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CISSP Guide to Security Essentials, 2nd Edition Solutions 6 – 1

CISSP Guide to Security Essentials, 2nd Edition

Chapter 6 Solutions

Review Questions

1. The categories of U.S. laws are:

a. Executive, judicial, and legislative

b. Criminal, civil, and administrative

c. Laws and regulations

d. Criminal and civil

2. Where are U.S. laws published?

a. Criminal and civil laws are published in the United States Code (U.S.C.), and

administrative laws are published in the U.S. Code of Federal Regulations (C.F.R.)

b. Criminal and civil laws are published in the U.S. Code of Federal Regulations (C.F.R.), and

administrative laws are published in the United States Code (U.S.C.)

c. Executive and judicial laws are published in the United States Code (U.S.C.), and

legislative laws are published in the U.S. Code of Federal Regulations (C.F.R.)

d. Regulations are published in the United States Code (U.S.C.), and laws are published in the

U.S. Code of Federal Regulations (C.F.R.)

3. The most appropriate intellectual property protection for the design of a system is:

a. Trade secret

b. Copyright
CISSP Guide to Security Essentials, 2nd Edition Solutions 6 – 2

c. Trademark

d. Patent

4. An organization has invented a new type of semiconductor for use in computers, and wishes to

protect its intellectual property rights in a manner where no other company can know how the

semiconductor was designed or constructed. The best course of action is:

a. Obtain a patent for the design

b. Obtain a trademark for the design

c. Keep the design a trade secret

d. Obtain a copyright for the design

5. The first U.S. law to define computer trespass is:

a. Federal Information Security Management Act

b. Sarbanes-Oxley Act

c. Computer Fraud and Abuse Act

d. Computer Misuse Act

6. The purpose of debriefing after a security incident includes all of the following EXCEPT:

a. Discussion of changes in processes and procedures

b. Discussion of changes in incident response

c. Discussion of sanctions against contributing personnel

d. Discussion of changes in technical controls

7. An organization has discovered that an employee has been harvesting credit card information

from its databases and selling them to a criminal organization. The organization should:

a. Update its privacy policy

b. Quietly terminate the employee

CISSP Guide to Security Essentials, 2nd Edition Solutions 6 – 3

c. Install a key logger and continue to monitor the employee’s actions

d. Notify the owners of the compromised credit card numbers

8. A computer forensics expert has been asked to collect evidence from an individual’s

workstation. The collection techniques used by the computer forensics expert should include

all of the following EXCEPT:

a. Examination of the running system

b. Physical examination

c. Examination of surroundings

d. Collection of fingerprints

9. What factor will motivate a computer forensics specialist to examine a running system instead

of waiting to take an image of the system’s hard drive?

a. Full disk encryption

b. BIOS boot password

c. Data present in the paging file

d. Live Internet connection

10. A computer forensics examiner is about to conduct a forensics examination of a computer’s

hard drive and anticipates that he will be cross-examined in a deposition. What should the

examiner do to ensure that the image he takes of the computer’s hard drive is an exact copy of

the hard drive?

a. Reconcile the numbers of files and directories on the original and copied image

b. Perform SHA-1 and MD5 checksums of the original drive and the copied image

c. Use a write blocker when making a copy of the original drive

d. Make a copy of the hard drive and perform forensics on the original
CISSP Guide to Security Essentials, 2nd Edition Solutions 6 – 4

11. The process of safekeeping and recordkeeping of computer forensics evidence is known as:

a. Chain of custody

b. Chain of evidence

c. Burden of proof

d. Best evidence rule

12. The statement that defines principles of behavior for Internet usage is:

a. Computer Fraud and Abuse Act

b. (ISC)2 Code of Ethics

c. RFC 1087: Ethics and the Internet

d. Computer Misuse Act

13. The statements, “Protect society, the commonwealth, and the infrastructure,” “Act honorably,

honestly, justly, responsibly, and legally,” “Provide diligent and competent service to

principals,” and “Advance and protect the profession” are contained in:

a. Internet Activities Board (IAB) Guiding Principles

b. (ISC)2 Code of Ethics

c. RFC 1087: Ethics and the Internet

d. Computer Fraud and Abuse Act

14. A security manager in a government post needs to hire an outside consultant to perform risk

analysis. A relative of the security manager is qualified to perform the work. The security

manager should:

a. Document why the relative is the best choice

b. Consider alternative consultants instead

c. Recuse himself from the decision-making process

CISSP Guide to Security Essentials, 2nd Edition Solutions 6 – 5

d. Hire the relative

15. The U.S. law that permits a law enforcement agency to conduct a search without a court

order is:

a. PATRIOT Act

b. Communications Assistance for Law Enforcement Act

c. Personal Information Protection and Electronic Documents Act

d. Executive Order 13402

Hands-On Projects

Project 6-1

In this project, the student is being asked to research and compare the features and

capabilities of several well-known forensics tools, including AccessData FTK Imager,

AccessData Forensic Toolkit, EnCase, ProDiscover, Safeback, and DFF. Students should

consider the suggested features; students may wish to express their opinion on the

suggested features and possibly add more of their own.

Project 6-2

This project directs students to develop a plan for a security incident walkthrough. This

project assumes that an incident response plan exists. Instructors can take two different

courses here: first, the instructor may provide a sample incident response plan; second,

the instructor may direct students to develop an incident walkthrough plan with only a
CISSP Guide to Security Essentials, 2nd Edition Solutions 6 – 6

generic response plan in mind.

