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diff --git a/6022-h/6022-h.htm b/6022-h/6022-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..49b3ee0 --- /dev/null +++ b/6022-h/6022-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6503 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Stories by Foreign Authors: German, Volume 2, by Various</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Stories by Foreign Authors: German, Volume 2, by Various</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Stories by Foreign Authors: German, Volume 2</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 19, 2002 [eBook #6022]<br /> +[Most recently updated: November 7, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Nicole Apostola, Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES BY FOREIGN AUTHORS: GERMAN ***</div> + +<h1>STORIES BY FOREIGN AUTHORS</h1> + +<h3>GERMAN</h3> + +<p class="center"> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +CHRISTIAN GELLERT’S LAST CHRISTMAS …… BY BERTHOLD AUERBACH<br /> +A GHETTO VIOLET …… BY LEOPOLD KOMPERT<br /> +THE SEVERED HAND …… BY WILHELM HAUFF<br /> +PETER SCHLEMIHL …… BY ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>PUBLISHERS’ NOTE</h2> + +<p> +The translations in this volume, where previously published, are used by +arrangement with the owners of the copyrights (as specified at the beginning of +each story). Translations made especially for the series are covered by its +general copyright. All rights in both classes are reserved. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHRISTIAN GELLERT’S LAST CHRISTMAS — BY BERTHOLD AUERBACH</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">A GHETTO VIOLET — BY LEOPOLD KOMPERT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">THE SEVERED HAND — BY WILHELM HAUFF</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">PETER SCHLEMIHL — BY ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHRISTIAN GELLERT’S LAST CHRISTMAS</h2> + +<h5>BY BERTHOLD AUERBACH</h5> + +<p> +Three o’clock had just struck from the tower of St. Nicholas, Leipzig, on +the afternoon of December 22d, 1768, when a man, wrapped in a loose overcoat, +came out of the door of the University. His countenance was exceedingly gentle, +and on his features cheerfulness still lingered, for he had been gazing upon a +hundred cheerful faces; after him thronged a troop of students, who, holding +back, allowed him to precede them: the passengers in the streets saluted him, +and some students, who pressed forwards and hurried past him homewards, saluted +him quite reverentially. He returned their salutations with a surprised and +almost deprecatory air, and yet he knew, and could not conceal from himself, +that he was one of the best beloved, not only in the good city of Leipzig, but +in all lands far and wide. +</p> + +<p> +It was Christian Furchtegott Gellert, the Poet of Fables, Hymns, and Lays, who +was just leaving his college. +</p> + +<p> +When we read his “Lectures upon Morals,” which were not printed +until after his death, we obtain but a very incomplete idea of the great power +with which they came immediately from Gellert’s mouth. Indeed, it was his +voice, and the touching manner in which he delivered his lectures, that made so +deep an impression upon his hearers; and Rabener was right when once he wrote +to a friend, that “the philanthropic voice” of Gellert belonged to +his words. +</p> + +<p> +Above all, however, it was the amiable and pure personal character of Gellert +which vividly and edifyingly impressed young hearts. Gellert was himself the +best example of pure moral teaching; and the best which a teacher can give his +pupils is faith in the victorious might, and the stability of the eternal moral +laws. His lessons were for the Life, for his life in itself was a lesson. Many +a victory over the troubles of life, over temptations of every kind, ay, many +an elevation to nobility of thought, and to purity of action, had its origin in +that lecture-hall, at the feet of Gellert. +</p> + +<p> +It was as though Gellert felt that it was the last time he would deliver these +lectures; that those words so often and so impressively uttered would be heard +no more from his mouth; and there was a peculiar sadness, yet a peculiar +strength, in all he said that day. +</p> + +<p> +He had this day earnestly recommended modesty and humility; and it appeared +almost offensive to him, that people as he went should tempt him in regard to +these very virtues; for continually he heard men whisper, “That is +Gellert!” +</p> + +<p> +What is fame, and what is honor? A cloak of many colors, without warmth, +without protection: and now, as he walked along, his heart literally froze in +his bosom, as he confessed to himself that he had as yet done +nothing—nothing which could give him a feeling of real satisfaction. Men +honored him and loved him: but what was all that worth? His innermost heart +could not be satisfied with that; in his own estimation he deserved no meed of +praise; and where, where was there any evidence of that higher and purer life +which he would fain bring about! Then, again, the Spirit would comfort him and +say: “Much seed is lost, much falls in stony places, and much on good +ground and brings forth sevenfold.” +</p> + +<p> +His inmost soul heard not the consolation, for his body was weak and sore +burdened from his youth up, and in his latter days yet more than ever; and +there are conditions of the body in which the most elevating words, and the +cheeriest notes of joy, strike dull and heavy on the soul. It is one of the +bitterest experiences of life to discover how little one man can really be to +another. How joyous is that youthful freshness which can believe that, by a +thought transferred to another’s heart, we can induce him to become +another being, to live according to what he must acknowledge true, to throw +aside his previous delusions, and return to the right path! +</p> + +<p> +The youngsters go their way! Do your words follow after? Whither are they +going? What are now their thoughts? What manner of life will be theirs? +“My heart yearns after them, but cannot be with them: oh, how happy were +those messengers of the Spirit, who cried aloud to youth or manhood the words +of the Spirit, that they must leave their former ways, and thenceforth change +to other beings! Pardon me, O God! that I would fain be like them; I am weak +and vile, and yet, methinks, there must be words as yet unheard, +unknown—oh! where are they, those words which at once lay hold upon the +soul?” +</p> + +<p> +With such heavy thoughts went Gellert away from his college-gate to Rosenthal. +There was but one small pathway cleared, but the passers cheerfully made way +for him, and walked in the snow that they might leave him the pathway +unimpeded; but he felt sad, and “as if each tree had somewhat to cast at +him.” Like all men really pure, and cleaving to the good with all their +might, Gellert was not only far from contenting himself with work already done: +he also, in his anxiety to be doing, almost forgot that he had ever done +anything, and thus he was, in the best sense of the word, modest; he began with +each fresh day his course of action afresh, as if he now for the first time had +anything to accomplish. And yet he might have been happy, in the reflection how +brightly beamed his teaching for ever, though his own life was often clouded. +For as the sun which glows on summer days still lives as concentrated warmth in +wine, and somewhere on some winter night warms up a human heart, so is the +sunshine in that man’s life whose vocation it is to impart to others the +conceptions of his own mind. Nay, there is here far more; for the refreshing +draught here offered is not diminished, though thousands drink thereof. +</p> + +<p> +Twilight had set in when Gellert returned home to his dwelling, which had for +its sign a “Schwarz Brett” or “black board.” His old +servant, Sauer by name, took off his overcoat; and his amanuensis, Gödike, +asked whether the Professor had any commands; being answered in the negative, +Gödike retired, and Sauer lighted the lamp upon the study-table. “Some +letters have arrived,” said he, as he pointed to several upon the table: +Gellert inclined his head, and Sauer retired also. Outside, however, he stood +awhile with Gödike, and both spoke sorrowfully of the fact that the Professor +was evidently again suffering severely. “There is a melancholy,” +said Gödike, “ and it is the most usual, in which the inward depression +easily changes to displeasure against every one, and the household of the +melancholic suffers thereby intolerably; for the displeasure turns against +them,—no one does anything properly, nothing is in its place. How very +different is Gellert’s melancholy! Not a soul suffers from it but +himself, against himself alone his gloomy thoughts turn, and towards every +other creature he is always kind, amiable, and obliging: he bites his lips; but +when he speaks to any one, he is wholly good, forbearing, and self-forgetful. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst they were talking together, Gellert was sitting in his room, and had +lighted a pipe to dispel the agitation which he would experience in opening his +letters; and while smoking, he could read them much more comfortably. He +reproached himself for smoking, which was said to be injurious to his health, +but he could not quite give up the “horrible practice,” as he +called it. +</p> + +<p> +He first examined the addresses and seals of the letters which had arrived, +then quietly opened and read them. A fitful smile passed over his features; +there were letters from well-known friends, full of love and admiration, but +from strangers also, who, in all kinds of heart-distress, took counsel of him. +He read the letters full of friendly applause, first hastily, that he might +have the right of reading them again, and that he might not know all at once; +and when he had read a friend’s letter for the second time, he sprang +from his seat and cried, “Thank God! thank God! that I am so fortunate as +to have such friends!” To his inwardly diffident nature these helps were +a real requirement; they served to cheer him, and only those who did not know +him called his joy at the reception of praise—conceit; it was, on the +contrary, the truest modesty. How often did he sit there, and all that he had +taught and written, all that he had ever been to men in word and deed, faded, +vanished, and died away, and he appeared to himself but a useless servant of +the world. His friends he answered immediately; and as his inward melancholy +vanished, and the philanthropy, nay, the sprightliness of his soul beamed +forth, when he was among men and looked in a living face, so was it also with +his letters. When he bethought him of the friends to whom he was writing, he +not only acquired tranquillity, that virtue for which his whole life long he +strove; but his loving nature received new life, and only by slight intimations +did he betray the heaviness and dejection which weighed upon his soul. He was, +in the full sense of the word, “philanthropic,” in the sight of +good men; and in thoughts for their welfare, there was for him a real happiness +and a joyous animation. +</p> + +<p> +When, however, he had done writing and felt lonely again, the gloomy spirits +came back: he had seated himself, wishing to raise his thoughts for composing a +sacred song; but he was ill at ease, and had no power to express that inward, +firm, and self-rejoicing might of faith which lived in him. Again and again the +scoffers and free-thinkers rose up before his thoughts: he must refute their +objections, and not until that was done did he become himself. +</p> + +<p> +It is a hard position, when a creative spirit cannot forget the adversaries +which on all sides oppose him in the world: they come unsummoned to the room +and will not be expelled; they peer over the shoulder, and tug at the hand +which fain would write; they turn images upside down, and distort the thoughts; +and here and there, from ceiling and wall, they grin, and scoff, and oppose: +and what was just gushing as an aspiration from the soul, is converted to a +confused absurdity. +</p> + +<p> +At such a time, the spirit, courageous and self-dependent, must take refuge in +itself and show a firm front to a world of foes. +</p> + +<p> +A strong nature boldly hurls his inkstand at the Devil’s head; goes to +battle with his opponents with words both written and spoken; and keeps his own +individuality free from the perplexities with which opponents disturb all that +has been previously done, and make the soul unsteadfast and unnerved for what +is to come. +</p> + +<p> +Gellert’s was no battling, defiant nature, which relies upon itself; he +did not hurl his opponents down and go his way; he would convince them, and so +they were always ready to encounter him. And as the applause of his friends +rejoiced him, so the opposition of his enemies could sink him in deep +dejection. Besides, he had always been weakly; he had, as he himself +complained, in addition to frequent coughs and a pain in his loins, a continual +gnawing and pressure in the centre of his chest, which accompanied him from his +first rising in the morning until he slept at night. +</p> + +<p> +Thus he sat for a while, in deep dejection: and, as often before, his only wish +was, that God would give him grace whereby when his hour was come, he might die +piously and tranquilly. +</p> + +<p> +It was past midnight when he sought his bed and extinguished his light. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +And the buckets at the well go up and go down. +</p> + +<p> +About the same hour, in Duben Forest, the rustic Christopher was rising from +his bed. As with steel and flint he scattered sparks upon the tinder, in +kindling himself a light, his wife, awakening, cried: +</p> + +<p> +“Why that heavy sigh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! life is a burden: I’m the most harassed mortal in the world. +The pettiest office-clerk may now be abed in peace, and needn’t break off +his sleep, while I must go out and brave wind and weather.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be content,” replied his wife: “why, I dreamt you had +actually been made magistrate, and wore something on your head like a +king’s crown.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! you women; as though what you see isn’t enough, you like to +chatter about what you dream.” +</p> + +<p> +“Light the lamp, too,” said his wife, “and I’ll get up +and make you a nice porridge.” +</p> + +<p> +The peasant, putting a candle in his lantern, went to the stable; and after he +had given some fodder to the horses, he seated himself upon the manger. With +his hands squeezed between his knees and his head bent down, he reflected over +and over again what a wretched existence he had of it. “Why,” +thought he, “are so many men so well-off, so comfortable, whilst you must +be always toiling? What care I if envy be not a virtue?—and yet I’m +not envious, I don’t grudge others being well-off, only I should like to +be well-off too; oh, for a quiet, easy life! Am I not worse off than a horse? +He gets his fodder at the proper time, and takes no care about it. Why did my +father make my brother a minister? He gets his salary without any trouble, sits +in a warm room, has no care in the world; and I must slave and torment +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Strange to say, his very next thought, that he would like to be made local +magistrate, he would in no wise confess to himself. +</p> + +<p> +He sat still a long while; then he went back again to the sitting-room, past +the kitchen, where the fire was burning cheerily. He seated himself at the +table and waited for his morning porridge. On the table lay an open book; his +children had been reading it the previous evening: involuntarily taking it up, +he began to read. Suddenly he started, rubbed his eyes, and then read again. +How comes this verse here just at this moment? He kept his hand upon the book, +and so easily had he caught the words, that he repeated them to himself softly +with his lips, and nodded several times, as much as to say: “That’s +true!” And he said aloud: “It’s all there together: short and +sweet!” and he was still staring at it, when his wife brought in the +smoking porridge. Taking off his cap, he folded his hands and said aloud: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Accept God’s gifts with resignation,<br/> + Content to lack what thou hast not:<br/> +In every lot there’s consolation;<br/> + There’s trouble, too, in every lot!” +</p> + +<p> +The wife looked at her husband with amazement. What a strange expression was +upon his face! And as he sat down and began to eat, she said: “What is +the meaning of that grace? What has to you? Where did you find it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It the best of all graces, the very best,—real God’s word. +Yes, and all your life you’ve never made such nice porridge before. You +must have put something special in it!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you mean. Stop! There’s the book lying +there—ah! that’s it—and it’s by Gellert, of +Leipzig.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! Gellert, of Leipzig! Men with ideas like that don’t live +now; there may have been such, a thousand years ago, in holy lands, not among +us; those are the words of a saint of old.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I tell you they are by Gellert, of Leipzig, of whom your brother has +told us; in fact, he was his tutor, and haven’t you heard how pious and +good he is?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t have believed that such men still lived, and so near +us, too, as Leipzig.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but those who lived a thousand years ago were also once living +creatures: and over Leipzig is just the same heaven, and the same sun shines, +and the same God rules, as over all other cities.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! yes, my brother has an apt pupil in you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and why not? I’ve treasured up all he told us of Professor +Gellert.” +</p> + +<p> +“Professor!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Professor!” +</p> + +<p> +“A man with such a proud, new-fangled title couldn’t write anything +like that!” +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t give himself the title, and he is poor enough withal! +and how hard it has fared with him! Even from childhood he has been well +acquainted with poverty: his father was a poor minister in Haynichen, with +thirteen children; Gellert, when quite a little fellow, was obliged to be a +copying office-clerk: who can tell whether he didn’t then contract that +physical weakness of his? And now that he’s an old man, things will never +go better with him; he has often no wood, and must be pinched with cold. It is +with him, perhaps, as with that student of whom your brother has told us, who +is as poor as a rat, and yet must read; and so in winter he lies in bed with an +empty stomach, until day is far advanced; and he has his book before him, and +first he takes out one hand to hold his book, and then, when that is numb with +cold, the other. Ah! tongue cannot tell how poorly the man must live; and yet +your brother has told me, if he has but a few pounds, he doesn’t think at +all of himself; he always looks out for one still poorer than he is, and then +gives all away: and he’s always engaged in aiding and assisting others. +Oh! dear, and yet he is so poor! May be at this moment he is hungry and cold; +and he is said to be in ill-health, besides.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wife, I would willingly do the man a good turn if I could. If, now, he +had some land, I could plough, and sow, and reap, and carry, and thresh by the +week together for him. I should like to pay him attention in such a way that he +might know there was at least one who cared for him. But his profession is one +in which I can’t be of any use to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, just seek him out and speak with him once; you are going to-day, +you know, with your wood to Leipzig. Seek him out and thank him; that sort of +thing does such a man’s heart good. Anybody can see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes; I should like much to see him, and hold out to him my +hand,—but not empty: I wish I had something!” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak to your brother, and get him to give you a note to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; say nothing to my brother; but it might be possible for me to +meet him in the street. Give me my Sunday coat; it will come to no harm under +my cloak.” +</p> + +<p> +When his wife brought him the coat, she said: “If, now, Gellert had a +wife, or a household of his own, one might send him something; but your brother +says he is a bachelor, and lives quite alone.” +</p> + +<p> +Christopher had never before so cheerfully harnessed his horses and put them to +his wood-laden wagon; for a long while he had not given his hand so gayly to +his wife at parting as to-day. Now he started with his heavily-laden vehicle +through the village; the wheels creaked and crackled in the snow. At the +parsonage he stopped, and looked away yonder where his brother was still +sleeping; he thought he would wake him and tell him his intention: but suddenly +he whipped up his horses, and continued his route. He wouldn’t yet bind +himself to his intention—perchance it was but a passing thought; he +doesn’t own that to himself, but he says to himself that he will surprise +his brother with the news of what he has done; and then his thoughts wandered +away to the good man still sleeping yonder in the city; and he hummed the verse +to himself in an old familiar tune. +</p> + +<p> +Wonderfully in life do effects manifest themselves, of which we have no trace. +Gellert, too, heard in his dreams a singing; he knew not what it was, but it +rang so consolingly, so joyously! … Christopher drove on, and he felt as though +a bandage had been taken from his eyes; he reflected what a nice house, what a +bonny wife and rosy children he had, and how warm the cloak which he had thrown +over him was, and how well off were both man and beast; and through the still +night he drove along, and beside him sat a spirit; but not an illusion of the +brain, such as in olden time men conjured up to their terror, a good spirit sat +beside him—beside the woodman who his whole life long had never believed +that anything could have power over him but what had hands and feet. +</p> + +<p> +It is said that, on troublous nights, evil spirits settle upon the necks of +men, and belabor them so that they gasp and sweat for very terror; quite +another sort it was to-day which sat by the woodman: and his heart was warm, +and its beating quick. +</p> + +<p> +In ancient times, men also carried loads of wood through the night, that +heretics might be burned thereon: these men thought they were doing a good deed +in helping to execute justice; and who can say how painful it was to their +hearts, when they were forced to think: To-morrow, on this wood which now you +carry, will shriek, and crackle, and gasp, a human being like yourself? Who can +tell what black spirits settled on the necks of those who bore the wood to make +the funeral-pile? How very different was it to-day with our woodman +Christopher! +</p> + +<p> +And earlier still, in ancient times, men brought wood to the temple, whereon +they offered victims in the honor of God; and, according to their notions, they +did a good deed: for when words can no longer suffice to express the fervency +of the heart, it gladly offers what it prizes, what it dearly loves, as a proof +of its devotion, of the earnestness of its intent. +</p> + +<p> +How differently went Christopher from the Duben Forest upon his way! He knew +not whether he were intending to bring a purer offering than men had brought in +bygone ages; but his heart grew warm within him. +</p> + +<p> +It was day as he arrived before the gates of Leipzig. Here there met him a +funeral-procession; behind the bier the scholars of St. Thomas, in long black +cloaks, were chanting. Christopher stopped and raised his hat. Whom were they +burying? Supposing it were Gellert.—Yes, surely, he thought, it is he: +and how gladly, said he to himself, would you now have done him a +kindness—ay, even given him your wood! Yes, indeed you would, and now he +is dead, and you cannot give him any help! +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the train had passed, Christopher asked who was being buried. It was +a simple burgher, it was not Gellert; and in the deep breath which Christopher +drew lay a double signification: on the one hand, was joy that Gellert was not +dead; on the other, a still small voice whispered to him that he had now really +promised to give him the wood: ah! but whom had he promised?