Tales of the German Imagination from the Brothers Grimm to Ingeborg Bachmann (Penguin Classics)

by Unknown

  He chuckled in amusement at my dumbfounded expression, and continued without letting me get a word in edgeways. ‘Come now, let our mutual benefit unite us for a while, as is only customary in this world; there’s always time to part ways. This road skirting the mountain, in case you didn’t realize it right away, is the only one you could possibly take; you dare not descend into the valley, much less turn back across the mountain to where you came from – and it just so happens to be my road too. You’re already blanching with horror at the prospect of the sunrise. Let me lend you back your shadow for the duration of our journey together, and all you need do in exchange is countenance my company. You no longer have your faithful Bendel; let me serve you in his stead. You don’t like me, I know, and that makes me sad. My help may nevertheless still come in handy. The devil is not as black as they like to paint him. True, you annoyed me yesterday, but I won’t hold it against you today, and I have after all made the road seem shorter, this you must admit. Why don’t you just try your shadow back on for size?’

  The sun had risen, people were approaching us on the road; I accepted his proposition, albeit reluctantly. Grinning, he let my shadow unravel and fall to the ground, and it immediately took its place beside the horse’s shadow, both of them trotting merrily along. How strange I felt. I rode past a party of country bumpkins, who doffed their hats and humbly made way for a man of means. I rode on, peering down with a greedy eye and a beating heart at the shadow, formerly mine, which I had just borrowed back from a stranger, indeed from my mortal enemy.

  Bemused, indifferent to my chagrin, he strode beside me, absent-mindedly whistling a little tune. He on foot, I on horseback – the giddiness of the idea went to my head, the temptation was too great. All of a sudden I seized the reins, dug in with my spurs and made a mad dash for it. The shadow, however, refused to follow, but pivoted free of the horse and paused, awaiting the arrival of its rightful owner. Red-faced with shame, I was obliged to turn back, while the man in the grey coat calmly finished whistling his little ditty and, laughing at me, reattached the shadow and warned that it would stick to my feet and stay with me only when I could again lay claim to it as my rightful possession. ‘I’ve got you by your shadow,’ he continued, ‘no sense trying to escape. A rich man like you needs a respectable shadow, there’s no getting around it; it’s just too bad you didn’t see reason long ago.’

  I continued my journey along the same road; once again I enjoyed the amenities of life, delighting in the simple fact of existence; I was free to move about as I pleased, since I possessed, if but on temporary loan, a bona fide shadow, and everywhere my appearance instilled the respect that wealth accords; and yet I carried death in my heart. My strange companion, who pretended to be a lowly servant of the richest man on earth, proved exceptionally adept at obsequious behaviour; he was the very epitome of a rich man’s lackey. But he never left my side, kept heaping scorn upon me, foreseeing with complete confidence the day when I would finally, if only to be rid of him, clinch the deal and offer my soul in exchange for my shadow.

  His company was as burdensome to me as it was loathsome. I had good reason to fear him, for I had made myself dependent on him. After leading me back to the splendour of the world from which I had fled, he held me once again in his grip. I was obliged to endure his never-ending verbal assault, and I very nearly became convinced that he was right. A rich man must have a shadow in this world, and as soon as I sought to lay claim to the social standing to which, lured back by the devil, I once again aspired, I had only one option. And yet I stood firm in my resolve: having sacrificed my love, now that life itself had paled, I would not sell my soul to this creature for all the shadows in the world. But how was all this to end?

  We were sitting upon an overlook to which all travellers passing across these mountains pay a visit. You can hear the surging of underground streams bubbling up from immeasurable depths, and a stone tossed over the edge falls and falls without, it seems, ever striking the bottom. With a dizzying imaginative prowess and the shimmering dazzle of all the colours in his palette, my companion depicted for me, as was often his wont, in painstaking detail all the pleasures I would enjoy with the aid of my purse, if only I once again had possession of my shadow. My elbows propped upon my knees, I buried my face in my hands and listened to that false deceiver, my heart divided between the desire to succumb and the force of my will-power. I had come to the end of my rope, no longer able to endure such inner turmoil, and so I began the decisive final struggle: ‘You appear to forget, sir, that though I may have permitted you under certain circumstances to remain in my company, I retained the right of complete freedom of movement.’

