Of what use were wings to a man fast bound in chains of iron? They
would but increase the horror of his despair. Like the dragon guarding
his treasure, I remained cut off from all human intercourse, and
starving amidst my very gold, for it gave me no pleasure: I
anathematized it as the source of all my wretchedness.
Sole depository of my fearful secret, I trembled before the meanest of
my attendants, whom, at the same time, I envied; for he possessed a
shadow, and could venture to go out in the day-time, while I shut
myself up in my room day and night, and indulged in all the bitterness
of grief.
One individual, however, was daily pining away before my eyes—my
faithful Bendel, who was the victim of silent self-reproach, tormenting
himself with the idea that he had betrayed the confidence reposed in
him by a good master, in failing to recognize the individual in quest
of whom he had been sent, and with whom he had been led to believe that
my melancholy fate was closely connected. Still, I had nothing to
accuse him with, as I recognized in the occurrence the mysterious
character of the unknown.
In order to leave no means untried, I one day despatched Bendel with a
costly ring to the most celebrated artist in the town, desiring him to
wait upon me. He came; and, dismissing the attendants, I secured the
door, placing myself opposite to him, and, after extolling his art,
with a heavy heart came to the point, first enjoining the strictest
secrecy.
“For a person,” said I, “who most unfortunately has lost his shadow,
could you paint a false one?”
“Do you speak of the natural shadow?”
“Precisely so.”
“But,” he asked, “by what awkward negligence can a man have lost his
shadow?”
“How it occurred,” I answered, “is of no consequence; but it was in
this manner”—(and here I uttered an unblushing falsehood)—“he was
travelling in Russia last winter, and one bitterly cold day it froze so
intensely, that his shadow remained so fixed to the ground, that it was
found impossible to remove it.”
“The false shadow that I might paint,” said the artist, “would be
liable to be lost on the slightest movement, particularly in a person
who, from your account, cares so little about his shadow. A person
without a shadow should keep out of the sun, that is the only safe and
rational plan.”
He arose and took his leave, casting so penetrating a look at me that I
shrank from it. I sank back in my chair, and hid my face in my hands.
In this attitude Bendel found me, and was about to withdraw silently
and respectfully on seeing me in such a state of grief: looking up,
overwhelmed with my sorrows, I felt that I must communicate them to
him. “Bendel,” I exclaimed, “Bendel, thou the only being who seest and
respectest my grief too much to inquire into its cause—thou who seemest
silently and sincerely to sympathize with me—come and share my
confidence. The extent of my wealth I have not withheld from thee,
neither will I conceal from thee the extent of my grief. Bendel!
forsake me not. Bendel, you see me rich, free, beneficent; you fancy
all the world in my power; yet you must have observed that I shun it,
and avoid all human intercourse. You think, Bendel, that the world and
I are at variance; and you yourself, perhaps, will abandon me, when I
acquaint you with this fearful secret. Bendel, I am rich, free,
generous; but, O God, I have NO SHADOW!
“No shadow!” exclaimed the faithful young man, tears starting from his
eyes. “Alas! that I am born to serve a master without a shadow!” He was
silent, and again I hid my face in my hands.
“Bendel,” at last I tremblingly resumed, “you have now my confidence;
you may betray me—go—bear witness against me!”
He seemed to be agitated with conflicting feelings; at last he threw
himself at my feet and seized my hand, which he bathed with his tears.
“No,” he exclaimed; “whatever the world may say, I neither can nor will
forsake my excellent master because he has lost his shadow. I will
rather do what is right than what may seem prudent. I will remain with
you—I will shade you with my own shadow—I will assist you when I
can—and when I cannot, I will weep with you.”
I fell upon his neck, astonished at sentiments so unusual; for it was
very evident that he was not prompted by the love of money.
