Authors: Theodor Fontane
Effi Briest (6 page)
Cousin Dagobert was at the station when the ladies set out on the return journey to Hohen-Cremmen. They had been happy days, particularly since they had not had to suffer disagreeable relatives who were scarcely of the proper class. ‘For Aunt Therese,’ Effi had said on their arrival, ‘we must be incognito this time. We can’t have her coming here to the hotel. Either the Hôtel du Nord or Aunt Therese; you can’t have both.’ Her mamma had finally agreed with her, indeed to seal their agreement, she had even given her darling a kiss on the forehead.
With Cousin Dagobert it had of course been quite another matter: besides having the swagger of a Guardsman, he had above all, with the aid of the special good humour that is almost traditional in officers of the Alexander Regiment, been able to provide stimulation and amusement for mother and daughter alike, and their good mood lasted right to the end. ‘Dagobert,’ said Effi as they were leaving, ‘you must come to my Wedding Eve, and bring some friends. Because after the theatricals – and I don’t want you coming with any old rag, tag and bobtail – there’s to be a ball. And you have to bear in mind that my first grown-up ball may also be my last. So without at least six of your comrades, first-class dancers to a man, you won’t get in. And of course you can get back on the early-morning train.’ Her cousin promised all this, and so they parted.
About midday the two ladies arrived at their Havelland station out in the
Luch and in half an hour drove over to Hohen-Cremmen. Briest was happy to have his wife and daughter home again and asked one question after another, mostly not waiting for an answer, but instead launching into an account of what had happened to him in the meantime. ‘Earlier you mentioned “The Isle of the Blessed” at the National Gallery – well, we’ve had something of the sort here while you were away: Pink the steward and the gardener’s wife. Naturally I had to sack Pink, reluctantly I may say. It really is awkward that these things always happen at harvest time. And in every other respect Pink was an unusually capable fellow, though this wasn’t the place for him, unfortunately. But that’s enough of that; Wilke’s getting hot under the collar.’
At table Briest was a better listener; the understanding they had struck up with Effi’s cousin, about whom they had much to tell, met with his full approval, their attitude to Aunt Therese with less. But they could see clearly that for all his disapproval he was in fact amused; for a little prank like this was much to his taste and Aunt Therese really was a figure of fun. He raised his glass and clinked it with his wife and daughter. When they had risen from the table and a few of the prettiest purchases were unpacked in front of him and presented for his verdict, he continued to show great interest, which even survived, or at least didn’t wholly evaporate, as he ran his eye over the bill. ‘A trifle expensive, or should we just say very expensive. But not to worry. It all has such chic, I mean it’s so stimulating, I have the distinct feeling that if you were to give me a case like that and a travelling rug for Christmas, we two would be in Rome ourselves at Easter, having our honeymoon again after eighteen years. What do you think Luise? Shall we follow their example? Better late than never.’
Frau von Briest made a gesture as if to say ‘Incorrigible’, and left him to his own sense of shame, which however was not great.
It was the end of August, the wedding day (October 3rd) was coming closer; in both the big house and in the vicarage and the school the preparations for the Wedding Eve went ahead without let-up. Jahnke, true to his passion for Fritz Reuter, had come up, as something ‘particularly meaningful’ for the occasion, with the idea of having Bertha and Hertha appear as Mining and Lining from
Ut mine Stromtid
, speaking
Plattdeutsch
of course, whereas Hulda was going to do the elder-tree scene from
Das Käthchen von Heilbronn
, with Lieutenant Engelbrecht of the Hussars as Wetter vom Strahl. Niemeyer, who could claim to have fathered the idea, hadn’t hesitated for a moment to rewrite the scene to make it apply decorously to Innstetten and Effi. He himself was satisfied with his work and listened after the read-through
to friendly comments from all concerned, with the exception however of his old friend and patron Briest, who, after listening to the mixture of Kleist and Niemeyer, protested vigorously, though not on literary grounds. ‘“Lord and master” here, “lord and master” there. What’s it all supposed to mean? It can only give rise to misunderstandings, it distorts the whole thing. Innstetten is unquestionably an excellent specimen of humanity, a man of character and verve, but the Briests – excuse the Berlinism Luise – the Briests didn’t come in with the cat either. We’re a historic family – thank the Lord, I may add – and the Innstettens are
not
; the Innstettens are just old – ancient aristocracy if you like, but what is ancient aristocracy? I don’t want a Briest, or at least a character in a Wedding Eve sketch in whom everybody is bound to see a reflection of our Effi – I don’t want a Briest constantly going on, directly or indirectly, about her lord and master. Innstetten would have to be a Hohenzollern in disguise, at the very least, and there are such things. But he’s not one of them, so I can only repeat, it’s a distortion of the situation.’
