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

by Unknown

  I occupied him with this as an innocent ploy to get him out of our way for a while; I had already used other such ruses, for I must admit that the old man could become a little tiresome. The mother, on the other hand, was somewhat deaf, and not, like her husband, avidly eager to entertain the Count.

  The mother then came out to join us, and together the old people urged me to stay a while longer, but I did not have a moment to lose, for already I spotted the moon rising over the horizon. My time was up.

  The following evening, I once again set out for the forest warden’s garden. I had draped my coat broadly over my shoulders and pulled my hat down low over my eyes as I eagerly approached Mina. When she looked up and saw me, she started back with an involuntary jerk; then it came to me again, the spectre of that terrible night on which I had shown myself in the moonlight without a shadow. It was she, no doubt about it. But did she put two and two together and realize who I was? She grew silent and reflective. My worry weighed like a millstone on my chest; I sat down, and got up again. Silently weeping, she threw herself into my arms. I took my leave.

  After that, I often found her in tears; I myself sank ever deeper into the darkness of my soul. Only her parents seemed to swim in boundless jubilation; the fateful day drew near, dark and dreadful as a storm cloud. Then it was night before I could scarcely draw a breath. I had prudently filled several chests with gold, just in case; I lay awake awaiting midnight. At last the clock struck twelve.

  Eyes glued to the hands of the clock, each passing minute like a dagger thrust in my heart, I sat there, starting at the slightest sound. And so I welcomed daybreak. The leaden hours rolled on, one, two, three, each displaced by the next; then it was noon, evening, night; the clock hands shifted, hope faded; the clock struck eleven, and no one appeared; the last minutes of the last hour of the day ticked by, and still no one; the first stroke of midnight, the twelfth stroke, and I fell back soaking the cover of my couch in desperate and unending tears. For tomorrow I, an ill-fated shadow-less man, was to ask for the hand of my beloved. Towards morning a heavy sleep finally pressed my eyes shut.

  V

  It was still early when I awoke to the sound of heated voices raised in a quarrel in my antechamber. I listened carefully. Bendel stood at my door blocking entry, as Rascal, swearing up and down that he would take no orders from a mere lackey, demanded entry into my room. Kind-hearted Bendel warned him that should such words reach my ears, he would risk the loss of a very favourable position. Rascal threatened to use force if Bendel continued to bar his entry.

  I threw on some clothes, angrily flung open the door and spoke to Rascal in a rage. ‘What do you want with me, you lout?’

  He stepped back two paces and responded coldly, ‘What I want, sir, is to humbly request that you show me your shadow – the sun is just up, and shining so brightly in the yard.’

  I stood there shaken to the core. It took me a while to find words. ‘How in heaven’s name can a servant speak so … so … so rudely to his master?’

  He calmly and quietly replied, ‘A servant can stand on his honour and refuse to serve a shadow-less master. I demand forthwith my release, and tender my resignation.’

  I was forced to try another tack. ‘But Rascal, dear Rascal, who ever gave you such a ridiculous idea? How can you even think—?’

  He continued in the same tone of voice: ‘Certain people claim that you have no shadow, sir – in short, either show me your shadow or hand me my release.’

  Pale and trembling, but with more presence of mind than I had at the moment, Bendel motioned to me. I sought to appease Rascal with the gold I had lying about; that too had lost its power. He threw it back at my feet: ‘I take no alms from a shadow-less man.’ He spun round on his heels, put his hat on his head and slowly waltzed out of the door, whistling a tune. Motionless and without a thought in my mind as if turned to stone, I stood staring after him with Bendel at my side.

  With a heavy sigh and death in my heart, I finally pulled myself together and, slinking along like a thief preparing to face judgment, I made my way to the forest warden’s garden. I stepped through the shady bower that had been named after me, and where no doubt I was expected. The old mother came towards me carefree and cheerful as ever. Mina sat there, pale and lovely as the first snow that sometimes in late autumn bestows a kiss on the last flowers of summer before melting into bitter dew. The forest warden paced up and down, clutching a handwritten note, and appeared to be doing his best to repress a surge of emotion that erupted the moment he spotted me, now in a flush of red, now with a deathlike pallor clouding his otherwise lacklustre face. He approached me as I entered the garden and haltingly requested a word with me alone. The allée along which he invited me to follow him led to an open, sunny corner of the garden. Without a word I sank on a bench. A long silence followed that not even the kindly mother dared break.