My mode of life and my fate now became somewhat different. It is
incredible with what provident foresight Bendel contrived to conceal my
deficiency. Everywhere he was before me, and with me, providing against
every contingency, and in cases of unlooked-for danger, flying to
shield me with his own shadow, for he was taller and stouter than
myself. Thus I once more ventured among mankind, and began to take a
part in worldly affairs. I was compelled, indeed, to affect certain
peculiarities and whims; but in a rich man they seem only appropriate;
and so long as the truth was kept concealed I enjoyed all the honor and
respect which gold could procure.
I now looked forward with more composure to the promised visit of the
mysterious unknown at the expiration of the year and a day.
I was very sensible that I could not venture to remain long in a place
where I had once been seen without a shadow, and where I might easily
be betrayed; and perhaps, too, I recollected my first introduction to
Mr. John, and this was by no means a pleasing reminiscence. However, I
wished just to make a trial here, that I might with greater ease and
security visit some other place. But my vanity for some time withheld
me, for it is in this quality of our race that the anchor takes the
firmest hold.
Even the lovely Fanny, whom I again met in several places, without her
seeming to recollect that she had ever seen me before, bestowed some
notice on me; for wit and understanding were mine in abundance now.
When I spoke, I was listened to; and I was at a loss to know how I had
so easily acquired the art of commanding attention, and giving the tone
to the conversation.
The impression which I perceived I had made upon this fair one
completely turned my brain; and this was just what she wished. After
that, I pursued her with infinite pains through every obstacle. My
vanity was only intent on exciting hers to make a conquest of me; but
although the intoxication disturbed my head, it failed to make the
least impression on my heart.
But why detail to you the oft-repeated story which I have so often
heard from yourself?
However, in the old and well-known drama in which I played so worn-out
a part, a catastrophe occurred of quite a peculiar nature, in a manner
equally unexpected to her, to me, and to everybody.
One beautiful evening I had, according to my usual custom, assembled a
party in a garden, and was walking arm-in-arm with Fanny at a little
distance from the rest of the company, and pouring into her ear the
usual well-turned phrases, while she was demurely gazing on vacancy,
and now and then gently returning the pressure of my hand. The moon
suddenly emerged from behind a cloud at our back. Fanny perceived only
her own shadow before us. She started, looked at me with terror, and
then again on the ground, in search of my shadow. All that was passing
in her mind was so strangely depicted in her countenance, that I should
have burst into a loud fit of laughter had I not suddenly felt my blood
run cold within me. I suffered her to fall from my arm in a
fainting-fit; shot with the rapidity of an arrow through the astonished
guests, reached the gate, threw myself into the first conveyance I met
with, and returned to the town, where this time, unfortunately, I had
left the wary Bendel. He was alarmed on seeing me: one word explained
all. Post-horses were immediately procured. I took with me none of my
servants, one cunning knave only excepted, called Rascal, who had by
his adroitness become very serviceable to me, and who at present knew
nothing of what had occurred. I travelled thirty leagues that night;
having left Bendel behind to discharge my servants, pay my debts, and
bring me all that was necessary.
When he came up with me next day, I threw myself into his arms, vowing
to avoid such follies and to be more careful for the future.
We pursued our journey uninterruptedly over the frontiers and
mountains; and it was not until I had placed this lofty barrier between
myself and the before-mentioned unlucky town that I was persuaded to
recruit myself after my fatigues in a neighboring and little-frequented
watering-place.
I must now pass rapidly over one period of my history, on which how
gladly would I dwell, could I conjure up your lively powers of
delineation! But the vivid hues which are at your command, and which
alone can give life and animation to the picture, have left no trace
within me; and were I now to endeavor to recall the joys, the griefs,
the pure and enchanting emotions, which once held such powerful
dominion in my breast, it would be like striking a rock which yields no
longer the living spring, and whose spirit has fled for ever. With what
an altered aspect do those bygone days now present themselves to my
gaze!
In this watering-place I acted an heroic character, badly studied; and
being a novice on such a stage, I forgot my part before a pair of
lovely blue eyes.
All possible means were used by the infatuated parents to conclude the
bargain; and deception put an end to these usual artifices. And that is
all—all.