Students will develop information to guide a walkthrough of a security incident, complete

with a specific scenario that unfolds throughout the walkthrough.

Students should not be too elaborate in their scenario development, as a walkthrough is

not meant to test the “ultimate” security incident, but instead a typical incident scenario.

Project 6-3

In this project, students are directed to obtain the Internet Code of Ethics (RFC 1087) and

answer a series of questions about it.

The questions in this project are suited for written responses or classroom discussion.

Case Projects

Case Project 6-1

In this project, students are directed to develop a security incident response plan for a

hypothetical statewide baking and delivery business with several hundred employees.

Students are free to develop a plan from scratch or obtain a template plan from a well-

known source (such as US-CERT) and adapt it for the company. Either way, students

need to identify the characteristics of this business when developing the incident response

plan. A good group discussion could focus on these considerations, as well as the merits

of starting with a template versus starting from scratch.

CISSP Guide to Security Essentials, 2nd Edition Solutions 6 – 7

Case Project 6-2

This project directs students to develop a plan for the protection of intellectual property in

a hypothetical software company. For each type of intellectual property, students are

directed to determine which form of intellectual property protection (patent, trademark,

copyright) is appropriate.

This would be a good topic for classroom discussion. The instructor may also suggest

that “trade secret” may be appropriate for one or more of the types of information—this

would also be a good discussion topic.

Case Project 6-3

Students are asked to develop a code of conduct for a hypothetical manufacturing

company that has had problems in the past. Students are to produce an outline for the

code of conduct (that is, develop the sections of the code, if not the code itself) and also

describe how they will approach the problem overall.

Case Project 6-4

In this project, students are directed to describe their options and conduct in a situation

where they have been asked to alter a computer security incident report so that the report

will put the client in a better light. Students should describe their options and the merits

