Effi Briest E-Book

Theodor Fontane

• Herausgeber: Pushkin Press Classics
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 571

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

An exceptional translation of Fontane's masterpiece: one of the great nineteenth century novels of adultery to stand beside Anna Karenina and Madame Bovary __________ 'I have been haunted by it ... as I am by those novels that seem to do more than they say, to induce strong emotions that can't quite be accounted for' Hermione Lee, Sunday Times 'A stunningly moving, beautiful, witty and urbane novel: I was blown away by it.' Kate Saunders 'Fontane's masterpiece is now generally acclaimed as Germany's contribution, alongside Madame Bovary and Anna Karenina, to the great nineteenth-century European novels of adultery' TLS __________ Effi Briest is only seventeen when she is married off to Baron von Innstetten, travelling to live with him in a provincial town on the remote Baltic coast of Prussia. He is twenty years her senior, an ambitious bureaucrat who is uninterested in his young wife, and lively Effi becomes increasingly isolated, bored and anxious in her stifling surroundings. A half-hearted affair with Major Crampas - a manipulative married man with a reputation for womanising - temporarily distracts Effi from her loneliness. But years later, this brief liaison will return to Effi with devastating consequences. In this witty masterpiece of poetic realism, Fontane portrays a woman torn between her own desires and her roles as wife and mother, between her heart and the obligations of social circumstance.

Leseprobe

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‘I have been haunted by it … as I am by those novels that seem to do more than they say, to induce strong emotions that can’t quite be accounted for’

HERMIONE LEE

‘Fontane’s masterpiece is now generally acclaimed as Germany’s contribution, alongside Madame Bovary and Anna Karenina, to the great nineteenth-century European novels of adultery’

TLSii

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EFFI BRIEST

THEODOR FONTANE

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY HUGH RORRISON AND HELEN CHAMBERS

PUSHKIN PRESS CLASSICSiv

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EFFI BRIEST

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Contents

Title PageTranslators’ Note123456789101112131415161718192021222324252627282930313233343536NotesAfterwordAbout the AuthorAvailable and Coming Soon from Pushkin Press ClassicsCopyrightviii

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Translators’ Note

This new translation of EffiBriestwas produced in response to a widespread feeling that existing translations, two abridged and out of print, the other failing to render vital aspects, denied the English-speaking reader adequate access to the greatest realist novel in German literature. Much has been written about the difficulties of translating a writer as subtle as Fontane, and there is no doubt that he presents particular problems. We have tried to get as close as possible to the effect of the original by rendering the natural feel of the conversation while still retaining the more poetic aspects of the text. Without, we hope, being anachronistic, we have avoided old-fashioned expressions, for the effect the novel had on Fontane’s contemporaries was anything but old-fashioned.

Despite the novel’s simple, at times colloquial diction, its underlying artistic qualities, which reside partly in the rhythm of the sentences and the creation of verbal and symbolic echoes and patterns, require careful attention. Wherever we could we have retained these echoes and patterns. This was not always possible because of the divergence between German and English idiomatic usage. One has to be alive, for example, to gender-specific usage, with adjectives in German that may apply equally well to men and women, but don’t in English. Because of differences between normal German and English sentence structure it is impossible to replicate the rhythm of the German faithfully without doing violence to the idiom of English. We have done our best to produce a version that has a rhythmical flow and dynamic of its own.x

Titles and forms of address posed particular problems, especially the polite form gnädige or gnädigste Frau. Oscar Wilde’s Lady Windermere’s Fan, which was written at the same time as Effi Briest, suggested ‘my lady’ and ‘my dear lady’, with ‘your/her ladyship’ as the form used in place of ‘you’ and ‘she’. Titles such as Landrat generally remain untranslated, but are explained in the end-notes. The number of German words now current in English is increasing, and it seemed undesirable to impose a set of approximate equivalents deriving from the British Empire and civil service on the Prussian system. The German titles better preserve the geographical and historical context. Similarly street names have been left to speak with their own German voice, with annotation where appropriate.