And in fact Briest stuck to this view with peculiar tenacity for quite a time. Only after the second rehearsal, when Kathchen, already half in costume, wore a close-fitting velvet bodice, was he moved, never having been averse to a little homage to Hulda, to remark that ‘Käthchen was coming along nicely’, a turn of phrase that was pretty well as good as a truce, or at least was moving in that direction. That all these things were kept secret from Effi goes without saying. With more curiosity on her side, it would all have been impossible, but Effi had so little desire to find out about the preparations and the planned surprises that she declared emphatically to her mother that ‘she was happy to wait and see’, and when the latter expressed doubt, Effi terminated the conversation with the repeated assurance that this was indeed so. And why not? It was just a theatrical performance, and it couldn’t be as lovely and poetic as the
Cinderella
they had seen on their last evening in Berlin, no, as lovely and poetic it couldn’t be. On that occasion she really had wanted to take part herself, if only to make a chalk mark on the ridiculous schoolmaster’s back. ‘And how lovely the last act was – “Cinderella awakens as a princess” – well, a countess at least, it was just like a fairy tale.’ She often talked like this, mostly with increased animation on each occasion she mentioned it, and the secrecy and constant whisperings of her friends annoyed her. ‘I wish they took themselves less seriously and had more time for me. When it comes to it, all they’ll do is forget their lines and I’ll be nervous for them and ashamed that they’re my friends.’
As she mocked them in this vein, it was obvious that Effi was not greatly bothered about the Wedding Eve or the wedding. Frau von Briest had pause for thought, but it didn’t become a real worry, because Effi, and this was a
good sign, was preoccupied with her future and, imaginative as she was, would indulge in quarter-hour descriptions of her life in Kessin, in which, incidentally, much to the amusement of her mother, a rather curious notion of Eastern Pomerania found expression, or perhaps was shrewdly calculated to evoke such an impression. It seemed to amuse her to think of Kessin as half-way to Siberia, where the ice and snow never quite melted.
‘Goschenhofer sent the last of the things today,’ said Frau von Briest as she sat as usual with Effi in front of the wing at the work-table on which the pile of linen and underwear constantly grew, while the newspapers, which just took up space, became fewer and fewer. ‘I hope you have everything now Effi. But if you are still nursing any little wishes, now is the time to let us know, within the hour if possible. Papa has sold the rape for a good price and he’s in an unusually good mood.’
‘Unusually? He’s always in a good mood.’
‘In an unusually good mood,’ her mamma repeated, ‘which must be taken advantage of. So tell me. There were several times in Berlin when I had the impression that there was something or other you particularly wanted.’
‘Well, Mamma dear, what can I say. Really, I have everything I need, I mean everything I need
here
. But since it seems I am destined to go so far north… and I must say I have nothing against it, on the contrary I’m looking forward to the northern lights and the brighter gleam of the stars… since it seems I am destined for it, I would really quite like a fur coat.’
‘But Effi dear, that’s all silly nonsense. You’re not going to Petersburg or Archangel.’
‘No, but it’s on the way…’
‘Well, that’s true. You will be on the way. But what does that mean? When you go from here to Nauen, you’re on the way to Russia. Well, if that’s what you want, a fur coat you shall have. But first, just let me advise you against it. Fur coats are for older people, even your old mamma is too young for one, and if you turn up at seventeen in mink or marten in Kessin, they’ll think it’s fancy dress.’
This conversation took place on September 2nd, and would have continued had it not chanced to be Sedan Day. In the event they were interrupted by fifes and drums, and Effi, who had heard earlier about the planned parade but had forgotten, suddenly dashed from the work-table past the roundel and the pond to a little balcony built on the churchyard wall which had six steps no wider than the rungs of a ladder leading up to it. In a trice she was at the top, and there was the entire school with Jahnke gravely on the right wing while out in front, at the head of the column, marched a little drum-major with an expression on his face as if it had fallen to him to fight the Battle
of Sedan all over again. Effi waved her handkerchief, and the object of her greeting did not fail to salute back with the gleaming ball of his baton.
A week later mother and daughter were again sitting in their old place, again busy with their work. It was a wonderful day; the heliotrope in the ornamental bed round the sundial was still in bloom, and the light breeze that was blowing wafted its fragrance over to them.
‘Oh how good I feel here,’ said Effi, ‘I feel so good and I’m so happy; I can’t imagine heaven being better. And besides, who knows if they have such marvellous heliotropes in heaven.’
‘Effi, you mustn’t talk like that; you get that from your father, nothing’s sacred for him, just the other day he said Niemeyer looks like Lot. Disgraceful. And what is it supposed to mean? In the first place he doesn’t know what Lot looked like, and secondly it’s hugely offensive to Hulda. It’s a good job Niemeyer has only one daughter, so the whole thing collapses. In one particular he is right – in what he says about “Lot’s wife”, the pastor’s good lady, who again managed to ruin Sedan Day entirely with her presumption and foolishness. Which reminds me that our conversation was interrupted when Jahnke marched past with the school – at least I don’t imagine the fur coat you spoke of was the only thing you want. So tell me, treasure, what else have you in mind?’
‘Nothing, Mamma.’
‘Nothing at all?’
‘No, nothing at all; seriously… Though if there has to be something…’
‘Well…’
‘Well, it would be a Japanese screen with black and gold birds on it, all with long crane’s bills… And then maybe a globe for our bedroom, the sort that casts a red glow.’
Frau von Briest was silent.
‘There you are, Mamma, now you’re silent and you look as if I’ve said something really improper.’