of each.
Other documents randomly have
different content
care-free, at the end of the day. And I liked living in London. Do you
object?”
During this exposition, the Consul had turned his back on his brother,
and stood with his hands in his pockets, describing figures on the
floor with his foot.
“Very good, go to London,” he said, shortly, and without turning more
than half-way toward his brother, he passed into the living-room.
But Christian followed him. He went up to Gerda, who sat there
alone, reading, and put out his hand.
“Good night, Gerda. Well, Gerda, I’m off for London. Yes, it’s
remarkable how one gets tossed about hither and yon. Now it’s
again into the unknown, into a great city, you know, where one meets
an adventure at every third step, and sees so much of life. Strange—
do you know the feeling? One gets it here—sort of in the pit of the
stomach—it’s very odd.”
 CHAPTER III
James Möllendorpf, the oldest of the merchant senators, died in a
grotesque and horrible way. The instinct of self-preservation became
very weak in this diabetic old man; and in the last years of his life he
fell a victim to a passion for cakes and pastries. Dr. Grabow, as the
Möllendorpf family physician, had protested energetically, and the
distressed relatives employed gentle constraint to keep the head of
the family from committing suicide with sweet bake-stuffs. But the old
Senator, mental wreck as he was, rented a room somewhere, in
some convenient street, like Little Groping Alley, or Angelswick, or
Behind-the-Wall—a little hole of a room, whither he would secretly
betake himself to consume sweets. And there they found his lifeless
body, the mouth still full of half-masticated cake, the crumbs upon his
coat and upon the wretched table. A mortal stroke had supervened,
and put a stop to slow dissolution.
The horrid details of the death were kept as much as possible from
the family, but they flew about the town, and were discussed at
length on the Bourse, in the club, and at the Harmony, in all the
business offices, in the Assembly of Burgesses—likewise at all the
balls, dinners, and evening parties, for the death occurred in
February of the year ’62, and the season was in full swing. Even the
Frau Consul’s friends talked about it, on the Jerusalem evenings, in
the pauses of Lea Gerhardt’s reading aloud; the little Sunday-school
children discussed it in awesome whispers as they crossed the
Buddenbrook entry; and Herr Stuht, in Bell-Founders’ Street, went
into ample detail over it with his wife, who moved in the highest
circles.
But interest could not long remain concentrated upon the past. And
even with the first rumour of the old man’s death, the great question
had at once sprung up: who was to succeed him?
What suspense, what subterranean activity! A stranger, intent on the
sights of the mediaeval town, would have noticed nothing; but
beneath the surface there was unimaginable bustle and commotion,
as one firm and unassailable honest conviction after another was
exploded; and slowly, slowly the while, divergent views approached
each other! Passions are stirred, Ambition and Vanity wrestle
together in silence. Dead and buried hopes spring once more to life
—and again are blasted. Old Kurz, the merchant, in Bakers’ Alley,
who gets three or four votes at every election, will sit quaking at
home on the fatal day, and listen to the shouting, but he will not be
elected this time either. He will continue to take his walks abroad,
displaying outwardly his usual mingling of civic pride and self-
satisfaction: but he will bear down with him into the grave the secret
chagrin of never having been elected Senator.
James Möllendorpf’s death was discussed at the Buddenbrook
Thursday dinner-table; and Frau Permaneder, after the proper
expressions of sympathy, began to let her tongue play upon her
upper lip and look across artfully at her brother. The Buddenbrook
ladies marked the look. They exchanged piercing glances, and with
one accord shut their eyes and their lips tightly together. The Consul
had, for a second, responded to the sly smile his sister gave him,
and then given the talk another turn. He knew that the thought which
Tony hugged to her breast in secret was being spoken in the street.
Names were suggested and rejected, others came up and were
sifted out. Henning Kurz in Bakers’ Alley was too old. They needed
new blood. Consul Huneus, the lumber dealer, whose millions would
have weighted the scale heavily in his favour, was constitutionally
ineligible, as his brother already sat in the Senate. Consul Eduard
Kistenmaker, the wine dealer, and Consul Hermann Hagenström
were names that kept their places on the list. But from the very first
was heard the name of Thomas Buddenbrook; and as election-day
approached, it grew constantly plainer that he and Hermann
Hagenström were the favoured candidates.
Hermann Hagenström had his admirers and hangers-on—there was
no doubt of that. His zeal in public affairs, the spectacular rise of the
firm of Strunck and Hagenström, the showy house the Consul kept,
the luxurious life he led, the pâtés-de-foie-gras he ate for breakfast—
all these could not fail to make an impression. This large, rather
over-stout man with the short, full, reddish beard and the snub nose
coming down flat on his upper lip, this man whose grandfather
nobody knew, not even himself, and whose father had made himself
socially impossible by a rich but doubtful marriage; this man had
become a brother-in-law of the Huneus’ and the Möllendorpfs, had
ranged his name alongside those of the five or six reigning families
in the town, and was undeniably a remarkable and a respected
figure. The novel and therewith the attractive element in his
personality—that which singled him out for a leading position in the
eyes of many—was its liberal and tolerant strain. His light, large way
of making money and spending it again differed fundamentally from
the patient, persistent toil and the inherited principles of his fellow
merchants. This man stood on his own feet, free from the fetters of
tradition and ancestral piety; and all the old ways were foreign to
him. His house was not one of the ancient patrician mansions, built
with senseless waste of space, in tall white galleries mounting above
a stone-paved ground floor. His home on Sand Street, the southern
extension of Broad Street, was a modern dwelling, not conforming to
any set style of architecture, with a simple painted façade, but
furnished inside with every luxury and planned with the cleverest
economy of space. Recently, on the occasion of one of his large
evening parties, he had invited a prima donna from the government
theatre, to sing after dinner to his guests—among them his witty, art-
