Authors: Theodor Fontane
Effi Briest (35 page)
Rummschüttel, when he was called, found that Effi’s condition gave some cause for concern. The symptoms of hectic fever he had observed in her for some time seemed more pronounced than before, and what was worse, there were also the first signs of a nervous complaint. His calm and kindly manner
however, into which he contrived to inject a dash of whimsy, did Effi good, and she was calm as long as Rummschüttel was with her. When he finally left, Roswitha accompanied the old gentleman out into the hall and said, ‘Mary Mother of God, I’m so frightened, Herr Geheimrat; supposin’ it ’appens again, which it could; Mary Mother of God – I’ll never ’ave another moment’s peace. But it did go too far, that business with the child. Poor mistress. And ’er so young. Others are just startin’ at ’er age.’
‘Now, now Roswitha. It’s going to be all right. But she must get away. We’ll have to see. A change of air, fresh faces.’
Two days later a letter arrived at Hohen-Cremmen.
My dear Madam,
My long-standing friendly association with the houses of Briest and Belling and not least the warm affection with which I regard your daughter will justify this letter. Things can’t go on as they are. Unless something happens to take your daughter out of the loneliness and pain of the life she has been leading for some years, she will quickly decline. She always had a tendency to phthisis, which is why, years ago, I prescribed a cure at Ems; this old ailment has now been joined by a new one: her nerves are under severe strain. What is needed to arrest this deterioration is a change of air. But where? It would not be difficult to pick one of the Silesian spas, Salzbrunn would be good, and Reinerz, because of the nervous complication, even better. But the only possible place really is Hohen-Cremmen. For, my dear lady, what your daughter needs to get well is not air alone; she is wasting away because all she has is Roswitha. Loyal servants are good, but loving parents are better. Pardon an old man for meddling in matters that are outside his professional competence. Or perhaps not, for in the final estimate I’m speaking as her doctor in this too and making this demand, if you will pardon the word, out of duty… I’ve seen so much of life… but no more of this. Please remember me to your husband.
Your most respectful servant,
Dr Rummschüttel
Frau von Briest had read this letter to her husband; both were sitting on the shady flagged path with the garden room behind them and the roundel with its sundial in front of them. The Virginia creeper that climbed round the window was moving gently in what light breeze there was, and a few dragonflies hovered over the water in the bright sunshine.
Briest was silent, drumming his fingers on the tea-tray.
‘Please, don’t drum your fingers; say something instead.’
‘Oh, Luise, what is there to say. My drumming my fingers says it all. You’ve known for a long time what I think about it. At the time, when Innstetten’s letter came like a bolt from the blue, I agreed with you. But that’s an eternity ago; am I to play the Grand Inquisitor till my dying day? I’m sick and tired of it I can tell you, have been for a long time…’
‘No reproaches Briest, please; I love her just as much as you do, perhaps more. We all have our own ways. But we’re not in this world just to be weak and affectionate and make allowances for every infringement of the law and the commandments and what people condemn, and – for the time being at least – rightly condemn.’
‘Oh, come on. One thing’s more important.’
‘Of course one thing’s more important, but what is it?’
‘Parents’ love for their children. And then if you only have the one…’
‘Then you say goodbye to catechism and morality, and the claims of Society.’
‘Oh, Luise, catechism if you like and as much as you like, but don’t talk to me about “society”.’
‘It’s difficult to get along without society.’
‘Without a child too. And believe me Luise, “society” can turn a blind eye whenever it suits. This is how I see the matter: if the officers from Rathenow come over, that’s fine by me, and if they don’t, that’s fine by me too. I’m just going to telegraph, “Come back Effi.” Do you agree?’
She stood up and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Of course I do. Only don’t reproach me. It’s not an easy step we’re taking. The moment we do it, our life will change.’
‘I can put up with that. The rape seed is doing well and I can go coursing in the autumn. And I can still enjoy my red wine. And once I have my child back in the house again, it’ll taste even better… Now I’m going to send that telegram.’
Effi had been in Hohen-Cremmen for over six months now. She lived in the two rooms on the first floor that she used to have when she came to visit; the larger one was arranged for her personal use and Roswitha slept in the next room. The benefits that Rummschüttel had expected from her staying there, surrounded by kindness, had been realized, as far as they could be. Her cough subsided, the severe expression that had robbed her kindly face of much of its charm faded and there were days when she could laugh again. Kessin and all that was connected with the past there was seldom mentioned, with the sole exception of Frau von Padden, and of course Gieshübler, for whom old Briest had a great fondness. ‘This Alonzo, this Spaniard out of
Preciosa
who keeps a Mirambo under his roof and raises a Trippelli – he has to be a genius and nobody is going to tell me otherwise.’ And then Effi had no choice but to do her Gieshübler impression, hat in hand,
toujours la politesse
, giving his endless little bows, all of which, with her talent for mimicry, she could pull off very well, though always with a certain reluctance because she felt she was doing the dear, good man an injustice. There was never any mention of Innstetten or Annie, although Annie was in their will and would inherit Hohen-Cremmen.
