Andres Neuman - Traveller of the Century

… for, in his case, his immaculate manners and attire are but the outward manifestation of the richness of his soul. After questioning him about his illustrious parents’ impression after the betrothal dinners, the aforementioned Von Wilderhaus the younger replied, with customary discretion and graciousness, that they had found Herr Gottlieb’s residence pleasant and simple, avoiding any allusion to their host’s financial difficulties. In contrast to his fiancée, we have no objections to this virtuous gentleman. With the exception of his habit of taking snuff, a trifle at all events.

… his unspeakable desire to revel in xxxxxxxxrepugnant images, over which he shows no hint of remorse nor yet of frailty. Continued use of hair shirt appears not to have diminished his aberrant appetites. Warn seminarists so that they take all necessary precautions with him. Try immersion in ice-cold water and castor-oil concoctions.

… extremely satisfactory, inasmuch as not only has he found employment, but he continues to learn to read and write. Such exemplary cases as his nourish the souls of those who are acquainted with them and recompense the difficulties of our tireless mission.

… and his wife’s forgiveness, which shows an encouraging change in both their attitudes. Besides the sufferings endured by the good woman, who has recovered from her bruises, special mention should be made of the supreme torment undergone by the paterfamilias, whose conscience will act as a guiding light. Space out confessions as harmony is restored to the household.

… consider it appropriate to include an addendum to the last quarterly accounts of lands given in concession by the Holy Mother Church, as well as to update Your Excellency, whose hands I kiss and whose humble servant I remain, on the progress of contributions. Having previously informed Your Excellency that these had diminished by seventeen per cent from an average of half a thaler per parishioner to the current eight groschen per parishioner at Sunday Mass, thus amounting to an overall reduction in the parish revenue of twenty-two ducats gross, I am relieved today to be able to report that this tendency was reversed at the end of March, thanks to the pious influence of the religious holidays, and, dare I say, to our humble yet tireless labours, which Your Excellency in his benevolence will doubtless recognise with generosity when in his xxxxxxxxinfallible judgement he deems it opportune and necessary, as has always been the case. Special mention should be made of the inestimable goodwill of the noble Herr Rudolph P von Wilderhaus and the most excellent Ratztrinker family, whose regular donations of alms and stipends have also continued to increase, giving the lie to malicious rumours about an alleged rapprochement with Lutheran sects in Berlin, and demonstrating once more their unequivocal devotion to the Holy Mother Church that watches over us all. And lastly I come to a list, revised only yesterday, of families in arrears, and peasants who have failed to pay their tithes. I have written out the sums for Your Excellency in descending order of the amounts owed, a more efficient method, if I may say so, than the one hitherto employed of writing them out in alphabetical order …

Every Friday, five minutes before making his entrance into the salon, which he had begun attending more regularly since his formal betrothal to Sophie, Rudi Wilderhaus would send ahead a footman, who would barge into the drawing room carrying an enormous bouquet of white flowers. A whiff of expectation filled the air, of hope about to be fulfilled. Rudi knew how to manipulate this to perfection, waiting with theatrical timing before rapping with the left door knocker and deploring the state of the roads or the growing amount of traffic. Bertold bowed fulsomely, relieved Rudi of his cape, while the scar on his lip stretched as far as it would go: Welcome, Herr Wilderhaus, oh, no, you’re not late at all, the others have only just arrived, yes, of course, Fräulein Sophie was delighted with the flowers, Herr Wilderhaus, you know I’m entirely at your disposition and always will be in this or any other residence, Herr Wilderhaus, as you may see fit.

Besides the flowers, that afternoon Rudi had brought with him a gilt cameo. Hans liked to think Frau Pietzine and Frau Levin were more impressed with it than Sophie, for whom it was destined. During the first hour of debate, Rudi would make an effort to take part, interposing brief or at any rate agreeable comments. After that his contributions would gradually diminish amid discreet yawns, which Rudi ably camouflaged thanks to his snuffbox, turning his boredom into an expression of contemplation. The only thing he kept up all evening (and this hurt Hans more than anything else) were the admiring glances he directed at his fiancée, so distinct from the rather regal manner with which he contemplated the other guests. Each time Rudi made an affectionate gesture towards her, Hans looked for a space in the bustle of the room, from which he could watch Sophie in the round mirror on the far wall. And although he would invariably discover her eyes smiling back at him, he saw none of the irony he had hoped for in them. In the confusion of Hans’s emotions, on Fridays Sophie was two different women. One was the delightful accomplice with whom he exchanged furtive whispers. The other, duplicated in the mirror, the perfect hostess, the mistress of her secrets who not only accepted Rudi’s attentions but returned them. This behaviour, which Hans found so contradictory, was the only honourable way Sophie had of being coherent — Hans was her friend, perhaps her closest friend now, and she was not prepared to renounce this connection between them, this frisson which so thrilled her, and to which, of course! she had and would continue to have every right, whatever her civil status; yet Rudi was to be her husband — as of October she would be living with him, and she was loath to make him jealous or to foolishly ignore the important commitment they had made. Not to mention her poor father, who had for so many years put the happiness of others before his own, and whom she had no intention of mortifying by showing Rudi less affection than circumstance demanded.

Aside from this, did she love Rudi? Had she grown accustomed to loving him? Well, perhaps. Not completely. Was she naive enough to believe all women were madly in love when they married? When it came down to it, wasn’t marriage a social convention, an amalgam of family interests? In which case, what obligation did she have to feel, or convince herself she felt, a consuming passion? In the same way pleasure and love could clearly exist separately, despite what her priggish friends believed, could love and marriage coincide or not depending on each case? Would she live like every other silly young woman waiting for a ridiculous Prince Charming to come along? Precisely because marriage was an artificial institution, was it not hypocritical to imagine that every wedding should take place in the throes of a mutual passion? Rudi loved her, and this to her seemed a good place to start if he were to respect her wishes and not ride roughshod over her, as had happened to so many of her friends. As for her, well, she loved him in part, but in part she did not, not yet. But time, according to popular wisdom, could heal all. And if Rudi went on treating her with the same consideration, naturally he would end up winning all her wifely respect. Which, in view of everything, was a good start!

But much of this reasoning escaped Hans, who, in his anguish, could only conceive simple questions — if she doesn’t truly love him then why the devil is she marrying him? And if she does, then why do I feel she feels something else? As for her fiancé, how did he behave? That was the most uncomfortable part — notwithstanding his natural arrogance, his hunched shoulders and the unbearable squeaking of his patent-leather pumps, Rudi was surprisingly courteous to him. Surprisingly? Perhaps this was an exaggeration. Rudi, who was no philosopher, was no fool either — he was aware Sophie had forged a friendship with Hans that went beyond the civilities of the salon. And, knowing his fiancée’s rebellious spirit, he realised it was far more dangerous to question that friendship or to show his dislike for Hans than to be polite towards him. Rudi was perfectly aware that, provided he played his cards right, he had and always would have the upper hand over any opponent — after all, he was a Wilderhaus.