The powerful emotions which once swelled my bosom seem now in the
retrospect to be poor and insipid, nay, even terrible to me.
Alas, Minna! as I wept for thee the day I lost thee, so do I now weep
that I can no longer retrace thine image in my soul.
Am I, then, so far advanced into the vale of years? O fatal effects of
maturity! would that I could feel one throb, one emotion of former days
of enchantment—alas, not one! a solitary being, tossed on the wild
ocean of life—it is long since I drained thine enchanted cup to the
dregs!
But to return to my narrative. I had sent Bendel to the little town
with plenty of money to procure me a suitable habitation. He spent my
gold profusely; and as he expressed himself rather reservedly
concerning his distinguished master (for I did not wish to be named),
the good people began to form rather extraordinary conjectures.
As soon as my house was ready for my reception, Bendel returned to
conduct me to it. We set out on our journey. About a league from the
town, on a sunny plain, we were stopped by a crowd of people, arrayed
in holiday attire for some festival. The carriage stopped. Music,
bells, cannons, were heard; and loud acclamations rang through the air.
Before the carriage now appeared in white dresses a chorus of maidens,
all of extraordinary beauty; but one of them shone in resplendent
loveliness, and eclipsed the rest as the sun eclipses the stars of
night. She advanced from the midst of her companions, and, with a lofty
yet winning air, blushingly knelt before me, presenting on a silken
cushion a wreath, composed of laurel branches, the olive, and the rose,
saying something respecting majesty, love, honor, etc., which I could
not comprehend; but the sweet and silvery magic of her tones
intoxicated my senses and my whole soul: it seemed as if some heavenly
apparition were hovering over me. The chorus now began to sing the
praises of a good sovereign and the happiness of his subjects. All
this, dear Chamisso, took place in the sun: she was kneeling two steps
from me, and I, without a shadow, could not dart through the air, nor
fall on my knees before the angelic being. Oh, what would I not now
have given for a shadow! To conceal my shame, agony, and despair, I
buried myself in the recesses of the carriage. Bendel at last thought
of an expedient; he jumped out of the carriage. I called him back, and
gave him out of the casket I had by me a rich diamond coronet, which
had been intended for the lovely Fanny.
He stepped forward, and spoke in the name of his master, who, he said,
was overwhelmed by so many demonstrations of respect, which he really
could not accept as an honor—there must be some error; nevertheless he
begged to express his thanks for the goodwill of the worthy
townspeople. In the meantime Bendel had taken the wreath from the
cushion, and laid the brilliant crown in its place. He then
respectfully raised the lovely girl from the ground; and, at one sign,
the clergy, magistrates, and all the deputations withdrew. The crowd
separated to allow the horses to pass, and we pursued our way to the
town at full gallop, through arches ornamented with flowers and
branches of laurel. Salvos of artillery again were heard. The carriage
stopped at my gate; I hastened through the crowd which curiosity had
attracted to witness my arrival. Enthusiastic shouts resounded under my
windows, from whence I showered gold amidst the people; and in the
evening the whole town was illuminated. Still all remained a mystery to
me, and I could not imagine for whom I had been taken. I sent Rascal
out to make inquiry; and he soon obtained intelligence that the good
King of Prussia was travelling through the country under the name of
some count; that my aide-de-camp had been recognized, and that he had
divulged the secret; that on acquiring the certainty that I would enter
their town, their joy had known no bounds: however, as they perceived I
was determined on preserving the strictest incognito, they felt how
wrong they had been in too importunately seeking to withdraw the veil;
but I had received them so condescendingly and so graciously, that they
were sure I would forgive them. The whole affair was such capital
amusement to the unprincipled Rascal, that he did his best to confirm
the good people in their belief, while affecting to reprove them. He
gave me a very comical account of the matter; and, seeing that I was
amused by it, actually endeavored to make a merit of his impudence.
