I submit myself to thy judgment, my dear Chamisso; I do not seek to
bias it. I have long been a rigid censor of myself, and nourished at my
heart the worm of remorse. This critical moment of my life is ever
present to my soul, and I dare only cast a hesitating glance at it,
with a deep sense of humiliation and grief. Ah, my dear friend, he who
once permits himself thoughtlessly to deviate but one step from the
right road will imperceptibly find himself involved in various
intricate paths, all leading him farther and farther astray. In vain he
beholds the guiding-stars of heaven shining before him. No choice is
left him—he must descend the precipice, and offer himself up a
sacrifice to his fate. After the false step which I had rashly made,
and which entailed a curse upon me, I had, in the wantonness of
passion, entangled one in my fate who had staked all her happiness upon
me. What was left for me to do in a case where I had brought another
into misery, but to make a desperate leap in the dark to save her?—the
last, the only means of rescue presented itself. Think not so meanly of
me, Chamisso, as to imagine that I would have shrunk from any sacrifice
on my part. In such a case it would have been but a poor ransom. No,
Chamisso; but my whole soul was filled with unconquerable hatred to the
cringing knave and his crooked ways. I might be doing him injustice;
but I shuddered at the bare idea of entering into any fresh compact
with him. But here a circumstance took place which entirely changed the
face of things….
I know not whether to ascribe it to excitement of mind, exhaustion of
physical strength (for during the last few days I had scarcely tasted
anything), or the antipathy I felt to the society of my fiendish
companion; but just as I was about to sign the fatal paper, I fell into
a deep swoon, and remained for a long time as if dead. The first sounds
which greeted my ears on recovering my consciousness were those of
cursing and imprecation; I opened my eyes—it was dusk; my hateful
companion was overwhelming me with reproaches. “Is not this behaving
like an old woman? Come, rise up, and finish quickly what you were
going to do; or perhaps you have changed your determination, and prefer
to lie groaning there?”
I raised myself with difficulty from the ground and gazed around me
without speaking a word. It was late in the evening, and I heard
strains of festive music proceeding from the ranger’s brilliantly
illuminated house; groups of company were lounging about the gardens;
two persons approached, and seating themselves on the bench I had
lately occupied, began to converse on the subject of the marriage which
had taken place that morning between the wealthy Mr. Rascal and Minna.
All was then over.
I tore off the cap which rendered me invisible; and my companion having
disappeared, I plunged in silence into the thickest gloom of the grove,
rapidly passed Count Peter’s bower towards the entrance-gate; but my
tormentor still haunted me, and loaded me with reproaches. “And is this
all the gratitude I am to expect from you, Mr. Schlemihl—you, whom I
have been watching all the weary day, until you should recover from
your nervous attack? What a fool’s part I have been enacting! It is of
no use flying from me, Mr. Perverse—we are inseparable—you have my
gold, I have your shadow; this exchange deprives us both of peace. Did
you ever hear of a man’s shadow leaving him?—yours follows me until you
receive it again into favor, and thus free me from it. Disgust and
weariness sooner or later will compel you to do what you should have
done gladly at first. In vain you strive with fate!”
He continued unceasingly in the same tone, uttering constant sarcasms
about the gold and the shadow, till I was completely bewildered. To fly
from him was impossible. I had pursued my way through the empty streets
towards my own house, which I could scarcely recognize—the windows were
broken to pieces, no light was visible, the doors were shut, and the
bustle of domestics had ceased. My companion burst into a loud laugh.
“Yes, yes,” said he, “you see the state of things: however, you will
find your friend Bendel at home; he was sent back the other day so
fatigued, that I assure you he has never left the house since. He will
have a fine story to tell! So I wish you a very good night—may we
shortly meet again!”
I had repeatedly rung the bell; at last a light appeared; and Bendel
inquired from within who was there. The poor fellow could scarcely
contain himself at the sound of my voice. The door flew open, and we
were locked in each other’s arms. I found him sadly changed; he was
looking ill and feeble. I, too, was altered; my hair had become quite
gray. He conducted me through the desolate apartments to an inner room,
which had escaped the general wreck. After partaking of some
refreshments, we seated ourselves; and, with fresh lamentations, he
began to tell me that the gray, withered old man whom he had met with
my shadow had insensibly led him such a zig-zag race, that he had lost
all traces of me, and at last sank down exhausted with fatigue; that,
unable to find me, he had returned home, when, shortly after, the mob,
at Rascal’s instigation, assembled violently before the house, broke
the windows, and by all sorts of excesses completely satiated their
fury. Thus had they treated their benefactor. My servants had fled in
all directions. The police had banished me from the town as a
suspicious character, and granted me an interval of twenty-four hours
to leave the territory. Bendel added many particulars as to the
information I had already obtained respecting Rascal’s wealth and
marriage. This villain, it seems—who was the author of all the measures
taken against me—became possessed of my secret nearly from the
beginning, and, tempted by the love of money, had supplied himself with
a key to my chest, and from that time had been laying the foundation of
his present wealth. Bendel related all this with many tears, and wept
for joy that I was once more safely restored to him, after all his
fears and anxieties for me. In me, however, such a state of things only
awoke despair.