  ‘Say the word and I’ll be gone.’ This threat was often repeated. I remained silent; he immediately proceeded to roll up my shadow. I turned pale, but I let it happen without a word. A long silence followed. He was the first to break it.

  ‘You cannot abide me, sir; you hate me, I know; but why do you hate me? Is it perhaps because you assaulted me on the open road with the intent of robbing me of my bird’s nest? Or is it because you scurrilously attempted to make off with my possession, the shadow that you naively believed was entrusted to you on your honour? I for my part do not hate you for this; I find it perfectly natural that you should attempt to play all your cards, including deception and force; the fact that you nevertheless flatter yourself with having the strictest principles and believe yourself to be the epitome of honesty itself is a fancy to which I likewise have no objection. My morals may not be as strict as yours, but my actions match your principles to a T. Or did I ever press a thumb against your throat to take by force your worthy soul, for which I happen to have a hankering? Did I ever set a servant on you to reclaim the purse I traded in fair exchange? Did I ever try to bolt with it?’ I could offer no denial; he continued, ‘Very well, my good man, very well! So you can’t abide my company; this too I understand, and do not hold it against you. We must go our separate ways, that much is clear, and you too are beginning to try my patience. So as to be rid once and for all of my shameful presence, let me recommend again: buy the thing back from me!’

  I held forth the purse. ‘Take this in exchange.’

  ‘No!’

  I heaved a heavy sigh and spoke up again. ‘So be it. I demand it, sir: let us part immediately, cross my path no longer in this world, which I trust is big enough for the two of us.’

  He smiled and replied, ‘I’ll be gone, sir, but let me first instruct you how you may ring for me if ever you should desire the aid of your most humble servant. You have only to shake your purse so that the limitless store of gold coins rattles within; that sweet sound will immediately call me forth. Everyone thinks only of his own advantage in this world, but you see that I am also concerned with yours, for I am revealing to you a new strength at your disposal. Oh, that magic purse! For even had the moths already chewed up your shadow, this purse would still remain a strong bond between us. Enough, you’re bound to me by the tinkle of my gold; your most humble servant will do your bidding from afar. You well know how useful I can be to my friends, and that the rich are particularly close to me; you have seen it yourself. But one thing, my good sir – this you must remember – you’ll never get your shadow back except under one condition.’

  Faces from the past were suddenly recalled by my mind’s eye. I asked him quickly, ‘Did you ever get a signature from Mr John?’

  He smiled. ‘Formalities were hardly needed with such a good friend.’

  ‘Where is he? By God, I want to know!’ With some hesitation, he put a hand in his pocket, and, plucked up by his hair, there dangled the pale, distorted figure of Thomas John, whose corpse-blue lips opened and closed, pronouncing the solemn words: ‘Justo judicio Dei judicatus sum; justo judicio Dei condemnatus sum.’

  Horrified, I heaved the rattling purse into the bottomless abyss and spoke these last words to him: ‘Accursed be you, Lucifer, in the name of God! Get thee hence and let me never more lay eyes on you!’
Darkly scowling, he arose and immediately disappeared behind the wall of stone that bordered this overgrown spot.

  IX

  I sat there without shadow or money, but a heavy weight had been lifted from my heart; I felt giddy. Had I not also lost my love, or were I to have felt myself blameless for that loss, I believe I could have been happy – but I had no idea what to do next. I searched my pockets and found a few remaining gold pieces; I counted them, and laughed. I had left my horse back at the inn. I was ashamed to return there, at least until the sun had set; it still hung high overhead. I lay down in the shadow of the nearest grove and fell fast asleep.

  A swirl of enticing images coalesced into a sweet dream. Mina, wearing a wreath of flowers in her hair, brushed past me and flashed me a friendly smile. Even old faithful Bendel, bedecked with flowers, rushed by with a kind word of greeting. Many a familiar face did I see, including yours, dear Chamisso, if I’m not mistaken, among the gathering throng; a bright light shone, but no one cast a shadow, and, what was stranger still, the spectacle was pleasing to the eye. Flowers and songs, love and happiness thrived in a palm grove; I could neither grasp nor make out clearly those light and lovable figures blowing past me like leaves, but I know that I was happy to be dreaming such a dream and I dreaded waking. And then, when I really was awake, I still kept my eyes closed to prevent the fleeting images from vanishing in the garden of my soul.