loving brother—and had paid her an enormous fee for her services.
Hermann Hagenström was not the man to vote in the Assembly for
the application of large sums of money to preserve and restore the
town’s mediaeval monuments. But it was a fact that he was the first,
absolutely the first man in town to light his house and his offices with
gas. Yes, if Consul Hagenström could be said to represent any
tradition whatever, it was the free, progressive, tolerant, unprejudiced
habit of thought which he had inherited from his father, old Heinrich
—and on this was based all the admiration people undoubtedly felt
for him.
Thomas Buddenbrook’s prestige was of a different kind. People
honoured in him not only his own personality, but the personalities of
his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather as well: quite apart
from his own business and public achievement, he was the
representative of a hundred years of honourable tradition. And the
easy, charming way, indeed, with which he carried the family
standard made no small part of his success. What distinguished him,
even among his professional fellow-citizens, was an unusual degree
of formal culture, which, wherever he went, aroused both wonder
and respect in about equal degrees.
On Thursdays at the Buddenbrooks’, the coming election received
only brief and passing comment in the presence of the Consul.
Whenever it was mentioned, the old Frau Consul discreetly averted
her light eyes. But Frau Permaneder, now and then, could not refrain
from displaying her astonishing knowledge of the Constitution. She
had gone very thoroughly into the decrees touching the election of a
member of the Senate, precisely as once she thoroughly informed
herself on the laws governing divorce. She talked about voting
chambers, ballots, and electors, she weighed all the possible
eventualities, she could recite verbatim and glibly the oath taken by
the voters. She spoke of the “free and frank discussion” which the
Constitution ordains must be held over each name upon the list of
candidates, and vivaciously wished she might be present when
Hermann Hagenström’s character was being pulled to pieces! A
moment later she leaned over and began to count the prune-pits on
her brother’s dessert-plate: tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor—finishing
triumphantly with “senator” when she came to the last pit. But after
dinner she could not hold in any longer. She took her brother’s arm
and drew him into the bow-window.
“Oh, Tom! Tom! Suppose you are really elected—if our coat-of-arms
is put up in the Senate-chamber at the Town Hall I shall just die of
joy, I know I shall. I shall fall dead at the news—you’ll see!”
“Now, Tony dear! Have a little self-control, a little dignity, I beg of you.
You are not usually lacking in dignity. Am I going around like Henning
Kurz? We amount to something even without the ‘Senator.’ And I
hope you won’t die, whichever way it turns out!”
And the agitations, the consultations, the struggles of opinion took
their course. Consul Peter Döhlmann, the rake with a business now
entirely ruined, which existed only in name, and the twenty-seven-
year-old daughter whose inheritance he was eating up, played his
part by attending two dinners, one given by Thomas Buddenbrook
and the other by Herman Hagenström, and both times addressing
his host, in his loud, resounding voice, as “Senator.” But Siegismund
Gosch, old Gosch the broker, went about like a raging lion, and
engaged to throttle anybody, out of hand, who wasn’t minded to vote
for Consul Buddenbrook.
“Consul Buddenbrook, gentlemen—ah, there’s a man for you! I stood
at his father’s side in the ’48, when, with a word, he tamed the
unleashed fury of the mob. His father, and his father’s father before
him, would have been Senator were there any justice on this earth!”
But at bottom it was not so much Consul Buddenbrook himself
whose personality fired Gosch’s soul to its innermost depths. It was
rather the young Frau Consul, Gerda Arnoldsen. Not that the broker
had ever exchanged a word with her. He did not belong to her circle
of wealthy merchant families, nor sit at their tables, nor pay visits to
them. But, as we have seen, Gerda Buddenbrook had but to arrive in
the town to be singled out by the roving fancy of the sinister broker,
ever on the look-out for the unusual. With unerring instinct he divined
that this figure was calculated to add content to his unsatisfied
existence, and he made himself the slave of one who had scarcely
ever heard his name. Since then he encompassed in his reveries
this nervous, exceedingly reserved lady, to whom he had not even
been presented: he lifted his Jesuit hat to her, on the street, to her
great surprise, and treated her to a pantomime of cringing treachery,
gloating over her the while in his thoughts as a tiger might over his
trainer. This dull existence would afford him no chance of committing
atrocities for this woman’s sake—ah, if it only would, with what
devilish indifference would he answer for them! Its stupid
conventions prevented him from raising her, by deeds of blood and
horror, to an imperial throne!—And thus, nothing was left but for him
to go to the Town Hall and cast his vote in favour of her furiously
respected husband—and, perhaps, one day, to dedicate to her his
forthcoming transition of Lope de Vega.
 CHAPTER IV
Every vacant seat in the Senate must, according to the Constitution,
be filled within four weeks. Three of them have passed, and this is
election-day—a day of thaw, at the end of February.
It is about one o’clock, and people are thronging into Broad Street.
They are thronging before the Town Hall, with its ornamental glazed-
brick façade, its pointed towers and turrets mounting toward a
whitish grey sky, its covered steps supported on outstanding
columns, its pointed arcades, through which there is a glimpse of the
market-place and the fountain. The crowd stands steadfastly in the
dirty slush that melts beneath their feet; they look into each other’s
faces and then straight ahead again, and crane their necks. For
beyond that portal, in the Council Room, in fourteen arm-chairs
arranged in a semicircle sit the electors, who have been chosen from
the Senate and the Assembly and await the proposals of the voting
chambers.
The affair has spun itself out. It appears that the debate in the
chambers will not die down; the struggle is so bitter that up to now
not one single unanimous choice has been put before the Council—
otherwise the Burgomaster would at once announce an election.
Extraordinary! Rumours—nobody knows whence, nobody knows
how—come from within the building and circulate in the street.