  The forest warden kept pacing with uneven steps up and down the bower; suddenly he came up to me and stood before me in a numb silence, staring down at the sheet of paper in his hand. With a piercing look, he asked me, ‘I wonder, Sir Count, if you may not be acquainted with a certain Peter Schlemiel?’ I said nothing. ‘A man of impeccable character and incomparable gifts.’ He clearly expected an answer.

  ‘And what if I myself happened to be he?’

  ‘The man,’ he added with a dark intensity, ‘who misplaced his shadow!’

  ‘I knew it, I knew it!’ cried Mina, ‘I’ve known it for a long time, he has no shadow!’ And with that she threw herself into the arms of her horrified mother, who held her close, reproaching her for having kept such an unhappy secret to herself. But like Arethusa, the poor girl became a fountain of tears that erupted at the sound of my voice, gushing forth uncontrollably at my approach and accompanied by convulsive sobs.

  ‘How could you,’ the forest warden went on angrily, ‘how could you have the utter gall to deceive this dear girl and me in such an unscrupulous manner; you who claim to love her, and have dragged her so low? See how she’s weeping and wringing her hands! What an awful thing you’ve done!’

  I was in such a state that I started talking nonsense. ‘A shadow is after all nothing but a shadow,’ I said, ‘one can just as well do without it, why make such a fuss?’ And yet I felt so profoundly the insincerity of my words that I cut myself short without waiting for an answer. I did, however, point out that a thing lost may yet be found again.

  The old man replied in anger, ‘Admit it, sir, own up to the truth! How did you lose your shadow?’

  I had to invent another lie. ‘Why, not so very long ago, an uncouth burly fellow stamped so vehemently on my shadow that he tore a big hole in it. I was obliged to have it repaired – money talks, you know; I was supposed to get it back from the tailor yesterday.’

  ‘Well and good, well and good!’ the forest warden replied. ‘You’ve come a-courting my daughter; well, you’re not the only one. As her father, I must look out for her best interests. I give you three days to acquire a shadow; if in three days’ time you appear here before me wearing a well-fitting shadow, you will be welcome; but on the fourth day – mark my word! – my daughter will be wed to another.’ I still wanted to say something to Mina, but she clasped her mother’s hand all the more tightly and sobbed all the louder, so that the old woman silently motioned to me to make myself scarce. I staggered off, and it was as if the world itself were closing its gates behind me.

  Having eluded Bendel’s loving vigilance, I ran through the forests and fields at a mad pace. The cold sweat of terror ran down my brow, I heaved an abysmal sigh, my mind tottered on the brink of madness.

  I can’t say how much time elapsed before I found myself in a sunny field. I felt a tug at my sleeve. Standing stock-still, I looked around. It was the man in the grey coat, who appeared to be out of breath from chasing after me. He immediately spoke up.

  ‘I announced my arrival for this very day, but you were too impatient to wait. Don’t worry, my friend, it’s not too
late. Take my advice – for a fair trade you can have your shadow back and do an immediate about-turn in life. The forest warden will welcome you back with open arms, and this whole unhappy business will be treated as a bad joke. And that Rascal who betrayed you and who this very minute is wooing your bride-to-be, I’ll take him into my service where he belongs – the fellow’s ripe for the picking.’

  In a daze, I repeated his words. ‘Announced your arrival for this very day—?’ I mentally recalculated the allotted time. He was right, I had been a day off. With my right hand, I felt for the purse dangling under my shirt against my breast. He immediately guessed my intent and stepped back two paces.

  ‘Oh no, Sir Count, the purse is in good hands as it is, it’s yours to keep.’ Astonished, I gave him a befuddled, questioning look, to which he replied forthwith, ‘All I ask for is a little token, a memento, if you will: your signature, sir, on this document will do.’ And on the parchment he held in his hands I read the following:

  ‘By my signature I empower the recipient of this parchment to take full claim to my soul following its natural separation from my body.’

