Suddenly the front door opened and out walked the game warden with some papers in his hand. There seemed to be a greyish mist before my eyes – I turned my head and there – to my horror – beside me sat the man in grey, with a devilish smile on his lips. He had pulled his cap of invisibility over my head. At his feet my shadow lay peacefully against his and he was toying carelessly with the well-known scrap of parchment in his hand. While the game warden paced up and down in the shade of the arbour, he bent his head and whispered in my ear:
“So! At last you have accepted my offer and here we sit, two heads under one cap. Well, well! And now you may as well give me my bird’s nest back again – you do not need it any more and are too honest a man to keep what does not belong to you. No, no, don’t mention it – it was a pleasure to lend it to you, you may be sure.” He took the charm from me and put it in his pocket with a laugh so loud that the game warden looked round, attracted by the noise. I sat there as if turned to stone.
“You must admit,” he went on, “that such a cap is infinitely more convenient. It covers both the man and his shadow and as many others as he likes to bring to the party. Today, for instance, there are two of us.” He laughed again. “Remember, Schlemihl, what is not done with a good grace at first, you may always be forced to do in the end. I think you may still pay my price for your shadow. There’s still time: take back your bride and send Rascal to swing on the gallows where he belongs. Listen, I’ll throw the cap into the bargain.”
The mother had now joined her husband.
“What is Mina doing?” he said.
“In tears again.”
“The silly girl! But there’s nothing to be done about it.”
“True. But to marry her off to another so soon! O my dear husband, you are being cruel to your own child.”
“Wife, you don’t see clearly. Even before she has dried her tears, when she finds herself married to a rich and respected husband, she will wake from her dream and be consoled for her disappointment. She’ll live to thank us – just you wait and see.”
“Please God she does!” the old woman murmured, “She already had a pretty handsome dowry but I suppose after all the scandal over that wretched adventurer, such a brilliant match as this Mr Rascal won’t easily be found. Do you know just what he’s worth?”
“He has 6,000,000 florins worth of landed property in this country, paid for in cash. I have the deeds here in my hand. It was he who always forestalled me when I was in the market for Mina. Besides this, he holds bills of exchange on Mr Thomas John, in excess of 3,500,000 florins.”
“He must have been pilfering at a pretty rate!”
“Not at all! He has husbanded his resources while some people threw their money about.”
“But a man who has been a servant!”
“Who cares? At least he has an impeccable shadow.”
“Yes, but…”
The man in the grey coat laughed mockingly in my face. The door opened and Mina came out. She was leaning on her maid’s arm and the silent tears poured down her lovely face. She sat down on a chair which had been brought for her under the lime trees and her father seated himself beside her. He seized her hand, at which her tears flowed more bitterly than ever.
“My dearest child,” he said in the gentlest tone, “you are my good girl; try to be sensible too. You wouldn’t want to grieve your old father, who is only thinking of your happiness. I quite understand, little girl, that this has been a hard knock for you. You have had the narrowest escape. Before the wicked fraud was unmasked you loved the unworthy fellow most dearly. I know, Mina, and I don’t blame you a bit. I loved him, too, when I thought he was rich and noble. But you see what it has come to. Even a poodle has a shadow and could I let my precious, my only daughter be married to such a man? Never! You must put him out of your head. Listen, my Mina: a suitor is asking for you – a respectable man who does not fear the sun; no count, indeed, but owner of ten millions – ten times more than you have ever owned. A man, too, who can make my dear child happy. So do not oppose me. Say nothing – be my good, obedient daughter. Trust your loving father and let him take care of you. Dry your tears now and say you will marry Mr Rascal. Come now, will you promise?”
Her answer was almost inaudible. “There’s nothing in the world I want any more.” she said. “I will do as my father tells me.”
At this Mr Rascal was announced and insolently joined the party. Mina sank fainting to the ground. My evil genius fixed me with an angry look.
“Can you bear that too?” he whispered. “What runs in your veins instead of blood?” With a swift movement he scratched my hand and the blood flowed. “So it’s blood after all!” he cried scornfully. “Sign!” The parchment and the quill were in my hand.
7
I SHALL LAY MYSELF OPEN to your criticism, dear Chamisso, which I do not try to avoid. No one could blame me more harshly than I do myself, for bitter remorse has long eaten up my heart. I shall never forget that terrible moment and still look back on it askance with deepest humiliation. Believe me, my friend, he who carelessly steps off the straight and narrow path, soon finds himself impelled step by step down a very different road, along which he will be led further and further astray. For him in vain the Pole Star shines in heaven; there is no choice for him; he can only descend the steep path which leads to his inevitable fate. After the false and ill-considered step which had brought the curse upon me, my love had involved me in the fate of another being. What else could I do – where I had sown perdition and salvation was urgently needed – but rush forwards to save, at whatever cost to myself? Do not think so ill of me, Chamisso, as to imagine that I thought any price too high. No! But my soul was filled with unconquerable loathing for this mysterious intriguer and his crooked ways. Maybe I did him an injustice, but the thought of having anything further to do with him revolted me utterly. But here, as so often in my life as well as in the history of the world, the unexpected intervened. Later, I became reconciled with myself. I learnt, in the first place, to respect the inevitable and, looking back, what could be more inevitable – more so even than one’s own actions – than what appeared at the time to be an accident. Next I had to learn to bow to this inevitability, as the working of Providence, which sets the machinery of the world in action, and with which we can only co-operate by moving and setting other wheels in motion. What has to be, will happen: what had to be, came to pass; and not without the intervention of that Providence, which I at last perceived as working in my fate and in that other fate so closely linked with mine.
I do not know whether it was emotional strain or physical exhaustion after the privations of the last three days; or violent agitation induced by the presence of the grey monster: but the fact is, that while preparing to sign, I fell into a deep swoon and lay for a long time as if dead.
As I came to my senses, the first sound that reached my ears was curses and the stamping of feet. I opened my eyes; it was dark. My hated companion was supporting me.
“If that isn’t behaving like a silly old woman!” he scolded. “Get up like a man and finish the business as you intended. Or perhaps you still have second thoughts and want to whine a little longer.” With difficulty I raised myself from the ground and looked around me. It was late evening. Festive music came from the brightly-lit house of the game warden and guests were moving in scattered groups along the garden paths. A party drew near and sat down on a seat. I could overhear their conversation. They talked of the wedding of the daughter of the house and the rich Mr Rascal, which had taken place that morning. Everything was over for me.
I tore from my head the cap of invisibility and fled in silence to hide myself in the deepest darkness of the wood, making for the garden gate by Count Peter’s arbour. But my evil genius followed me unseen.
“This, then,” he cried bitterly, “is my reward for taking care of the over-sensitive gentleman all day long. And so you think you can fool me after all! Very well, Mr Wronghead. Run away, but make no mi
stake about it, we are inseparable. You have my gold and I have your shadow. Neither of us can have any rest. Did you ever hear of a shadow abandoning its master? Yours drives me to follow you until you are ready to take it again and I get rid of it. What you have failed to do cheerfully and willingly you will be forced to do from sheer weariness in the end; man cannot escape his fate.”
He pursued me with more talk in the same vein. I tried to escape but he was with me still, talking sneeringly of my shadow and his gold. My mind was in a whirl.
Through the deserted street, I hurried home. When at last I stood before my house, I could hardly recognize it. The doors were barred and behind the broken windows I could see no light. No servants seemed to be about. But my grey companion was still behind me.
“Ha, ha!” he laughed, “but you can be sure Bendel is in. He was sent home so thoroughly worn out that I’m sure he won’t come out again yet awhile.” He laughed again. “He’ll have some funny stories to tell you. Good night for now, I’ll see you again very soon.”
After I had rung several times, a light appeared and Bendel’s voice called from within: “Who’s there?” When the good fellow heard my voice he could hardly contain himself for joy. The door was flung open and with tears we fell into each other’s arms. I found him greatly altered – weak and ill. I had changed too; my hair was streaked with grey.
He led me through the empty rooms to an inner apartment which was still furnished. He brought some food and drink and we sat down together. He told me that on that fatal day when he had left me in a vain attempt to recapture my shadow, he had beaten the strange man in grey with his stick so hard and so long, that he lost all track of me and at last fell exhausted to the ground. Later, not being able to find me, he had returned home and found that the mob, incited by Rascal, had attacked the house, breaking the windows and giving way to wanton destruction. Thus they had repaid their benefactor. My servants fled in a body. The police had banished me from the town as a suspect and given me twenty-four hours in which to leave. He had a great deal to add to what I knew already of Rascal’s marriage and wealth. The scoundrel, who had instigated all these proceedings against me, must have known my secret from the beginning. It seems that, attracted by my wealth, he had forced himself upon me and that very early on he had procured a key for my safe, on the contents of which he had laid the foundation of his fortune, which he could now sit back and enjoy.
Bendel’s recitation was punctuated with laments, alternating with tears of relief at seeing me again, after his desperate anxiety on my behalf, bearing my adversity with such calmness and fortitude. For this was indeed the form my despair took. My misery loomed over me, gigantic and irrevocable. I had no more tears to shed, no voice left to bemoan my misery. Coldly and indifferently, I bared my head to the storm.
“Bendel,” I said, “you know my fate. This heavy penalty is not wholly undeserved. But you, an innocent man, must no longer join your fortune to mine. I will leave this very night. Saddle my horse – I shall ride alone. I command you to stay here. There must be a few boxes of gold left. I give them to you. I shall wander restlessly through the world; but if a happier day should dawn and fortune smile on me again, I will remember you. For you have been my faithful companion in many an hour of wretchedness.”
Broken-hearted, the honest fellow obeyed my last command. It tore his soul but I was deaf to his protests and entreaties. He brought my horse. For the last time, I embraced him and, springing into the saddle, pursued my way from the grave of all my hopes under the cloak of night and careless whither I went. I had no goal, no wish, no hope on earth.