Shall I own the truth? My vanity was flattered by having been mistaken
for our revered sovereign. I ordered a banquet to be got ready for the
following evening, under the trees before my house, and invited the
whole town. The mysterious power of my purse, Bendel’s exertions, and
Rascal’s ready invention made the shortness of the time seem as
nothing.
It was really astonishing how magnificently and beautifully everything
was arranged in these few hours. Splendor and abundance vied with each
other, and the lights were so carefully arranged that I felt quite
safe: the zeal of my servants met every exigency and merited all
praise.
Evening drew on, the guests arrived, and were presented to me. The word
MAJESTY was now dropped; but, with the deepest respect and humility, I
was addressed as the COUNT. What could I do? I accepted the title, and
from that moment I was known as Count Peter. In the midst of all this
festivity my soul pined for one individual. She came late—she who was
the empress of the scene, and wore the emblem of sovereignty on her
brow.
She modestly accompanied her parents, and seemed unconscious of her
transcendent beauty.
The Ranger of the Forests, his wife, and daughter were presented to me.
I was at no loss to make myself agreeable to the parents; but before
the daughter I stood like a well-scolded schoolboy, incapable of
speaking a single word.
At length I hesitatingly entreated her to honor my banquet by presiding
at it—an office for which her rare endowments pointed her out as
admirably fitted. With a blush and an expressive glance she entreated
to be excused; but, in still greater confusion than herself, I
respectfully begged her to accept the homage of the first and most
devoted of her subjects, and one glance of the count was the same as a
command to the guests, who all vied with each other in acting up to the
spirit of the noble host.
In her person, majesty, innocence, and grace, in union with beauty,
presided over this joyous banquet. Minna’s happy parents were elated by
the honors conferred upon their child. As for me, I abandoned myself to
all the intoxication of delight: I sent for all the jewels, pearls, and
precious stones still left to me—the produce of my fatal wealth—and,
filling two vases, I placed them on the table, in the name of the queen
of the banquet, to be divided among her companions and the remainder of
the ladies.
I ordered gold, in the meantime, to be showered down without ceasing
among the happy multitude.
Next morning Bendel told me in confidence that the suspicions he had
long entertained of Rascal’s honesty were now reduced to a certainty;
he had yesterday embezzled many bags of gold.
“Never mind,” said I; “let him enjoy his paltry booty. _I_ like to
spend it; why should not he? Yesterday he, and all the newly-engaged
servants whom you had hired, served me honorably, and cheerfully
assisted me to enjoy the banquet.”
No more was said on the subject. Rascal remained at the head of my
domestics. Bendel was my friend and confidant; he had by this time
become accustomed to look upon my wealth as inexhaustible, without
seeking to inquire into its source. He entered into all my schemes, and
effectually assisted me in devising methods of spending my money.
Of the pale, sneaking scoundrel—the unknown—Bendel only knew thus much,
that he alone had power to release me from the curse which weighed so
heavily on me, and yet that I stood in awe of him on whom all my hopes
rested. Besides, I felt convinced that he had the means of discovering
ME under any circumstances, while he himself remained concealed. I
therefore abandoned my fruitless inquiries, and patiently awaited the
appointed day.
The magnificence of my banquet, and my deportment on the occasion, had
but strengthened the credulous townspeople in their previous belief.
It appeared soon after, from accounts in the newspapers, that the whole
history of the King of Prussia’s fictitious journey originated in mere
idle report. But a king I was, and a king I must remain by all means;
and one of the richest and most royal, although people were at a loss
to know where my territories lay.
The world has never had reason to lament the scarcity of monarchs,
particularly in these days; and the good people, who had never yet seen
a king, now fancied me to be first one, and then another, with equal
success; and in the meanwhile I remained as before, Count Peter.
Among the visitors at this watering-place a merchant made his
appearance, one who had become a bankrupt in order to enrich himself.
He enjoyed the general good opinion; for he projected a shadow of
respectable size, though of somewhat faint hue.