This translation is designed above all to be readable, but also to fulfil the more stringent requirements of the reader who seeks a reliable rendering of the original. We have kept faith with the text as closely as possible, both by preserving echoes and by avoiding repetition where there is none – this proved a significant problem as Fontane often places different expressions with similar meanings close to each other. Some deviation was inevitable and in particular the puns in Chapters 17 and 23 were untranslatable. Introducing the word ‘slug’ as the correct English expression for the red-hot metal put in a box-iron also caused us discomfort, as the term for ‘slug’ does not occur in Fontane’s fiction. The alternative English term would have been ‘weasel’. There are no weasels in Fontane either. German miles have been converted to British miles throughout, so that the distances are rendered accurately. We have paid attention to plant names, for Fontane, the pharmacist, had a detailed knowledge of the subject and chose his flowers carefully.

In translating Effi Briest we have had the pleasure of gaining new insights into the fine detail of how the text works; and even compiling the end-notes has thrown fresh sidelights on its hidden subtleties, xiparticularly on Innstetten’s allusions. Our translation is offered in the hope that it may help to find Fontane, belatedly, a wider English readership and facilitate a more informed assessment of his place in world literature.

hugh rorrison and helen chambers, 1995xii

1

1

To the front of hohen-cremmen, country seat of the von Briest family since the time of Elector Georg Wilhelm, bright sunshine fell on the midday silence in the village street, while on the side facing the park and gardens a wing built on at right angles cast its broad shadow first on a white and green flagstone path, then out over a large roundel of flowers with a sundial at its centre and a border of canna lilies and rhubarb round the edge. Some twenty paces further on, corresponding exactly in line and length to the new wing and broken only by a single white-painted iron gate, was a churchyard wall entirely covered in small-leaved ivy, behind which rose Hohen-Cremmen’s shingled tower, its weather-cock glittering from recent regilding. Main house, wing and churchyard wall formed a horseshoe, enclosing a small ornamental garden at whose open end a pond and a jetty with a moored boat could be seen, and close by a swing, its horizontal seat-board hanging at head and foot on two ropes from posts that were slightly out of true. Between the roundel and the pond, partially concealing the swing, stood some mighty plane trees.

The front of the house too – a sloping terrace with aloes in tubs and some garden chairs – offered a place to linger and indulge in all manner of amusements if the sky was cloudy; but on days when the sun beat down there was a clear preference for the garden side, especially on the part of the lady of the house and her daughter, who on this particular day were sitting out in the full shade on the flagstone path, with windows wreathed in Virginia creeper at their backs, and beside them a short projecting flight of steps whose four stone treads led up from the garden to the 2upper ground floor of the wing. Both mother and daughter were busily at work on an altar-cloth that was to be made out of several squares; countless strands of wool and skeins of silk lay jumbled on a large round table, and between them, left over from lunch, were some dessert plates and a large majolica bowl filled with fine large gooseberries. The ladies’ wool-needles went back and forth, swift and sure, but while the mother never took her eye off her work, the daughter, Effi as everybody called her, laid down her needle from time to time and stood up to stretch and bend her way stylishly through a full sequence of health-promoting home gymnastics. It was obvious that these exercises were a labour of quite special love, even if she deliberately added a comic touch, and as she stood there slowly raising her arms and bringing her palms together high above her head, her mother too would raise her eyes from her work, but only for a surreptitious, fleeting glance, for she had no wish to show what delight she took in her own child, fully justified though such a stirring of maternal pride was. Effi was wearing a blue and white striped linen dress that would have been a straight tunic had it not been drawn in at the waist by a tight, bronze-coloured leather belt; the neck was open and a broad sailor’s collar went over her shoulders and down her back. Grace and careless abandon were combined in everything she did, while her laughing brown eyes revealed much good sense, a great zest for life and kindness of heart. They called her ‘the little one’, but she tolerated that only because her beautiful, slender mamma was a hand’s breadth taller.

Effi had just stood up again to do a few gymnastic turns to right and left when her mother, looking up from her embroidery again, called to her, ‘Effi, maybe you should have been a bareback-rider after all. Always on the trapeze, a daughter of the air. You know I almost think that’s what you would like to be.’ 3

‘Perhaps Mamma, but supposing I would, whose fault would that be? Who do I get it from? It can only be you. Or do you think from Papa? There, you can’t help laughing. And then, why have you got me in this shift – this boy’s overall? Sometimes I think I’m going to go back into short dresses. And once that happens I’ll curtsy like some sweet young thing, and when the officers come over from Rathenow I’ll get on Colonel Goetze’s lap and ride, gee-up, gee-up, and why not? He’s three quarters uncle and only one quarter admirer anyway. It’s your fault. Why haven’t I got any proper dresses? Why don’t you make a lady of me?’