My dreadful fate now stared me in the face in all its gigantic and
unchangeable horror. The source of tears was exhausted within me; no
groans escaped my breast; but with cool indifference I bared my
unprotected head to the blast. “Bendel,” said I, “you know my fate;
this heavy visitation is a punishment for my early sins: but as for
thee, my innocent friend, I can no longer permit thee to share my
destiny. I will depart this very night—saddle me a horse—I will set out
alone. Remain here, Bendel—I insist upon it: there must be some chests
of gold still left in the house—take them, they are thine. I shall be a
restless and solitary wanderer on the face of the earth; but should
better days arise, and fortune once more smile propitiously on me, then
I will not forget thy steady fidelity; for in hours of deep distress
thy faithful bosom has been the depository of my sorrows.” With a
bursting heart, the worthy Bendel prepared to obey this last command of
his master; for I was deaf to all his arguments and blind to his tears.
My horse was brought—I pressed my weeping friend to my bosom—threw
myself into the saddle, and, under the friendly shades of night,
quitted this sepulchre of my existence, indifferent which road my horse
should take; for now on this side the grave I had neither wishes,
hopes, nor fears.
After a short time I was joined by a traveller on foot, who, after
walking for a while by the side of my horse, observed that as we both
seemed to be travelling the same road, he should beg my permission to
lay his cloak on the horse’s back behind me, to which I silently
assented. He thanked me with easy politeness for this trifling favor,
praised my horse, and then took occasion to extol the happiness and the
power of the rich, and fell, I scarcely know how, into a sort of
conversation with himself, in which I merely acted the part of
listener. He unfolded his views of human life and of the world, and,
touching on metaphysics, demanded an answer from that cloudy science to
the question of questions—the answer that should solve all mysteries.
He deduced one problem from another in a very lucid manner, and then
proceeded to their solution.
You may remember, my dear friend, that after having run through the
school-philosophy, I became sensible of my unfitness for metaphysical
speculations, and therefore totally abstained from engaging in them.
Since then I have acquiesced in some things, and abandoned all hope of
comprehending others; trusting, as you advised me, to my own plain
sense and the voice of conscience to direct, and, if possible, maintain
me in the right path.
Now this skilful rhetorician seemed to me to expend great skill in
rearing a firmly-constructed edifice, towering aloft on its own
self-supported basis, but resting on, and upheld by, some internal
principle of necessity. I regretted in it the total absence of what I
desired to find; and thus it seemed a mere work of art, serving only by
its elegance and exquisite finish to captivate the eye. Nevertheless, I
listened with pleasure to this eloquently gifted man, who diverted my
attention from my own sorrows to the speaker; and he would have secured
my entire acquiescence if he had appealed to my heart as well as to my
judgment.
In the meantime the hours had passed away, and morning had already
dawned imperceptibly in the horizon; looking up, I shuddered as I
beheld in the east all those splendid hues that announce the rising
sun. At this hour, when all natural shadows are seen in their full
proportions, not a fence or shelter of any kind could I descry in this
open country, and I was not alone! I cast a glance at my companion, and
shuddered again—it was the man in the gray coat himself! He laughed at
my surprise, and said, without giving me time to speak: “You see,
according to the fashion of this world, mutual convenience binds us
together for a time; there is plenty of time to think of parting. The
road here along the mountain, which perhaps has escaped your notice, is
the only one that you can prudently take; into the valley you dare not
descend—the path over the mountain would but reconduct you to the town
which you have left—my road, too, lies this way. I perceive you change
color at the rising sun—I have no objections to let you have the loan
of your shadow during our journey, and in return you may not be
indisposed to tolerate my society. You have now no Bendel; but I will
act for him. I regret that you are not over-fond of me; but that need
not prevent you from accepting my poor services. The devil is not so
black as he is painted. Yesterday you provoked me, I own; but now that
is all forgotten, and you must confess I have this day succeeded in
beguiling the wearisomeness of your journey. Come, take your shadow,
and make trial of it.”
The sun had risen, and we were meeting with passengers; so I
reluctantly consented. With a smile, he immediately let my shadow glide
down to the ground; and I beheld it take its place by that of my horse,
and gayly trot along with me. My feelings were anything but pleasant. I
rode through groups of country people, who respectfully made way for
the well-mounted stranger. Thus I proceeded, occasionally stealing a
side-long glance with a beating heart from my horse at the shadow once
my own, but now, alas, accepted as a loan from a stranger, or rather a
fiend. He moved on carelessly at my side, whistling a song. He being on
foot, and I on horseback, the temptation to hazard a silly project
occurred to me; so, suddenly turning my bridle, I set spurs to my
horse, and at full gallop struck into a by-path; but my shadow, on the
sudden movement of my horse, glided away, and stood on the road quietly
awaiting the approach of its legal owner. I was obliged to return
abashed towards the gray man; but he very coolly finished his song, and
with a laugh set my shadow to rights again, reminding me that it was at
my option to have it irrevocably fixed to me, by purchasing it on just
and equitable terms. “I hold you,” said he, “by the shadow; and you
seek in vain to get rid of me. A rich man like you requires a shadow,
unquestionably; and you are to blame for not having seen this sooner.”