—himself: and +it is easy to argue with one’s own conscience. +</p> + +<p> +Superstition babbles of conjuring-spells, by which, without the co-operation of +the patient, the evil spirit can be summarily ejected. It would be convenient +if one had that power, but, in truth, it is not so: it is long ere the evil +desire and the evil habit are removed from the soul into which they have +nestled; and the will, for a long while in bondage, must co-operate, if a +releasing spell from without is to set the prisoner free. One can only be +guided, but himself must move his feet. +</p> + +<p> +As Christopher now looked about him, he found that he had stopped close by an +inn; he drove his load a little aside, went into the parlor, and drank a glass +of warmed beer. There was already a goodly company, and not far from +Christopher sat a husbandman with his son, a student here, who was telling him +how there had been lately quite a stir. Professor Gellert had been ill, and +riding a well-trained horse had been recommended for his health. Now Prince +Henry of Prussia, during the Seven Years’ War, at the occupation of +Leipzig, had sent him a piebald, that had died a short time ago; and the +Elector, hearing of it, had sent Gellert from Dresden another—a +chestnut—with golden bridle, blue velvet saddle, and gold-embroidered +housings. Half the city had assembled when the groom, a man with iron-gray +hair, brought the horse; and for several days it was to be seen at the stable; +but Gellert dared not mount it, it was so young and high-spirited. The rustic +now asked his son whether the Professor did not make money enough to procure a +horse of his own, to which the son answered: “Certainly not. His salary +is but one hundred and twenty-five dollars, and his further gains are +inconsiderable. His Lectures on Morals he gives publicly, i.e., gratis, and he +has hundreds of hearers; and, therefore, at his own lectures, which must be +paid for, he has so many the fewer. To be sure, he has now and then presents +from grand patrons; but no one gives him, once and for all, enough to live +upon, and to have all over with a single acknowledgment.” +</p> + +<p> +Our friend Christopher started as he heard this; he had quite made up his mind +to take Gellert the wood: but he had yet to do it. How easy were virtue, if +will and deed were the same thing! if performance could immediately succeed to +the moment of burning enthusiasm! But one must make way over obstacles; over +those that outwardly lie in one’s path, and over those that are hidden +deep in the heart; and negligence has a thousand very cunning advocates. +</p> + +<p> +How many go forth, prompted by good intentions, but let little hindrances turn +them from their way—entirely from their way of life! In front of the +house Christopher met other woodmen whom he knew, and—“You are +stirring betimes!” “Prices are good to-day!” “But +little comes to the market now!” was the cry from all sides. Christopher +wanted to say that all that didn’t concern him, but he was ashamed to +confess that his design was, and an inward voice told him he must not lie. +Without answering he joined the rest, and wended his way to the market; and on +the road he thought: “There are Peter, and Godfrey, and John, who have +seven times your means, and not one of them, I’m sure, would think of +doing anything of this kind; why will you be the kind-hearted fool? Stay! what +matters it what others do or leave undone? Every man shall answer for himself. +Yes, but go to market—it is better it should be so; yes, certainly, much +better: sell your wood—who knows? perhaps he doesn’t want +it—and take him the proceeds, or at least the greater portion. But is the +wood still yours? You have, properly speaking, already given it away; it has +only not been taken from your keeping….” +</p> + +<p> +There are people who cannot give; they can only let a thing be taken either by +the hand of chance, or by urgency and entreaty. Christopher had such fast hold +of possession, that it was only after sore wrestling that he let go; and yet +his heart was kind, at least to-day it was so disposed, but the tempter +whispered: “It is not easy to find so good-natured a fellow as you. How +readily would you have given, had the man been in want, and your good intention +must go for the deed.” Still, on the other hand, there was something in +him which made opposition,—an echo from those hours, when, in the still +night, he was driving hither,—and it burned in him like sacred fire, and +it said, “You must now accomplish what you intended. Certainly no one +knows of it, and you are responsible to no one; but you know of it yourself, +and One above you knows, and how shall you be justified?” And he said to +himself, “I’ll stand by this: look, it is just nine; if no one ask +the price of your wood until ten o’clock, until the stroke of +ten,—until it has done striking, I mean; if no one ask, then the wood +belongs to Professor Gellert: but if a buyer come, then it is a sign that you +need not—should not give it away. There, that’s all settled. But +how? what means this? Can you make your good deed dependent on such a chance as +this? No, no; I don’t mean it. But yet—yet—only for a joke, +I’ll try it.” +</p> + +<p> +Temptation kept him turning as it were in a circle, and still he stood with an +apparently quiet heart by his wagon in the market. The people who heard him +muttering in this way to himself looked at him with wonder, and passed by him +to another wagon, as though he had not been there. It struck nine. Can you wait +patiently another hour? Christopher lighted his pipe, and looked calmly on, +while this and that load was driven off. It struck the quarter, half-hour, +three-quarters. Christopher now put his pipe in his pocket; it had long been +cold, and his hands were almost frozen; all his blood had rushed to his heart. +Now it struck the full hour, stroke after stroke. At first he counted; then he +fancied he had lost a stroke and miscalculated. Either voluntarily or +involuntarily, he said to himself, when it had finished striking, +“You’re wrong; it is nine, not ten.” He turned round that he +might not see the dial, and thus he stood for some time, with his hands upon +the wagon-rack, gazing at the wood. He knew not how long he had been thus +standing, when some one tapped him on the shoulder, and said, “How much +for the load of wood?” +</p> + +<p> +Christopher turned round: there was an odd look of irresolution in his eyes as +he said: “Eh? eh? what time is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Half-past ten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then the wood is now no longer mine—at least to sell:” and, +collecting himself, he became suddenly warm, and with firm hand turned his +horses round, and begged the woodmen who accompanied him to point him out the +way to the house with the “Schwarz Brett,” Dr. Junius’s. +There he delivered a full load: at each log he took out of the wagon he smiled +oddly. The wood-measurer measured the wood carefully, turning each log and +placing it exactly, that there might not be a crevice anywhere. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you so over-particular to-day, pray?” asked Christopher, +and he received for answer: +</p> + +<p> +“Professor Gellert must have a fair load; every shaving kept back from +him were a sin.” +</p> + +<p> +Christopher laughed aloud, and the wood-measurer looked at him with amazement; +for such particularity generally provoked a quarrel. Christopher had still some +logs over; these he kept by him on the wagon. At this moment the servant Sauer +came up, and asked to whom the wood belonged. +</p> + +<p> +“To Professor Gellert,” answered Christopher. +</p> + +<p> +“The man’s mad! it isn’t true. Professor Gellert has not +bought any wood; it is my business to look after that.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has not bought it, and yet it is his!” cried Christopher. +</p> + +<p> +Sauer was on the point of giving the mad peasant a hearty scolding, raising his +voice so much the louder, as it was striking eleven by St. Nicholas. At this +moment, however, he became suddenly mute; for yonder from the University there +came, with tired gait, a man of a noble countenance: at every step he made, on +this side and on that, off came the hats and the caps of the passers-by, and +Sauer simply called out, “There comes the Professor himself.” +</p> + +<p> +What a peculiar expression passed over Christopher’s face! He looked at +the new-comer, and so earnest was his gaze, that Gellert, who always walked +with his head bowed, suddenly looked up. Christopher said: “Mr. Gellert, +I am glad to see you still alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you,” said Gellert, and made as though he would pass on; +but Christopher stepped up closer to him, and, stretching out his hand to him, +said: “I have taken the liberty—I should like—will you give +me your hand, Mr. Gellert?” +</p> + +<p> +Gellert drew his long thin hand out of his muff and placed it in the hard +oaken-like hand of the peasant; and at this moment, when the peasant’s +hand lay in the scholar’s palm, as one felt the other’s pressure in +actual living grasp, there took place, though the mortal actors in the scene +were all unconscious of it, a renewal of that healthy life which alone can make +a people one. +</p> + +<p> +How long had the learned world, wrapped up in itself, separated from the +fellow-men around, thought in Latin, felt as foreigners, and lived buried in +contemplation of bygone worlds! From the time of Gellert commences the +ever-increasing unity of good-fellowship throughout all classes of life, kept +up by mutual giving and receiving. As the scholar—as the solitary poet +endeavors to work upon others by lays that quicken and songs that incite, so he +in his turn is a debtor to his age, and the lonely thinking and writing become +the property of all; but the effects are not seen in a moment; for higher than +the most highly gifted spirit of any single man is the spirit of a nation. With +the pressure which Gellert and the peasant exchanged commenced a mighty change +in universal life, which never more can cease to act. +</p> + +<p> +“Permit me to enter your room?” said Christopher, and Gellert +nodded assent. He was so courteous that he motioned to the peasant to enter +first; however, Sauer went close after him: he thought it must be a madman; he +must protect his master; the man looked just as if he were drunk. Gellert, with +his amanuensis, Gödike, followed them. +</p> + +<p> +Gellert, however, felt that the man must be actuated by pure motives: he bade +the others retire, and took Christopher alone into his study; and, as he +clasped his left with his own right hand, he asked: “Well, my good +friend, what is your business?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh? oh! nothing—I’ve only brought you a load of wood +there—a fair, full load; however, I’ll give you the few logs which +I have in my wagon, as well.” +</p> + +<p> +“My good man, my servant Sauer looks after buying my wood.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is no question of buying. No, my dear sir, I give it to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give it to me? Why me particularly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! sir, you do not know at all what good you do, what good you have +done me; and my wife was right; why should there not be really pious men in our +day too? Surely the sun still shines as he shone thousands of years ago; all is +now the same as then; and the God of old is still living.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, certainly; I am glad to see you so pious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! believe me, dear sir, I am not always so pious; and that I am so +disposed today is owing to you. We have no more confessionals now, but I can +confess to you: and you have taken a heavier load from my heart than a +wagon-load of wood. Oh! sir, I am not what I was. In my early days I was a +high-spirited, merry lad, and out in the field, and indoors in the inn and the +spinning-room, there was none who could sing against me; but that is long past. +What has a man on whose head the grave-blossoms are growing,” and he +pointed to his gray head, “to do with all that trash? And besides, the +Seven Years’ War has put a stop to all our singing. But last night, in +the midst of the fearful cold, I sang a lay set expressly for me—all old +tunes go to it: and it seemed to me as though I saw a sign-post which pointed I +know not whither—or, nay, I do know whither.” And now the peasant +related how discontented and unhappy in mind he had been, and how the words in +the lay had all at once raised his spirits and accompanied him upon the +journey, like a good fellow who talks to one cheerfully. +</p> + +<p> +At this part of the peasant’s tale Gellert folded his hands in silence, +and the peasant concluded: “How I always envied others, I cannot now +think why; but you I do envy, sir: I should like to be as you.” +</p> + +<p> +And Gellert answered: “I thank God, and rejoice greatly that my writings +have been of service to you. Think not so well of me. Would God I were really +the good man I appear in your eyes! I am far from being such as I should, such +as I would fain be. I write my books for my own improvement also, to show +myself as well as others what manner of men we should be.” +</p> + +<p> +Laughing, the peasant replied: “You put me in mind of the story my poor +mother used to tell of the old minister; he stood up once in the pulpit and +said: ‘My dear friends, I speak not only for you, but for myself also; I, +too, have need of it.’” +</p> + +<p> +Christopher laughed outrageously when he had finished, and Gellert smiled, and +said: “Yes, whoever in the darkness lighteth another with a lamp, +lighteth himself also; and the light is not part of ourselves,—it is put +into our hands by Him who hath appointed the suns their courses.” +</p> + +<p> +The peasant stood speechless, and looked upon the ground: there was something +within him which took away the power of looking up; he was only conscious that +it ill became him to laugh so loudly just now, when he told the story of the +old minister. +</p> + +<p> +A longer pause ensued, and Gellert seemed to be lost in reflection upon this +reference to a minister’s work, for he said half to himself: “Oh! +how would it fulfil my dearest wish to be a village-pastor! To move about among +my people, and really be one with them; the friend of their souls my whole life +long, never to lose them out of my sight! Yonder goes one whom I have led into +the right way; there another, with whom I still wrestle, but whom I shall +assuredly save; and in them all the teaching lives which God proclaims by me. +Did I not think that I should be acting against my duty, I would this moment +choose a country life for the remnant of my days. When I look from my window +over the country, I have before me the broad sky, of which we citizens know but +little, a scene entirely new; there I stand and lose myself for half an hour in +gazing and in thinking. Yes, good friend, envy no man in the rank of scholars. +Look at me; I am almost always ill; and what a burden is a sickly body! How +strong, on the contrary, are you! I am never happier than when, without being +remarked, I can watch a dinner-table thronged by hungry men and maids. Even if +these folks be not generally so happy as their superiors, at table they are +certainly happier.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; we relish our eating and drinking. And, lately, when felling +and sorting that wood below, I was more than usually lively; it seems as though +I had a notion I was to do some good with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And must I permit you to make me a present?” asked Gellert, +resting his chin upon his left hand. +</p> + +<p> +The peasant answered: “It is not worth talking about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, it might be well worth talking about; but I accept your present. It +is pride not to be ready to accept a gift. Is not all we have a gift from God? +And what one man gives another, he gives, as is most appropriately said, for +God’s sake. Were I your minister, I should be pleased to accept a present +from you. You see, good friend, we men have no occasion to thank each other. +You have given me nothing of yours, and I have given you nothing of mine. That +the trees grow in the forest is none of your doing, it is the work of the +Creator and Preserver of the world; and the soil is not yours; and the sun and +the rain are not yours; they all are the works of His hand; and if, perchance, +I have some healthy thoughts rising up in my soul, which benefit my fellow-men, +it is none of mine, it is His doing. The word is not mine, and the spirit is +not mine; and I am but an instrument in His hand. Therefore one man needs not +to utter words of thanks to his fellow, if every one would but acknowledge who +it really is that gives.” +</p> + +<p> +The peasant looked up in astonishment. Gellert remarked it, and said: +“Understand me aright. I thank you from my heart; you have done a kind +action. But that the trees grow is none of yours, and it is none of mine that +thoughts arise in me; every one simply tills his field, and tends his woodland, +and the honest, assiduous toil he gives thereto is his virtue. That you felled, +loaded, and brought the wood, and wish no recompense for your labor, is very +thank-worthy. My wood was more easily felled; but those still nights which I +and all of my calling pass in heavy thought—who can tell what toil there +is in them? There is in the world an adjustment which no one sees, and which +but seldom discovers itself; and this and that shift thither and hither, and +the scales of the balance become even, and then ceases all distinction between +‘mine’ and ‘thine,’ and in the still forest rings an +axe for me, and in the silent night my spirit thinks and my pen writes for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +The peasant passed both his hands over his temples, and his look was as though +he said to himself, “Where are you? Are you still in the world? Is it a +mortal man who speaks to you? Are you in Leipzig, in that populous city where +men jostle one another for gain and bare existence?” +</p> + +<p> +Below might be heard the creaking of the saw as the wood was being sundered: +and now the near horse neighs, and Christopher is in the world again. “It +may injure the horse to stand so long in the cold; and no money for the wood! +but perhaps a sick horse to take home into the bargain; that would be too +much,” he thought. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, Mr. Professor,” said he—he had his hat under his +arm, and was rubbing his hands—“yes, I am delighted with what I +have done; and I value the lesson, believe me, more than ten loads of wood: and +never shall I forget you to my dying day. And though I see you are not so poor +as I had imagined, still I don’t regret it. Oh! no, certainly not at +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh! did you think me so very poor, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, miserably poor.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have always been poor, but God has never suffered me to be a single +day without necessaries. I have in the world much happiness which I have not +deserved, and much unhappiness I have not, which perchance I have deserved. I +have found much favor with both high and low, for which I cannot sufficiently +thank God. And now tell me, cannot I give you something, or obtain something +for you? You are a local magistrate, I presume?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so?” +</p> + +<p> +“You look like it: you might be.” +</p> + +<p> +Christopher had taken his hat into his hands, and was crumpling it up now; he +half closed his eyes, and with a sly, inquiring glance, he peered at Gellert. +Suddenly, however, the expression of his face changed, and the muscles +quivered, as he said: “Sir, what a man are you! How you can dive into the +recesses of one’s heart! I have really pined night and day, and been +cross with the whole world, because I could not be magistrate, and you, sir, +you have actually helped to overcome that in me. Oh! sir, as soon as I read +that verse in your book, I had an idea, and now I see still more plainly that +you must be a man of God, who can pluck the heart from one’s bosom, and +turn it round and round. I had thought I could never have another +moment’s happiness, if my neighbor, Hans Gottlieb, should be magistrate: +and with that verse of yours, it has been with me as when one calms the blood +with a magic spell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my good friend, I am rejoiced to hear it: believe me, every one +has in himself alone a whole host to govern. What can so strongly urge men to +wish to govern others? What can it profit you to be local magistrate, when to +accomplish your object you must perhaps do something wrong? What were the fame, +not only of a village, but even of the whole world, if you could have no +self-respect? Let it suffice for you to perform your daily duties with +uprightness; let your joys be centred in your wife and children, and you will +be happy. What need you more? Think not that honor and station would make you +happy. Rejoice, and again I say, rejoice: ‘A contented spirit is a +continual feast.’ I often whisper this to myself, when I feel disposed to +give way to dejection: and although misery be not our fault, yet lack of +endurance and of patience in misery is undoubtedly our fault.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would my wife were here too, that she also might hear this; I grudge +myself the hearing of it all alone; I cannot remember it all properly, and yet +I should like to tell it to her word for word. Who would have thought that, by +standing upon a load of wood, one could get a peep into heaven!” +</p> + +<p> +Gellert in silence bowed his head; and afterwards he said: “Yes, rejoice +in your deed, as I do in your gift. Your wood is sacrificial-wood. In olden +time—and it was right in principle, because man could not yet offer +prayer and thanks in spirit—it was a custom and ordinance to bring +something from one’s possessions, as a proof of devotion: this was a +sacrifice. And the more important the gift to be given, or the request to be +granted, the more costly was the sacrifice. Our God will have no victims; but +whatsoever you do unto one of the least of His, you do unto Him. Such are our +sacrifices. My dear friend, from my heart I thank you; for you have done me a +kindness, in that you have given me a real, undeniable proof, that my words +have penetrated your heart, and that I do not live on for nothing: and treasure +it up in your heart, that you have caused real joy to one who is often, very +often, weighed down with heaviness and sorrow. You have not only kindled bright +tapers upon my Christmas-tree, but the tree itself burns, gives light, and +warms: the bush burns, and is not consumed, which is an image of the presence +of the Holy Spirit, and its admonition to trust in the Most High in this +wilderness of life, in mourning and in woe. Oh! my dear friend, I have been +nigh unto death. What a solemn, quaking stride is the stride into eternity! +What a difference between ideas of death in the days of health, and on the +brink of the grave! And how shall I show myself worthy of longer life? By +learning better to die. And, mark, when I sit here in solitude pursuing my +thoughts, keeping some and driving away others, then I can think, that in +distant valleys, upon distant mountains, there are living men who carry my +thoughts within their hearts; and for them I live, and they are near and dear +to me, till one day we shall meet where there is no more parting, no more +separation. Peasant and scholar, let us abide as we are. Give me your +hand—farewell!” +</p> + +<p> +And once again, the soft and the hard hand were clasped together, and +Christopher really trembled as Gellert laid his hand upon his shoulder. They +shook hands, and therewith something touched the heart of each more +impressively, more completely, than ever words could touch it. Christopher got +downstairs without knowing how: below, he threw down the extra logs of wood, +which he had kept back, with a clatter from the wagon, and then drove briskly +from the city. Not till he arrived at Lindenthal did he allow himself and his +horses rest or food. He had driven away empty: he had nothing on his wagon, +nothing in his purse; and yet who can tell what treasures he took home; and who +can tell what inextinguishable fire he left behind him yonder, by that lonely +scholar! +</p> + +<p> +Gellert, who usually dined at his brother’s, today had dinner brought +into his own room, remained quite alone, and did not go out again: he had +experienced quite enough excitement, and society he had in his own thoughts. +Oh! to find that there are open, susceptible hearts, is a blessing to him that +writes in solitude, and is as wondrous to him as though he dipped his pen in +streams of sunshine, and as if all he wrote were Light. The raindrop which +falls from the cloud cannot tell upon what plant it drops: there is a +quickening power in it, but for what? And a thought which finds expression from +a human heart; an action, nay, a whole life is like the raindrop falling from +the cloud: the whole period of a life endures no longer than the raindrop needs +for falling. And as for knowing where your life is continued, how your work +proceeds, you cannot attain to that. +</p> + +<p> +And in the night all was still around: nothing was astir; the whole earth was +simple rest, as Gellert sat in his room by his lonely lamp; his hand lay upon +an open book, and his eyes were fixed upon the empty air; and on a sudden came +once more upon him that melancholy gloom, which so easily resumes its place +after more than usual excitement. +</p> + +<p> +It is as though the soul, suddenly elevated above all, must still remember the +heaviness it but now experienced, though that expresses itself as tears of joy +in the eye. +</p> + +<p> +In Gellert, however, this melancholy had a more peculiar phase: a sort of +timidity had rooted itself in him, connected with his weak chest, and that +secret gnawing pain in his head; it was a fearfulness which his manner of life +only tended to increase. Surrounded though he was by nothing but love and +admiration in the world, he could not divest himself of the fear that all which +is most horrible and terrible would burst suddenly upon him: and so he gazed +fixedly before him. He passed his hand over his face, and with an effort +concentrated his looks and thoughts upon surrounding objects, saying to himself +almost aloud: “How comforting is light! Were there no light from without +to illumine objects for us, we should perish in gloom, in the shadows of night. +And light is a gentle friend that watches by us, and, when we are sunk in +sorrow, points out to us that the world is still here, that it calls, and +beckons us, and requires of us duty and cheerfulness. ‘You must not be +lost in self,’ it says, ‘see! the world is still here:’ and a +friend beside us is as a light which illumines surrounding objects; we cannot +forget them, we must see them and mingle with them. How hard is life, and how +little I accomplish! I would fain awaken the whole world to goodness and to +love; but my voice is weak, my strength is insufficient: how insignificant is +all I do!” +</p> + +<p> +And now he rose up and strode across the room; and he stood at the hearth where +the fire was burning, made of wood given to him that very day, and his thoughts +reverted to the man who had given it. Why had he not asked his name, and where +he came from? Perchance he might have been able in thought to follow him all +the way, as he drove home; and now … but yet ’tis more, ’tis better +as it is: it is not an individual, it is not So-and-so, who has shown his +gratitude, but all the world by the mouth of one. “The kindnesses I +receive,” he thought, “are indeed trials; but yet I ought to accept +them with thanks. I will try henceforth to be a benefactor to others as others +are to me, without display, and with grateful thanks to God, our highest +Benefactor: this will I do, and search no further for the why and for the +wherefore.” And once more a voice spoke within him, and he stood erect, +and raised his arms on high. “Who knows,” he thought, +“whether at this moment I have not been in this or that place, to this or +that man, a brother, a friend, a comforter, a saviour; and from house to house, +may be, my spirit travels, awakening, enlivening, refreshing—yonder in +the attic, where burns a solitary light; and afar in some village a mother is +sitting by her child, and hearing him repeat the thoughts I have arranged in +verse; and peradventure some solitary old man, who is waiting for death, is now +sitting by his fireside, and his lips are uttering my words.