Perhaps Herr Kaspersen, the elder of the two beadles, who always
refers to himself as a “servant of the State,” is standing inside there
and telling what he hears, out of the corner of his mouth, through his
shut teeth, with his eyes turned the other way! The story goes that
proposals have been laid before the sitting, but that each of the three
chambers has turned in a different name: namely Hagenström,
Kistenmaker, and Buddenbrook. A secret ballot must now be taken,
with ballot-papers—it is to be hoped that it will show a clear plurality!
For people without overshoes are suffering, and stamping their feet
to warm them.
The waiting crowd is made up of all sorts and conditions. There are
sea-faring characters, with bare tattoed necks and their hands in the
pockets of their sailor trousers; grain-porters with their incomparably
respectable countenances, and their blouses and knee-breeches of
black glazed calico; drivers who have clambered down from their
wagons of piled-up sacks, and stand whip in hand to wait for the
decision; servant-maids in neckerchiefs, aprons and thick striped
petticoats with little white caps perched on the backs of their heads
and market-baskets hanging on their bare arms; fish and vegetable
women with their flat straw baskets—even a couple of pretty farm
girls with Dutch caps, short skirts, and long flowing sleeves coming
out from their gaily-embroidered stay-bodies. Mingled among these,
burghers, shop-keepers who have come out hatless from
neighbouring shops to exchange their views, sprucely-dressed
young men who are apprentices in the business of their fathers or
their fathers’ friends—and schoolboys with satchels and bundles of
books.
Two labourers with bristling sailor beards, stand chewing their
tobacco; behind them is an excited lady, craning her neck this way
and that to get a glimpse of the Town Hall between their powerful
shoulders. She wears a long evening cloak trimmed with brown fur,
which she holds together from the inside with both hands. Her face is
well covered with a thick brown veil. She shifts her feet about in the
melting snow.
“Gawd! Kurz bain’t gettin’ it this time, nuther, be he?” says the one
labourer to the other.
“Naw, ye mutton-head, ’tis certain he bain’t. There’s no more talk o’
him. Th’ votin’s between Hagenström, Buddenbrook, ’n’
Kistenmaker. ’Tis all about they,—now.”
“’Tis whether which one o’ th’ three be ahead o’ the others, eh?”
“So ’tis; yes, they do say so.”
“Then I’m minded they’ll be choosin’ Hagenström.”
“Eh, smarty—so they’ll be choosin’ Hagenström? Ye can tell that to
yer grandmother!” And therewith he spits his tobacco-juice on the
ground close to his own feet, the crowd being too dense to admit of a
trajectory. He takes hold of his trousers in both hands and pulls them
up higher under his belt, and goes on: “Hagenström, he’s a great pig
—he be so fat he can’t breathe through his own nose! If so be it’s all
o’er wi’ Kurz then I’m fer Buddenbrook. ’Tis a very shrewd chap.”
“So ’tis, so ’tis. But Hagenström, he’s got the money.”
“That bain’t the question—’tis no matter o’ riches.”
“’n’ then this Buddenbrook—he be so devilish fine wi’ his cuffs ’n’ his
silk tie ’n’ his stickin’-out moustaches; hast seen him walk? He hops
along like a bird.”
“Ye ninny, that bain’t the question, no more’n th’ other.”
“They say his sister’ve put away two men a’ready.” The lady in the
fur cloak trembles visibly.
“Eh, that soart o’ thing—what do we know about it? Likely the Consul
he couldn’t help it hisself.”
The lady in the veil thinks to herself, “He couldn’t, indeed! Thank
God for that,” and presses her hands together, inside her cloak.
“’n’ then,” adds the Buddenbrook partisan, “didn’t the Burgomaster
his own self stan’ godfeyther to his son? Can’t ye tell somethin’ by
that?”
“Yes, can’t you indeed?” thinks the lady. “Thank heaven, that did do
some good.” She starts. A fresh rumour from the Town Hall, running
zigzag through the crowd, has reached her ears. The balloting, it
seems, has not been decisive. Eduard Kistenmaker, indeed, has
received fewer votes than the other two candidates, and his name
has been dropped. But the struggle goes on between Buddenbrook
and Hagenström. A sapient citizen remarks that if the voting
continues to be even, it will be necessary to appoint five arbitrators.
A voice, down in front at the entrance steps, shouts suddenly: “Heine
Seehas is ’lected—’rah for Heine Seehas!” Heine Seehas, be it
known, is an habitual drunkard, who peddles hot bread on a little
wagon through the streets. Everybody roars with laughter, and
stands on tip-toe to see the wag who is responsible for the joke. The
lady in the veil is seized with a nervous giggle; her shoulders shake
for a moment, and then give a shrug which expresses as plainly as
words: “Is this the time for tom-foolery like that?” She collects herself
again, and stares with intensity between the two labourers at the
Town Hall. But almost at the same moment her hands slip from her
cloak, so that it opens in front, her figure relaxes, her shoulders
droop, she stands there entirely crushed.
Hagenström!—The word seems to have come from nobody knows
where—down from the sky, or up from the earth. It is everywhere at
once. There is no contradiction. So it is decided. Hagenström!
Hagenström it is, then. One may as well go home. The lady in the
veil might have known. It was ever thus. She will go home—she
feels the tears rising in her throat.
This state of things has lasted a second or so, when there occurs a
shouting and a backward jostling of the throng. It runs through the
whole assemblage, as those in front press back those behind, and at
the same time something red appears in the doorway. It is the coats
of the beadles Kaspersen and Uhlefeldt. They are in full-dress
uniform, with white riding breeches, three-cornered hats, yellow
gauntlet gloves, and short dress swords. They appear side by side,
and make their way through the crowd, which falls back before them.
They move like fate: silent, resolved, inexorable, not looking to right
or left, with gaze directed toward the ground. They take, according to
instructions, the route marked out by the election. And it is not in the
direction of Sand Street! They have turned to the right—they are
going down Broad Street!
The lady in the veil cannot believe her eyes. However, all about her,
people are seeing just what she sees; they are pushing on after the
beadles, and saying to each other: “It isn’t Hagenström, it’s
Buddenbrook!” And a group of gentlemen emerge from the portal, in
excited conversation, and hurry with rapid steps down Broad Street,
to be the first to offer congratulations.
Then the lady holds her cloak together and runs for it. She runs,