  Dumbfounded, I kept looking back and forth between the document and the grey stranger. Meanwhile, with a freshly cut quill, he proceeded to dab the open wound a thorn had torn in my hand, wet the tip with a drop of blood and passed the pen to me.

  ‘Who in God’s name are you?’ I asked at last.

  ‘What difference does it make?’ he replied. ‘Can’t you tell by looking at me? I’m just a poor devil, a sort of sage and alchemist who gets little thanks from his friends for his incomparable wizardry exercised on their behalf, and whose sole pleasure on earth is a little experimentation. But hurry up and sign before the blood dries up. Bottom right: Peter Schlemiel.’

  I shook my head and said, ‘Forgive me, sir, this document I cannot sign.’

  ‘Not sign?’ he repeated, surprised. ‘But why not?’

  ‘It seems a somewhat questionable transaction, to exchange my soul for my shadow.’

  ‘Questionable indeed!’ he replied, and broke into loud, sarcastic laughter. ‘And if I may ask, what sort of thing is that, your soul? Have you ever seen it? What possible use do you intend to make of it once you’re dead? You ought to be pleased to have found a collector during your lifetime who’s willing to buy the nebulous bequest of X, that galvanic force of polarizing potential, or whatever you prefer to call that ridiculous thing; a collector who proposed to take that tenuous trifle off your hands in exchange for something real, namely, your shadow, the very thing you need to attain the hand of your beloved and make all your dreams come true. Or would you rather be the one to hand her over – nay! – to veritably push that poor thing into the arms of that low scoundrel, Rascal? No, my friend, better see it for yourself; here then, let me lend you this magic hood’ (he pulled something out of his pocket) ‘and together we’ll make our way unseen to the forest warden’s garden.’

  I must admit that I felt terribly ashamed to be derided by this man. I loathed him from the bottom of my heart, and it was this personal revulsion, I believe, much more than any principles or prejudices, that prevented me from buying back my shadow, however much I needed it, for the price of that signature. How distasteful, the very thought of accepting his proposition to take a stroll together! Just the idea of seeing that slimy weasel, that sniggering devil, standing between me and my beloved, two bleeding hearts torn asunder – that was more than I could bear. What’s done is done, I decided, and, turning to the man, I said, ‘Sir, I did indeed sell my shadow for this admittedly splendid purse, and I have come ruefully to regret it. In God’s name, will you take it back!’ He shook his head and gave me a very dark look. So I continued, ‘In that case, I have no intention of selling you any more of what’s mine, be it for the price of my shadow, and I cannot, I’m afraid, sign the contract. And furthermore, you must realize that a hooded hike in your company would prove far more amusing to you than to me; therefore, please allow me to decline your kind invitation, which concludes our business together – and so let us go our separate ways!’

  ‘I regret very much, Monsieur Schlemiel, that you should be so thick-headed as to reject out of hand the proposition I made as a token of friendship. Better luck next time, then. I do hope we will meet again soon! Oh, by the way, permit me to show you that I by no means let the things I buy grow musty, but rather take great pains to preserve them – please be assured of my fastidious care!’

  He proceeded to pull my shadow out of his pocket and, with a skilful toss, unfurled it on the heath and spread it out on the sunny side at his feet so that he could stride up and down in between the two shadows, his and mine; mine had to obey, to twist and turn in accordance with his every move. When I first caught a glimpse of my poor shadow after such a long time and saw it reduced to such a lowly purpose – as for its sake I too was made to suffer such unspeakable misery – my heart broke, and I burst into bitter tears. That hateful man proudly paraded around with his booty and shamelessly repeated his offer:

  ‘You can still have it for the asking; just a stroke of the pen and His Highness the Count can save his poor unhappy Mina from the claws of that lout, Rascal, and take her in his arms – as I said, just a stroke of the pen.’ My tears burst forth with renewed vigour, but I turned away and with a wave of my hand bade him adieu.