‘Would you like that?’

‘No.’ Saying which, she ran up to her mother, threw her arms round her impetuously and kissed her.

‘Not so wild Effi, not so passionate. It always worries me when I see you like this…’ And her mother seemed seriously intent on giving further expression to her cares and anxieties. But she didn’t get so far, because just at that moment three young girls came in at the iron gate in the churchyard wall and walked up the gravel path towards the roundel and the sundial. All three waved to Effi with their parasols and hurried up to Frau von Briest to kiss her hand. She asked a few quick questions and then invited the girls to keep them, or at least Effi, company for half an hour, ‘I have things to see to, and young people are happiest left to themselves. So, I’ll take my leave.’ And so saying she climbed the stone steps leading from the garden to the wing.

And with that the young people were on their own.

Two of the young girls – plump little persons whose curly golden red hair admirably matched their freckles and equable temper – were the daughters of Jahnke, the assistant schoolmaster whose sole interests were the Hanseatic League, Scandinavia and Fritz Reuter, a fellow Mecklenburger and his favourite writer, in emulation of whom, with 4Mining and Lining in mind, he had given his twins the names Bertha and Hertha. The third young lady was Hulda Niemeyer, Pastor Niemeyer’s only child; while more ladylike than the other two, she was also boring and conceited, a lymphatic blonde with somewhat protuberant, stupid eyes that somehow always seemed to be searching for something, which was why Klitzing of the Hussars had said of her, ‘Doesn’t she look as if she were expecting the Archangel Gabriel at any moment?’ Effi felt that the somewhat critical Klitzing was only too accurate, but refrained nonetheless from making any distinction between her three friends. That was the last thing she had in mind at the moment. ‘This boring old embroidery. Thank goodness you’re here,’ and she put her elbows on the table.

‘But we’ve driven your mamma away,’ said Hulda.

‘Not really. You heard her, she was going anyhow, she’s expecting a visitor you see, some old friend from when she was a girl, I’m going to tell you about that later, a love-story complete with hero and heroine, and ending in renunciation. You’ll be amazed, you won’t believe your ears. I’ve seen him too, Mamma’s old friend, over in Schwantikow. He’s a Landrat, and very handsome and manly.’

‘That’s the main thing,’ said Hertha.

‘Of course it’s the main thing, “women should be womanly, men should be manly” – that’s one of Papa’s favourite sayings, as you know. Now help me tidy this table, otherwise I’ll be in trouble again.’

In a trice all the skeins were packed into the basket, and when they were all seated again, Hulda said, ‘Well then Effi, it’s time now, let’s have this tale of love and renunciation. Or is it not really that bad?’

‘A tale of renunciation is never bad. But unless Hertha takes some of these gooseberries I can’t start, she can’t keep her eyes off them. Help yourself, as many as you like, we can pick more later, only don’t throw the skins away, or better still, put them on this newspaper supplement here, then we’ll make it into a paper bag and get rid of the 5whole lot. Mamma can’t stand it if she sees skins lying everywhere, she always says you could slip on them and break a leg.’

‘Don’t believe it,’ said Hertha, addressing herself to the gooseberries with a will.

‘Nor do I,’ Effi agreed. ‘Just think, I fall at least two or three times every day, and I’ve never broken anything. Proper legs don’t break so easily, mine certainly don’t, nor yours, Hertha. What do you think, Hulda?’

‘One shouldn’t tempt Providence. Pride comes before a fall.’

‘There’s the governess again, you’re a real old maid.’

‘Well, it won’t stop me getting married, perhaps sooner than you.’

‘Think I care. Do you imagine that’s what I’m waiting for? That’s all I need. Anyway, I’m going to have someone, maybe quite soon. I’m not worried. Only the other day little Ventivegni from across the way said, “What do you bet we’ll be getting together this year for somebody’s Wedding Eve!”’

‘And what did you say to that?’