I now continued my journey on the same road; every convenience and even
luxury of life was mine; I moved about in peace and freedom, for I
possessed a shadow, though a borrowed one; and all the respect due to
wealth was paid to me. But a deadly disease preyed on my heart. My
extraordinary companion, who gave himself out to be the humble
attendant of the richest individual in the world, was remarkable for
his dexterity; in short, his singular address and promptitude admirably
fitted him to be the very beau ideal of a rich man’s lacquey. But he
never stirred from my side, and tormented me with constant assurances
that a day would most certainly come when, if it were only to get rid
of him, I should gladly comply with his terms, and redeem my shadow.
Thus he became as irksome as he was hateful to me. I really stood in
awe of him—I had placed myself in his power. Since he had effected my
return to the pleasures of the world, which I had resolved to shun, he
had the perfect mastery of me. His eloquence was irresistible, and at
times I almost thought he was in the right. A shadow is indeed
necessary to a man of fortune; and if I chose to maintain the position
in which he had placed me, there was only one means of doing so. But on
one point I was immovable: since I had sacrificed my love for Minna,
and thereby blighted the happiness of my whole life, I would not now,
for all the shadows in the universe, be induced to sign away my soul to
this being—I knew not how it might end.
One day we were sitting by the entrance of a cavern much visited by
strangers who ascended the mountain; the rushing noise of a
subterranean torrent resounded from the fathomless abyss, the depths of
which exceeded all calculation. He was, according to his favorite
custom, employing all the powers of his lavish fancy, and all the charm
of the most brilliant coloring, to depict to me what I might effect in
the world by virtue of my purse, when once I had recovered my shadow.
With my elbows resting on my knees, I kept my face concealed in my
hands, and listened to the false fiend, my heart torn between the
temptation and my determined opposition to it. Such indecision I could
no longer endure, and resolved on one decisive effort.
“You seem to forget,” said I, “that I tolerate your presence only on
certain conditions, and that I am to retain perfect freedom of action.”
“You have but to command; I depart,” was all his reply.
The threat was familiar to me; I was silent. He then began to fold up
my shadow. I turned pale, but allowed him to continue. A long silence
ensued, which he was the first to break.
“You cannot endure me, Mr. Schlemihl—you hate me—I am aware of it—but
why?—is it, perhaps, because you attacked me on the open plain, in
order to rob me of my invisible bird’s nest? or is it because you
thievishly endeavored to seduce away the shadow with which I had
entrusted you—my own property—confiding implicitly in your honor? I,
for my part, have no dislike to you. It is perfectly natural that you
should avail yourself of every means, presented either, by cunning or
force, to promote your own interests. That your principles also should
be of the strictest sort, and your intentions of the most honorable
description,—these are fancies with which I have nothing to do; I do
not pretend to such strictness myself. Each of us is free, I to act,
and you to think, as seems best. Did I ever seize you by the throat, to
tear out of your body that valuable soul I so ardently wish to possess?
Did I ever set my servant to attack you, to get back my purse, or
attempt to run off with it from you?”
I had not a word to reply.
“Well, well,” he exclaimed, “you detest me, and I know it; but I bear
you no malice on that account. We must part—that is clear; also I must
say that you begin to be very tiresome to me. Once more let me advise
you to free yourself entirely from my troublesome presence by the
purchase of your shadow.”
I held out the purse to him.
“No, Mr. Schlemihl; not at that price.”
With a deep sigh, I said, “Be it so, then; let us part, I entreat;
cross my path no more. There is surely room enough in the world for us
both.”
Laughing, he replied: “I go; but just allow me to inform you how you
may at any time recall me whenever you have a mind to see your most
humble servant: you have only to shake your purse, the sound of the
gold will bring me to you in an instant. In this world every one
consults his own advantage; but you see I have thought of yours, and
clearly confer upon you a new power. Oh this purse! it would still
prove a powerful bond between us, had the moth begun to devour your
shadow. But enough: you hold me by my gold, and may command your
servant at any distance. You know that I can be very serviceable to my
friends, and that the rich are my peculiar care—this you have observed.
As to your shadow, allow me to say, you can only redeem it on one
condition.”
Recollections of former days came over me; and I hastily asked him if
he had obtained Mr. Thomas John’s signature.
He smiled, and said: “It was by no means necessary from so excellent a
friend.”
“Where is he? for God’s sake tell me; I insist upon knowing.”
With some hesitation, he put his hand into his pocket, and drew out the
altered and pallid form of Mr. John by the hair of his head, whose
livid lips uttered the awful words, “Justo judicio Dei judicatus sum;
justo judicio Dei condemnatus sum”—“I am judged and condemned by the
just judgment of God.” I was horror-struck; and instantly throwing the
jingling purse into the abyss, I exclaimed, “Wretch! in the name of
Heaven, I conjure you to be gone!—away from my sight!—never appear
before me again!” With a dark expression on his countenance, he rose,
and immediately vanished behind the huge rocks which surrounded the
place.