  At that very moment Bendel, who had been anxiously following my footsteps, appeared on the scene. As soon as that faithful, God-fearing man found me in tears and spotted my shadow – for it was unmistakably mine – in the thrall of that awful grey stranger, he immediately resolved to get back for me what was mine, even if by force; and since he had no idea of how to grasp the insubstantial thing itself, he let fly a flurry of angry words and, without beating about the bush, demanded that the shadow be returned to its rightful owner. In lieu of an answer, the stranger simply turned his back on my innocent defender, whereupon Bendel raised the thorny club in his hand and followed hot on the grey man’s heels, repeating his demand to give up the shadow, pummelling him mercilessly with all his might. The latter, as though well accustomed to such treatment, merely ducked his head, hunched his shoulders and calmly, quietly continued on his way across the heath, robbing me of both my shadow and my faithful servant. For a very long time I heard the dull thud resounding until finally it faded in the distance. I was all alone again with my bitter fate.

  VI

  Alone on the barren moor, I let loose a torrent of tears, relieving my heart if but for a moment of the inexpressible burden of my fate. I saw no end to the misery that overwhelmed me, no exit, no way out, and I sucked with a grim thirst on the new poison that stranger had poured into my wounds. When I pictured Mina in my mind’s eye and her dear sweet face appeared to me pale and drowned in tears, as I had last seen her in the hour of my disgrace, Rascal’s impudent, sneering visage stepped between us; I buried my face in my hands and ran wildly across the desolate terrain, but I couldn’t shake off that terrible spectre, it followed me wherever I fled, until, breathless, I sank to the ground and once again burst into tears.

  All for the sake of a shadow! And the mere stroke of a pen could buy me that shadow back! I mulled over the stranger’s disconcerting proposition, as well as my reluctance. My mind was a blur, I had lost all capacity to judge or comprehend.

  The day drew to an end. I stilled my hunger with wild berries, my thirst in a mountain stream; night fell, and I took refuge under a tree. The damp dawn woke me from a heavy sleep, in which I had overheard my own death rattle. Bendel must have lost my trail, and I was glad of it; I wanted nothing more to do with my fellow man, from whom I had fled in terror like the frightened beasts of the wild. Three desolate days I spent in hiding.

  On the morning of the fourth day I found myself on a sandy plain on which the sun shone brightly. I was seated on a pile of rocks with the sun in my face, for I now craved the very sunbath I had so long done without. My heart supped in silence on the source of my despair. Then a fain
t sound startled me; prepared for escape, I cast a furtive look around. I saw no one; and yet, on the sunny stretch of sand, a human shadow came ambling by, a shadow not unlike my own, a shadow strolling all alone, which appeared to have lost its master.

  Then a mighty urge arose in me. Shadow, thought I, if it’s a master you’re searching for, consider me him. And I leapt forward in an attempt to overtake it. I was convinced, you see, that if I succeeded in stepping into its path so that it made contact with my feet, the shadow would remain stuck there and in time grow accustomed to me.

  But as I advanced, the shadow took flight, and I was obliged to give wearisome chase to that fleet-footed quarry. Only the thought of my intolerable condition gave me the energy to press on. The elusive fugitive was heading for a forest in the distance, in the shadow of which I would naturally have lost him. The prospect of his escape made my heart flutter with horror, sharpened my resolve, accelerated my pace. I was visibly gaining on him, coming closer and closer – I simply had to catch him. Then suddenly he stopped and turned to me. Like the lion upon its prey, I bounded with a mighty leap to make him mine – and struck unexpectedly against physical resistance. From no visible source I received the most violent jab in the ribs that ever a man endured.

  Fear impelled me involuntarily to clamp shut my arms before me, seizing the unseen presence. That swift gesture made me lunge forward and tumble to the ground; only now did the man lying beneath me prone on his back, and whom I held fast, become visible. Now the whole mysterious business became eminently clear to me. That man must first have been carrying, then dropped, the magic invisible bird’s nest, the one that rendered invisible whoever happens to be holding it, but not his shadow. I cast a long look around and soon discovered the shadow of the invisible bird’s nest, bounded up at it and captured my precious prey. Invisible and shadow-less, I held that nest in my hands.