This man wished to show off in this place by means of his wealth, and
sought to rival me. My purse soon enabled me to leave the poor devil
far behind. To save his credit he became bankrupt again, and fled
beyond the mountains; and thus I was rid of him. Many a one in this
place was reduced to beggary and ruin through my means.
In the midst of the really princely magnificence and profusion, which
carried all before me, my own style of living was very simple and
retired. I had made it a point to observe the strictest precaution;
and, with the exception of Bendel, no one was permitted, on any
pretence whatever, to enter my private apartment. As long as the sun
shone I remained shut up with him; and the Count was then said to be
deeply occupied in his closet. The numerous couriers, whom I kept in
constant attendance about matters of no importance, were supposed to be
the bearers of my despatches. I only received company in the evening
under the trees of my garden, or in my saloons, after Bendel’s
assurance of their being carefully and brilliantly lit up.
My walks, in which the Argus-eyed Bendel was constantly on the watch
for me, extended only to the garden of the forest-ranger, to enjoy the
society of one who was dear to me as my own existence.
Oh, my Chamisso! I trust thou hast not forgotten what love is! I must
here leave much to thine imagination. Minna was in truth an amiable and
excellent maiden: her whole soul was wrapped up in me, and in her lowly
thoughts of herself she could not imagine how she had deserved a single
thought from me. She returned love for love with all the full and
youthful fervor of an innocent heart; her love was a true woman’s love,
with all the devotion and total absence of selfishness which is found
only in woman; she lived but in me, her whole soul being bound up in
mine, regardless what her own fate might be.
Yet I, alas, during those hours of wretchedness—hours I would even now
gladly recall—how often have I wept on Bendel’s bosom, when after the
first mad whirlwind of passion I reflected, with the keenest
self-upbraidings, that I, a shadowless man, had, with cruel
selfishness, practised a wicked deception, and stolen away the pure and
angelic heart of the innocent Minna!
At one moment I resolved to confess all to her; then that I would fly
for ever; then I broke out into a flood of bitter tears, and consulted
Bendel as to the means of meeting her again in the forester’s garden.
At times I flattered myself with great hopes from the near approaching
visit of the unknown; then wept again, because I saw clearly on
reflection that they would end in disappointment. I had made a
calculation of the day fixed on by the fearful being for our interview;
for he had said in a year and a day, and I depended on his word.
The parents were worthy old people, devoted to their only child; and
our mutual affection was a circumstance so overwhelming that they knew
not how to act. They had never dreamed for a moment that the COUNT
could bestow a thought on their daughter; but such was the case—he
loved and was beloved. The pride of the mother might not have led her
to consider such an alliance quite impossible, but so extravagant an
idea had never entered the contemplation of the sounder judgment of the
old man. Both were satisfied of the sincerity of my love, and could but
put up prayers to Heaven for the happiness of their child.
A letter which I received from Minna about that time has just fallen
into my hands. Yes, these are the characters traced by her own hand. I
will transcribe the letter:
“I am indeed a weak, foolish girl to fancy that the friend I so
tenderly love could give an instant’s pain to his poor Minna! Oh no!
thou art so good, so inexpressibly good! But do not misunderstand me. I
will accept no sacrifice at thy hands—none whatever. Oh heavens! I
should hate myself! No; thou hast made me happy, thou hast taught me to
love thee.
“Go, then—let me not forget my destiny—Count Peter belongs not to me,
but to the whole world; and oh! what pride for thy Minna to hear thy
deeds proclaimed, and blessings invoked on thy idolized head! Ah! when
I think of this, I could chide thee that thou shouldst for one instant
forget thy high destiny for the sake of a simple maiden! Go, then;
otherwise the reflection will pierce me. How blest I have been rendered
by thy love! Perhaps, also, I have planted some flowers in the path of
thy life, as I twined them in the wreath which I presented to thee.
“Go, then—fear not to leave me—you are too deeply seated in my heart—I
shall die inexpressibly happy in thy love.”
Conceive how these words pierced my soul, Chamisso!