‘“It’s possible of course,” I said, “quite possible; Hulda is the oldest and might get married any day.” But he wouldn’t have any of that and said, “No, it will be quite another young lady – who is as dark as Hulda is blond.” And he gave me a very serious look as he said it… But how did I get on to all this, I’m forgetting the story.’

‘Yes, you do keep going off at a tangent; maybe you don’t want to tell us after all.’

‘Oh I want to all right, but it’s true of course, I do keep getting off the subject, because it’s all rather strange, in fact, it’s almost romantic.’

‘But didn’t you say he was a Landrat?’

‘That’s right, a Landrat. And his name is Geert von Innstetten, Baron von Innstetten.’

All three burst out laughing. 6

‘What are you laughing at?’ said Effi, put out, ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Oh Effi, we didn’t mean any offence, not to you and not to the Baron. Did you say Innstetten? And Geert? Nobody around here is called anything like that. These old aristocratic names can be so funny.’

‘Yes indeed, my dear. But that’s the aristocracy. They don’t have to care, and the further back they go the less they have to care. You mustn’t mind if I say you don’t understand these things. We’ll still be friends. So it’s Geert von Innstetten, and a baron. He’s exactly the same age as Mamma, to the day.’

‘And how old is your Mamma then?’

‘Thirty-eight.’

‘A nice age to be.’

‘Yes, it is, especially if you still have Mamma’s looks. She’s a beautiful woman, really, don’t you think? And the way she has everything just so, and is always so poised and refined, never puts her foot in it like Papa. If I were a young lieutenant, I would fall in love with Mamma.’

‘But Effi, how can you say such a thing?’ said Hulda, ‘That’s against the fourth commandment.’

‘Nonsense. How can that be against the fourth commandment? I think Mamma would be pleased if she knew I’d said something like that.’

‘That may well be,’ Hertha interjected, ‘but let’s get on with the story.’

‘All right, be patient, I’m just going to start… So, Baron Innstetten. He wasn’t quite twenty and he was stationed in Rathenow and was a regular guest on all the estates here, though his favourite was grandfather Belling’s place in Schwantikow. It wasn’t of course because of Grandfather that he called so often, and when Mamma talks about it, anybody can see who the real attraction was. And I think it was mutual.’ 7

‘So what happened then?’

‘What happened was what was bound to happen, what always happens. He was still far too young, and when Papa came on the scene he was already a Ritterschaftsrat and had Hohen-Cremmen, so there wasn’t really much to think about and she accepted him and became Frau von Briest… And the rest, what came after that, you know… The rest is me.’

‘Yes, the rest is you, Effi,’ said Bertha. ‘Thank goodness for that, we wouldn’t have had you if things had been otherwise. So you must tell us, what did Innstetten do, what became of him? He didn’t take his own life, otherwise you wouldn’t be expecting him today.’

‘No, he didn’t take his own life. But it was a bit like it.’

‘Did he try?’

‘No, he didn’t. But he wasn’t inclined to stay in the neighbourhood any longer, and it must have put him off army life in general. It was peacetime after all. To cut a long story short he resigned his commission and went off to study law, “really made a meal of it” as Papa puts it; but when the war of 1870 came along he joined up again, with the Perlebergers, mark you, not with his old regiment, and he got the Iron Cross. As you would expect, because he’s very dashing. And immediately after the war he went back to his files, and they say Bismarck thinks highly of him, and the Kaiser too, and that’s how he came to be a Landrat, for the district of Kessin.’

‘Kessin? I don’t know any Kessin near here.’

‘No, it isn’t in our part of the country, it’s a fair way from here, in Pomerania, Eastern Pomerania in fact, not that that means anything, because it’s a coastal resort (everywhere’s a coastal resort up there) and this holiday trip Baron Innstetten is making is a kind of tour of his cousins or something. He wants to see old acquaintances and relatives.’

‘He’s got relatives here?’ 8

‘Yes and no, depends how you look at it. There are no Innstettens here, in fact there are no Innstettens left at all, I don’t think. But he has some distant cousins on his mother’s side here, and mainly I think he wanted to see Schwantikow and the Bellings’ house again, which hold so many memories for him. He was over there yesterday, and today he’s coming to Hohen-Cremmen.’

‘And what does your father say to that?’