‘No Effi, not improper. Least of all in front of your mother. For I do know you. You are a little person full of imagination, and you like to paint pictures of the future, and the more colourful they are, the more beautiful and desirable they seem. That much was clear the day we bought the things for your trip. And now you think it would be wonderful to have a screen in the bedroom with all manner of fabulous creatures, all bathed in the half-light of a red lamp. It all seems like a fairy tale and you want to be a princess.’
Effi took her mamma’s hand and kissed it. ‘Yes Mamma, that’s me.’
‘Yes, that’s you. I know. But my dear Effi, in life we must be cautious, especially
we women. And when you get to Kessin, a small place where there is scarcely a lamp in the streets at night, they’ll laugh at that kind of thing. And that’s not all. The people who don’t take to you, and there are bound to be some, will put it down to bad upbringing, or possibly something even worse.’
‘Oh well, nothing Japanese then, and no globe. But I must confess I had imagined it all so beautiful and poetic, everything bathed in a red glow.’
Frau von Briest was moved. She stood up and kissed Effi. ‘You’re a child. Beautiful and poetic. That’s how you imagine it. Reality is different, and it’s often a good thing that instead of light and a red glow there is darkness.’
Effi seemed about to reply when Wilke came with the letters. One was from Kessin, from Innstetten. ‘Ah, from Geert,’ said Effi, putting the letter away and continuing in a composed tone, ‘but you will allow me to place the piano diagonally in the room. I’m keener on that than the open fireplace Geert has promised me. And the picture of you, I’m going to have that on an easel; I can’t be entirely without you. Oh yes, and I’ll be homesick for you, perhaps even on the honeymoon trip, but quite certainly in Kessin. They say there isn’t a garrison, not even a medical corps captain, so it’s a good thing it’s at least a seaside resort. Cousin Briest’s mother and sister always go to Warnemünde and I’m pinning my hopes on that, for I don’t see why he shouldn’t reroute them to Kessin. Reroute, that has the ring of the general staff, but I think he has ambitions in that direction anyway. And then he’ll naturally come with them, and stay with us. By the way, in Kessin there’s a big steamer, somebody recently told me, that sails to Sweden twice a week. And on board ship they hold a ball, they have a band naturally, and he’s a very good dancer.’
‘Who?’
‘Dagobert of course.’
‘I thought you meant Innstetten. But anyhow, it’s time we found out what he has to say… You still have the letter in your pocket.’
‘So I have. I had almost forgotten.’ And she opened the letter and ran her eye over it.
‘Well Effi, nothing to say? I don’t see a radiant smile, you’re not even laughing. And he always writes such bright and amusing letters, not all wise and paternal.’
‘I wouldn’t permit any of that. He has age and I have youth. I would shake my finger at him and say, “Geert, just think which is better.”’
‘And then he would answer, “What
you
have Effi is better.” For he is not only a man of the finest manners, he is also just and sensible and knows very well what youth means. He always says that and he is attuning himself to youth, and if he continues to do so when you are married, then it will be an ideal marriage.’
‘I think so too Mamma. But can you imagine, I’m almost ashamed to say it, I’m not really in favour of what is known as an ideal marriage.’
‘That’s just like you. What are you actually in favour of then?’
‘I’m… well, I’m for share and share alike, and naturally for love and affection too. And if it can’t be love and affection, for love, as Papa says, is just stuff and nonsense (which I don’t actually believe), well then I’m for wealth and a grand house, a
very
grand house, where Prince Friedrich Karl comes for the shooting, either elk or capercaillie, or where the old Kaiser will call and have a gracious word for all the ladies, even the young ones. And when we’re in Berlin I’ll be for court balls and gala evenings at the opera, always close to the big central box.’
‘Is this just high spirits or a mood talking?’
‘No Mamma, I’m absolutely serious. Love comes first, but right after it comes brilliance and honour, and then come diversions – yes, diversions, always something new, always something to make me laugh or cry. The thing I can’t stand is boredom.’
‘How did you manage to put up with us then?’
‘Oh Mamma, how can you say such a thing? Of course in the winter when our dear relatives call and stay for six hours or even longer, and Aunt Gundel and Aunt Olga look me up and down and pronounce me impudent – Aunt Gundel once actually said that to me – yes, well at times like that it’s not very nice I have to admit. But otherwise I’ve always been happy here,
so
happy…’
And as she said this she fell to her knees before her mother, sobbing violently, and kissed both her hands.
‘Get up Effi. These are just moods young girls get at your age, especially with a wedding in the offing and the uncertainty it entails. And now read me the letter, even if it doesn’t contain anything very special, and perhaps not even any secrets.’
‘Secrets,’ laughed Effi and jumped up, suddenly in an entirely different mood. ‘Secrets! Yes, he does keep trying, but most of what he writes I could put on the noticeboard at the town hall where his official announcements are posted. Geert isn’t a Landrat for nothing.’
‘Go on, read it.’
‘“Dear Effi…” That’s how he always starts, and sometimes he also calls me his “little Eve.”’
‘Go on, read it… I want to hear you read it.’
‘Well, here goes: