Little Herr Friedemann

Little Herr Friedemann by Thomas Mann

Little Herr Friedemann is born after a difficult birth and left permanently deformed when a drunken wet-nurse lets him fall from the swaddling-table as an infant. His father, the Netherlands consul, dies before he is born; he is raised in the grey gabled house near the northern gates of the town by his mother and three older sisters, Friederike, Henriette, and Pfiffi. A small, hunchbacked but gentle-faced child, he grows up apart from other boys, unable to join their games, and resigns himself early to standing outside ordinary life. At sixteen he falls for a blond, merry girl, only to see her kissed by a red-haired classmate behind a jasmine bush on the ramparts; he resolves then never again to seek that kind of happiness. He leaves school at seventeen to apprentice at the lumber firm of Schlievogt and Company, is well liked, and lives quietly. His mother dies when he is twenty-one, a sorrow he cultivates deeply. He later sets up his own small business from rooms on the ground floor of the family house, continuing to live with his unmarried sisters. He becomes a deliberate epicurean, cultivating enjoyment of small things: music (he plays the violin passably), literature, walks, and above all the theatre, where he keeps a regular seat. On his thirtieth birthday he reflects contentedly that he can face the rest of his life in tranquil, moderate happiness. That summer a new district commandant, Lieutenant-Colonel von Rinnlingen, arrives with his young wife, Gerda, whose unconventional manner—smoking, riding, a cool detachment even toward her husband—scandalizes the town's women. Friedemann first glimpses her driving a yellow hunting-trap down the Hauptstrasse. Soon after, the Rinnlingens call on the Friedemann sisters while Johannes is out; he avoids a planned visit to the "landscape room" when they are upstairs, oddly agitated. At a performance of Lohengrin, Friedemann finds himself seated beside Gerda in the box. Her presence, her bare arm on the velvet rail, and a moment when their heads touch as both reach for her dropped fan overwhelm him; he flees the theatre before the act ends, walks home in turmoil, and whispers her name aloud to himself, recognizing with horror and exaltation that his long-cultivated composure has been shattered. The next morning he resolves to master the feeling and avoid her, excusing himself from his sisters' return call. But by midday his resolve collapses; he dresses and goes alone to the Rinnlingen villa. Gerda receives him, speaks to him with a strange, searching intimacy, invites him to play violin duets with her, and invites him and his sisters to an upcoming party. Her husband joins them, courteous and oblivious. Leaving, Friedemann wanders to the ramparts above the river, sits near the jasmine bushes, and contemplates drowning himself before deciding instead to surrender to what he now feels is his fate embodied in her. At the Rinnlingens' garden party, visibly altered and haggard, Friedemann is drawn by Gerda out into the moonlit garden to a bench by the river. She questions him gently about his deformity and his unhappiness. Overcome, he falls at her feet, clutching her hands, sobbing out his helpless feeling for her. She responds not with pity but with cold contempt, wrenching her hands free, shoving him to the ground, and walking away laughing. Left alone by the water, consumed by self-loathing and fury, he drags himself forward and lets himself fall face-down into the river, not moving again, while the party's laughter and the garden's crickets continue undisturbed nearby.

By Thomas Mann · First published 1898 · Genre: Psychological Fiction, Tragedy, Modernist Fiction · 10,854 words

First lines

It was the fault of the wet-nurse. What was the good of Frau Consul Friedemann's giving her an earnest talking-to, when her suspicions were first aroused, and bidding her suppress that vice of hers? What was the good of giving her a daily glass of claret in addition to the nourishing beer? It was suddenly evident that this young woman also went so far as to drink the spirits intended for the cooking-stove, and before a substitute for her had arrived, before one could discharge her, the disaster had happened. One day when the mother and her three half-grown daughters returned from a walk, little Johannes, about a month old, lay on the floor, whimpering lightly yet frightfully, just as he had fallen from the swaddling-table, while the wet-nurse stood staring stupidly.

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Little Herr Friedemann is listed on Textopian as a short story by Thomas Mann, dated 1898 CE.

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German literature · novella · psychological realism · 19th-century fiction · unrequited love · obsession · physical disability · social isolation · melancholy · tragedy · seduction · fate

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