indeed, as seldom lady runs. Her veil blows up, revealing her flushed
face—no matter for that; and one of her furred goloshes keeps
flapping open in the sloppy snow and hindering her frightfully: yet
she outruns them all! She gains the house at the corner of Bakers’
Street, she rings the alarm-bell at the vestibule door—fire, murder,
thieves!—she shouts at the maid who opens: “They’re coming,
Kathrin, they’re coming,” takes the stairs, and storms into the living-
room. Her brother himself sits there, certainly a little pale. He puts
down his paper and makes a gesture, almost as if to ward her off.
But she puts her arms about him, and repeats: “They’re coming,
Tom, they’re coming! You are the man—and Hermann Hagenström
is out!”
That was Friday. On the following day, Senator Buddenbrook stood
in the Council Hall, in the seat of the deceased James Möllendorpf,
and in the presence of the City Fathers there assembled, and the
Delegation of Burgesses, he took the oath: “I will conscientiously
perform the duties of my office, strive with all my power for the good
of the State, faithfully obey the Constitution, honourably pursue the
public weal, and in the discharge of my office, regard neither my own
advantage nor that of my relatives and friends. I will support the laws
of the State and do justice on all alike, whether rich or poor. In all
things where secrecy is needful, I will not speak, and especially will I
not reveal what is given me to keep silent. So help me God!”
 CHAPTER V
Our desires and our performance are conditioned by certain needs
of our nervous systems which are very hard to define in words. What
people called Thomas Buddenbrook’s “vanity”—his care for his
personal appearance, his extravagant dressing—was at bottom not
vanity but something else entirely. It was, originally, no more than the
effort of a man of action to be certain, from head to toe, of the
adequacy and correctness of his bearing. But the demands made by
himself and by others upon his talents and his capacities were
constantly increased. He was overwhelmed by public and private
affairs. When the Senate sat to appoint its committees, one of the
main departments, the administration of the taxes, fell to his lot. But
tolls, railways, and other administrative business claimed his time as
well; and he presided at hundreds of committees that called into play
all the capacities he possessed: he had to summon every ounce of
his flexibility, his foresight, his power to charm, in order not to wound
the sensibilities of his elders, to defer constantly to them, and yet to
keep the reins in his own hands. If his so-called vanity notably
increased at the same time, if he felt a greater and greater need to
refresh himself bodily, to renew himself, to change his clothing
several times a day, all this meant simply that Thomas Buddenbrook,
though he was barely thirty-seven years old, was losing his elasticity,
was wearing himself out fast.
When good Dr. Grabow begged him to relax a little, he answered,
“Oh, my dear Doctor, I haven’t reached that point yet!” By which he
meant that he still had an interminable deal of work to do before he
arrived at the goal and could settle back to enjoy himself. The truth
was, he hardly believed himself in such a condition. Yet it drove him
on, it left him no peace. Even when he seemed to rest, as he sat with
the paper after dinner, a thousand ideas whirled about in his brain,
while the veins stood out on his temples, and he twisted the ends of
his moustaches with a certain still intensity of passion. He
concentrated with equal violence whether the subject of his thought
was a business manœuvre, a public speech, or a decision to renew
his entire stock of body linen, in order to be sure that he had enough,
for a while, at least.
If such wholesale buying afforded him passing relief and satisfaction,
he could indulge himself in it without scruple, for his business at this
time was as brilliant as ever it had been in his grandfather’s day. The
repute of the firm grew, not only in the town but round about, and
throughout the whole community he continued to be held in ever
greater regard. His talents were admitted on all hands, with
admiration or envy as the case might be; while he himself wrestled
ceaselessly, at times despairingly, to evolve an order and method of
work which should enable him to overtake the flights of his own
restless imagination.
Thus, when, in the summer of 1863, Senator Buddenbrook went
about with his mind full of plans for the building of a great new
house, it was not arrogance which impelled him. He was driven by
his own inability to be quiet—which his fellow-burghers would have
been right in ascribing to his “vanity”—for it was another
manifestation of the same thing. To make a new home, and a radical
change in his outward life; to pack up, to re-install himself afresh, to
weed out all the accumulations of bygone years and set aside
everything old or superfluous: all this, even in imagination, gave him
feelings of freshness, newness, spotlessness, stimulation. All of
which he must have craved indeed, for he attacked the plan with
great enthusiasm, and already had his eye on a suitable location.
There was a property of considerable extent at the lower end of
Fishers’ Lane. The house, grey with age, in bad repair, was offered
for sale on the death of its owner, an ancient spinster, the relic of a
forgotten family, who had dwelt there alone. On this piece of land the
Senator thought to build his house; and he surveyed it with a
speculative eye when he passed the spot on his way to the harbour.
The neighbourhood was pleasant enough—good burgher-houses,
the most modest among them being the narrow little façade
opposite, with a small flower-shop on the ground floor.
He threw himself into the affair. He made a rough estimate of the
expense involved, and though the sum he fixed provisionally was by
no means a small one, he felt he could compass it without undue
effort. But then he would suddenly have the thought that the whole
thing was a senseless folly, and confess to himself that his present
house had plenty of room for himself, his wife, their child, and their
servants. But the half-conscious cravings were stronger; and in the
desire to have them strengthened and justified from outside, he first
revealed his plan to his sister.
“Well, Tony, what do you say to it? The whole house is a sort of
hand-box, isn’t it?—and the winding stair is really a joke. It isn’t quite
the thing, is it? and now that you’ve had me made Senator—in a
word, don’t you think I owe it to myself?”
Ah, in the eyes of Madame Permaneder, what was there he did not
owe to himself? She was full of practical enthusiasm. She crossed