Yes, Effi was reviving, and her mother, who, being a woman, was not entirely averse to viewing the whole thing, painful though it was, as an interesting case, rivalled her husband in demonstrations of love and attentive concern.
‘We haven’t had a winter as good as this for a long time,’ said Briest. At that Effi rose from her chair and brushed his thinning hair back from his forehead. But fine as all this looked as far as Effi’s health was concerned, it was all merely on the surface and the truth of the matter was that the illness was still there and continued to eat away at her life unseen. When Effi – who was once again wearing a blue and white striped tunic-style dress with a loose belt as she had the day she became engaged to Innstetten – quickly came up to her parents with a spring in her step to say good morning, they looked at each other in pleasure and surprise; pleasure and surprise, but also sadness because they could not fail to notice that this was not the glow of youth, but a kind of transfiguration that gave the slender figure and shining eyes their peculiar expression. Everyone who observed her closely saw this, and Effi was alone in not seeing it, entirely immersed in the feeling of happiness that came from being back in a place so friendly towards her, so richly peaceful, living in reconciliation with those she had always loved and by whom she had always been loved, even in her years of misery and banishment.
She busied herself with all sorts of household tasks and saw to little improvements and embellishments about the house. Her aesthetic sense meant that she always got these things right. But her reading and above all her painting and drawing she had abandoned altogether. ‘I’ve had so much of these things that I’m glad I can sit with my hands in my lap now.’ They also no doubt reminded her too much of sad times. She developed the art of looking with quiet delight at nature instead, and when the leaves of the plane trees fell, when the rays of the sun glittered on the ice on the little pond or the first crocus flowered in the roundel when it was still half in winter’s grip – all these things did her good and she could look at them for hours and forget what life had denied her, or perhaps more accurately, what she herself had thrown away.
They were not entirely without visitors; not everybody was against her; but her main contact was with the school-house and the parsonage.
That the daughters of the school-house had flown the nest did not matter much, it wouldn’t have been the same, but her relationship with Jahnke himself – who regarded not only Swedish Pomerania but also the whole Kessin district as an outlying part of Scandinavia and was constantly asking questions about it – her relationship with this old friend was closer than ever. ‘Yes Jahnke, we had a steamer, and as I believe I wrote to you, or perhaps have told you, I really once almost got across the sea to Visby. Imagine, almost as far as Visby. It’s funny, but there are a lot of things in my life, actually, of which I can say “almost”.’
‘A pity, a pity,’ said Jahnke.
‘Yes, it is a pity of course. But I did drive round Rugen. That would have been something for you Jahnke. Imagine, Arkona with a big Wendish camp you can still see, or so they say, for I didn’t get that far; but not too far away there’s Lake Hertha with the white and yellow water-lilies. I thought a lot about your Hertha there…’
‘Ah yes, Hertha… But you were going to say something about
Lake
Hertha…’
‘Yes, I was… And what do you think Jahnke, close to the lake there were two big sacrificial stones, quite smooth, still with the grooves in them where the blood ran down in the olden days. I’ve disliked the Wends ever since.’
‘Oh, forgive me my lady. But it wasn’t the Wends at all. Those sacrificial stones at Lake Hertha go back much further, much earlier, long before Christ; to the Germanic tribes we’re all descended from…’
‘Of course,’ laughed Effi, ‘we’re all descended from them, the Jahnkes certainly and possibly the Briests too.’
And then she dropped Rügen and Lake Hertha and asked him about his grandchildren, and which he liked better, Bertha’s or Hertha’s.
Yes, Effi got on well with Jahnke. But in spite of his intimate knowledge of Lake Hertha, Scandinavia and Visby, he was a simple man, so inevitably the isolated young woman much preferred her chats with Niemeyer. In the autumn, as long as they could walk in the park, these were many and often; but with the onset of winter came several months’ break because she disliked visiting the parsonage; Pastor Niemeyer’s wife had always been a very unpleasant woman and now she took a very high moral line, although in the view of the parish she herself was not entirely free from blemish.
So things went on the whole winter, much to Effi’s distress. But then, at the beginning of April when the shrubs began to show green at the edges and the paths in the park quickly dried out, the walks with Niemeyer began again.
On one occasion they were taking such a walk. In the distance they heard a cuckoo and Effi counted the number of times it called. She had taken Niemeyer’s arm and said, ‘There’s the cuckoo calling. I don’t like to ask him his prediction though. Tell me, my dear friend, what do you think of life?’
‘Oh, Effi my dear, you mustn’t ask me questions like that, they’re for the experts. You must consult a philosopher or offer a prize for an essay competition at some university. What do I think of life? A little and a lot. Sometimes a great deal, sometimes a very little.’