‘Nothing. He’s not like that. And he knows Mamma. He just teases her.’

At that moment it struck noon, and before the chimes had stopped, Wilke, the Briests’ old butler and general factotum, appeared with a message for Effi: ‘Her ladyship would like Miss Effi to make herself presentable in good time. The Baron will arrive at one o’clock sharp.’ And as he announced this Wilke began to clear the ladies’ work-table, reaching first for the sheet of newspaper the gooseberry skins were lying on.

‘No Wilke, don’t do that, we’re going to see to the skins… Hertha, it’s time to make the paper bag; and put in a stone so it all sinks. Then we’ll have a long funeral procession and bury the bag at sea.’

Wilke smiled. ‘A real caution, our young lady’ he must have been thinking; but Effi, placing the bag in the middle of the swiftly tidied tablecloth, said: ‘Now each of the four of us takes a corner and we sing something sad.’

‘Yes, well, you say that, Effi. But what exactly are we supposed to sing?’

‘Anything; it doesn’t matter, except that it must have a rhyme with “ee”; “ee” is the vowel for keening. So we’ll sing:

“In the deepest deep,

Let it peacefully sleep.”’

9And as Effi solemnly intoned this litany, all four began to move towards the jetty, climbed into the boat that was moored there, and from that slowly lowered the bag and its stone weight into the pond.

‘Hertha, your guilt is now consigned to the deep,’ said Effi, ‘oh and that reminds me, this is how they used to drown poor unfortunate women, from boats like this, for infidelity of course.’

‘But not here.’

‘No, not here,’ Effi laughed, ‘that kind of thing doesn’t happen here. But in Constantinople it does, now I come to think of it, you must know that just as well as I do, you were there when ordinand Holzapfel told us about it in geography.’

‘Yes,’ said Hulda, ‘Holzapfel was always talking about that kind of thing. But then that’s the kind of thing you forget.’

‘Not me. I remember that kind of thing.’

10

2

They continued to talk in this vein for a while, recalling with indignation and satisfaction lessons they had attended together and a whole series of Holzapfel’s improprieties. There would have been no end to it had Hulda not suddenly said, ‘But it’s high time you went in Effi. You look, well, how shall I put it, you look as if you had just come from picking cherries, all crumpled and crushed; linen always gets so many creases, and with that big white floppy collar… yes, I’ve got it, you look like a cabin-boy.’

‘Midshipman, if you please. I must have something for my nobility. Anyway, midshipman or cabin-boy, Papa promised me a mast the other day, right here by the swing, with spars and rigging. Won’t that be something, and I’ll put my own pennant on the masthead, and no-one is going to stop me. And Hulda, you’ll shin up the other side and at the top we’ll shout hurrah and kiss one another. Splice the mainbrace, won’t that be fun!’

‘“Splice the mainbrace”… listen to that… You really do talk like a midshipman. But I wouldn’t dream of climbing up after you, I’m not such a daredevil. Jahnke is right when he says there’s a lot of the Bellings in you, from your mother’s side. I’m just a pastor’s daughter.’

‘Oh, get away with you. Still waters run deep. Do you remember the time Cousin Briest was here, still a cadet, but grown up for all that, and you slid all the way along the barn roof? And why was that? I’m not going to let on. Come on, let’s have a swing, two on each end, I don’t think the ropes will snap, or if you don’t want to – for I can see you pulling long faces – we’ll play tag. I still have a quarter of an hour. I don’t want to go in yet, just to say good afternoon to a Landrat, and a Landrat from Eastern Pomerania at that. He’s a 11bit old too, he could almost be my father, and if he really lives in a seaport, which is what they say Kessin is, then he ought to prefer me in my sailor suit, he ought almost to take it as a special token of respect. When princes receive – or so Papa tells me – they always put on the uniform of wherever their guest comes from. So not to worry… I’m going to hide and the bench here is home.’

Hulda had a few reservations, but before she could speak, Effi was off up the nearest gravel path, dodging to left and right until suddenly she was gone. ‘Effi, that doesn’t count. Where are you? We’re not playing hide and seek, we’re playing tag.’ And with these and similar protestations her friends ran after her, far beyond the roundel and the two plane trees on the side, until the elusive Effi burst from her hiding place and, because she was now behind her pursuers, effortlessly reached the bench and was home with ‘one, two, three’.