I declared to her that I was not what I seemed—that, although a rich, I
was an unspeakably miserable man—that a curse was on me, which must
remain a secret, although the only one between us—yet that I was not
without a hope of its being removed—that this poisoned every hour of my
life—that I should plunge her with me into the abyss—she, the light and
joy, the very soul of my existence. Then she wept because I was
unhappy. Oh! Minna was all love and tenderness. To save me one tear she
would gladly have sacrificed her life. Yet she was far from
comprehending the full meaning of my words. She still looked upon me as
some proscribed prince or illustrious exile; and her vivid imagination
had invested her lover with every lofty attribute.
One day I said to her, “Minna, the last day in next month will decide
my fate, and perhaps change it for the better; if not, I would sooner
die than render you miserable.”
She laid her head on my shoulder to conceal her tears. “Should thy fate
be changed,” she said, “I only wish to know that thou art happy; if thy
condition is an unhappy one, I will share it with thee, and assist thee
to support it.”
“Minna, Minna!” I exclaimed, “recall those rash words—those mad words
which have escaped thy lips! Didst thou know the misery and curse—didst
thou know who—what—thy lover … Seest thou not, my Minna, this
convulsive shuddering which thrills my whole frame, and that there is a
secret in my breast which you cannot penetrate?” She sank sobbing at my
feet, and renewed her vows and entreaties.
Her father now entered, and I declared to him my intention to solicit
the hand of his daughter on the first day of the month after the
ensuing one. I fixed that time, I told him, because circumstances might
probably occur in the interval materially to influence my future
destiny; but my love for his daughter was unchangeable.
The good old man started at hearing such words from the mouth of Count
Peter. He fell upon my neck, and rose again in the utmost confusion for
having forgotten himself. Then he began to doubt, to ponder, and to
scrutinize; and spoke of dowry, security, and future provision for his
beloved child. I thanked him for having reminded me of all this, and
told him it was my wish to remain in a country where I seemed to be
beloved, and to lead a life free from anxiety. I then commissioned him
to purchase the finest estate in the neighborhood in the name of his
daughter—for a father was the best person to act for his daughter in
such a case—and to refer for payment to me. This occasioned him a good
deal of trouble, as a stranger had everywhere anticipated him; but at
last he made a purchase for about L150,000.
I confess this was but an innocent artifice to get rid of him, as I had
frequently done before; for it must be confessed that he was somewhat
tedious. The good mother was rather deaf, and not jealous, like her
husband, of the honor of conversing with the Count.
The happy party pressed me to remain with them longer this evening. I
dared not—I had not a moment to lose. I saw the rising moon streaking
the horizon—my hour was come.
Next evening I went again to the forester’s garden. I had wrapped
myself closely up in my cloak, slouched my hat over my eyes, and
advanced towards Minna. As she raised her head and looked at me, she
started involuntarily. The apparition of that dreadful night in which I
had been seen without a shadow was now standing distinctly before me—it
was she herself. Had she recognized me? She was silent and thoughtful.
I felt an oppressive load at my heart. I rose from my seat. She laid
her head on my shoulder, still silent and in tears. I went away.
I now found her frequently weeping. I became more and more melancholy.
Her parents were beyond expression happy. The eventful day approached,
threatening and heavy, like a thunder-cloud. The evening preceding
arrived. I could scarcely breathe. I had carefully filled a large chest
with gold, and sat down to await the appointed time—the twelfth hour—it
struck.
Now I remained with my eyes fixed on the hand of the clock, counting
the seconds—the minutes—which struck me to the heart like daggers. I
started at every sound—at last daylight appeared. The leaden hours
passed on—morning—evening—night came. Hope was fast fading away as the
hand advanced. It struck eleven—no one appeared—the last minutes—the
first and last stroke of the twelfth hour died away. I sank back in my
bed in an agony of weeping. In the morning I should, shadowless as I
was, claim the hand of my beloved Minna. A heavy sleep towards daylight
closed my eyes.