her arms on her breast and walked up and down with her shoulders
raised and her head in the air.
“Of course you do, Tom; goodness gracious, yes! What possible
objection could there be? And when you have married an Arnoldsen,
with a hundred thousand thaler to boot— I’m very proud to be the
first you’ve told it to. It was lovely of you. And if you do do it, Tom,
why, you must do it well, that’s what I say. It must be grand.”
“H’m, well, yes, I agree with you. I’m willing to spend something on it.
I’ll have Voigt, and we’ll go over the plans together. Voigt has a great
deal of taste.”
The second opinion which Thomas called in was Gerda’s. She
praised the idea unreservedly. The confusion of moving would not be
pleasant, but the prospect of a large music-room with good acoustic
properties impressed her most happily. As for the old Frau Consul,
she was quite prepared to think of the new house as a logical
consequence of all the other blessings which had fallen to her lot,
and to give thanks to God therefor, accordingly. Since the birth of the
heir, and the recent election, she gave freer expression to her
motherly pride, and had a way of saying “my son, the Senator,”
which the Broad Street Buddenbrooks found most offensive.
These aging spinsters felt that all too little shadow set off the
sunshine through which Thomas’s outward life ran its brilliant course.
It was no great consolation—at the Thursday family gatherings—to
pour contempt on poor, good-natured Clothilde. As for Christian—
Christian, through the good offices of Mr. Richardson, his former
chief, had found a situation in London, whence he had lately
telegraphed a fantastic desire to marry Fräulein Puvogel, an idea
upon which his mother had firmly set her foot—Christian now
belonged, quite simply, to Jacob Kröger’s class, and was, as it were,
a dead issue. They consoled themselves, to some extent, with the
little weaknesses of the old Frau Consul and Frau Permaneder. They
would bring the conversation round to the subject of coiffures: the
Frau Consul was capable of saying, in the blandest way, that she
always wore “her” hair very simply, whereas it was plain to any one
gifted by God with intelligence, and certainly to the Misses
Buddenbrook, that the immutable red-blonde hair under the old
lady’s cap could no longer by any stretch be called “her” hair. Still
more gratifying was it to get Cousin Tony started on the subject of
those nefarious persons who had formerly had an influence on her
life. Teary Trietschke! Grünlich! Permaneder! Hagenström!—Tony,
when she was egged on to it, would utter these names into the air
like so many little trumpetings of disgust, with her shoulders well up.
They had a sweet sound in the ears of the daughters of Uncle
Gotthold.
They could not dissimulate, and they would accept no responsibility
for omitting to say that little Johann was frightfully slow about
learning to walk and talk. They were really quite right: it was an
admitted fact that Hanno—this was the nickname adopted by the
Frau Senator for her son—at a time when he was able to call all the
members of his family by name with fair correctness, was incapable
of pronouncing the names Friederike, Henriette, and Pfiffi so that any
one could understand what he said. And at fifteen months he had not
taken a single step alone. The Misses Buddenbrook, shaking their
heads pessimistically, declared that the child would be halt and
tongue-tied to the end of his days.
They later admitted the error of their gloomy prophecy; but nobody,
in fact, denied that Hanno was a little backward. His early infancy
was a struggle for life, and his family was in constant anxiety. At birth
he had been too feeble to cry out; and soon after the christening a
three-day attack of cholera-infantum was almost enough to still for
ever the little heart set pumping, in the first place, with such difficulty.
But he survived; and good Dr. Grabow did his best, by the most
painstaking care and nourishment, to strengthen him for the difficult
period of teething. The first tiny white point had barely pricked
through the gum, when the child was attacked by convulsions, which
repeated themselves with greater and greater violence, until again
the worst was to be feared. Once more the old doctor speechlessly
pressed the parents’ hands. The child lay in profound exhaustion,
and the vacant look in the shadowy eyes indicated an affection of the
brain. The end seemed almost to be wished for.
But Hanno regained some little strength, consciousness returned;
and though the crisis which he had survived greatly hindered his
progress in walking and talking, there was no longer any immediate
danger to be feared.
The child was slender of limb, and rather tall for his age. His hair,
pale brown and very soft, began to grow rapidly, and fell waving over
the shoulders of his full, pinafore-like frocks. The family likenesses
were abundantly clear, even now. From the first he possessed the
Buddenbrook hand, broad, a little too short, but finely articulated,
and his nose was precisely the nose of his father and great-
grandfather, though the nostrils would probably remain more
delicate. But the whole lower part of his face, longish and narrow,
was neither Buddenbrook nor Kröger, but from the mother’s side of
the house. This was true of the mouth in particular, which, when
closed, began very early to wear an anxious, woebegone expression
that later matched the look of his strange, gold-brown, blue-
shadowed eyes.
So he began to live: brooded over by his father’s reserved
tenderness, clothed and nurtured under his mother’s watchful eye;
prayed over by Aunt Antonie, presented with tops and hobby-horses
by the Frau Consul and Uncle Justus; and when his charming little
perambulator appeared on the streets, it was looked after with
interest and expectation. Madame Decho, the stately nurse, had
attended the child up to now; but it had been settled that when they
moved into the new house, not she, but Ida Jungmann, should move
in with them, and the latter’s place with the old Frau Consul be filled
by somebody else.
Senator Buddenbrook carried out his plans. He had no difficulty in
obtaining title to the property in Fishers’ Lane. The Broad Street
house was turned over to Gosch the broker, who dramatically
declared himself prepared to assume the task of disposing of it.
Stephan Kistenmaker, who had a growing family, and, with his
brother Eduard, made good money in the wine business, bought it at
once. Herr Voigt undertook the new building, and soon there was a
clean plan to unroll before the eyes of the family on Thursday
afternoons, when they could, in fancy, see the façade already before
them: an imposing brick façade with sandstone caryatides