  Finally I opened my eyes. The sun still hung in the sky, but in the east; I had slept through the night. I took it as a sign that I ought not return to the inn. It was easy to part with the last of my possessions, and I resolved to set out on foot along a back road that led through a wooded valley surrounding the mountain to fulfil whatever destiny held in store for me. I did not look back, and did not even think of turning to Bendel – whom I’d left a rich man – as well I might have. I looked myself over, this new persona that I was to assume in the world: my clothes were rather shabby. I had on an old black kurtka, which I had already worn in Berlin and which for some reason I had dug out again at the start of this trip. In addition, I wore a traveller’s cap on my head and a pair of old boots on my weary feet. I stood up, I looked around, found and cut myself a walking stick as a kind of souvenir, and immediately continued on my journey.

  In the forest I met an old peasant who offered me a friendly greeting and with whom I entered into conversation. Like a curious traveller, I enquired first about the state of the road, and then the region and its inhabitants, what minerals the mountain yielded, and the like. The man proved knowledgeable and well spoken in his replies to my questions. We came to the bed of a mountain stream that had eroded a wide and winding gap through the forest. Shuddering inwardly at the prospect of crossing that sunny space, I let my companion go on ahead. But in the midst of that perilous terrain, he turned around to tell me the history of the erosion. It wasn’t long before he noticed what I had missing, and he paused mid-sentence: ‘But how can it be? The gentleman has no shadow!’

  ‘Alas! Alas!’ I replied with expressive sighs. ‘It was a long and terrible illness that robbed me of my hair, fingernails and shadow. See, little father, at my young age, the hair that grew back is completely white, the nails very short and the shadow hasn’t grown back yet.’

  ‘Oh no! Oh no!’ the old man muttered, shaking his head. ‘It’s an awful thing to be without a shadow, that must have been a devilish illness the gentleman had!’ He did not, however, resume his account of the erosion, and at the next fork in the road he ran off and left me without a word of farewell. Once again a flood of bitter tears cascaded down my cheeks, and my new-found happiness was dashed to pieces.

  With a sad heart, I continued on my way and sought no further human contact. I stuck to the darkest woods, and sometimes had to wait hours before crossing a strip of land on which the sun shone so that no human eye might bar my passage. Evenings I sought refuge in the scattered villages. My actual destination was a mine in the mountain in which I planned to seek work underground; for, notwithstanding that my present condition compelled me to fend for myself, I realized full well that only strenuous physical labour could protect me from my own dark thoughts.

  A few rainy days enabled me to make good headway, but at the cost of my boots, the soles of which were designed for Count Peter and not for an itinerant wanderer. They were already worn clear through to my bare feet. I absolutely needed a new pair of boots. The next morning I set about this business with zeal, scouting the stalls of a country fair until I found one that sold boots new and used. I picked and haggled for the longest time. I was obliged to renounce a brand-new pair that caught my eye and that I would very much have liked to acquire, but the price was well beyond my means. I made do instead with a pair of second-hand boots that still seemed strong and solid, and that the genial blond lad who ran the stall handed over with a smile in exchange for cash, wishing me well on my way. I put them on immediately and headed north.

  I was very much lost in thought, and hardly noticed where I set my feet; my mind was on the mine, which I still hoped to reach that evening, but at which I did not rightly know how I was going to present myself. I had scarcely walked two hundred paces when I noticed that I had wandered off the beaten track; I looked around in search of the trail and realized that I stood in the midst of a vast and ancient forest of virgin evergreens never grazed, so it seemed, by the blade of an axe. Proceeding another few paces, I found myself surrounded by barren cliffs on which only moss and saxifrage grew, and the gaps in between were covered with fields of snow and ice. The air was exceedingly cold; I looked around and noticed that the forest had disappeared behind me. Another few paces – around me loomed a deathlike silence; the sheet of ice on which I stood, and over which a thick fog hung, seemed to stretch for miles around me; the sun dangled bloody on the edge of the horizon. The cold was unbearable. I had no idea how I had got here; the numbing frost compelled me to hasten my steps; the only sound I heard was the rush of distant waters. Another step, and I landed at the icy edge of an ocean. Countless herds of seals leapt noisily before me in the tide. I followed the shoreline and saw once again in the distance naked cliffs, dry land, birch and evergreen forests, then I ran on for a few minutes dead ahead. It was suffocatingly hot; I looked around. To one side stretched cultivated rice fields and to the other mulberry trees. I sat down in the shadow of the latter and peered at my watch; not a quarter of an hour had passed since I’d left the market place.

