e from the arm of his chair. That was indeed the
case; and the moral valor about Aschenbach was that his constitution
was in no sense robust, and that though called to unremitting exertion,
he was not really born to it.... With a strong will and tenacity
comparable to that which had subdued his native province, he worked for
years under the stress of one and the same task, and devoted to its
proper accomplishment all of his strongest and best hours. He almost
loved the enervating, daily-renewed combat between his tenacious,
proud, and often tried willpower, and this ever-growing fatigue, which
was his secret and which the product should in no wise betray by signs
of exhaustion or indifference.

Thomas Mann resembles his hero in being comparatively unproductive; but
it should be added at once that no one of his works fails to exhibit
the utmost of artistic finish. Unrelaxing attention and indefatigable
effort to attain artistic form are the heritage of his North German
descent, of which he perhaps became fully conscious in South Germany,
in the city of more easy-going habits of life. In _Buddenbrooks_ itself
the difference between North and South plays an important part; Tonie,
the youngest daughter of the house of Buddenbrook, is twice married,
first to an unscrupulous speculator in Luebeck, the second time to a
Munich dealer in hops, Aloysius Permaneder, who rescues her from the
disgraceful position of a divorced woman. This deliriously portrayed
beer-reeking philistine, whose informality and whose wild oaths horrify
the prim Luebeckers no less than his good-hearted _naivete_ amuses them,
marries Tonie Buddenbrook, retires from business on the strength of her
dowry, and as an owner of real estate and a gentleman of leisure passes
the rest of his life in drinking beer morning and night, cutting
coupons, and annually raising the rent of his tenants. Such a
successful caricature splendidly embodies the stagnating spirit of the
blissfully idyllic town which the metropolis of Bavaria has remained in
spite of all its growth.

And yet, in no other German city is there so high a degree of artistic
culture, and the odor of Munich beer seems to furnish a more favorable
atmosphere for the creative artist than the _prestissimo_ of life in
Berlin, which steels the nerves of the energetic, rushing man of
business. There are two sides to everything: the motto of the indolent
man of Munich, "Let me alone" (_Mei Rua will i ham_) gives