‘That’s right my friend, I like that; that’s all I need to know.’ And as she said that they came to the swing. She jumped up with all the agility of her much younger days, and before the old man watching her could recover from his momentary shock, she was crouching down between the two ropes, skilfully getting the swing going by bending her body and shooting up straight again. In a few seconds she was flying through the air holding on with one hand as she took a little silk square from her neck and chest and waved it with all the appearance of joy and high spirits. Then she let the swing slow down and jumped off and took Niemeyer’s arm again.
‘Effi, you’re still just like you used to be.’
‘No. I wish I was. But that’s all
far
behind me, I just wanted to have a try again. Oh, how lovely it was, and what a power of good the air did me. I felt I was flying up to heaven. Will I get there? What do you think, my old friend, you ought to know. Please, please tell me…’
Niemeyer took her head in his two old hands and kissed her on the forehead and said, ‘Yes Effi, you will.’
Effi spent all day in the park because she needed the fresh air; old Dr Wiesike from Friesack was in agreement with this but gave her altogether too much freedom to do as she pleased, so that she caught a heavy cold during the chilly days in May; she had a temperature, coughed a lot, and the doctor, who had been coming over every three days, now came daily and found it an awkward case to handle since Effi could not be given the sleeping tablets and cough mixtures she was asking for because of her temperature.
‘Doctor,’ said old Briest, ‘How’s this business going to end? You’ve known her since she was a child, brought her into the world. I don’t like any of this; she’s losing weight visibly, and those red patches and the glitter in her eyes when she suddenly looks at me questioningly. What do you think? What’s happening? Is she going to die?’
Wiesike wagged his head slowly from side to side. ‘I wouldn’t say that Herr von Briest. I don’t like this high temperature. But we’ll get it down, and then she’ll have to go to Switzerland or Menton. Pure air and a friendly atmosphere to make her forget the past…’
‘Lethe, Lethe.’
‘Yes, Lethe,’ Wiesike smiled. ‘Pity our old friends the Greeks just left us the word and not the spring itself while they were at it…’
‘Or at least the prescription for it; they’re making artificial mineral water now you know. Damn me Wiesike, wouldn’t that be a winner, if we could build one of those sanatoriums here, Friesack as Amnesia Springs. Anyway, we’ll give the Riviera a go for a start. Menton is on the Riviera isn’t it? Corn prices are bad again at the moment, but if it has to be, it has to be. I’ll speak to my wife about it.’
And so he did, meeting with his wife’s instant assent. Indeed recently, probably as an effect of their reclusive life, she had developed a strong desire to see the south for a change, and this came to the aid of his suggestion. But Effi herself would hear nothing of it. ‘You’re so good to me. And I’m selfish enough to accept the sacrifice, if I thought it would do any good. But I’m quite certain it would only do me harm.’
‘You’re imagining that Effi.’
‘No. I’ve become so irritable. Everything gets on my nerves. But not here with you. You spoil me and smooth the way ahead for me. But on a journey you can’t do that, you can’t just sweep the unpleasant bits out of the way; it starts with the ticket-collector and finishes up with the waiter. The very thought of their supercilious faces makes me go quite hot. No, no, let me stay here. I don’t ever want to leave Hohen-Cremmen again. This is where I belong. I’d rather have the heliotrope round the sundial down there in the roundel than Menton any day.’
After this conversation the plan was dropped again, and Wiesike, for all he had expected of the Riviera, said, ‘We have to respect this, this isn’t just a whim; people who have this illness have a very acute sense, they know with remarkable certainty what will help and what won’t. And what Frau Effi said about ticket-collectors and waiters is actually quite right, no air anywhere is beneficial enough to outweigh the annoyance of life in a hotel – if, that is, one really does find it annoying. So we shall let her stay here; it may not be the best thing, but it’s certainly not the worst.’
And this proved to be the case. Effi recovered, put on a little weight (old Briest was a fanatical believer in weighing) and lost her irritability for the most part. All the while, however, her need for fresh air increased, and, especially when the wind was in the west and grey clouds moved across the sky, she would spend many hours in the open. On days like that she would even
go into the fields and out into the Luch, often two miles away, and when she tired she would sit on a fence and look in a dream at the spearwort and the clumps of red sorrel waving in the wind.
‘You’re always out all on your own.’ said Frau von Briest, ‘You’re safe enough with our people, but there are so many undesirables from other parts prowling about too.’
This made an impression on Effi, who had never given danger a thought, and when she was alone with Roswitha, she said, ‘I can hardly take you along Roswitha; you’re too fat and your legs aren’t up to it any more.’
‘It’s not as bad as all that, my lady. I could still get married.’
‘Of course,’ Effi laughed. ‘It’s never too late for that. But you know Roswitha, if only I had a dog to keep me company. Papa’s pointer pays no attention to me at all, pointers are so stupid, and he only stirs himself when the huntsman or the gardener takes the gun down. I keep thinking of Rollo.’
‘Yes,’ said Roswitha, ‘there aren’t no dogs like Rollo ’ere. Not that I’m sayin’ anythin’ against ’
ere
. ’ohen-Cremmen is just grand.’