‘Where were you?’

‘Behind the rhubarb clumps, they’ve got such big leaves, even bigger than a fig-leaf.’

‘Shame on you!’

‘No, shame on you, because you’ve lost. Hulda with those big eyes of hers didn’t spot me, helpless as usual.’ And with that Effi flew over the roundel again in the direction of the pond, perhaps with the intention of hiding behind a thick hazel-hedge that was growing there, so that she could make a wide detour round the churchyard and the front of the house and get back to the wing and home. She had it all nicely worked out, but alas, before she was even half-way round the pond she heard her name being called from the house, and looking round, saw her mother waving from the stone steps with her handkerchief. A moment later Effi was standing in front of her.

‘There you are still in that tunic of yours and our visitor is here. You never keep to time.’ 12

‘I keep to time, it’s your visitor who hasn’t. It’s not one yet, not by a long chalk,’ and turning to the twins (Hulda was lagging far behind) she shouted, ‘Just carry on, I’ll be straight back.’

A moment later Effi was in the large garden-room which took up almost the entire wing of the house.

‘Mamma, you mustn’t scold like that. It really is only half-past. Why has he come so early? A gentleman never comes late, but still less too early.’

Frau von Briest was visibly embarrassed, but Effi clung to her and caressed her and said, ‘I’m sorry, I’ll hurry now, you know how quick I can be, and in five minutes Cinderella will be transformed into a princess. He can surely wait or talk to Papa that long.’

And with a nod to her mother she made to trip light-footedly up the little iron staircase which led from the garden-room to the upper floor. But Frau von Briest, who could be unconventional herself when necessary, suddenly held Effi back as she was going, looked at the charming, youthful creature, hot from the excitement of the game, standing there in front of her, a picture of life at its freshest – and in a confidential tone said, ‘Maybe it’s as well if you just stay as you are. Yes, just stay as you are. You look very nice like that. And even if you didn’t, you look so unprepared, not made up at all, and that’s what matters at a moment like this. I have something to tell you, my sweet Effi…’ and she took her child by both hands… ‘I have to tell you that –’

‘But Mamma, what’s the matter? You’re frightening me.’

‘What I have to tell you is that Baron von Innstetten wants to marry you.’

‘Wants to marry me? Is he serious?’

‘It’s not the kind of thing to be joked about. You saw him the day before yesterday, and I think you liked him. Of course he is older 13than you, which is a good thing all in all, and he is a man of character, position and sound morality, and if you don’t say no, which I would hardly expect from my clever Effi, then at twenty you’ll have a position others don’t reach until they’re forty. You’ll go far further than your mamma.’

Effi said nothing; she was searching for words. But before she could find them she heard her father’s voice from the adjoining room, which was in the rear of the main house, and Ritterschaftsrat von Briest, a well-preserved man of pronounced bonhomie in his fifties, stepped over the threshold of the garden-room – with him Baron Innstetten, slim, dark-haired and of military bearing.

Effi, seeing him, began to tremble nervously; but not for long, because almost at the very moment Innstetten approached her with a friendly bow, the golden red heads of the twins appeared round the Virginia creeper that half-obscured the window, and Hertha, the cheekier of them, called into the room, ‘Come back Effi.’ Then she ducked down and the two sisters jumped off the arm of the bench they had been standing on back down into the garden, and all that could be heard was their subdued giggling and laughter.