8
BEFORE LONG, I was joined by a man who, after walking for some time by my horse’s side, asked me, as we were going in the same direction, if he might throw the cloak which he carried over my crupper. I allowed him to do so without demur. He thanked me politely for this trifling favour, praised my horse and began to talk flatteringly about the happiness and influence of riches. For some time he dilated on this in a kind of soliloquy, for I did not trouble to answer.
He held forth on his views of life and the world, and soon the subject of metaphysics was introduced. From this, he held, the word was to emanate which would solve all mysteries. He developed his theme and drew his conclusions with great clarity and distinction.
You know quite well that since I struggled through the school of philosophy, I have often confessed that I do not consider myself apt for philosophical speculations and have altogether renounced this branch of learning. Since then I have allowed many questions to settle themselves as best they could and turned my back on many things which I might have mastered. Rather, I followed your advice, Chamisso, and taking common sense as my guide, as far as possible have pursued my own way. My philosopher seemed to me to build up a solid thesis with considerable skill – a thesis which seemed to be based on sound foundations and therefore stood, as it were, by its own inner necessity. But I looked in vain in the argument for the explanation I sought and hence it was to me no more than a work of art, whose completeness and graceful proportions delight the eye. I listened willingly to my eloquent companion, who distracted my attention from my own sorrows; and I would have gladly surrendered to his argument if he had convinced my heart as thoroughly as he did my mind.
Thus the hours slipped by and, unnoticed by me, the sky was lightening with dawn. I started as I raised my eyes and saw the glorious colours that painted the clouds to welcome the rising sun. And at that early hour, when the shadows stretch themselves to their fullest height, I was riding in the open – no cover in sight – and I was not alone. I looked at my companion and started again: it was none other than the man in grey.
He smiled at my alarm and did not give me time to speak.
“Let us pool our advantages for the time being,” he said, “as sensible people do. We can always part later if we like. The road along the mountainside, although it may not have occurred to you, is the obvious one to take. You dare not go down into the valley and you hardly want to go back over the hill, as it will lead you where you have come from. My road happens to be the same as yours. I see you are greatly worried at the approach of the sun. I will lend you your shadow while we are together and you, for your part will put up with my company. Bendel is your servant no longer but I will take his place. You don’t care for me much – I’m sorry about that, but you can make use of me nevertheless. The devil is not as black as they paint him. Yesterday you made me angry, it is true, but today I will bear you no grudge. I’ve cheered you on your way so far, you must admit; now take your shadow on trial again.
The sun had risen; there began to be people on the road and, in spite of my inner reluctance, I accepted his offer. With a smile, he dropped my shadow onto the ground; it took its place on my horse’s shadow and moved cheerfully along with us. My mind was in a strange turmoil. I rode past a handful of country folk, who raised their hats and drew respectfully aside to make room for the distinguished-looking traveller. I rode on and looked sideways from time to time at what was once my shadow, which I now had only on loan from my bitterest enemy.
He walked carefree beside me, whistling a tune – he on foot, I on horseback. The temptation was irresistible; I jerked the horse’s head aside, clapped on the spurs and dashed at full speed down a side road. But I could not elope with my shadow; it slid off the horse as we turned and waited by the roadside for its legal owner. Shamefaced, I was forced to come back. The man in grey finished his little tune and began to laugh.
“It will only stick to you,” he said, resetting my shadow in its place, “when you have once more become its legal owner. I hold you by your shadow – you cannot escape me. A rich man like you simply cannot do without a shadow. That’s fair enough – I only blame you for not having thought of it before.”
I continued my journey on the same road as before. Once again, I enjoyed all the comforts and luxuries of life. I could move about freely and easily, for I had a shadow – albeit a borrowed one –
and everywhere I imposed that respect which wealth commands. But despair was in my heart. My weird companion, who gave himself out as the unworthy servant of the richest man in the world, was exceedingly dexterous and clever, showing the most remarkable aptitude for his duties – in short, the model of a valet. But he never left my side, arguing with me incessantly and showing the greatest confidence that in the end I would conclude the deal over my shadow, if only to get rid of him. He was a nuisance, always hateful and at times I was really quite afraid of him; for he had made himself indispensable. I was again in his power for he had driven me back to the worldly vanities which I had abandoned. I had to suffer his eloquence and at times was almost forced to agree with him. A rich man must have a shadow in the world; and as long as I chose to maintain that station to which he had induced me to aspire, there seemed but one solution for me. But one thing I determined. Having sacrificed my love and made my life a misery, I would not transfer my soul to this being – not for all the shadows in the world. But I could not imagine how it would end.
One day we sat down in front of a cave, a local tourist attraction much frequented by travellers crossing the mountains. You could hear the roar of subterranean waters and a stone thrown into the abyss fell without echo into the immeasurable depths. Once again, he was busy painting, with extravagant flights of fancy, a glowing and colourful picture of the brilliant figure I might cut in the world by means of my purse. If only my shadow were my own again. Sitting on the ground with my elbows supported on my knees and my face hidden in my hands, I listened to the deceiver. My heart was torn between his blandishments and my own resolution. I could no longer endure my inner conflict and the decisive struggle began.
Peter Schlemihl Page 5
