be of some use to the family name. But enough, that takes care of it, I suppose. Though what really annoys me is the thought that Maiboom is going to have to sell his entire crop in any case, Tom, and if he should look around town here for a buyer, he’s sure to find one. He’s sure to find one, and his name will be Hermann Hagenström—the scoundrel.”
“Oh yes, I doubt if he would turn down the offer,” the senator said with bitterness.
And Frau Permaneder replied with three shouts: “You see, you see, you see!”
Shaking his head, Thomas Buddenbrook suddenly began to laugh in exasperation and said, “It’s foolish to sit here talking with such a display of high seriousness—at least on your part—about something so vague, about some will-o’-the-wisp. As far as I know, I haven’t even asked what it is all about precisely, what Herr von Maiboom intends to sell. I know nothing about the Pöppenrade estate.”
“Oh, but of course you would have to go see for yourself,” she said eagerly. “It’s just a stone’s throw to Rostock, and no distance at all after that. What does he want to sell? Pöppenrade is a large estate. I know for a fact that it yields more than a thousand sacks of wheat. But nothing more than that, really. As far as rye, oats, or barley go? Five hundred sacks of each, perhaps? Or more, or less? I don’t know. It’s all growing splendidly, I can tell you that. But don’t ask me for figures, Tom, I’m just a silly goose. You would have to go see it for yourself.”
There was a long pause.
“Well, it’s not worth wasting two words over,” the senator said firmly and curtly, picking up his pince-nez and shoving it into his vest pocket; he buttoned his coat, stood up, and began to pace back and forth in quick, strong, easy strides purposely designed to show that any further serious thought about the matter was out of the question.
Then he stopped beside the table and, bending down toward his sister and lightly tapping the tabletop with a crooked index finger, said, “Let me tell you a little story, my dear Tony, one that will show you how I feel about this entire matter. I know your weakness for the nobility in general and the aristocrats of Mecklenburg in particular, and so I beg your indulgence if one of those gentlemen gets his fingers rapped in my story. You know, I’m sure, that among them there are one or two who do not have all that much regard for merchants, although merchants are as vital to them as vice versa. Men of that sort lay a bit too much emphasis on the producer’s superior position—which to some extent is undeniable—vis
-à-vis the wholesaler in commercial transactions; and, indeed, they regard the merchant with much the same eyes as they would a Jewish peddler to whom one gives one’s worn-out clothing, even though one is quite aware that he has the better of the deal. I flatter myself that in general I have not left these gentlemen with the impression that I am an exploiter and their moral inferior; indeed, I’ve run across some who drive a much harder bargain than I. But it took just one little bold stroke, which I shall now tell you about, to bring me a bit closer on the social scale to one such fellow. It was Count Strelitz, whose estate was Gross-Poggendorf—you’ve heard of him before, I’m sure. I dealt with him for years, in fact. A very aristocratic sort, with a square monocle clamped in his eye—I could never figure out why he didn’t cut himself—wore patent-leather boots and carried a riding crop with a gold handle. He had a habit of gazing down at me from some lofty height, his mouth half open, his eyes half closed. My first visit was very significant. We exchanged some introductory correspondence; I went to see him, and was ushered by his butler into his study, where I found him seated at his desk. He responds to my bow by raising himself halfway up in his chair, and finishes the last lines of a letter. He then turns to me, looking right on past me, and strikes up negotiations about his grain. I lean back against the table next to the sofa, cross my arms and legs, and find this all quite amusing. I stand there conversing with him for some five minutes. Five minutes more pass and I sit down on the table, with one leg dangling in the air. Our negotiations continue, and after fifteen minutes, with a truly gracious wave of his hand, he casually says, ‘Won’t you have a seat?’—‘Beg your pardon?’ I say. ‘Oh, that’s not necessary. I’ve been sitting all along.’ ”
“You didn’t? You didn’t?” Frau Permaneder shrieked with delight. She had immediately forgotten all that had passed between them and was completely caught up in the anecdote. “You’d been sitting all along! That’s marvelous!”