14

3

On that same day Baron Innstetten had become engaged to Effi Briest. The jovial father of the bride to be, adjusting with difficulty to the solemnity of his role at the engagement dinner which followed, had proposed a toast to the young couple, and this gave Frau von Briest a disturbing sensation about the heart, probably conjuring up times scarcely eighteen years past. But not for long. It couldn’t be her, so now, instead of her, it was her daughter – just as good, all in all, perhaps even better. For life with Briest was quite tolerable, even if he was a shade prosaic and lapsed on occasion into frivolity. Towards the end of the meal – ice-cream was already being passed round – the old Ritterschaftsrat stood up again and proposed that the formal mode of address be dropped within the family. Whereupon he embraced Innstetten and gave him a kiss on the left cheek. But this was not the end of it for he went on to recommend intimate names and titles for use within the family, setting up a sort of scale of familiarity which naturally respected the established rights of individual cases. Thus for his wife the continuation of ‘Mamma’ would be best (for there were some young mammas), whereas he himself would resist the honourable title of ‘Papa’, strongly preferring to be simply Briest, which was so nice and short. And as for the children – and at this word, meeting the eye of Innstetten who was barely a dozen years his junior, he had to give himself a jolt – well, Effi would be Effi and Geert Geert. Geert, if he was not mistaken, meant a tall, slender stem, and that made Effi the ivy that would cling to it. The couple looked at one another in some embarrassment at these words, coupled in Effi’s case with an expression of adolescent amusement, but Frau von Briest said, ‘Briest, say what you like and 15propose what toasts you will, but if you please, spare us your poetic images, that’s outside your province.’ Cautionary words which found more agreement than dissent in Briest. ‘You may be right, Luise.’

As soon as they rose from table Effi took her leave and went to call at the pastor’s. On the way she told herself, ‘I expect Hulda will be annoyed. I’ve beaten her to it after all – and she has always been vain and conceited.’ But Effi’s expectations were not quite accurate; Hulda kept her composure and behaved very well, leaving it to her mother to voice any misgivings or irritation, and the pastor’s wife did indeed make some very strange remarks. ‘Yes, well, that’s the way of it, of course. If it couldn’t be the mother it will have to be the daughter. We’ve seen it all before. Old families stick together, and to those that have shall be given.’ Old Niemeyer, deeply embarrassed at this stream of pointed, uneducated, ill-mannered remarks, once more had cause to regret having married a housekeeper.

From the pastor’s Effi naturally went on to schoolmaster Jahnke’s; the twins had been on the look-out for her and met her in the front garden.

‘Well Effi,’ said Hertha, as all three walked up and down between the French marigolds blooming to left and right, ‘well Effi, how do you feel now?’

‘How do I feel? Oh all right. We’re already on Christian name terms. He’s called Geert by the way, but I’ve told you that already, I seem to remember.’

‘Yes, you have. But I feel so uneasy about it all. Is he really the right one?’

‘Of course he’s the right one. You don’t understand these things Hertha. Anybody is the right one. Provided he is an aristocrat and has a position and good looks, naturally.’

‘My goodness Effi, the way you talk. It’s quite different from how you used to talk.’ 16

‘Yes, used to.’

‘So you’re quite happy now?’

‘If you’ve been engaged for two hours, you’re always quite happy. At least that’s what I think.’

‘And you don’t have the feeling it’s at all – how shall I put it – a little embarrassing?’

‘Yes, it is a little embarrassing, but not very. And I think I’ll get over it.’

After making these calls at the pastor’s and the schoolmaster’s houses, which didn’t take half an hour, Effi went back home where they were about to have coffee on the veranda facing the garden. Father-in-law and son-in-law paced up and down the gravel paths between the two plane trees. Briest spoke of the problems of a Landrat’s post; he had been offered several, but he had turned each one down. ‘Being able to do just as I want has always been the most important thing for me, or at least more important, if you’ll pardon me Innstetten, than always keeping a weather eye on those above me. For what you have to do then is watch and take note of your superiors, not to mention their superiors. That’s not for me. Here I take life as it comes and rejoice in every green leaf, in the Virginia creeper growing up the window there.’

He said more of the same, with all sorts of digs at officialdom, excusing himself from time to time with a varyingly reiterated ‘Sorry Innstetten’. Innstetten nodded mechanically in agreement, but his mind was scarcely on these matters as he glanced repeatedly in a kind of fascination at the Virginia creeper climbing up the window to which Briest had just alluded, and as he dwelt on this it was as if he saw the golden red heads of the girls again among the tendrils, and heard once more their ‘Come back Effi’.

He didn’t believe in signs and that kind of thing, on the contrary, he entirely rejected all superstition. But he nonetheless couldn’t escape 17from these three words, and as Briest continued to hold forth, he couldn’t get away from the notion that that little incident had been more than mere chance.