supporting the bow-window, and a flat roof, of which Clothilde
remarked, in her pleasant drawl, that one might drink afternoon
coffee there. The Senator planned to transfer the business offices to
his new building, which would, of course, leave empty the ground
floor of the house in Meng Street. But here also things turned out
well: for it appeared that the City Fire Insurance Company wanted to
rent the rooms by the month for their offices—which was quickly
arranged.
Autumn came, and the grey walls crumbled to heaps of rubbish, and
Thomas Buddenbrook’s new house rose above its roomy cellars,
while winter set in and slowly waned again. In all the town there was
no pleasanter topic of conversation. It was “tip-top”—it was the finest
dwelling-house far and wide. But it must cost like the deuce—the old
Consul would never have spent money so recklessly. Thus the
neighbours, the middle-class dwellers in the gabled houses, looking
out at the workmen on the scaffoldings, enjoying the sight of the
rising walls, and speculating on the date of the carpenters’ feast.
It came at length, and was celebrated with due circumstance. Up on
the flat-topped roof an old master mason made the festal speech
and flung the champagne bottle over his shoulder, while the
tremendous wreath, woven of roses, green garlands, and gay-
coloured leaves, swayed between standards, heavily in the breeze.
The workmen’s feast was held at a neighbouring inn, at long tables,
with beer, sandwiches, and cigars; and Senator Buddenbrook and
his wife and his little son on Madame Decho’s arm, walked through
the narrow space between the tables and bowed his thanks at the
cheers they gave him.
When they got outside, they put little Hanno back into his carriage,
and Thomas and Gerda crossed the road to have another look at the
red façade with the white caryatides. They stood before the flower-
shop with the narrow door and the poor little show-window, in which
only a few pots of onions stood on a green glass slab. Iwersen, the
proprietor, a blond giant of a man, in a woollen jacket, was in the
doorway with his wife. She was of a quite different build, slender and
delicate, with a dark, southern-looking face. She held a four- or five-
year-old boy by one hand, while with the other she was pushing a
little carriage back and forth, in which a younger child lay asleep; and
she was plainly expecting a third blessing.
Iwersen made a low, awkward bow; his wife, continuing to push the
little carriage back and forth, looked calmly and observantly at the
Frau Senator with her narrow black eyes, as the lady approached
them on her husband’s arm.
Thomas paused and pointed with his walking-stick at the great
garland far above them.
“You did a good job, Iwersen,” said he.
“No, Herr Sen’tor. That’s the wife’s work. She’s the one fer these
affairs.”
“Oh,” said the Senator, raised his head with a little jerk, and gave, for
a second, a clear friendly look straight into Frau Iwersen’s face.
Then, without adding a word, he courteously waved his hand, and
they moved on their way.
 CHAPTER VI
One Sunday at the beginning of July—Senator Buddenbrook had
moved some four weeks before—Frau Permaneder appeared at her
brother’s house toward evening. She crossed the cool ground floor,
paved with flags and decorated with reliefs by Thorwaldsen, whence
there was a door leading into the bureau; she rang at the vestibule
door—it could be opened from the kitchen by pressing on a rubber
bulb—and entered the spacious lobby, where, at the foot of the
steps, stood the bear presented by Tiburtius and Clara. Here she
learned from Anton that the Senator was still at work.
“Very good, Anton,” she said. “I will go to him.”
Yet she did not go at once into the office, but passed the door that
led into it and stood at the bottom of the splendid staircase, which as
far as the first storey had a cast-iron balustrade, but at the distance
of the second storey became a wide pillared balcony in white and
gold, with a great gilt chandelier hanging down from the skylight’s
dizzy height.
“Very elegant,” said Frau Permaneder, softly, in a tone of great
satisfaction, gazing up into this spacious magnificence. To her it
meant, quite simply, the power, the brilliance, and the triumph of the
Buddenbrook family. But now it occurred to her that she was not, in
fact, come upon a very cheerful errand, and she slowly turned away
and passed through the door into the office.
Thomas sat there quite alone, in his place by the window, writing a
letter. He glanced up, raised an eyebrow, and put out his hand to his
sister.
“’Evening, Tony. What’s the good word?”
“Oh, nothing very good, Tom. Oh, your staircase—it’s just too
splendid! Why are you sitting here writing in the dark?”
“It was a pressing letter. Well—nothing very good, eh? Come into the
garden, a little. It is pleasanter out there.”
As they crossed the entry, a violin adagio came trillingly down from
the storey above.
“Listen,” said Tony, and paused a moment. “Gerda is playing. How
heavenly! What a woman! She isn’t a woman, she’s a fairy. How is
Hanno, Tom?”
“Just having his supper, with Jungmann. Too bad he is so slow about
walking—”
“Oh, that will come, Tom, that will come. Are you pleased with Ida?”
“Why not?”
They crossed the flags at the back, leaving the kitchen on the right,
went through a glass door and up two steps into the lovely, scented
flower-garden.
“Well?” the Senator asked.
It was warm and still. The fragrance from the neat beds and borders
hung in the evening air, and the fountain, surrounded by tall pale
purple iris, sent its stream gently plashing heavenward, where the
first stars began to gleam. In the background, an open flight of steps
flanked by low obelisks, led up to a gravelled terrace, with an open
wooden pavilion, a closed marquee, and some garden chairs. On the
left hand was the property wall between them and the next garden;
on the right the side-wall of the next house was covered with a
wooden trellis intended for climbing plants. There were a few currant
and gooseberry bushes at the sides of the terrace steps, but there
was only one tree, a large, gnarled walnut by the left-hand wall.
“The thing is this,” answered Frau Permaneder, with some hesitation,
as the brother and sister began to pace the gravel path of the fore
part of the garden. “Tiburtius has written—”
“Clara?” questioned Thomas. “Please don’t make a long story of it.”
“Yes, Tom. She is in bed; she is very bad—the doctor is afraid of
tuberculosis—of the brain.—I can hardly speak the words. Here is
the letter Tiburtius wrote me, and enclosed another for Mother, which
we are to give her when we have prepared her a little. It tells the
same story. And there is this second enclosure, to Mother, from