  I thought I must be dreaming, and bit my tongue to wake myself, but I actually was awake. I closed my eyes in order to collect my thoughts. Then I heard curious nasal syllables being uttered nearby and looked up; two Chinamen, unmistakable in their Asiatic features (even if I were to doubt the authenticity of their costume), addressed me in what I imagine must have been the common local greeting. I got up and stepped back two paces. The Chinamen were gone, the landscape was altogether different: trees and forests stretched before me instead of rice fields. I studied the trees and other flora that blossomed around me; those I recognized were of a Southeast Asian species. Intending to approach one tree for a closer look, I took a step forward – and once again, everything had changed. So I continued walking like a recruit in training, proceeding slowly but with a dogged determination. Wondrously changing vistas, flora, fields, mountains, tundra and sandy deserts unfurled themselves before my marvelling gaze. There was no doubt about it: I had seven-league boots on my feet.

  X

  I fell to my knees in silent devotion and wept tears of thanks – for all at once my future revealed itself to me. Cast out from human society because of my early trespasses, I had been sent back to nature, the realm I have always cherished; the earth had been given me as a fertile garden to tend, the study of which was henceforth to be the direction and motivating force of my life, a life wholly devoted to science. This was not so much a resolve as a vision. For ever since that moment I have sought faithfully, with a quiet, firm, unceasing zeal to realize and render the original image that came
to my inner eye complete in a bright and crystal-clear flash; and henceforth my sense of self-worth will for ever depend ineluctably on my ability to make the rendering true to the original vision.

  I pulled myself together, and without a moment’s hesitation took a quick look around, laying instant claim to the field I would henceforth be harvesting. I stood on the mountain top of Tibet, and the sun that had just risen before my eyes a few hours ago was already sinking into the firmament of the night sky; I strode through Asia from east to west, keeping a step ahead of the sun in its rapid descent, and crossed over into Africa. I looked around eagerly, scanning the entire continent in all directions. As I gaped at the old pyramids and temples of Egypt, I happened to spy in the desert, not far from Thebes with its hundred gates, those caves inhabited in former times by Christian anchorites. All at once I knew that this was to be my home. I selected as my future domicile one of the most remote, albeit spacious and comfortable, caves, a lair inaccessible to jackals, and then I continued on my way. At the Pillars of Hercules I crossed over into Europe, and, after inspecting its southern- and northernmost provinces, I stepped from northern Asia via the North Pole from Greenland into America, wandered through both the northern and southern half of that continent, encountered the onset of winter in the south, turned in my tracks and headed back northward across Cape Horn.

  I lingered until day broke in the Far East, and only after a good long rest did I resume my wanderings. I followed the mountain chain with the highest known elevations on earth through both Americas. Slowly and carefully I stepped from peak to peak, sometimes over flaming volcanoes, sometimes over snow-covered domes, often pausing to catch my breath; at last I reached Mount Elias and I leapt across the Bering Strait back into Asia. I followed the west coast of that continent along its many twists and turns and took pains to explore those islands accessible to me. From the Malacca Peninsula my boots carried me across to Sumatra, Java, Bali and Lombok; I attempted repeatedly, at considerable risk, though always unsuccessfully, to ford across to the smaller islands and promontories that speckle the sea in those parts, and thereby to facilitate a north-west passage to Borneo and the other outlying islands of the archipelago. I was obliged to abandon the effort. At the tip of Lombok I finally sat down with my face turned to the south and to the east and I wept, rattling, as it were, the gates of my far-flung prison, for here at last I was forced to acknowledge my limitations. New Holland, that remarkable place, and the South Sea Islands, whose sunbathed cloak of flora and fauna are so essential to a complete picture of the earth’s life forms, would be for ever off-limits to me; and thus, in essence, all that I could possibly collect and comment upon was doomed to remain a mere fragment of the whole. Oh, dear Adelbert, what are man’s efforts on this earth but vain illusions?