Innstetten, who had taken only a short leave of absence, had departed the next day, after promising to write every day. ‘Yes, you must do that,’ Effi had said, and these were words from the heart, since she had for years known nothing lovelier than getting lots of letters, for example on her birthday. Everybody had to write to her on that day. Little messages in a letter, such as ‘Gertrude and Clara also send their best wishes’ were not permissible; Gertrude and Clara, if they wanted to stay friends, had to see to it that there was an individual letter with its own stamp, if possible – for her birthday was in the holiday period – a foreign one, from Switzerland or Karlsbad.

Innstetten, as promised, actually did write every day; but what made getting his letters especially agreeable was that all he ever expected in reply was a brief note once a week. And that he received, full of charming trivia which invariably gave him great delight. Such serious matters as had to be discussed were dealt with by Frau von Briest and her son-in-law; arrangements for the wedding, the decorating, and the equipment of the kitchen and the household in general. Innstetten had already been in post for almost three years, and his house in Kessin, though not elegantly appointed, was furnished as befitted his position, which made it advisable to gain a picture, in correspondence, of all that was already there, so as not to buy anything superfluous. Finally, when Frau von Briest was fully informed about these things, mother and daughter decided on a trip to Berlin to, as Briest put it, ‘assemble the trousseau’ for Princess Effi. Effi looked forward very much to spending some time in Berlin, especially since Father had consented to their staying at the Hôtel du Nord. ‘Whatever it costs 18can be deducted from equipping the house. Innstetten has everything anyway.’ Effi, in contrast to her mother who had put such petty concerns aside once and for all, had, without for a moment considering whether he meant it seriously or as a joke, enthusiastically agreed and her thoughts were far more occupied with the impression the two of them, mother and daughter, would make at the luncheon table, than with Spinn and Mencke, Goschenhofer or the other firms on the provisional shopping list. And her demeanour corresponded to her gleeful imaginings as the big week in Berlin finally arrived. Cousin Briest of the Alexander Regiment, an extremely animated young lieutenant who took the FliegendeBlätterand kept a collection of its best jokes, put every off-duty hour at their disposal, so they sat with him at the corner window of Kranzler’s or, at respectable times, in the Café Bauer and then drove in the afternoon to the Zoological Garden to look at the giraffes, of whom Cousin Briest, whose first name incidentally was Dagobert, liked to say, ‘They look like aristocratic old maids.’ Every day went according to plan, and on the third or fourth day the National Gallery was on the agenda, because Dagobert wanted to show his cousin The Isle ofthe Blessed. ‘Cousin Effi is on the brink of marriage, but it might nevertheless be just as well to make the acquaintance of “The Isle of the Blessed” beforehand.’ His aunt gave him a clip with her fan, but accompanied it with such a benign look that he had no cause to change his tone. These were heavenly days for all three, not least for Cousin Briest who was a wonderful chaperon with a knack for quickly smoothing over any little disagreement. There was never any shortage of such differences of opinion, as these things go, between mother and daughter, but they never arose, happily, during the shopping they had come to do. Whether they were buying six of any item or three dozen, Effi was always in agreement with her mother, and when they discussed the prices of what they had just bought on the way home Effi regularly 19got the figures mixed up. Frau von Briest, usually so critical, even of her own beloved daughter, not only took this lack of interest lightly, she even saw it as an advantage. ‘None of these things means much to Effi,’ she told herself, ‘Effi isn’t demanding; she lives in her own imagination and dreams, and if Princess Friedrich Karl drives past and gives her a friendly greeting from her carriage, it’s worth more to her than a whole chest of linen.’

This was quite true, but it was only half the truth. Everyday possessions didn’t mean much to Effi, but when she and her mother strolled up and down Unter den Linden looking at the most beautiful window displays and then went into Demuth’s to purchase various things for the trip to Italy that was planned for immediately after the wedding, it was then that she revealed her true character. She liked only what was most elegant, and if she couldn’t have the best she would do without the second best, because second best meant nothing to her. Yes, she was capable of doing without, her mother was right about that, and doing without had an element of the undemanding; but when, exceptionally, it came to really wanting something, that something always had to be quite out of the ordinary. And in this she was demanding.

20

4

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 21in 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, 22true 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 Käthchen, 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 23well 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 24on 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 25about 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?’ 26

‘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 27different, 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.”’ 28

‘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 verygrand 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. 29

‘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:

Dear Effi,