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yonder in the church, the choir is chanting a hymn of yours; could +you have written this hymn without its vigor in your heart? Oh! no, it MUST be +there.” And with trembling he thought: “There is nothing so small +as to have no place in the government of God! Should you not then believe that +He suffered this day’s incident to happen for your joy? Oh! were it so, +what happiness were yours! A heart renewed.” … He moved to the window, +looked up to heaven, and prayed inwardly: “My soul is with my brothers +and my sisters: nay, it is with Thee, my God, and in humility I acknowledge how +richly Thou hast blessed me. And if, in the kingdom of the world to come, a +soul should cry to me: ‘Thou didst guide and cheer me on to happiness +eternal!’ all hail! my friend, my benefactor, my glory in the presence of +God. … In these thoughts let me die, and pardon me my weakness and my +sins!” +</p> + +<p> +“And the evening and morning were the first day.” +</p> + +<p> +At early morning, Gellert was sitting at his table, and reading according to +his invariable custom, first of all in the Bible. He never left the Bible +open—he always shut it with a peaceful, devotional air, after he had read +therein: there was something grateful as well as reverential in his manner of +closing the volume; the holy words should not lie uncovered. +</p> + +<p> +To-day, however, the Bible was lying open when he rose. His eye fell upon the +history of the creation, and at the words, “And the evening and the +morning were the first day,” he leaned back his head against the +arm-chair, and kept his hand upon the book, as though he would grasp with his +hand also the lofty thought, how night and day were divided. +</p> + +<p> +For a long while he sat thus, and he was wondrously bright in spirit, and a +soft reminiscence dawned upon him; of a bright day in childhood, when he had +been so happy, and in Haynichen, his native place, had gone out with his father +for a walk. An inward warmth roused his heart to quicker pulsation; and +suddenly he started and looked about him: he had been humming a tune. +</p> + +<p> +Up from the street came the busy sound of Jay: at other times how insufferable +he had found it! and now how joyous it seemed that men should bestir +themselves, and turn to all sorts of occupations! There was a sound of +crumbling snow: and how nice to have a house and a blaze upon the hearth! +“And the evening and the morning were the first day!” And man +getteth himself a light in the darkness: but how long, O man! could you make it +endure? What could you do with your artificial light, if God did not cause His +sun to shine? Without it grows no grass, no corn. On the hand lying upon the +book there fell a bright sunbeam. How soon, at other times, would Gellert have +drawn the defensive curtain! Now he watches the little motes that play about in +the sunbeam. +</p> + +<p> +The servant brought coffee, and the amanuensis, Gödike, asked if there were +anything to do. Generally, Gellert scarce lifted his head from his books, +hastily acknowledging the attention and reading on in silence; to-day, he +motioned to Gödike to stay, and said to Sauer, “Another cup: Mr. Gödike +will take coffee with me. God has given me a day of rejoicing.” Sauer +brought the cup, and Gellert said: “Yes, God has given me a day of +rejoicing, and what I am most thankful for is, that He has granted me strength +to thank Him with all my heart: not so entirely, however, as I should +like.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God, Mr. Professor, that you are once more in health, and +cheerful: and permit me, Mr. Professor, to tell you that I was myself also ill +a short time ago, and I then learned a lesson which I shall never forget. Who +is most grateful? The convalescent. He learns to love God and His beautiful +world anew; he is grateful for everything, and delighted with everything. What +a flavor has his first cup of coffee! How he enjoys his first walk outside the +house, outside the gate! The houses, the trees, all give us greeting: all is +again in us full of health and joy!” So said Gödike, and Gellert +rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +“You are a good creature, and have just spoken good words. Certainly, the +convalescent is the most grateful. We are, however, for the most part, sick in +spirit, and have not strength to recover: and a sickly, stricken spirit is the +heaviest pain.” +</p> + +<p> +Long time the two sat quietly together: it struck eight. Gellert started up, +and cried irritably: “There, now, you have allowed me to forget that I +must be on my way to the University.” +</p> + +<p> +“The vacation has begun: Mr. Professor has no lecture to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“No lecture to-day? Ah! and I believe today is just the time when I could +have told my young friends something that would have benefited them for their +whole lives.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a shuffling of many feet outside the door: the door opened, and +several boys from St Thomas’ School-choir advanced and sang to Gellert +some of his own hymns; and as they chanted the verse— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“And haply there—oh! grant it, Heaven!<br/> + Some blessed saint will greet me too;<br/> +‘All hail! all hail! to you was given<br/> + To save my life and soul, to you!’<br/> +O God! my God! what joy to be<br/> +The winner of a soul to thee!” +</p> + +<p> +Gellert wept aloud, folded his hands, and raised his eyes to heaven. +</p> + +<p> +A happier Christmas than that of 1768 had Gellert never seen; and it was his +last. Scarcely a year after, on the 13th of December, 1769, Gellert died a +pious, tranquil death, such as he had ever coveted. +</p> + +<p> +As the long train which followed his bier moved to the churchyard of St. +John’s, Leipzig, a peasant with his wife and children in holiday clothes +entered among the last. It was Christopher with his family. The whole way he +had been silent: and whilst his wife wept passionately at the pastor’s +touching address, it was only by the working of his features that Christopher +showed how deeply moved he was. +</p> + +<p> +But on the way home he said: “I am glad I did him a kindness in his +lifetime; it would now be too late.” +</p> + +<p> +The summer after, when he built a new house, he had this verse placed upon it +as an inscription: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Accept God’s gifts with resignation,<br/> + Content to lack what thou hast not:<br/> +In every lot there’s consolation;<br/> + There’s trouble, too, in every lot.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>A GHETTO VIOLET</h2> + +<h5>BY LEOPOLD KOMPERT</h5> + +<p class="center"> +From “Christian and Leah.” Translated by A.S. Arnold. +</p> + +<p> +Through the open window came the clear trill of a canary singing blithely in +its cage. Within the tidy, homely little room a pale-faced girl and a youth of +slender frame listened intently while the bird sang its song. The girl was the +first to break the silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim, my brother!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, dear Viola?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder does the birdie know that it is the Sabbath to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“What a child you are!” answered Ephraim. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s always the way; when you clever men can’t +explain a thing, you simply dismiss the question by calling it childish,” +Viola exclaimed, as though quite angry. “And, pray, why shouldn’t +the bird know? The whole week it scarcely sang a note: to-day it warbles and +warbles so that it makes my head ache. And what’s the reason? Every +Sabbath it’s just the same, I notice it regularly. Shall I tell you what +my idea is? +</p> + +<p> +“The whole week long the little bird looks into our room and sees nothing +but the humdrum of work-a-day life. To-day it sees the bright rays of the +Sabbath lamp and the white Sabbath cloth upon the table. Don’t you think +I’m right, Ephraim?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, dear Viola,” said Ephraim, and he went to the cage. +</p> + +<p> +The bird’s song suddenly ceased. +</p> + +<p> +“Now you’ve spoilt its Sabbath!” cried the girl, and she was +so excited that the book which had been lying upon her lap fell to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Ephraim turned towards her; he looked at her solemnly, and said quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“Pick up your prayer-book first, and then I’ll answer. A holy book +should not be on the ground like that. Had our mother dropped her prayer-book, +she would have kissed it … Kiss it, Viola, my child!” +</p> + +<p> +Viola did so. +</p> + +<p> +“And now I’ll tell you, dear Viola, what I think is the reason why +the bird sings so blithely to-day … Of course, I don’t say I’m +right.” +</p> + +<p> +Viola’s brown eyes were fixed inquiringly upon her brother’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“How seriously you talk to-day,” she said, making a feeble attempt +at a smile. “I was only joking. Mustn’t I ask if the bird knows +anything about the Sabbath?” +</p> + +<p> +“There are subjects it is sinful to joke about, and this may be one of +them, Viola.” +</p> + +<p> +“You really quite frighten me, Ephraim.” +</p> + +<p> +“You little goose, I don’t want to frighten you,” said +Ephraim, while a faint flush suffused his features. “I’ll tell you +my opinion about the singing of the bird. I think, dear Viola, that our little +canary knows … that before long it will change its quarters.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re surely not going to sell it or give it away?” cried +the girl, in great alarm; and springing to her feet, she quickly drew her +brother away from the cage. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m not going to sell it nor give it away,” said +Ephraim, whose quiet bearing contrasted strongly with his sister’s +excitement. “Is it likely that I should do anything that would give you +pain? And yet, I have but to say one word … and I’ll wager that you will +be the first to open the cage and say to the bird, ‘Fly, fly away, +birdie, fly away home!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Never, never!” cried the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Viola,” said Ephraim beseechingly, “I have taken a vow. +Surely you would not have me break it?” +</p> + +<p> +“A vow?” asked his sister. +</p> + +<p> +“Viola,” Ephraim continued, as he bent his head down to the +girl’s face, “I have vowed to myself that whenever he … our father +… should return, I would give our little bird its freedom. It shall be free, +free as he will be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim!” +</p> + +<p> +“He is coming—he is already on his way home.” +</p> + +<p> +Viola flung her arms round her brother’s neck. For a long time brother +and sister remained locked in a close embrace. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the bird resumed its jubilant song. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear how it sings again?” said Ephraim; and he gently +stroked his sister’s hair. +</p> + +<p> +“It knows that it will soon be free.” +</p> + +<p> +“A father out of jail!” sobbed Viola, as she released herself from +her brother’s arms. +</p> + +<p> +“He has had his punishment, dear Viola!” said Ephraim softly. +</p> + +<p> +Viola turned away. There was a painful silence, and then she looked up at her +brother again. Her face was aglow, her eyes sparkled with a strange fire; she +was trembling with agitation. Never before had Ephraim seen her thus. +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim, my brother,” she commenced, in that measured monotone so +peculiar to intense emotion, “with the bird you can do as you please. You +can set it free, or, if you like, you can wring its neck. But as for him, +I’ll never look in his face again, from me he shall not have a word of +welcome. He broke our mother’s heart … our good, good mother; he has +dishonored himself and us. And I can never forget it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it right for a child to talk like that of her own father?” said +Ephraim in a tremulous voice. +</p> + +<p> +“When a child has good cause to be ashamed of her own father!” +cried Viola. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my Viola, you must have forgotten dear mother’s dying words. +Don’t you remember, as she opened her eyes for the last time, how she +gathered up her failing strength, and raising herself in her bed, +‘Children,’ she said, ‘my memory will protect you both, yea, +and your father too.’ Viola, have you forgotten?” +</p> + +<p> +Had you entered that little room an hour later, a touching sight would have met +your eyes. Viola was seated on her brother’s knee, her arms round his +neck, whilst Ephraim with the gentle love of a brother for a younger sister, +was stroking her hair, and whispering in her ear sweet words of solace. +</p> + +<p> +The bird-cage was empty. … That evening Ephraim sat up till midnight. Outside +in the Ghetto reigned the stillness of night. +</p> + +<p> +All at once Ephraim rose from his chair, walked to the old bureau which stood +near the door, opened it, and took from it a bulky volume, which he laid upon +the table in front of him. But he did not seem at all bent upon reading. He +began fingering the pages, until he came upon a bundle of bank-notes, and these +he proceeded to count, with a whispering movement of his lips. He had but three +or four more notes still to count, when his sharp ear detected the sound of +stealthy footsteps, in the little courtyard in front of the house. Closing the +book, and hastily putting it back again in the old bureau, Ephraim sprang to +the window and opened it. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, father?” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer. +</p> + +<p> +Ephraim repeated his question. +</p> + +<p> +He strained his eyes, peering into the dense darkness, but no living thing +could he see. Then quite close to him a voice cried: “Make no noise … and +first put out the light.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens! Father, it is you then…!” Ephraim exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” came in a whisper from without, “first put out the +light.” +</p> + +<p> +Ephraim closed the window, and extinguished the light. Then, with almost +inaudible step, he walked out of the room into the dark passage; noiselessly he +proceeded to unbolt the street-door. Almost at the same moment a heavy hand +clasped his own. +</p> + +<p> +“Father, father!” Ephraim cried, trying to raise his parent’s +hand to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Make no noise,” the man repeated, in a somewhat commanding tone. +</p> + +<p> +With his father’s hand in his, cautiously feeling his way, Ephraim led +him into the room. In the room adjoining lay Viola, sleeping peacefully. … +</p> + +<p> +Time was when “Wild” Ascher’s welcome home had been far +otherwise. Eighteen years before, upon that very threshold which he now crossed +with halting, stealthy steps, as of a thief in the night, stood a fair and +loving wife, holding a sturdy lad aloft in her arms, so that the father might +at once see, as he turned the street corner, that wife and child were well and +happy. Not another Ghetto in all Bohemia could show a handsomer and happier +couple than Ascher and his wife. “Wild” Ascher was one of those +intrepid, venturesome spirits, to whom no obstacle is so great that it cannot +be surmounted. And the success which crowned his long, persistent wooing was +often cited as striking testimony to his indomitable will. Gudule was famous +throughout the Ghetto as “the girl with the wonderful eyes,” +eyes—so the saying ran—into which no man could look and think of +evil. During the earlier years of their married life those unfathomable brown +eyes exercised on Ascher the full power of their fascination. A time came, +however, when he alleged that those very eyes had been the cause of all his +ruin. +</p> + +<p> +Gudule’s birthplace was far removed from the Ghetto, where Ascher had +first seen the light. Her father was a wealthy farmer in a secluded village in +Lower Bohemia. But distant though it was from the nearest town of any +importance, the solitary grange became the centre of attraction to all the +young swains far and near. But there was none who found favor in Gudule’s +eyes save “Wild Ascher,” in spite of many a friendly warning to +beware of him. One day, just before the betrothal of the young people, an +anonymous letter was delivered at the grange. The writer, who called himself an +old friend, entreated the farmer to prevent his dear child from becoming the +wife of one who was suspected of being a gambler. The farmer was of an +easy-going, indulgent nature, shunning care and anxiety as a very plague. +Accordingly, no sooner had he read the anonymous missive than he handed it to +his daughter, as though its contents were no concern of his. +</p> + +<p> +When Gudule had read the letter to the end, she merely remarked: “Father, +this concerns me, and nobody else.” +</p> + +<p> +And so the matter dropped. +</p> + +<p> +Not until the wedding-day, half an hour before the ceremony, when the marriage +canopy had already been erected in the courtyard, did the farmer sum up courage +to revert to the warning of the unknown letter-writer. Taking his future +son-in-law aside, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Ascher, is it true that you gamble?” +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” Ascher answered with equal firmness, +“Gudule’s eyes will save me!” Ascher had uttered no untruth +when he gave his father-in-law this assurance. He spoke in all earnestness, for +like every one else he knew the magnetic power of Gudule’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Nowhere, probably, does the grim, consuming pestilence of gaming claim more +victims than in the Ghetto. The ravages of drink and debauchery are slight +indeed; but the tortuous streets can show too many a humble home haunted by the +spectres of ruin and misery which stalked across the threshold when the FIRST +CARD GAME was played. +</p> + +<p> +It was with almost feverish anxiety that the eyes of the Ghetto were fixed upon +the development of a character like Ascher’s; they followed his every +step with the closest attention. Long experience had taught the Ghetto that no +gambler could be trusted. +</p> + +<p> +As though conscious that all eyes were upon him, Ascher showed himself most +punctilious in the discharge of even the minutest of communal duties which +devolved upon him as a denizen of the Ghetto, and his habits of life were +almost ostentatiously regular and decorous. His business had prospered, and +Gudule had borne him a son. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Gudule, my child,” the farmer asked his daughter on the day +when his grandson was received into the covenant of Abraham,—“well, +Gudule, was the letter right?” +</p> + +<p> +“What letter?” asked Gudule. +</p> + +<p> +“That in which your husband was called a gambler.” +</p> + +<p> +“And can you still give a thought to such a letter?” was +Gudule’s significant reply. +</p> + +<p> +Three years later, Gudule’s father came to visit her. This time she +showed him his second grandchild, her little Viola. He kissed the children, and +round little Viola’s neck clasped three rows of pearls, “that the +child may know it had a grandfather once.” +</p> + +<p> +“And where are your pearls, Gudule?” he asked, “those left +you by your mother,—may she rest in peace! She always set such store by +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Those, father?” Gudule replied, turning pale; “oh, my +husband has taken them to a goldsmith in Prague. They require a new +clasp.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” remarked her father. Notwithstanding his limited powers of +observation, it did not escape the old man’s eyes that Gudule looked +alarmingly wan and emaciated. He saw it, and it grieved his very soul. He said +nothing however: only, when leaving, and after he had kissed the Mezuza +[Footnote: Small cylinder inclosing a roll of parchment inscribed with the +Hebrew word Shadai (Almighty) and with other texts, which is affixed to the +lintel of every Jewish house.], he said to Gudule (who, with little Viola in +her arms, went with him to the door), in a voice quivering with suppressed +emotion: “Gudule, my child, the pearl necklet which I have given your +little Viola has a clasp strong enough to last a hundred years … you need +never, therefore, give it to your husband to have a new clasp made for +it.” And without bestowing another glance upon his child the easy-going +man left the house. It was his last visit. Within the year Gudule received a +letter from her eldest brother telling her that their father was dead, and that +she would have to keep the week of mourning for him. Ever since his last visit +to her—her brother wrote—the old man had been somewhat ailing, but +knowing his vigorous constitution, they had paid little heed to his complaints. +It was only during the last few weeks that a marked loss of strength had been +noticed. This was followed by fever and delirium. Whenever he was asked whether +he would not like to see Gudule, his only answer was: “She must not give +away the clasp of little Viola’s necklet.” And but an hour before +his death, he raised his voice, and loudly called for “the letter.” +Nobody knew what letter. “Gudule knows where it is,” he said, with +a gentle shake of his head. Those were the last words he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Had the old man’s eyes deceived him on the occasion of his last visit to +his son-in-law’s house? No! For, setting aside the incident of the +missing pearls, the whole Ghetto could long since have told him that the +warning of the anonymous letter was not unfounded—for Gudule was the wife +of a gambler. +</p> + +<p> +With the resistless impetuosity of a torrent released from its prison of ice +and snow, the old invincible disease had again overwhelmed its victim. Gudule +noticed the first signs of it when one day her husband returned home from one +of his business journeys earlier than he had arranged. Gudule had not expected +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you not come to meet me with the children?” he cried +peevishly; “do you begrudge me even that pleasure?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>I</i> begrudge you a pleasure?” Gudule ventured to remark, as +she raised her swimming eyes to his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you look at me so tearfully?” he almost shouted. +</p> + +<p> +Ascher loved his wife, and when he saw the effect which his rough words had +produced, he tenderly embraced her. “Am I not right, Gudule?” he +said, “after a man has been working and slaving the livelong week, +don’t you think he looks forward with longing eyes for his dear children +to welcome him at his door?” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Gudule felt the long latent suspicion revive in her that her +husband was not speaking the truth. As if written in characters of fire, the +words of that letter now came back to her memory; she knew now what was the +fate that awaited her and her children. +</p> + +<p> +Thenceforward, all the characteristic tokens of a gambler’s life, all the +vicissitudes which attend his unholy calling, followed close upon each other in +grim succession. Most marked was the disturbance which his mental equilibrium +was undergoing. Fits of gloomy despondency were succeeded, with alarming +rapidity, by periods of tumultuous exaltation. One moment it would seem as +though Gudule and the children were to him the living embodiment of all that +was precious and lovable, whilst at other times he would regard them with +sullen indifference. It soon became evident to Gudule that her husband’s +affairs were in a very bad way, for her house-keeping allowance no longer came +to her with its wonted regularity. But what grieved and alarmed her most, was +the fact that Ascher was openly neglecting every one of his religious duties. +To return home late on Friday night, long after sunset had ushered in the +Sabbath, was now a common practice. Once even it happened, that with his +clothes covered with dust, he came home from one of his business tours on a +Sabbath morning, when the people in holiday attire were wending their way to +the synagogue. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, not a sound of complaint escaped Gudule’s lips. Hers was +one of those proud, sensitive natures, such as are to be met with among all +classes and amid all circumstances of life, in Ghetto and in secluded village, +no less than among the most favored ones of the earth. Had she not cast to the +winds the well-intentioned counsel given her in that unsigned letter? Why then +should she complain and lament, now that the seed had borne fruit? She shrank +from alluding before her husband to the passion which day by day, nay, hour by +hour, tightened its hold upon him. She would have died sooner than permit the +word “gambler” to pass her lips. Besides, did not her eyes tell +Ascher what she suffered? Those very eyes were, according to Ascher, the cause +of his rapid journey along the road to ruin. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you look at me so, Gudule?” he would testily ask her, at +the slightest provocation. +</p> + +<p> +Often when, as he explained, he had had “a specially good week,” he +would bring home the costliest gifts for his children. Gudule, however, made no +use whatever of these trinkets, neither for herself nor for the children. She +put the things away in drawers and cupboards, and never looked at them, more +especially as she observed that, under some pretext or another, Ascher +generally took those glittering things away again, “in order to exchange +them for others,” he said: as often as not never replacing them at all. +</p> + +<p> +“Gudule!” he said one day, when he happened to be in a particularly +good humor, “why do you let the key remain in the door of that bureau +where you keep so many valuables?” +</p> + +<p> +And again Gudule regarded him with those unfathomable eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“There, you’re … looking at me again!” he exclaimed with +sudden vehemence. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re safe enough in the cupboard,” Gudule said, smiling, +“why should I lock it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gudule, do you mean to say …” he cried, raising his hand as for a +blow. Then he fell back in his chair, and his frame was shaken with sobs. +</p> + +<p> +“Gudule, my heart’s love,” he cried, “I am not worthy +that your eyes should rest on me. Everywhere, wherever I go, they look at me, +those eyes … and that is my ruin. If business is bad, your eyes ask me, +‘Why did you mix yourself up with these things, without a thought of wife +or children?’… Then I feel as if some evil spirit possessed me and +tortured my soul. Oh, why can’t you look at me again as you did when you +were my bride?—then you looked so happy, so lovely! At other times I +think: ‘I shall yet grasp fortune with both hands … and then I can face +my Gudule’s eyes again.’ But now, now … oh, don’t look at me, +Gudule!” +</p> + +<p> +There spoke the self-reproaching voice, which sometimes burst forth unbidden +from a suffering soul. +</p> + +<p> +As for Gudule, she already knew how to appreciate this cry of her +husband’s conscience at its true value. It was not that she felt one +moment’s doubt as to its sincerity, but she knew that so far as it +affected the future, it was a mere cry and nothing more. +</p> + +<p> +The years rolled on. The children were growing up. Ephraim had entered his +fifteenth year. Viola was a little pale girl of twelve. In opinion of the +Ghetto they were the most extraordinary children in the world. In the midst of +the harassing life to which her marriage with the gambler had brought her, +Gudule so reared them that they grew to be living reflections of her own inmost +being. People wondered when they beheld the strange development of +“Wild” Ascher’s children. +</p> + +<p> +Their natures were as proud and reserved as that of their mother. They did not +associate with the youth of the Ghetto; it seemed as though they were not of +their kind, as though an insurmountable barrier divided them. And many a bitter +sneer was hurled at Gudule’s head. +</p> + +<p> +“Does she imagine,” she often heard people whisper, “that +because her father was a farmer her children are princes? Let her remember that +her husband is but a common gambler.” +</p> + +<p> +How different would have been their thoughts had they known that the children +were Gudule’s sole comfort. What their father had never heard from her, +she poured into their youthful souls. No tear their mother shed was unobserved +by them; they knew when their father had lost and when he had won; they knew, +too, all the varying moods of his unhinged mind; and in this terrible school of +misery they acquired an instinctive intelligence, which in the eyes of +strangers seemed mere precocity. +</p> + +<p> +The two children, however, had early given evidence of a marked difference in +disposition. Ephraim’s nature was one of an almost feminine gentleness, +whilst Viola was strong-willed and proudly reserved. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother,” she said one day, “do you think he will continue to +play much longer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Viola, how can you talk like that?” Ephraim cried, greatly +disturbed. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Viola impetuously flung her arms round her mother’s neck, and +for some moments she clung to her with all the strength of her passionate +nature. It was as though in that wild embrace she would fain pour forth the +long pent-up sorrows of her blighted childhood. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother!” she cried, “you are so good to him. Never, never +shall he have such kindness from me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim,” said Gudule, “speak to your sister. In her sinful +anger, Viola would revenge herself upon her own father. Does it so beseem a +Jewish child?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why does he treat you so cruelly, then?” Viola almost hissed the +words. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after fell the final crushing blow. Ascher had been away from home for +some weeks, when one day Gudule received a letter, dated a prison in the +neighborhood of Vienna. In words of genuine sympathy the writer explained that +Ascher had been unfortunate enough to forge the signature to a bill. She would +not see him again for the next five years. God comfort her! The letter was +signed: “A fellow-sufferer with your husband.” +</p> + +<p> +As it had been with her old father, after he had bidden her a last farewell, so +it was now with Gudule. From that moment her days were numbered, and although +not a murmur escaped her lips, hour by hour she wasted away. +</p> + +<p> +One Friday evening, shortly after the seven-branched Sabbath lamp had been lit, +Gudule, seated in her arm-chair, out of which she had not moved all day, called +the two children to her. A bright smile hovered around her lips, an unwonted +fire burned in her still beautiful eyes, her bosom heaved … in the eyes of her +children she seemed strangely changed. “Children,” said she, +“come and stand by me. Ephraim, you stand here on my right, and you, dear +Viola, on my left. I would like to tell you a little story, such as they tell +little children to soothe them to sleep. Shall I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mother!” they both cried, as they bent towards her. +</p> + +<p> +“You must not interrupt me, children,” she observed, still with +that strange smile on her lips, “but leave me to tell my little story in +my own way. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, children,” she resumed, after a brief pause. “Every +human being—be he ever so wicked—if he have done but a single good +deed on earth, will, when he arrives above, in the seventh heaven, get his +Sechûs, that is to say, the memory of the good he has done here below will be +remembered and rewarded bountifully by the Almighty.” Gudule ceased +speaking. Suddenly a change came over her features: her breath came and went in +labored gasps; but her brown eyes still gleamed brightly. +</p> + +<p> +In tones well-nigh inaudible she continued: “When Jerusalem, the Holy +City, was destroyed, the dead rose up out of their graves … the holy patriarchs +Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob … and also Moses, and Aaron his brother … and David +the King … and prostrating themselves before God’s throne they sobbed: +‘Dost Thou not remember the deeds we have done?… Wouldst Thou now utterly +destroy all these our children, even to the innocent babe at the breast?’ +But the Almighty was inexorable. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Sarah, our mother, approached the Throne… When God beheld her, He +covered His face, and wept. ‘Go,’ said He, ‘I cannot listen +to thee.’ … But she exclaimed … ‘Dost Thou no longer remember the +tears I shed before I gave birth to my Joseph and Benjamin … and dost Thou not +remember the day when they buried me yonder, on the borders of the Promised +Land … and now, must mine eyes behold the slaughter of my children, their +disgrace, and their captivity?’… Then God cried: ‘For THY sake will +I remember thy children and spare them.’ …” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to know,” Gudule suddenly cried, with uplifted +voice, “what this Sechûs is like? It has the form of an angel, and it +stands near the Throne of the Almighty. … But, since the days of Rachel, our +mother, it is the Sechûs of a mother that finds most favor in God’s eyes. +When a mother dies, her soul straightway soars heavenward, and there it takes +its place amid the others. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Who art thou?’ asks God. ‘I am the Sechûs of a +mother,’ is the answer, ‘of a mother who has left children behind +her on earth.’ ‘Then do thou stand here and keep guard over +them!’ says God. And when it is well with the children, it is the Sechûs +of a mother which has caused them to prosper, and when evil days befall them … +it is again the Angel who stands before God and pleads: ‘Dost Thou forget +that these children no longer have a mother?’… and the evil is averted. +…” +</p> + +<p> +Gudule’s voice had sunk to a mere whisper. Her eyes closed, her head fell +back, her breathing became slower and more labored. “Are you still there, +children?” she softly whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Anxiously they bent over her. Then once again she opened her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I see you still”—the words came with difficulty from her +blanched lips—“you, Ephraim, and you, my little Viola … I am sure +my Sechûs will plead for you … for you and your father.” They were +Gudule’s last words. When her children, whose eyes had never as yet been +confronted with Death, called her by her name, covering her icy hands with +burning kisses, their mother was no more … +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Who can tell what influence causes the downtrodden blade to raise itself once +more! Is it the vivifying breath of the west wind, or a mysterious power sent +forth from the bosom of Mother Earth? It was a touching sight to see how those +two children, crushed as they were beneath the weight of a twofold blow, raised +their heads again, and in their very desolation found new-born strength. And it +filled the Ghetto with wonder. For what were they but the offspring of a +gambler? Or was it the spirit of Gudule, their mother, that lived in them? +</p> + +<p> +After Gudule’s death, her eldest brother, the then owner of the grange, +came over to discuss the future of his sister’s children. He wished +Ephraim and Viola to go with him to his home in Lower Bohemia, where he could +find them occupation. The children, however, were opposed to the idea. They had +taken no previous counsel together, yet, upon this point, both were in perfect +accord,—they would prefer to be left in their old home. +</p> + +<p> +“When father comes back again,” said Ephraim, “he must know +where to find us. But to you, Uncle Gabriel, he would never come.” +</p> + +<p> +The uncle then insisted that Viola at least should accompany him, for he had +daughters at home whom she could assist in their duties in the house and on the +farm. But the child clung to Ephraim, and with flaming eyes, and in a voice of +proud disdain, which filled the simple farmer with something like terror, she +cried: +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle, you have enough to do to provide for your own daughters; +don’t let ME be an additional burden upon you; besides, sooner would I +wander destitute through the world than be separated from my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what do you propose to do then?” exclaimed the uncle, after he +had somewhat recovered from his astonishment at Viola’s vehemence. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, Uncle Gabriel,” said Ephraim, a sudden flush +overspreading his grief-stricken features, “you see I have thought about +it, and I have come to the conclusion that this is the best plan. Viola shall +keep house, and I … I’ll start a business.” +</p> + +<p> +“YOU start a business?” cried the uncle with a loud laugh. +“Perhaps you can tell me what price I’ll get for my oats next +market day? A business!… and what business, my lad?” +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle,” said Ephraim, “if I dispose of all that is left us, +I shall have enough money to buy a small business. Others in our position have +done the same… and then…” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and then?” the uncle cried, eagerly anticipating his answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Then the Sechûs of our mother will come to our aid.” Ephraim said +softly. +</p> + +<p> +The farmer’s eyes grew dim with moisture; his sister had been very dear +to him. +</p> + +<p> +“As I live!” he cried, brushing his hand across his eyes, +“you are true children of my sister Gudule. That’s all <i>I</i> can +say.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as though moved by a sudden impulse, he quickly produced, from the depths +of his overcoat, a heavy pocketbook. “There!”… he cried, well-nigh +out of breath, “there are a hundred gulden for you, Ephraim. With that +you can, at all events, make a start; and then you needn’t sell the few +things you still have. There … put the money away… oats haven’t fetched +any price at all to-day, ’tis true; but for the sake of Gudule’s +children, I don’t mind what I do… Come, put it away, Ephraim… and may God +bless you, and make you prosper.” +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle!” cried Ephraim, as he raised the farmer’s hand to his +lips, “is all this to be mine? All this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my boy, yes; it IS a deal of money isn’t it?” … said +Gudule’s brother, accompanying his words with a sounding slap on his +massive thigh. “I should rather think it is. With that you can do +something, at all events … and shall I tell you something? In Bohemia the oat +crop is, unfortunately, very bad this season. But in Moravia it’s +splendid, and is two groats cheaper … So there’s your chance, Ephraim, my +child; you’ve got the money, buy!” All at once a dark cloud +overspread his smiling face. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a lot of money, Ephraim, that I am giving you … many a +merchant can’t lay his hands on it,” he said, hesitatingly; +“but if … you were to … gam—” +</p> + +<p> +The word remained unfinished, for upon his arm he suddenly felt a sensation as +of a sharp, pricking needle. +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle Gabriel!” cried Viola—for it was she who had gripped +his arm—and the child’s cheeks were flaming, whilst her lips curled +with scorn, and her white teeth gleamed like those of a beast of prey. +“Uncle Gabriel!” she almost shrieked, “if you don’t +trust Ephraim, then take your money back again … it’s only because you +are our mother’s brother that we accept it from you at all … Ephraim +shall repay you to the last farthing … Ephraim doesn’t gamble … you +sha’n’t lose a single penny of it.” +</p> + +<p> +With a shake of his head the farmer regarded the strange child. He felt +something like annoyance rise within him; an angry word rose to the lips of the +usually good tempered man. But it remained unsaid; he was unable to remove his +eyes from the child’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“As I live,” he muttered, “she has Gudule’s very +eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +And with another thumping slap on his leg, he merrily exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“All right, we’ll leave it so then…. If Ephraim doesn’t repay +me, I’ll take YOU, you wild thing… for you’ve stood surety for your +brother, and then I’ll take you away, and keep you with me at home. Do +you agree… you little spit-fire, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, uncle!” cried Viola. +</p> + +<p> +“Then give me a kiss, Viola.” +</p> + +<p> +The child hesitated for a moment, then she laid her cheek upon her +uncle’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, now I’ve got you, you little spit-fire,” he cried, +kissing her again and again. “Aren’t you ashamed now to have +snapped your uncle up like that?” +</p> + +<p> +Then after giving Ephraim some further information about the present price of +oats, and the future prospects of the crops, with a sideshot at the chances of +wool, skins, and other merchandise, he took his leave. +</p> + +<p> +There was great surprise in the Ghetto when the barely fifteen-year-old lad +made his first start in business. Many made merry over “the great +merchant,” but before the year was ended, the sharp-seeing eyes of the +Ghetto saw that Ephraim had “a lucky hand.” Whatever he undertook +he followed up with a calmness and tact which often baffled the restless +activity of many a big dealer, with all his cuteness and trickery. Whenever +Ephraim, with his pale, sad face, made his appearance at a farmstead, to +negotiate for the purchase of wool, or some such matter, it seemed as though +some invisible messenger had gone before him to soften the hearts of the +farmers. “No one ever gets things as cheap as you do,” he was +assured by many a farmer’s wife, who had been won by the unconscious +eloquence of his dark eyes. No longer did people laugh at “the little +merchant,” for nothing so quickly kills ridicule as success. +</p> + +<p> +When, two years later, his Uncle Gabriel came again to see how the children +were getting on, Ephraim was enabled to repay, in hard cash, the money he had +lent him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oho!” cried Gudule’s brother, with big staring eyes, as he +clutched his legs with both hands, “how have you managed in so short a +time to save so much? D’ye know that that’s a great deal of +money?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve had good luck, uncle,” said Ephraim, modestly. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been…playing, perhaps?” +</p> + +<p> +The words fell bluntly from the rough country-man, but hardly had they been +uttered, when Viola sprang from her chair, as though an adder had stung her. +“Uncle,” she cried, and a small fist hovered before Gabriel’s +eyes in such a threatening manner that he involuntarily closed them. But the +child, whose features reminded him so strongly of his dead sister, could not +make him angry. +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim,” he exclaimed, in a jocund tone, warding off Viola with +his hands, “you take my advice. Take this little spit-fire with you into +the village one day…they may want a young she-wolf there.” Then he +pocketed the money. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Ephraim,” said he, “may God bless you, and grant you +further luck. But you won’t blame me if I take the money,—I can do +with it, and in oats, as you know, there’s some chance of good business +just now. But I am glad to see that you’re so prompt at paying. Never +give too much credit! That’s always my motto; trust means ruin, and eats +up a man’s business, as rats devour the contents of a corn-barn.” +</p> + +<p> +There was but one thing that constantly threw its dark shadow across these two +budding lives,—it was the dark figure in a distant prison. This it was +that saddened the souls of the two children with a gloom which no sunshine +could dispel. When on Fridays Ephraim returned, fatigued and weary from his +work, to the home over which Viola presided with such pathetic housewifely +care, no smile of welcome was on her face, no greeting on his. Ephraim, +’tis true, told his sister where he had been, and what he had done, but +in the simplest words there vibrated that tone of unutterable sadness which has +its constant dwelling-place in such sorely-tried hearts. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, a great change had come over Viola. Nature continues her processes +of growth and development ’mid the tempests of human grief, and often the +fiercer the storm the more beautiful the after effects. Viola was no longer the +pale child, “the little spit-fire,” by whom her Uncle +Gabriel’s arm had been seized in such a violent grip. A womanly +gentleness had come over her whole being, and already voices were heard in the +Ghetto praising her grace and beauty, which surpassed even the loveliness of +her dead mother in her happiest days. Many an admiring eye dwelt upon the +beautiful girl, many a longing glance was cast in the direction of the little +house, where she dwelt with her brother. But the daughter of a +“gambler,” the child of a man who was undergoing imprisonment for +the indulgence of his shameful vice! That was a picture from which many an +admirer shrank with horror! +</p> + +<p> +One day Ephraim brought home a young canary for his sister. When he handed her +the bird in its little gilt cage, her joy knew no bounds, and showering kisses +by turns upon her brother, and on the wire-work of the cage, her eyes sparkling +with animation: +</p> + +<p> +“You shall see, Ephraim, how I’ll teach the little bird to +speak,” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +The softening influence which had, during the last few months, come over his +sister’s nature was truly a matter of wonder to Ephraim. Humbly and +submissively she accepted the slightest suggestion on his part, as though it +were a command. He was to her a father and mother, and never were parents more +implicitly obeyed by a child than this brother by a sister but three years his +junior. +</p> + +<p> +There was one subject, however, upon which Ephraim found his sister implacable +and firm—their absent father, the mere mention of whose name made her +tremble. Then there returned that haughty curl of the lips, and all the other +symptoms of a proud, inflexible spirit. It was evident that Viola hated the man +to whom she owed her existence. +</p> + +<p> +Thus had it come about that Ephraim was almost afraid to pronounce his +father’s name. Neither did he care to allude to their mother before +Viola, for the memory of her death was too closely bound up with that dark form +behind the distant prison walls. +</p> + +<p> +Let us now return to the night on which Ephraim opened the door to his father. +How had it come about? A thousand times Ephraim had thought about his +father’s return—and now he durst not even kindle a light, to look +upon the long-estranged face. As silent as when he had come, Ascher remained +during the rest of the night; he had seated himself at the window, and his arm +was resting upon the very spot where formerly the cage had stood. The bird had +obtained its freedom, and was, no doubt, by this time asleep, nestling amid the +breeze-swept foliage of some wooded glen. HE too had regained his liberty, but +no sleep closed his eyes, and yet he was in safe shelter, in the house of his +children. +</p> + +<p> +At length the day began to break. The sun was still hiding behind the +mountain-tops, but its earliest rays were already reflected upon the +window-panes. In the Ghetto footsteps became audible; here and there the +grating noise of an opening street-door was heard, while from round the corner +resounded, ever and anon, the hammer of the watchman, calling the people to +morning service; for it was a Fast-day, which commenced at sunrise. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Ascher raised himself from his chair, and quickly turned away +from the window. Ephraim was already by his side. “Father, dear +father!” he cried from the inmost depths of his heart, as he tried to +grasp the hand of the convict. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t make such a noise,” said the latter, casting a furtive +glance in the direction of the window, and speaking in the same mysterious +whisper in which he had asked for admittance into the house. +</p> + +<p> +What a strange awakening it was to his son, when, in the gray twilight of the +breaking day, he looked at Ascher more closely. In his imagination Ephraim had +pictured a wan, grief-worn figure, and now he saw before him a strong, +well-built man, who certainly did not present the appearance of a person who +had just emerged from the dank atmosphere of a prison! On the contrary, he +seemed stronger and more vigorous than he had appeared in his best days. +</p> + +<p> +“Has he had such a good time of it…?” Ephraim felt compelled to ask +himself… “how different our poor mother looked!” +</p> + +<p> +With a violent effort he repressed the feelings which swelled his bosom. +“Dear father,” he said, with tears in his eyes, “make +yourself quite comfortable; you haven’t closed your eyes the whole night, +you must be worn out. You are at home, remember…father!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right,” said Ascher, with a deprecating gesture, +“WE fellows know other ways of spending the night.” +</p> + +<p> +“WE FELLOWS!” The words cut Ephraim to the heart. +</p> + +<p> +“But you may be taken ill, father,” he timidly observed. +</p> + +<p> +“I taken ill! What do you take me for?” Ascher laughed, +boisterously. “I haven’t the slightest intention of falling +ill.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the watchman was heard hammering at the door of the next house. +The reverberating blows seemed to have a strangely disquieting effect upon the +strong man: a violent tremor seized him; he cast one of the frightened glances +which Ephraim had noticed before in the direction of the window, then with one +bound he was at the door, and swiftly turned the knob. +</p> + +<p> +“Father, what’s the matter?” Ephraim cried, much alarmed. +</p> + +<p> +“Does the watchman look into the room when he passes by?” asked +Ascher, while his eyes almost burst from their sockets, with the intentness of +their gaze. +</p> + +<p> +“Never,” Ephraim assured him. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see, wait…” whispered Ascher. +</p> + +<p> +The three well-known knocks now resounded upon their own door, then the shadow +of a passing figure was thrown upon the opposite wall. With a sigh of relief, +the words escaped Ascher’s bosom: +</p> + +<p> +“He did not look inside…” he muttered to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Then he removed his hand from the door-knob, came back into the centre of the +room, and approaching the table, rested his hand upon it. +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim…” he said after a while, in that suppressed tone which +seemed to be peculiar to him, “aren’t you going to +synagogue?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, father,” replied Ephraim, “I’m not going +to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they’ll want to know,” Ascher observed, and at the words +an ugly sneer curled the corners of his lip; “they’ll want to know +who your guest is. Why don’t you go and tell them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Father!” cried Ephraim. +</p> + +<p> +“Then be good enough to draw down the blinds. …What business is it of +theirs who your guest is? Let them attend to their own affairs… But they +wouldn’t be of ‘the chosen race’ if they didn’t want to +know what was taking place in the furthermost corner of your brain. You +can’t be too careful with them…you’re never secure against their +far-scenting noses and their sharp, searching eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +It was now broad daylight. Ephraim drew down the blinds. +</p> + +<p> +“The blinds are too white…” Ascher muttered, and moving a chair +forward, he sat down upon it with his back to the window. +</p> + +<p> +Ephraim proceeded to wind the phylacteries round his arm, and commenced to say +his prayers softly. +</p> + +<p> +His devotions over, he hurriedly took the phylacteries from his head and hand. +</p> + +<p> +Ascher was still sitting immovable, his back to the window, his eyes fixed upon +the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you ask me where I’ve left my luggage?” he +suddenly cried. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll fetch it myself if you’ll tell me where it is,” +Ephraim remarked, in all simplicity. +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my word, you make me laugh,” cried Ascher, and a laugh like +that of delirium burst from his lips. “All I can say, Ephraim, is, the +most powerful giant upon earth would break his back beneath the weight of my +luggage!” +</p> + +<p> +Then only did Ephraim grasp his father’s meaning. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry yourself, father…” he said lovingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to support me, perhaps!” Ascher shouted, with +cutting disdain. +</p> + +<p> +Ephraim’s heart almost ceased to beat. Then movements were heard in the +adjoining room. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any one with you?” cried Ascher springing up. His sharp +ears had instantly caught the sounds, and again the strong man was seized with +violent trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“Father, it’s only dear Viola,” said Ephraim. +</p> + +<p> +A nameless terror seemed to have over-powered Ascher. With one hand +convulsively clenched upon the arm of the chair, and the other pressed to his +temple, he sat breathing heavily. Ephraim observed with alarm what a terrible +change had come over his father’s features during the last few seconds: +his face had become ashen white, his eyes had lost their lustre, he seemed to +have aged ten years. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, and Viola entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Viola!” cried Ephraim, “here is our—” +</p> + +<p> +“Welcome!” said the girl, in a low voice, as she approached a few +steps nearer. She extended her hand towards him, but her eyes were cast down. +She stood still for a moment, then, with a hurried movement, turned away. +</p> + +<p> +“Gudule!” cried Ascher, horror-stricken, as he fell back almost +senseless in his chair. +</p> + +<p> +Was it the glamour of her maiden beauty that had so overpowered this unhappy +father? Or was it the extraordinary resemblance she bore to the woman who had +so loved him, and whose heart he had broken? The utterance of her name, the +terror that accompanied the exclamation, denoted the effect which the +girl’s sudden appearance had produced upon that sadly unhinged mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Viola!” Ephraim cried, in a sorrow-stricken voice, “why +don’t you come here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I CAN’T, Ephraim, I CAN’T…” she moaned, as, with +halting steps, she walked towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, speak to him, do,” Ephraim entreated, taking her hand in +his. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me go!” she cried, trying to release herself … “I am +thinking of mother!” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Ascher rose. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s my stick?” he cried. “I want the stick which I +brought with me…Where is it? I must go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father, you won’t…” cried Ephraim. +</p> + +<p> +Then Viola turned round. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” she said, with twitching lips… “you’ll want +something to eat before you go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, let me have something to eat,” he shouted, as he brought +his fist down upon the table. “Bring me wine…and let it be good …I am +thirsty enough to drink the river dry. …Wine, and beer, and anything else you +can find, bring all here, and then, when I’ve had my fill, I’ll +go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go, Viola,” Ephraim whispered in his sister’s ear, +“and bring him all he asks for.” +</p> + +<p> +When Viola had left the room, Ascher appeared to grow calmer. He sat down again +leaning his arms upon the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he muttered to himself: “I’ll taste food with my +children, before I take up my stick and go…They say it’s lucky to have +the first drink of the day served by one’s own child …and luck I will +have again, at any price… What good children! While I’ve been anything +but a good father to them, they run hither and thither and take the trouble to +get me food and drink, and I, I’ve brought them home nothing but a wooden +stick. But I’ll repay them, so help me God, I’ll make them rich +yet, but I’ve got nothing but a wooden stick, and I want money, no play +without money, and no luck either…” +</p> + +<p> +Gradually a certain thoughtfulness overspread Ascher’s agitated features, +his lips were tightly compressed, deep furrows lined his forehead, while his +eyes were fixed in a stony glare, as if upon some distant object. In the +meantime Ephraim had remained standing almost motionless, and it was evident +that his presence in the room had quite escaped his father’s observation. +With a chilling shudder running through his frame, his hair on end with horror, +he listened to the strange soliloquy!…Then he saw his father’s eyes +travelling slowly in the direction of the old bureau in the corner, and there +they remained fixed. “Why does he leave the key in the door, I +wonder,” he heard him mutter between his teeth, “just as Gudule +used to do; I must tell him when he comes back, keys shouldn’t be left +indoors, never, under any circumstances.” The entrance of Viola +interrupted the old gambler’s audible train of thought. +</p> + +<p> +Ephraim gave a gasp of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, what have you brought me?” cried Ascher, and his eyes sparkled +with animation, as Viola produced some bottles from under her apron, and placed +them and some glasses upon the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, fill up the glass,” he shouted, in a commanding voice, +“and take care that you don’t spill any, or you’ll spoil my +luck.” +</p> + +<p> +With trembling hand Viola did as she was bidden, without spilling a single +drop. Then he took up the glass and drained it at one draught. His face flushed +a bright crimson: he poured himself out another glass. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you drinking, Ephraim?” he exclaimed, after he had +finished that glass also. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t drink to-day, father,” Ephraim faltered, +“it’s a fast.” +</p> + +<p> +“A fast? What fast? I have been fasting too,” he continued, with a +coarse laugh, “twice a week, on bread and water; an excellent thing for +the stomach. Fancy, a fast-day in midsummer. On such a long day, when the sun +is up at three already, and at eight o’clock at night is still hesitating +whether he’ll go to bed or not …what have I got to do with your +Fast-day?” +</p> + +<p> +His face grew redder every moment; he had drunk a third and a fourth glass, and +there was nothing but a mere drain left in the bottle. Already his utterance +was thick and incoherent, and his eyes were fast assuming that glassy +brightness that is usually the forerunner of helpless intoxication. It was a +sight Ephraim could not bear to see. Impelled by that natural, almost holy +shame which prompted the son of Noah to cover the nakedness of his father, he +motioned to his sister to leave. Then HE, too, softly walked out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Outside, in the corridor, the brother and sister fell into each other’s +arms. Both wept bitterly: for a long time neither of them could find words in +which to express the grief which filled their souls. At length Viola, her head +resting upon Ephraim’s shoulder, whispered: “Ephraim, what do you +think of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is ill, I think…” said Ephraim, in a voice choked with sobs. +</p> + +<p> +“What, you call THAT illness, Ephraim?” Viola cried; “if +that’s illness, then a wild beast is ill too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Viola, for Heaven’s sake, be quiet: he’s our own father +after all!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim!” said the girl, with a violent outburst of emotion, as +she again threw herself into her brother’s arms… “just think if +mother had lived to see this!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t, don’t, Viola, my sweet!” Ephraim exclaimed, +sobbing convulsively. +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim!” the girl cried, shaking her head in wild despair, +“I don’t believe in the Sechûs! When we live to see all this, and +our hearts do not break, we lose faith in everything…Ephraim, what is to become +of us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, dear Viola, hush, you don’t know what you are saying,” +replied Ephraim, “I believe in it, because mother herself told us…you +must believe in it too.” +</p> + +<p> +But Viola again shook her head. “I don’t believe in it any +longer,” she moaned, “I can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +Noiselessly, Ephraim walked toward the door of the front room; he placed his +ear against the keyhole, and listened. Within all was silent. A fresh terror +seized him. Why was no sound to be heard?…He opened the door cautiously lest it +should creak. There sat his father asleep in the arm-chair, his head bent on +his bosom, his arms hanging limp by his side. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, Viola,” he whispered, closing the door as cautiously as he +had opened it, “he is asleep. …I think it will do him good. Be careful +that you make no noise.” +</p> + +<p> +Viola had seated herself upon a block of wood outside the kitchen door, and was +sobbing silently. In the meantime, Ephraim, unable to find a word of solace for +his sister, went and stood at the street door, so that no unbidden guest should +come to disturb his father’s slumbers. It was mid-day; from the church +hard by streamed the peasants and their wives in their Sunday attire, and many +bestowed a friendly smile upon the well-known youth. But he could only nod his +head in return, his heart was sore oppressed, and a smile at such a moment +seemed to him nothing short of sin. He went back into the house, and listened +at the door of the room. Silence still reigned unbroken, and with noiseless +steps he again walked away. +</p> + +<p> +“He is still sleeping,” he whispered to his sister. “Just +think what would have happened if we had still had that bird…He wouldn’t +have been able to sleep a wink.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim, why do you remind me of it?” cried Viola with a fresh +outburst of tears. “Where is the little bird now, I wonder?…” +</p> + +<p> +Ephraim sat down beside his sister, and took her hand in his. Thus they +remained seated for some time, unable to find a word of comfort for each other. +</p> + +<p> +At length movements were heard. Ephraim sprang to his feet and once more +approached the door to listen. +</p> + +<p> +“He is awake!” he softly said to Viola, and slowly opening the +door, he entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +Ascher was walking up and down with heavy tread. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you feel refreshed after your sleep, father?” Ephraim asked +timidly. +</p> + +<p> +Ascher stood still, and confronted his son. His face was still very flushed, +but his eyes had lost their glassy stare; his glance was clear and steady. +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim, my son,” he began, in a kindly, almost cheerful tone, +“you’ve grown into a splendid business man, as good a business man +as one can meet with between this and Vienna. I’m sure of it. But I must +give you one bit of advice; it’s worth a hundred pounds to one in your +position. Never leave a key in the lock of a bureau!” +</p> + +<p> +Ephraim looked at his father as though stupefied. Was the man mad or delirious +to talk in such a strain? At that moment, from the extreme end of the Ghetto, +there sounded the three knocks, summoning the people to evening prayer. As in +the morning, so again now the sound seemed to stun the vigorous man. His face +blanched and assumed an expression of terror; he trembled from head to foot. +Then again he cast a frightened glance in the direction of the window. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing but knocking, knocking!” he muttered. “They would +like to knock the most hidden thoughts out of one’s brains, if they only +could. What makes them do it, I should like to know?…To the clanging of a bell +you can, at all events, shut your ears, you need only place your hands to +them…but with that hammer they bang at every confounded door, and drive one +crazy. Who gives them the right to do it, I should like to know?” He +stood still listening. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think he will be long before he reaches here?” he asked +Ephraim, in a frightened voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Who, father?” +</p> + +<p> +“The watch.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has already knocked next door but one.” +</p> + +<p> +Another minute, and the three strokes sounded on the door of the house. Ascher +heaved a sigh of relief; he rubbed his hand across his forehead; it was wet +with perspiration. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God!” he cried, as though addressing himself, +“that’s over, and won’t come again till to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim, my son!” he cried, with a sudden outburst of +cheerfulness, accompanying the words with a thundering bang upon the table, +“Ephraim, my son, you shall soon see what sort of a father you have. Now, +you’re continually worrying your brains, walking your feet off, trying to +get a skin, or praying some fool of a peasant to be good enough to sell you a +bit of wool. Ephraim, my son, all that shall soon be changed, take my word for +it. I’ll make you rich, and as for Viola, I’ll get her a +husband—such a husband that all the girls in Bohemia will turn green and +yellow with envy…Ascher’s daughter shall have as rich a dowry as the +daughter of a Rothschild… But there’s one thing, and one thing only, that +I need, and then all will happen as I promise, in one night.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is that, father!” asked Ephraim, with a slight shudder. +</p> + +<p> +“Luck, luck, Ephraim, my son!” he shouted. “What is a man +without luck? Put a man who has no luck in a chest full of gold; cover him with +gold from head to foot; when he crawls out of it, and you search his pockets, +you’ll find the gold has turned to copper.” +</p> + +<p> +“And will you have luck, father?” asked Ephraim. +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim, my son!” said the old gambler, with a cunning smile, +“I’ll tell you something—There are persons whose whole powers +are devoted to one object—how to win a fortune; in the same way as there +are some who study to become doctors, and the like, so these study what we call +luck…and from them I’ve learned it.” +</p> + +<p> +He checked himself in sudden alarm lest he might have said too much, and looked +searchingly at his son. A pure soul shone through Ephraim’s open +countenance, and showed his father that his real meaning had not been grasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” he shouted loudly, waving his arms in the air, +“what is to come no man can stop. Give me something to drink, +Ephraim.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” the latter faltered, “don’t you think it will +harm you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be a fool, Ephraim!” cried Ascher, “you +don’t know my constitution. Besides, didn’t you say that to-day was +a fast, when it is forbidden to eat anything? And have I asked you for any +food? But as for drink, that’s quite another thing! The birds of the air +can’t do without it, much less man!” +</p> + +<p> +Ephraim saw that for that evening, at all events, it would not do to oppose his +father. He walked into the kitchen where Viola was preparing supper, or rather +breakfast, for after the fast this was the first meal of the day. +</p> + +<p> +“Viola,” he said, “make haste and fetch some fresh +wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“For him?” cried Viola, pointing her finger almost threateningly in +the direction of the sitting-room door. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t, don’t, Viola!” Ephraim implored. +</p> + +<p> +“And you are fasting!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I not also fasting for him?” said Ephraim. +</p> + +<p> +With a full bottle in his hand Ephraim once more entered the room. He placed +the wine upon the table, where the glasses from which Ascher had drunk in the +morning were still standing. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Viola?” asked Ascher, who was again pacing the room with +firm steps. +</p> + +<p> +“She is busy cooking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell her she shall have a husband, and a dowry that will make half the +girls in Bohemia turn green and yellow with envy.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he approached the table, and drank three brimming glasses, one after the +other. “Now then,” he said, as with his whole weight he dropped +into the old arm-chair… “Now I’ll have a good night’s rest. I +need strength and sharp eyes, and they are things which only sleep can give. +Ephraim, my son,” he continued after awhile in thick, halting accents… +“tell the watch—Simon is his name, I think—he can give six +knocks instead of three upon the door, in the morning, he won’t disturb +me…and to Viola you can say I’ll find her a husband, handsomer than her +eyes have ever beheld, and tell her on her wedding-day she shall wear pearls +round her neck like those of a queen—no, no, like those of Gudule, her +mother.” A few moments later he was sound asleep. +</p> + +<p> +It was the dead of night. All round reigned stillness and peace, the peace of +night! What a gentle sound those words convey, a sound akin only to the word +HOME! Fraught, like it, with sweetest balm, a fragrant flower from long-lost +paradise. Thou art at rest, Ascher, and in safe shelter; the breathing of thy +children is so restful, so tranquil… +</p> + +<p> +Desist! desist! ’Tis too late. Side by side with the peace of night, +there dwell Spirits of Evil, the never-resting, vagrant, home-destroying +guests, who enter unbidden into the human soul! Hark, the rustling of their +raven-hued plumage! They take wing, they fly aloft; ’tis the shriek of +the vulture, swooping down upon the guileless dove. +</p> + +<p> +Is there no eye to watch thee? Doth not thine own kin see thy foul deeds? +</p> + +<p> +Desist! +</p> + +<p> +’Tis too late… +</p> + +<p> +Open is the window, no grating noise has accompanied the unbolting of the +shutter… The evil spirits have taken care that the faintest sound shall die +away…even the rough iron obeys their voices…it is they who have bidden: +“Be silent; betray him not; he is one of us.” +</p> + +<p> +Even the key in the door of the old bureau is turned lightly and without noise. +Groping fingers are searching for a bulky volume. Have they found it? Is there +none there to cry in a voice of thunder: “Cursed be the father who +stretches forth his desecrating hand towards the things that are his +children’s”?… +</p> + +<p> +They HAVE found it, the greedy fingers! and now, but a spring through the open +window, and out into the night… +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a sudden ray of light shines through a crack in the door of the +room… Swiftly the door opens, a girlish figure appears on the threshold, a +lighted lamp in her hand… +</p> + +<p> +“Gudule!” he shrieks, horror-stricken, and falls senseless at her +feet. +</p> + +<p> +Ascher was saved. The terrible blow which had struck him down had not crushed +the life from him. He was awakened. But when, after four weeks of gruesome +fever and delirium, his mind had somewhat regained its equilibrium, his hair +had turned white as snow, and his children beheld an old, decrepit man. +</p> + +<p> +That which Viola had denied her father when he returned to them in all the +vigor of his manhood, she now lavished upon him in his suffering and +helplessness, with that concentrated power of love, the source of which is not +human, but Divine. In the space of one night of terror, the merest bud of +yesterday had suddenly blossomed forth into a flower of rarest beauty. Never +did gentler hands cool a fever-heated brow, never did sweeter voice mingle its +melody with the gruesome dreams of delirium. +</p> + +<p> +On his sick-bed, lovingly tended by Ephraim and Viola, an ennobling influence +gradually came over the heart of the old gambler, and so deeply touched it, +that calm peace crowned his closing days. It was strange that the events of +that memorable night, and the vicissitudes that had preceded it, had left no +recollection behind, and his children took good care not to re-awaken, by the +slightest hint, his sleeping memory. +</p> + +<p> +A carriage drew up one day in front of Ascher’s house. There has +evidently been a splendid crop of oats this year. Uncle Gabriel has come. Uncle +Gabriel has only lately assumed the additional character of father-in-law to +Ephraim, for he declared that none but Ephraim should be his pet +daughter’s husband. And now he has come for the purpose of having a +confidential chat with Viola. There he sits, the kind-hearted, simple-minded +man, every line of his honest face eloquent with good-humor and happiness, +still guilty of an occasional violent onslaught upon his thighs. Viola still +remains his “little spit-fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Viola, my little spit-fire,” said he, “won’t you +yet allow me to talk to my Nathan about you? Upon my word, the boy can’t +bear the suspense any longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle,” says Viola, and a crimson blush dyes her pale cheeks: +“Uncle,” she repeats, in a tone of such deep earnestness, that the +laughing expression upon Gabriel’s face instantly vanishes, “please +don’t talk to him at all. MY place is with my father!” +</p> + +<p> +And to all appearances Viola will keep her word. +</p> + +<p> +Had she taken upon herself a voluntary penance for having, in her heart’s +bitter despair, presumed to abjure her faith in the Sechûs of her mother? Or +was there yet another reason? The heart of woman is a strangely sensitive +thing. It loves not to build its happiness upon the hidden ruins of +another’s life. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>THE SEVERED HAND</h2> + +<h5>BY WILHELM HAUFF</h5> + +<p> +I was born in Constantinople; my father was a dragoman at the Porte, and +besides, carried on a fairly lucrative business in sweet-scented perfumes and +silk goods. He gave me a good education; he partly instructed me himself, and +also had me instructed by one of our priests. He at first intended me to +succeed him in business one day, but as I showed greater aptitude than he had +expected, he destined me, on the advice of his friends, to be a doctor; for if +a doctor has learned a little more than the ordinary charlatan, he can make his +fortune in Constantinople. Many Franks frequented our house, and one of them +persuaded my father to allow me to travel to his native land to the city of +Paris, where such things could be best acquired and free of charge. He wished, +however, to take me with himself gratuitously on his journey home. My father, +who had also travelled in his youth, agreed, and the Frank told me to hold +myself in readiness three months hence. I was beside myself with joy at the +idea of seeing foreign countries, and eagerly awaited the moment when we should +embark. The Frank had at last concluded his business and prepared himself for +the journey. On the evening before our departure my father led me into his +little bedroom. There I saw splendid dresses and arms lying on the table. My +looks were however chiefly attracted to an immense heap of gold, for I had +never before seen so much collected together. +</p> + +<p> +My father embraced me and said: “Behold, my son, I have procured for thee +clothes for the journey. These weapons are thine; they are the same which thy +grandfather hung around me when I went abroad. I know that thou canst use them +aright; but only make use of them when thou art attacked; on such occasions, +however, defend thyself bravely. My property is not large; behold I have +divided it into three parts, one part for thee, another for my support and +spare money, but the third is to me a sacred and untouched property, it is for +thee in the hour of need.” Thus spoke my old father, tears standing in +his eyes, perhaps from some foreboding, for I never saw him again. +</p> + +<p> +The journey passed off very well; we had soon reached the land of the Franks, +and six days later we arrived in the large city of Paris. There my Frankish +friend hired a room for me, and advised me to spend wisely my money, which +amounted in all to two thousand dollars. I lived three years in this city, and +learned what is necessary for a skilful doctor to know. I should not, however, +be stating the truth if I said that I liked being there, for the customs of +this nation displeased me; besides, I had only a few chosen friends there, and +these were noble young men. +</p> + +<p> +The longing after home at last possessed me mightily; during the whole of that +time I had not heard anything from my father, and I therefore seized a +favorable opportunity of reaching home. An embassy from France left for Turkey. +I acted as surgeon to the suite of the Ambassador and arrived happily in +Stamboul. My father’s house was locked, and the neighbors, who were +surprised on seeing me, told me my father had died two months ago. The priest +who had instructed me in my youth brought me the key; alone and desolate I +entered the empty house. All was still in the same position as my father had +left it, only the gold which I was to inherit was gone. I questioned the priest +about it, and he, bowing, said: “Your father died a saint, for he has +bequeathed his gold to the Church.” This was and remained inexplicable to +me. However, what could I do? I had no witness against the priest, and had to +be glad that he had not considered the house and the goods of my father as a +bequest. This was the first misfortune that I encountered. Henceforth nothing +but ill-luck attended me. My reputation as doctor would not spread at all, +because I was ashamed to act the charlatan; and I felt everywhere the want of +the recommendation of my father, who would have introduced me to the richest +and most distinguished, but who now no longer thought of the poor Zaleukos! The +goods of my father also had no sale, for his customers had deserted him after +his death, and new ones are only to be got slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Thus when I was one day meditating sadly over my position, it occurred to me +that I had often seen in France men of my nation travelling through the country +exhibiting their goods in the markets of the towns. I remembered that the +people liked to buy of them, because they came from abroad, and that such a +business would be most lucrative. Immediately I resolved what to do. I disposed +of my father’s house, gave part of the money to a trusty friend to keep +for me, and with the rest I bought what are very rare in France, shawls, silk +goods, ointments, and oils, took a berth on board a ship, and thus entered upon +my second journey to the land of the Franks. It seemed as if fortune had +favored me again as soon as I had turned my back upon the Castles of the +Dardanelles. Our journey was short and successful. I travelled through the +large and small towns of the Franks, and found everywhere willing buyers of my +goods. My friend in Stamboul always sent me fresh stores, and my wealth +increased day by day. When I had saved at last so much that I thought I might +venture on a greater undertaking, I travelled with my goods to Italy. I must +however confess to something, which brought me not a little money: I also +employed my knowledge of physic. On reaching a town, I had it published that a +Greek physician had arrived, who had already healed many; and in fact my balsam +and medicine gained me many a sequin. Thus I had at length reached the city of +Florence in Italy. +</p> + +<p> +I resolved upon remaining in this town for some time, partly because I liked it +so well, partly also because I wished to recruit myself from the exertions of +my travels. I hired a vaulted shop, in that part of the town called Sta. Croce, +and not far from this a couple of nice rooms at an inn, leading out upon a +balcony. I immediately had my bills circulated, which announced me to be both +physician and merchant. Scarcely had I opened my shop when I was besieged by +buyers, and in spite of my high prices I sold more than any one else, because I +was obliging and friendly towards my customers. Thus I had already lived four +days happily in Florence, when one evening, as I was about to close my vaulted +room, and on examining once more the contents of my ointment boxes, as I was in +the habit of doing, I found in one of the small boxes a piece of paper, which I +did not remember to have put into it. +</p> + +<p> +I unfolded the paper, and found in it an invitation to be on the bridge which +is called Ponto Vecchio that night exactly at midnight. I was thinking for a +long time as to who it might be who had invited me there; and not knowing a +single soul in Florence, I thought perhaps I should be secretly conducted to a +patient, a thing which had already often occurred. I therefore determined to +proceed thither, but took care to gird on the sword which my father had once +presented to me. When it was close upon midnight I set out on my journey, and +soon reached the Ponte Vecchio. I found the bridge deserted, and determined to +await the appearance of him who called me. It was a cold night; the moon shone +brightly, and I looked down upon the waves of the Arno, which sparkled far away +in the moonlight. It was now striking twelve o’clock from all the +churches of the city, when I looked up and saw a tall man standing before me +completely covered in a scarlet cloak, one end of which hid his face. +</p> + +<p> +At first I was somewhat frightened, because he had made his appearance so +suddenly; but was however myself again shortly afterwards, and said: “If +it is you who have ordered me here, say what you want?” The man dressed +in scarlet turned round and said in an undertone: “Follow!” At +this, however, I felt a little timid to go alone with this stranger. I stood +still and said: “Not so, sir, kindly first tell me where; you might also +let me see your countenance a little, in order to convince me that you wish me +no harm.” The red one, however, did not seem to pay any attention to +this. “If thou art unwilling, Zaleukos, remain,” he replied, and +continued his way. I grew angry. “Do you think,” I exclaimed, +“a man like myself allows himself to be made a fool of, and to have +waited on this cold night for nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +In three bounds I had reached him, seized him by his cloak, and cried still +louder, whilst laying hold of my sabre with my other hand. His cloak, however, +remained in my hand, and the stranger had disappeared round the nearest corner. +I became calmer by degrees. I had the cloak at any rate, and it was this which +would give me the key to this remarkable adventure. I put it on and continued +my way home. When I was at a distance of about a hundred paces from it, some +one brushed very closely by me and whispered in the language of the Franks: +“Take care, Count, nothing can be done to-night.” Before I had +time, however, to turn round, this somebody had passed, and I merely saw a +shadow hovering along the houses. I perceived that these words did not concern +me, but rather the cloak, yet it gave me no explanation concerning the affair. +On the following morning I considered what was to be done. At first I had +intended to have the cloak cried in the streets, as if I had found it. But then +the stranger might send for it by a third person, and thus no light would be +thrown upon the matter. Whilst I was thus thinking, I examined the cloak more +closely. It was made of thick Genoese velvet, scarlet in color, edged with +Astrachan fur and richly embroidered with gold. The magnificent appearance of +the cloak put a thought into my mind which I resolved to carry out. +</p> + +<p> +I carried it into my shop and exposed it for sale, but placed such a high price +upon it that I was sure nobody would buy it. My object in this was to +scrutinize everybody sharply who might ask for the fur cloak; for the figure of +the stranger, which I had seen but superficially, though with some certainty, +after the loss of the cloak, I should recognize amongst a thousand. There were +many would-be purchasers for the cloak, the extraordinary beauty of which +attracted everybody; but none resembled the stranger in the slightest degree, +and nobody was willing to pay such a high price as two hundred sequins for it. +What astonished me was that on asking somebody or other if there was not such a +cloak in Florence, they all answered “No,” and assured me they +never had seen so precious and tasteful a piece of work. +</p> + +<p> +Evening was drawing near, when at last a young man appeared, who had already +been to my place, and who had also offered me a great deal for the cloak. He +threw a purse with sequins upon the table, and exclaimed: “Of a truth, +Zaleukos, I must have thy cloak, should I turn into a beggar over it!” He +immediately began to count his pieces of gold. I was in a dangerous position: I +had only exposed the cloak, in order merely to attract the attention of my +stranger, and now a young fool came to pay an immense price for it. However, +what could I do? I yielded; for on the other hand I was delighted at the idea +of being so handsomely recompensed for my nocturnal adventure. +</p> + +<p> +The young man put the cloak around him and went away, but on reaching the +threshold he returned; whilst unfastening a piece of paper which had been tied +to the cloak, and throwing it towards me, he exclaimed: “Here, Zaleukos, +hangs something which I dare say does not belong to the cloak.” I picked +up the piece of paper carelessly, but behold, on it these words were written: +“Bring the cloak at the appointed hour to-night to the Ponte Vecchio, +four hundred sequins are thine.” I stood thunderstruck. Thus I had lost +my fortune and completely missed my aim! Yet I did not think long. I picked up +the two hundred sequins, jumped after the one who had bought the cloak, and +said: “Dear friend, take back your sequins, and give me the cloak; I +cannot possibly part with it.” He first regarded the matter as a joke; +but when he saw that I was in earnest, he became angry at my demand, called me +a fool, and finally it came to blows. +</p> + +<p> +However, I was fortunate enough to wrench the cloak from him in the scuffle, +and was about to run away with it, when the young man called the police to his +assistance, and we both appeared before the judge. The latter was much +surprised at the accusation, and adjudicated the cloak in favor of my +adversary. I offered the young man twenty, fifty, eighty, even a hundred +sequins in addition to his two hundred, if he would part with the cloak. What +my entreaties could not do, my gold did. He accepted it. I, however, went away +with the cloak triumphantly, and had to appear to the whole town of Florence as +a madman. I did not care, however, about the opinion of the people; I knew +better than they that I profited after all by the bargain. +</p> + +<p> +Impatiently I awaited the night. At the same hour as before I went with the +cloak under my arm towards the Ponte Vecchio. With the last stroke of twelve +the figure appeared out of the darkness, and came towards me. It was +unmistakably the man whom I had seen yesterday. “Hast thou the +cloak?” he asked me. “Yes, sir,” I replied; “but it +cost me a hundred sequins ready money.” “I know it,” replied +the other “Look here, here are four hundred.” He went with me +towards the wide balustrade of the bridge, and counted out the money. There +were four hundred; they sparkled magnificently in the moonlight; their glitter +rejoiced my heart. Alas, I did not anticipate that this would be its last joy. +I put the money into my pocket, and was desirous of thoroughly looking at my +kind and unknown stranger; but he wore a mask, through which dark eyes stared +at me frightfully. “I thank you, sir, for your kindness,” I said to +him; “what else do you require of me? I tell you beforehand it must be an +honorable transaction.” “There is no occasion for alarm,” he +replied, whilst winding the cloak around his shoulders; “I require your +assistance as surgeon, not for one alive, but dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” I exclaimed, full of surprise. “I arrived +with my sister from abroad.” he said, and beckoned me at the same time to +follow him. “I lived here with her at the house of a friend. My sister +died yesterday suddenly of a disease, and my relatives wish to bury her +to-morrow. According to an old custom of our family all are to be buried in the +tomb of our ancestors; many, notwithstanding, who died in foreign countries are +buried there and embalmed. I do not grudge my relatives her body, but for my +father I want at least the head of his daughter, in order that he may see her +once more.” This custom of severing the heads of beloved relatives +appeared to me somewhat awful, yet I did not dare to object to it lest I should +offend the stranger. I told him that I was acquainted with the embalming of the +dead, and begged him to conduct me to the deceased. Yet I could not help asking +him why all this must be done so mysteriously and at night? He answered me that +his relatives, who considered his intention horrible, objected to it by +daylight; if only the head were severed, then they could say no more about it; +although he might have brought me the head, yet a natural feeling had prevented +him from severing it himself. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime we had reached a large, splendid house. My companion pointed it +out to me as the end of our nocturnal walk. We passed the principal entrance of +the house, entered a little door, which the stranger carefully locked behind +him, and now ascended in the dark a narrow spiral staircase. It led towards a +dimly lighted passage, out of which we entered a room lighted by a lamp +fastened to the ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +In this room was a bed, on which the corpse lay. The stranger turned aside his +face, evidently endeavoring to hide his tears. He pointed towards the bed, +telling me to do my business well and quickly, and left the room. +</p> + +<p> +I took my instruments, which I as surgeon always carried about with me, and +approached the bed. Only the head of the corpse was visible, and it was so +beautiful that I experienced involuntarily the deepest sympathy. Dark hair hung +down in long plaits, the features were pale, the eyes closed. At first I made +an incision into the skin, after the manner of surgeons when amputating a limb. +I then took my sharpest knife, and with one stroke cut the throat. But oh, +horror! The dead opened her eyes, but immediately closed them again, and with a +deep sigh she now seemed to breathe her last. At the same moment a stream of +hot blood shot towards me from the wound. I was convinced that the poor +creature had been killed by me. That she was dead there was no doubt, for there +was no recovery from this wound. I stood for some minutes in painful anguish at +what had happened. Had the “red-cloak” deceived me, or had his +sister perhaps merely been apparently dead? The latter seemed to me more +likely. But I dare not tell the brother of the deceased that perhaps a little +less deliberate cut might have awakened her without killing her; therefore I +wished to sever the head completely; but once more the dying woman groaned, +stretched herself out in painful movements, and died. +</p> + +<p> +Fright overpowered me, and shuddering, I hastened out of the room. But outside +in the passage it was dark; for the light was out, no trace of my companion was +to be seen, and I was obliged, haphazard, to feel my way in the dark along the +wall, in order to reach the staircase. I discovered it at last and descended, +partly falling and partly gliding. But there was not a soul downstairs. I +merely found the door ajar, and breathed freer on reaching the street, for I +had felt very strange inside the house. Urged on by terror, I rushed towards my +dwelling-place, and buried myself in the cushions of my bed, in order to forget +the terrible thing that I had done. +</p> + +<p> +But sleep deserted me, and only the morning admonished me again to take +courage. It seemed to me probable that the man who had induced me to commit +this nefarious deed, as it now appeared to me, might not denounce me. I +immediately resolved to set to work in my vaulted room, and if possible to +assume an indifferent look. But alas! an additional circumstance, which I only +now noticed, increased my anxiety still more. My cap and my girdle, as well as +my instruments, were wanting, and I was uncertain as to whether I had left them +in the room of the murdered girl, or whether I had lost them in my flight. The +former seemed indeed the more likely, and thus I could easily be discovered as +the murderer. +</p> + +<p> +At the accustomed hour I opened my vaulted room. My neighbor came in, as was +his wont every morning, for he was a talkative man. “Well,” he +said, “what do you say about the terrible affair which has occurred +during the night?” I pretended not to know anything. “What, do you +not know what is known all over the town? Are you not aware that the loveliest +flower in Florence, Bianca, the Governor’s daughter, was murdered last +night? I saw her only yesterday driving through the streets in so cheerful a +manner with her intended one, for to-day the marriage was to have taken +place.” I felt deeply wounded at each word of my neighbor. Many a time my +torment was renewed, for every one of my customers told me of the affair, each +one more ghastly than the other, and yet nobody could relate anything more +terrible than that which I had seen myself. +</p> + +<p> +About mid-day a police-officer entered my shop and requested me to send the +people away. “Signor Zaleukos” he said, producing the things which +I had missed, “do these things belong to you?” I was thinking as to +whether I should not entirely repudiate them, but on seeing through the door, +which stood ajar, my landlord and several acquaintances, I determined not to +aggravate the affair by telling a lie, and acknowledged myself as the owner of +the things. The police-officer asked me to follow him, and led me towards a +large building which I soon recognized as the prison. There he showed me into a +room meanwhile. +</p> + +<p> +My situation was terrible, as I thought of it in my solitude. The idea of +having committed a murder, unintentionally, constantly presented itself to my +mind. I also could not conceal from myself that the glitter of the gold had +captivated my feelings, otherwise I should not have fallen blindly into the +trap. Two hours after my arrest I was led out of my cell. I descended several +steps until at last I reached a great hall. Around a long table draped in black +were seated twelve men, mostly old men. There were benches along the sides of +the hall, filled with the most distinguished of Florence. The galleries, which +were above, were thickly crowded with spectators. When I had stepped towards +the table covered with black cloth, a man with a gloomy and sad countenance +rose; it was the Governor. He said to the assembly that he as the father in +this affair could not sentence, and that he resigned his place on this occasion +to the eldest of the Senators. The eldest of the Senators was an old man at +least ninety years of age. He stood in a bent attitude, and his temples were +covered with thin white hair, but his eyes were as yet very fiery, and his +voice powerful and weighty. He commenced by asking me whether I confessed to +the murder. I requested him to allow me to speak, and related undauntedly and +with a clear voice what I had done, and what I knew. +</p> + +<p> +I noticed that the Governor, during my recital, at one time turned pale, and at +another time red. When I had finished, he rose angrily: “What, +wretch!” he exclaimed, “dost thou even dare to impute a crime which +thou hast committed from greediness to another?” The Senator reprimanded +him for his interruption, since he had voluntarily renounced his right; besides +it was not clear that I did the deed from greediness, for, according to his own +statement, nothing had been stolen from the victim. He even went further. He +told the Governor that he must give an account of the early life of his +daughter, for then only it would be possible to decide whether I had spoken the +truth or not. At the same time he adjourned the court for the day, in order, as +he said, to consult the papers of the deceased, which the Governor would give +him. I was again taken back to my prison, where I spent a wretched day, always +fervently wishing that a link between the deceased and the +“red-cloak” might be discovered. Full of hope, I entered the Court +of Justice the next day. Several letters were lying upon the table. The old +Senator asked me whether they were in my hand-writing. I looked at them and +noticed that they must have been written by the same hand as the other two +papers which I had received. I communicated this to the Senators, but no +attention was paid to it, and they told me that I might have written both, for +the signature of the letters was undoubtedly a Z., the first letter of my name. +The letters, however, contained threats against the deceased, and warnings +against the marriage which she was about to contract. +</p> + +<p> +The Governor seemed to have given extraordinary information concerning me, for +I was treated with more suspicion and rigor on this day. I referred, to justify +myself, to my papers which must be in my room, but was told they had been +looked for without success. Thus at the conclusion of this sitting all hope +vanished, and on being brought into the Court the third day, judgment was +pronounced on me. I was convicted of wilful murder and condemned to death. +Things had come to such a pass! Deserted by all that was precious to me upon +earth, far away from home, I was to die innocently in the bloom of my life. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of this terrible day which had decided my fate, I was sitting in +my lonely cell, my hopes were gone, my thoughts steadfastly fixed upon death, +when the door of my prison opened, and in came a man, who for a long time +looked at me silently. “Is it thus I find you again, Zaleukos?” he +said. I had not recognized him by the dim light of my lamp, but the sound of +his voice roused in me old remembrances. It was Valetti, one of those few +friends whose acquaintance I made in the city of Paris when I was studying +there. He said that he had come to Florence accidentally, where his father, who +was a distinguished man, lived. He had heard about my affair, and had come to +see me once more, and to hear from my own lips how I could have committed such +a crime. I related to him the whole affair. He seemed much surprised at it, and +adjured me, as my only friend, to tell him all, in order not to leave the world +with a lie behind me. I confirmed my assertions with an oath that I had spoken +the truth, and that I was not guilty of anything, except that the glitter of +the gold had dazzled me, and that I had not perceived the improbability of the +story of the stranger. “Did you not know Bianca?” he asked me. I +assured him that I had never seen her. Valetti now related to me that a +profound mystery rested on the affair, that the Governor had very much +accelerated my condemnation, and now a report was spread that I had known +Bianca for a long time, and had murdered her out of revenge for her marriage +with some one else. I told him that all this coincided exactly with the +“red-cloak,” but that I was unable to prove his participation in +the affair. Valetti embraced me weeping, and promised me to do all, at least to +save my life. +</p> + +<p> +I had little hope, though I knew that Valetti a clever man, well versed in the +law, and that he would do all in his power to save my life. For two long days I +was in uncertainty; at last Valetti appeared. “I bring consolation, +though painful. You will live and be free with the loss of one hand.” +Affected, I thanked my friend for saving my life. He told me that the Governor +had been inexorable in having the affair investigated a second time, but that +he at last, in order not to appear unjust, had agreed, that if a similar case +could be found in the law books of the history of Florence, my punishment +should be the same as the one recorded in these books. He and his father had +searched in the old books day and night, and at last found a case quite similar +to mine. The sentence was: That his left hand be cut off, his property +confiscated, and he himself banished for ever. This was my punishment also, and +he asked me to prepare for the painful hour which awaited me. I will not +describe to you that terrible hour, when I laid my hand upon the block in the +public market-place and my own blood shot over me in broad streams. +</p> + +<p> +Valetti took me to his house until I had recovered; he then most generously +supplied me with money for travelling, for all I had acquired with so much +difficulty had fallen a prey to the law. I left Florence for Sicily and +embarked on the first ship that I found for Constantinople. My hope was fixed +upon the sum which I had entrusted to my friend. I also requested to be allowed +to live with him. But how great was my astonishment on being asked why I did +not wish to live in my own house. He told me that some unknown man had bought a +house in the Greek Quarter in my name, and this very man had also told the +neighbors of my early arrival. I immediately proceeded thither accompanied by +my friend, and was received by all my old acquaintances joyfully. An old +merchant gave me a letter, which the man who had bought the house for me had +left behind. I read as follows: “Zaleukos! Two hands are prepared to work +incessantly, in order that you may not feel the loss of one of yours. The house +which you see and all its contents are yours, and every year you will receive +enough to be counted amongst the rich of your people. Forgive him who is +unhappier than yourself!” I could guess who had written it, and in answer +to my question, the merchant told me it had been a man, whom he took for a +Frank, and who had worn a scarlet cloak. I knew enough to understand that the +stranger was, after all, not entirely devoid of noble intentions. In my new +house I found everything arranged in the best style, also a vaulted room stored +with goods, more splendid than I had ever had. Ten years have passed since. I +still continue my commercial travels, more from old custom than necessity, yet +I have never again seen that country where I became so unfortunate. Every year +since, I have received a thousand gold-pieces; and although I rejoice to know +that unfortunate man to be noble, yet he cannot relieve me of the sorrow of my +soul, for the terrible picture of the murdered Bianca is continually on my +mind. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>PETER SCHLEMIHL</h2> + +<h5>BY ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO</h5> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p> +After a prosperous, but to me very wearisome, voyage, we came at last into +port. Immediately on landing I got together my few effects; and, squeezing +myself through the crowd, went into the nearest and humblest inn which first +met my gaze. On asking for a room the waiter looked at me from head to foot, +and conducted me to one. I asked for some cold water, and for the correct +address of Mr. Thomas John, which was described as being “by the north +gate, the first country-house to the right, a large new house of red and white +marble, with many pillars.” This was enough. As the day was not yet far +advanced, I untied my bundle, took out my newly-turned black coat, dressed +myself in my best clothes, and, with my letter of recommendation, set out for +the man who was to assist me in the attainment of my moderate wishes. +</p> + +<p> +After proceeding up the north street, I reached the gate, and saw the marble +columns glittering through the trees. Having wiped the dust from my shoes with +my pocket-handkerchief, and readjusted my cravat, I rang the +bell—offering up at the same time a silent prayer. The door flew open, +and the porter sent in my name. I had soon the honor to be invited into the +park, where Mr. John was walking with a few friends. I recognized him at once +by his corpulency and self-complacent air. He received me very well—just +as a rich man receives a poor devil; and turning to me, took my letter. +“Oh, from my brother! it is a long time since I heard from him: is he +well?—Yonder,” he went on,—turning to the company, and +pointing to a distant hill—“yonder is the site of the new +building.” He broke the seal without discontinuing the conversation, +which turned upon riches. “The man,” he said, “who does not +possess at least a million is a poor wretch.” “Oh, how true!” +I exclaimed, in the fulness of my heart. He seemed pleased at this, and replied +with a smile: “Stop here, my dear friend; afterwards I shall, perhaps, +have time to tell you what I think of this,” pointing to the letter, +which he then put into his pocket, and turned round to the company, offering +his arm to a young lady: his example was followed by the other gentlemen, each +politely escorting a lady; and the whole party proceeded towards a little hill +thickly planted with blooming roses. +</p> + +<p> +I followed without troubling any one, for none took the least further notice of +me. The party was in high spirits—lounging about and +jesting—speaking sometimes of trifling matters very seriously, and of +serious matters as triflingly—and exercising their wit in particular to +great advantage on their absent friends and their affairs. I was too ignorant +of what they were talking about to understand much of it, and too anxious and +absorbed in my own reflections to occupy myself with the solution of such +enigmas as their conversation presented. +</p> + +<p> +By this time we had reached the thicket of roses. The lovely Fanny, who seemed +to be the queen of the day, was obstinately bent on plucking a rose-branch for +herself, and in the attempt pricked her finger with a thorn. The crimson +stream, as if flowing from the dark-tinted rose, tinged her fair hand with the +purple current. This circumstance set the whole company in commotion; and +court-plaster was called for. A quiet, elderly man, tall and meagre-looking, +who was one of the company, but whom I had not before observed, immediately put +his hand into the tight breast-pocket of his old-fashioned coat of gray +sarcenet, pulled out a small letter-case, opened it, and, with a most +respectful bow, presented the lady with the wished-for article. She received it +without noticing the giver, or thanking him. The wound was bound up, and the +party proceeded along the hill towards the back part, from which they enjoyed +an extensive view across the green labyrinth of the park to the wide-spreading +ocean. The view was truly a magnificent one. A slight speck was observed on the +horizon, between the dark flood and the azure sky. “A telescope!” +called out Mr. John; but before any of the servants could answer the summons +the gray man, with a modest bow, drew his hand from his pocket, and presented a +beautiful Dollond’s telescope to Mr. John, who, on looking through it, +informed the company that the speck in the distance was the ship which had +sailed yesterday, and which was detained within sight of the haven by contrary +winds. The telescope passed from hand to hand, but was not returned to the +owner, whom I gazed at with astonishment, and could not conceive how so large +an instrument could have proceeded from so small a pocket. This, however, +seemed to excite surprise in no one; and the gray man appeared to create as +little interest as myself. +</p> + +<p> +Refreshments were now brought forward, consisting of the rarest fruits from all +parts of the world, served up in the most costly dishes. Mr. John did the +honors with unaffected grace, and addressed me for the second time, saying, +“You had better eat; you did not get such things at sea.” I +acknowledged his politeness with a bow, which, however, he did not perceive, +having turned round to speak with some one else. +</p> + +<p> +The party would willingly have stopped some time here on the declivity of the +hill, to enjoy the extensive prospect before them, had they not been +apprehensive of the dampness of the grass. “How delightful it would +be,” exclaimed some one, “if we had a Turkey carpet to lay down +here!” The wish was scarcely expressed when the man in the gray coat put +his hand in his pocket, and, with a modest and even humble air, pulled out a +rich Turkey carpet, embroidered in gold. The servant received it as a matter of +course, and spread it out on the desired spot; and, without any ceremony, the +company seated themselves on it. Confounded by what I saw, I gazed again at the +man, his pocket, and the carpet, which was more than twenty feet in length and +ten in breadth, and rubbed my eyes, not knowing what to think, particularly as +no one saw anything extraordinary in the matter. +</p> + +<p> +I would gladly have made some inquiries respecting the man, and asked who he +was, but knew not to whom I should address myself, for I felt almost more +afraid of the servants than of their master. At length I took courage, and +stepping up to a young man who seemed of less consequence than the others, and +who was more frequently standing by himself, I begged of him, in a low tone, to +tell me who the obliging gentleman was in the gray cloak. “That man who +looks like a piece of thread just escaped from a tailor’s needle?” +“Yes; he who is standing alone yonder.” “I do not +know,” was the reply; and to avoid, as it seemed, any further +conversation with me, he turned away, and spoke of some commonplace matters +with a neighbor. +</p> + +<p> +The sun’s rays now being stronger, the ladies complained of feeling +oppressed by the heat; and the lovely Fanny, turning carelessly to the gray +man, to whom I had not yet observed that any one had addressed the most +trifling question, asked him if, perhaps, he had not a tent about him. He +replied, with a low bow, as if some unmerited honor had been conferred upon +him; and, putting his hand in his pocket, drew from it canvas, poles, cord, +iron—in short, everything belonging to the most splendid tent for a party +of pleasure. The young gentlemen assisted in pitching it; and it covered the +whole carpet; but no one seemed to think that there was anything extraordinary +in it. +</p> + +<p> +I had long secretly felt uneasy—indeed, almost horrified; but how was +this feeling increased when, at the next wish expressed, I saw him take from +his pocket three horses! Yes, Adelbert, three large beautiful steeds, with +saddles and bridles, out of the very pocket whence had already issued a +letter-case, a telescope, a carpet twenty feet broad and ten in length, and a +pavilion of the same extent, with all its appurtenances! Did I not assure thee +that my own eyes had seen all this, thou wouldst certainly disbelieve it. +</p> + +<p> +This man, although he appeared so humble and embarrassed in his air and +manners, and passed so unheeded, had inspired me with such a feeling of horror +by the unearthly paleness of his countenance, from which I could not avert my +eyes, that I was unable longer to endure it. +</p> + +<p> +I determined, therefore, to steal away from the company, which appeared no +difficult matter, from the undistinguished part I acted in it. I resolved to +return to the town, and pay another visit to Mr. John the following morning, +and, at the same time, make some inquiries of him relative to the extraordinary +man in gray, provided I could command sufficient courage. Would to Heaven that +such good fortune had awaited me! +</p> + +<p> +I had stolen safely down the hill, through the thicket of roses, and now found +myself on an open plain; but fearing lest I should be met out of the proper +path, crossing the grass, I cast an inquisitive glance around, and started as I +beheld the man in the gray cloak advancing towards me. He took off his hat, and +made me a lower bow than mortal had ever yet favored me with. It was evident +that he wished to address me; and I could not avoid encountering him without +seeming rude. I returned his salutation, therefore, and stood bareheaded in the +sunshine as if rooted to the ground. I gazed at him with the utmost horror, and +felt like a bird fascinated by a serpent. +</p> + +<p> +He affected himself to have an air of embarassment. With his eyes on the +ground, he bowed several times, drew nearer, and at last, without looking up, +addressed me in a low and hesitating voice, almost in the tone of a suppliant: +“Will you, sir, excuse my importunity in venturing to intrude upon you in +so unusual a manner? I have a request to make—would you most graciously +be pleased to allow me—?” “Hold! for Heaven’s +sake!” I exclaimed; “what can I do for a man who—” I +stopped in some confusion, which he seemed to share. After a moment’s +pause he resumed: “During the short time I have had the pleasure to be in +your company, I have—permit me, sir, to say—beheld with unspeakable +admiration your most beautiful shadow, and remarked the air of noble +indifference with which you, at the same time, turn from the glorious picture +at your feet, as if disdaining to vouchsafe a glance at it. Excuse the boldness +of my proposal; but perhaps you would have no objection to sell me your +shadow?” He stopped, while my head turned round like a mill-wheel. What +was I to think of so extraordinary a proposal? To sell my shadow! “He +must be mad,” thought I; and assuming a tone more in character with the +submissiveness of his own, I replied, “My good friend, are you not +content with your own shadow? This would be a bargain of a strange nature +indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“I have in my pocket,” he said, “many things which may +possess some value in your eyes: for that inestimable shadow I should deem the +highest price too little.” +</p> + +<p> +A cold shuddering came over me as I recollected the pocket; and I could not +conceive what had induced me to style him “GOOD FRIEND,” which I +took care not to repeat, endeavoring to make up for it by studied politeness. +</p> + +<p> +I now resumed the conversation: “But, sir—excuse your humble +servant—I am at a loss to comprehend your meaning,—my +shadow?—how can I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Permit me,” he exclaimed, interrupting me, “to gather up the +noble image as it lies on the ground, and to take it into my possession. As to +the manner of accomplishing it, leave that to me. In return, and as an evidence +of my gratitude, I shall leave you to choose among all the treasures I have in +my pocket, among which are a variety of enchanting articles, not exactly +adapted for you, who, I am sure, would like better to have the wishing-cap of +Fortunatus, all made new and sound again, and a lucky purse which also belonged +to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fortunatus’s purse!” cried I; and, great as was my mental +anguish, with that one word he had penetrated the deepest recesses of my soul. +A feeling of giddiness came over me, and double ducats glittered before my +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Be pleased, gracious sir, to examine this purse, and make a trial of its +contents.” He put his hand in his pocket, and drew forth a large strongly +stitched bag of stout Cordovan leather, with a couple of strings to match, and +presented it to me. I seized it—took out ten gold-pieces, then ten more, +and this I repeated again and again. Instantly I held out my hand to him. +“Done,” said I; “the bargain is made: my shadow for the +purse.” “Agreed,” he answered; and, immediately kneeling +down, I beheld him, with extraordinary dexterity, gently loosen my shadow from +the grass, lift it up, fold it together, and, at last, put it his pocket. He +then rose, bowed once more to me, and directed his steps towards the rose +bushes. I fancied I heard him quietly laughing to himself. However, I held the +purse fast by the two strings. The earth was basking beneath the brightness of +the sun; but I presently lost all consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +On recovering my senses, I hastened to quit a place where I hoped there was +nothing further to detain me. I first filled my pockets with gold, then +fastened the strings of the purse round my neck, and concealed it in my bosom. +I passed unnoticed out of the park, gained the high-road, and took the way to +the town. As I was thoughtfully approaching the gate, I heard some one behind +me exclaiming: “Young man! young man! you have lost your shadow!” I +turned, and perceived an old woman calling after me. “Thank you, my good +woman,” said I; and throwing her a piece of gold for her well-intended +information, I stepped under the trees. At the gate, again, it was my fate to +hear the sentry inquiring where the gentleman had left his shadow; and +immediately I heard a couple of women exclaiming, “Jesu Maria! the poor +man has no shadow.” All this began to depress me, and I carefully avoided +walking in the sun; but this could not everywhere be the case: for in the next +broad street I had to cross, and, unfortunately for me, at the very hour in +which the boys were coming out of school, a humpbacked lout of a fellow—I +see him yet—soon made the discovery that I was without a shadow, and +communicated the news, with loud outcries, to a knot of young urchins. The +whole swarm proceeded immediately to reconnoitre me, and to pelt me with mud. +“People,” cried they, “are generally accustomed to take their +shadows with them when they walk in the sunshine.” +</p> + +<p> +In order to drive them away I threw gold by handfuls among them, and sprang +into a hackney-coach which some compassionate spectators sent to my rescue. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as I found myself alone in the rolling vehicle I began to weep +bitterly. I had by this time a misgiving that, in the same degree in which gold +in this world prevails over merit and virtue, by so much one’s shadow +excels gold; and now that I had sacrificed my conscience for riches, and given +my shadow in exchange for mere gold, what on earth would become of me? +</p> + +<p> +As the coach stopped at the door of my late inn, I felt much perplexed, and not +at all disposed to enter so wretched an abode. I called for my things, and +received them with an air of contempt, threw down a few gold-pieces, and +desired to be conducted to a first-rate hotel. This house had a northern +aspect, so that I had nothing to fear from the sun. I dismissed the coachman +with gold, asked to be conducted to the best apartment, and locked myself up in +it as soon as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Imagine, my friend, what I then set about? O my dear Chamisso! even to thee I +blush to mention what follows. +</p> + +<p> +I drew the ill-fated purse from my bosom; and, in a sort of frenzy that raged +like a self-fed fire within me, I took out +gold—gold—gold—more and more, till I strewed it on the floor, +trampled upon it, and feasting on its very sound and brilliancy, added coins to +coins, rolling and revelling on the gorgeous bed, until I sank exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +Thus passed away that day and evening; and as my door remained locked, night +found me still lying on the gold, where, at last, sleep overpowered me. +</p> + +<p> +Then I dreamed of thee, and fancied I stood behind the glass door of thy little +room, and saw thee seated at thy table between a skeleton and a bunch of dried +plants; before thee lay open the works of Haller, Humboldt, and Linnaeus; on +thy sofa a volume of Goethe, and the Enchanted Ring. I stood a long time +contemplating thee, and everything in thy apartment; and again turning my gaze +upon thee, I perceived that thou wast motionless—thou didst not +breathe—thou wast dead. +</p> + +<p> +I awoke—it seemed yet early—my watch had stopped. I felt thirsty, +faint, and worn out; for since the preceding morning I had not tasted food. I +now cast from me, with loathing and disgust, the very gold with which but a +short time before I had satiated my foolish heart. Now I knew not where to put +it—I dared not leave it lying there. I examined my purse to see if it +would hold it,—impossible! Neither of my windows opened on the sea. I had +no other resource but, with toil and great fatigue, to drag it to a huge chest +which stood in a closet in my room; where I placed it all, with the exception +of a handful or two. Then I threw myself, exhausted, into an arm-chair, till +the people of the house should be up and stirring. As soon as possible I sent +for some refreshment, and desired to see the landlord. +</p> + +<p> +I entered into some conversation with this man respecting the arrangement of my +future establishment. He recommended for my personal attendant one Bendel, +whose honest and intelligent countenance immediately prepossessed me in his +favor. It is this individual whose persevering attachment has consoled me in +all the miseries of my life, and enabled me to bear up under my wretched lot. I +was occupied the whole day in my room with servants in want of a situation, and +tradesmen of every description. I decided on my future plans, and purchased +various articles of vertu and splendid jewels, in order to get rid of some of +my gold; but nothing seemed to diminish the inexhaustible heap. +</p> + +<p> +I now reflected on my situation with the utmost uneasiness. I dared not take a +single step beyond my own door; and in the evening I had forty wax tapers +lighted before I ventured to leave the shade. I reflected with horror on the +frightful encounter with the schoolboys; yet I resolved, if I could command +sufficient courage, to put the public opinion to a second trial. The nights +were now moonlight. Late in the evening I wrapped myself in a large cloak, +pulled my hat over my eyes, and, trembling like a criminal, stole out of the +house. +</p> + +<p> +I did not venture to leave the friendly shadow of the houses until I had +reached a distant part of the town; and then I emerged into the broad +moonlight, fully prepared to hear my fate from the lips of the passers-by. +</p> + +<p> +Spare me, my beloved friend, the painful recital of all that I was doomed to +endure. The women often expressed the deepest sympathy for me—a sympathy +not less piercing to my soul than the scoffs of the young people, and the proud +contempt of the men, particularly of the more corpulent, who threw an ample +shadow before them. A fair and beauteous maiden, apparently accompanied by her +parents, who gravely kept looking straight before them, chanced to cast a +beaming glance on me; but was evidently startled at perceiving that I was +without a shadow, and hiding her lovely face in her veil, and holding down her +head, passed silently on. +</p> + +<p> +This was past all endurance. Tears streamed from my eyes; and with a heart +pierced through and through, I once more took refuge in the shade. I leaned on +the houses for support, and reached home at a late hour, worn out with fatigue. +</p> + +<p> +I passed a sleepless night. My first care the following morning was to devise +some means of discovering the man in the gray cloak. Perhaps I may succeed in +finding him; and how fortunate it were if he should be as ill satisfied with +his bargain as I am with mine! +</p> + +<p> +I desired Bendel to be sent for, who seemed to possess some tact and ability. I +minutely described to him the individual who possessed a treasure without which +life itself was rendered a burden to me. I mentioned the time and place at +which I had seen him, named all the persons who were present, and concluded +with the following directions: He was to inquire for a Dollond’s +telescope, a Turkey carpet interwoven with gold, a marquee, and, finally, for +some black steeds—the history, without entering into particulars, of all +these being singularly connected with the mysterious character who seemed to +pass unnoticed by every one, but whose appearance had destroyed the peace and +happiness of my life. +</p> + +<p> +As I spoke I produced as much gold as I could hold in my two hands, and added +jewels and precious stones of still greater value. “Bendel,” said +I, “this smooths many a path, and renders that easy which seems almost +impossible. Be not sparing of it, for I am not so; but go, and rejoice thy +master with intelligence on which depend all his hopes.” +</p> + +<p> +He departed, and returned late and melancholy. None of Mr. John’s +servants, none of his guests (and Bendel had spoken to them all), had the +slightest recollection of the man in the gray cloak. The new telescope was +still there, but no one knew how it had come; and the tent and Turkey carpet +were still stretched out on the hill. The servants boasted of their +master’s wealth; but no one seemed to know by what means he had become +possessed of these newly acquired luxuries. He was gratified; and it gave him +no concern to be ignorant how they had come to him. The black coursers which +had been mounted on that day were in the stables of the young gentlemen of the +party, who admired them as the munificent present of Mr. John. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the information I gained from Bendel’s detailed account; but, in +spite of this unsatisfactory result, his zeal and prudence deserved and +received my commendation. In a gloomy mood, I made him a sign to withdraw. +</p> + +<p> +“I have, sir,” he continued, “laid before you all the +information in my power relative to the subject of the most importance to you. +I have now a message to deliver which I received early this morning from a +person at the gate, as I was proceeding to execute the commission in which I +have so unfortunately failed. The man’s words were precisely these: +‘Tell your master, Peter Schlemihl, he will not see me here again. I am +going to cross the sea; a favorable wind now calls all the passengers on board; +but in a year and a day I shall have the honor of paying him a visit; when, in +all probability, I shall have a proposal to make to him of a very agreeable +nature. Commend me to him most respectfully, with many thanks.’ I +inquired his name; but he said you would remember him.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of a person was he?” cried I, in great emotion; and +Bendel described the man in the gray coat feature by feature, word for word; in +short, the very individual in search of whom he had been sent. “How +unfortunate!” cried I bitterly; “it was himself.” Scales, as +it were, fell from Bendel’s eyes. “Yes, it was he,” cried he, +“undoubtedly it was he; and fool, madman, that I was, I did not recognize +him—I did not, and I have betrayed my master!” He then broke out +into a torrent of self-reproach; and his distress really excited my compassion. +I endeavored to console him, repeatedly assuring him that I entertained no +doubt of his fidelity; and despatched him immediately to the wharf, to +discover, if possible, some trace of the extraordinary being. But on that very +morning many vessels which had been detained in port by contrary winds had set +sail, all bound to different parts of the globe; and the gray man had +disappeared like a shadow. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“For a person,” said I, “who most unfortunately has lost his +shadow, could you paint a false one?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you speak of the natural shadow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely so.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” he asked, “by what awkward negligence can a man have +lost his shadow?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Bendel,” at last I tremblingly resumed, “you have now my +confidence; you may betray me—go—bear witness against me!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +I now looked forward with more composure to the promised visit of the +mysterious unknown at the expiration of the year and a day. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +But why detail to you the oft-repeated story which I have so often heard from +yourself? +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The powerful emotions which once swelled my bosom seem now in the retrospect to +be poor and insipid, nay, even terrible to me. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +She modestly accompanied her parents, and seemed unconscious of her +transcendent beauty. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +I ordered gold, in the meantime, to be showered down without ceasing among the +happy multitude. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” said I; “let him enjoy his paltry booty. +<i>I</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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The magnificence of my banquet, and my deportment on the occasion, had but +strengthened the credulous townspeople in their previous belief. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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: +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, then—fear not to leave me—you are too deeply seated in +my heart—I shall die inexpressibly happy in thy love.” +</p> + +<p> +Conceive how these words pierced my soul, Chamisso! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<p> +It was yet early, when I was suddenly awoke by voices in hot dispute in my +ante-chamber. I listened. Bendel was forbidding Rascal to enter my room, who +swore he would receive no orders from his equals, and insisted on forcing his +way. The faithful Bendel reminded him that if such words reached his +master’s ears, he would turn him out of an excellent place. Rascal +threatened to strike him if he persisted in refusing his entrance. +</p> + +<p> +By this time, having half-dressed myself, I angrily threw open the door, and +addressing myself to Rascal, inquired what he meant by such disgraceful +conduct. He drew back a couple of steps, and coolly answered: “Count +Peter, may I beg most respectfully that you will favor me with a sight of your +shadow? The sun is now shining brightly in the court below.” +</p> + +<p> +I stood as if struck by a thunderbolt, and for some time was unable to speak. +At last I asked him how a servant could dare to behave so towards his master. +He interrupted me by saying, quite coolly, “A servant may be a very +honorable man, and unwilling to serve a shadowless master—I request my +dismissal.” +</p> + +<p> +I felt that I must adopt a softer tone, and replied, “But, Rascal, my +good fellow, who can have put such strange ideas into your head? How can you +imagine—” +</p> + +<p> +He again interrupted me in the same tone— +</p> + +<p> +“People say you have no shadow. In short, let me see your shadow, or give +me my dismissal.” +</p> + +<p> +Bendel, pale and trembling, but more collected than myself, made a sign to me. +I had recourse to the all-powerful influence of gold. But even gold had lost +its power—Rascal threw it at my feet: “From a shadowless +man,” he said, “I will take nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +Turning his back upon me, and putting on his hat, he then slowly left the room, +whistling a tune. I stood, with Bendel, as if petrified, gazing after him. +</p> + +<p> +With a deep sigh and a heavy heart I now prepared to keep my engagement, and to +appear in the forester’s garden like a criminal before his judge. I +entered by the shady arbor, which had received the name of Count Peter’s +arbor, where we had appointed to meet. The mother advanced with a cheerful air; +Minna sat fair and beautiful as the early snow of autumn reposing on the +departing flowers, soon to be dissolved and lost in the cold stream. +</p> + +<p> +The ranger, with a written paper in his hand, was walking up and down in an +agitated manner, struggling to suppress his feelings—his usually unmoved +countenance being one moment flushed and the next perfectly pale. He came +forward as I entered, and, in a faltering voice, requested a private +conversation with me. The path by which he requested me to follow him led to an +open spot in the garden, where the sun was shining. I sat down. A long silence +ensued, which even the good woman herself did not venture to break. The ranger, +in an agitated manner, paced up and down with unequal steps. At last he stood +still; and glancing over the paper he held in his hand, he said, addressing me +with a penetrating look, “Count Peter, do you know one Peter +Schlemihl?” I was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“A man,” he continued, “of excellent character and +extraordinary endowments.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused for an answer. “And supposing I myself were that very +man?” +</p> + +<p> +“You!” he exclaimed passionately; “he has lost his +shadow!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my suspicion is true!” cried Minna; “I have long known +it—he has no shadow!” And she threw herself into her mother’s +arms, who, convulsively clasping her to her bosom, reproached her for having so +long, to her hurt, kept such a secret. But, like the fabled Arethusa, her +tears, as from a fountain, flowed more abundantly, and her sobs increased at my +approach. +</p> + +<p> +“And so,” said the ranger fiercely, “you have not scrupled, +with unparalleled shamelessness, to deceive both her and me; and you pretended +to love her, forsooth!—her whom you have reduced to the state in which +you now see her. See how she weeps!—Oh, shocking, shocking!” +</p> + +<p> +By this time I had lost all presence of mind; and I answered, confusedly: +“After all, it is but a shadow, a mere shadow, which a man can do very +well without; and really it is not worth the while to make all this noise about +such a trifle.” Feeling the groundlessness of what I was saying, I +ceased, and no one condescended to reply. At last I added: “What is lost +to-day may be found to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be pleased, sir,” continued the ranger, in great +wrath—“be pleased to explain how you have lost your shadow.” +</p> + +<p> +Here again an excuse was ready: “A boor of a fellow,” said I, +“one day trod so rudely on my shadow that he tore a large hole in it. I +sent it to be repaired—for gold can do wonders—and yesterday I +expected it home again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” answered the ranger. “You are a suitor my +daughter’s hand, and so are others. As a father, I am bound to provide +for her. I will give you three days to seek your shadow. Return to me in the +course of that time with a well-fitted shadow, and you shall receive a hearty +welcome; otherwise, on the fourth day—remember, on the fourth +day—my daughter becomes the wife of another.” +</p> + +<p> +I now attempted to say one word to Minna; but, sobbing more violently, she +clung still closer to her mother, who made a sign for me to withdraw. I obeyed; +and now the world seemed shut out from me for ever. +</p> + +<p> +Having escaped from the affectionate care of Bendel, I now wandered wildly +through the neighboring woods and meadows. Drops of anguish fell from my brow, +deep groans burst from my bosom—frenzied despair raged within me. +</p> + +<p> +I knew not how long this had lasted, when I felt myself seized by the sleeve on +a sunny heath. I stopped, and looking up, beheld the gray-coated man, who +appeared to have run himself out of breath in pursuing me. He immediately +began: “I had,” said he, “appointed this day; but your +impatience anticipated it. All, however, may yet be right. Take my +advice—redeem your shadow, which is at your command, and return +immediately to the ranger’s garden, where you will be well received, and +all the past will seem a mere joke. As for Rascal—who has betrayed you in +order to pay his addresses to Minna—leave him to me; he is just a fit +subject for me.” +</p> + +<p> +I stood like one in a dream. “This day?” I considered again. He was +right—I had made a mistake of a day. I felt in my bosom for the purse. He +perceived my intention, and drew back. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Count Peter; the purse is in good hands—pray keep it.” I +gazed at him with looks of astonishment and inquiry. “I only beg a trifle +as a token of remembrance. Be so good as to sign this memorandum.” On the +parchment, which he held out to me, were these words: “By virtue of this +present, to which I have appended my signature, I hereby bequeath my soul to +the holder, after its natural separation from my body.” +</p> + +<p> +I gazed in mute astonishment alternately at the paper and the gray unknown. In +the meantime he had dipped a new pen in a drop of blood which was issuing from +a scratch in my hand just made by a thorn. He presented it to me. “Who +are you?” at last I exclaimed. “What can it signify?” he +answered: “do you not perceive who I am? A poor devil—a sort of +scholar and philosopher, who obtains but poor thanks from his friends for his +admirable arts, and whose only amusement on earth consists in his small +experiments. But just sign this; to the right, exactly underneath—Peter +Schlemihl.” +</p> + +<p> +I shook my head, and replied: “Excuse me, sir; I cannot sign that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cannot!” he exclaimed; “and why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because it appears to me a hazardous thing to exchange my soul for my +shadow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hazardous!” he exclaimed, bursting into a loud laugh. “And, +pray, may I be allowed to inquire what sort of a thing your soul is?—have +you ever seen it?—and what do you mean to do with it after your death? +You ought to think yourself fortunate in meeting with a customer who, during +your life, in exchange for this infinitely minute quantity, this galvanic +principle, this polarized agency, or whatever other foolish name you may give +it, is willing to bestow on you something substantial—in a word, your own +identical shadow, by virtue of which you will obtain your beloved Minna, and +arrive at the accomplishment of all your wishes; or do you prefer giving up the +poor young girl to the power of that contemptible scoundrel Rascal? Nay, you +shall behold her with your own eyes. Come here; I will lend you an invisible +cap (he drew something out of his pocket), and we will enter the ranger’s +garden unseen.” +</p> + +<p> +I must confess that I felt excessively ashamed to be thus laughed at by the +gray stranger. I detested him from the very bottom of my soul; and I really +believe this personal antipathy, more than principle or previously formed +opinion, restrained me from purchasing my shadow, much as I stood in need of +it, at such an expense. Besides, the thought was insupportable of making this +proposed visit in his society. To behold this hateful sneak, this mocking +fiend, place himself between me and my beloved, between our torn and bleeding +hearts, was too revolting an idea to be entertained for a moment. I considered +the past as irrevocable, my own misery as inevitable; and turning to the gray +man, I said: “I have exchanged my shadow for this very extraordinary +purse, and I have sufficiently repented it. For Heaven’s sake, let the +transaction be declared null and void!” He shook his head, and his +countenance assumed an expression of the most sinister cast. I continued: +“I will make no exchange whatever, even for the sake of my shadow, nor +will I sign the paper. It follows, also, that the incognito visit you propose +to me would afford you far more entertainment than it could possibly give me. +Accept my excuses, therefore; and, since it must be so, let us part.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry, Mr. Schlemihl, that you thus obstinately persist in +rejecting my friendly offer. Perhaps, another time, I may be more fortunate. +Farewell! May we shortly meet again! But, <i>à propos</i>, allow me to show you +that I do not undervalue my purchase, but preserve it carefully.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he drew my shadow out of his pocket; and shaking it cleverly out of +its folds, he stretched it out at his feet in the sun—so that he stood +between two obedient shadows, his own and mine, which was compelled to follow +and comply with his every movement. On again beholding my poor shadow after so +long a separation, and seeing it degraded to so vile a bondage at the very time +that I was so unspeakably in want of it, my heart was ready to burst, and I +wept bitterly. The detested wretch stood exulting over his prey, and +unblushingly renewed his proposal. “One stroke of your pen, and the +unhappy Minna is rescued from the clutches of the villain Rascal, and +transferred to the arms of the high-born Count Peter—merely a stroke of +your pen!” +</p> + +<p> +My tears broke out with renewed violence; but I turned away from him, and made +a sign for him to be gone. +</p> + +<p> +Bendel, whose deep solicitude had induced him to come in search of me, arrived +at this very moment. The good and faithful creature, on seeing me weeping, and +that a shadow (evidently mine) was in the power of the mysterious unknown, +determined to rescue it by force, should that be necessary; and disdaining to +use any finesse, he desired him directly, and without any disputing, to restore +my property. Instead of a reply, the gray man turned his back on the worthy +fellow, and was making off. But Bendel raised his buck-thorn stick; and +following close upon him, after repeated commands, but in vain, to restore the +shadow, he made him feel the whole force of his powerful arm. The gray man, as +if accustomed to such treatment, held down his head, slouched his shoulders, +and, with soft and noiseless steps, pursued his way over the heath, carrying +with him my shadow, and also my faithful servant. For a long time I heard +hollow sounds ringing through the waste, until at last they died away in the +distance, and I was again left to solitude and misery. +</p> + +<p> +Alone on the wild heath, I disburdened my heart of an insupportable load by +given free vent to my tears. But I saw no bounds, no relief, to my surpassing +wretchedness; and I drank in the fresh poison which the mysterious stranger had +poured into my wounds with a furious avidity. As I retraced in my mind the +loved image of my Minna, and depicted her sweet countenance all pale and in +tears, such as I had beheld her in my late disgrace, the bold and sarcastic +visage of Rascal would ever and anon thrust itself between us. I hid my face, +and fled rapidly over the plains; but the horrible vision unrelentingly pursued +me, till at last I sank breathless on the ground, and bedewed it with a fresh +torrent of tears—and all this for a shadow!—a shadow which one +stroke of the pen would repurchase. I pondered on the singular proposal, and on +my hesitation to comply with it. My mind was confused—I had lost the +power of judging or comprehending. The day was waning apace. I satisfied the +cravings of hunger with a few wild fruits, and quenched my thirst at a +neighboring stream. Night came on; I threw myself down under a tree, and was +awoke by the damp morning air from an uneasy sleep, in which I had fancied +myself struggling in the agonies of death. Bendel had certainly lost all trace +of me, and I was glad of it. I did not wish to return among my +fellow-creatures—I shunned them as the hunted deer flies before its +pursuers. Thus I passed three melancholy days. +</p> + +<p> +I found myself on the morning of the fourth on a sandy plain, basking in the +rays of the sun, and sitting on a fragment of rock; for it was sweet to enjoy +the genial warmth of which I had so long been deprived. Despair still preyed on +my heart. Suddenly a slight sound startled me; I looked round, prepared to fly, +but saw no one. On the sunlit sand before me flitted the shadow of a man not +unlike my own; and wandering about alone, it seemed to have lost its master. +This sight powerfully excited me. “Shadow!” thought I, “art +thou in search of thy master? in me thou shall find him.” And I sprang +forward to seize it, fancying that could I succeed in treading so exactly in +its traces as to step in its footmarks, it would attach itself to me, and in +time become accustomed to me, and follow all my movements. +</p> + +<p> +The shadow, as I moved, took to flight, and I commenced a hot chase after the +airy fugitive, solely excited by the hope of being delivered from my present +dreadful situation; the bare idea inspired me with fresh strength and vigor. +</p> + +<p> +The shadow now fled towards a distant wood, among whose shades I must +necessarily have lost it. Seeing this, my heart beat wild with fright, my ardor +increased and lent wings to my speed. I was evidently gaining on the +shadow—I came nearer and nearer—I was within reach of it, when it +suddenly stopped and turned towards me. Like a lion darting on its prey, I made +a powerful spring and fell unexpectedly upon a hard substance. Then followed, +from an invisible hand, the most terrible blows in the ribs that anyone ever +received. The effect of my terror made me endeavor convulsively to strike and +grasp at the unseen object before me. The rapidity of my motions brought me to +the ground, where I lay stretched out with a man under me, whom I held tight, +and who now became visible. +</p> + +<p> +The whole affair was now explained. The man had undoubtedly possessed the +bird’s nest which communicates its charm of invisibility to its +possessor, though not equally so to his shadow; and this nest he had now thrown +away. I looked all round, and soon discovered the shadow of this invisible +nest. I sprang towards it, and was fortunate enough to seize the precious +booty, and immediately became invisible and shadowless. +</p> + +<p> +The moment the man regained his feet he looked all round over the wide sunny +plain to discover his fortunate vanquisher, but could see neither him nor his +shadow, the latter seeming particularly to be the object of his search: for +previous to our encounter he had not had leisure to observe that I was +shadowless, and he could not be aware of it. Becoming convinced that all traces +of me were lost, he began to tear his hair, and give himself up to all the +frenzy of despair. In the meantime, this newly acquired treasure communicated +to me both the ability and the desire to mix again among mankind. +</p> + +<p> +I was at no loss for a pretext to vindicate this unjust robbery—or, +rather, so deadened had I become, I felt no need of a pretext; and in order to +dissipate every idea of the kind, I hastened on, regardless of the unhappy man, +whose fearful lamentations long resounded in my ears. Such, at the time, were +my impressions of all the circumstances of this affair. +</p> + +<p> +I now ardently desired to return to the ranger’s garden, in order to +ascertain in person the truth of the information communicated by the odious +unknown; but I knew not where I was, until, ascending an eminence to take a +survey of the surrounding country, I perceived, from its summit, the little +town and the gardens almost at my feet. My heart beat violently, and tears of a +nature very different from those I had lately shed filled my eyes. I should, +then, once more behold her! +</p> + +<p> +Anxiety now hastened my steps. Unseen, I met some peasants coming from the +town; they were talking of me, of Rascal, and of the ranger. I would not stay +to listen to their conversation, but proceeded on. My bosom thrilled with +expectation as I entered the garden. At this moment I heard something like a +hollow laugh which caused me involuntarily to shudder. I cast a rapid glance +around, but could see no one. I passed on; presently I fancied I heard the +sound of footsteps close to me, but no one was within sight. My ears must have +deceived me. +</p> + +<p> +It was early; no one was in Count Peter’s bower—the gardens were +deserted. I traversed all the well-known paths, and penetrated even to the +dwelling-house itself. The same rustling sound became now more and more +audible. With anguished feelings I sat down on a seat placed in the sunny space +before the door, and actually felt some invisible fiend take a place by me, and +heard him utter a sarcastic laugh. The key was turned in the door, which was +opened. The forest-master appeared with a paper in his hand. Suddenly my head +was, as it were, enveloped in a mist. I looked up, and, oh horror! the +gray-coated man was at my side, peering in my face with a satanic grin. He had +extended the mist-cap he wore over my head. His shadow and my own were lying +together at his feet in perfect amity. He kept twirling in his hand the +well-known parchment with an air of indifference; and while the ranger, +absorbed in thought, and intent upon his paper, paced up and down the arbor, my +tormentor confidentially leaned towards me, and whispered: “So, Mr. +Schlemihl, you have at length accepted my invitation; and here we sit, two +heads under one hood, as the saying is. Well, well, all in good time. But now +you can return me my bird’s nest—you have no further occasion for +it; and I am sure you are too honorable a man to withhold it from me. No need +of thanks, I assure you; I had infinite pleasure in lending it to you.” +He took it out of my unresisting hand, put it into his pocket, and then broke +into so loud a laugh at my expense, that the forest-master turned round, +startled at the sound. I was petrified. “You must acknowledge,” he +continued, “that in our position a hood is much more convenient. It +serves to conceal not only a man, but his shadow, or as many shadows as he +chooses to carry. I, for instance, to-day bring two, you perceive.” He +laughed again. “Take notice, Schlemihl, that what a man refuses to do +with a good grace in the first instance, he is always in the end compelled to +do. I am still of opinion that you ought to redeem your shadow and claim your +bride (for it is yet time); and as to Rascal, he shall dangle at a rope’s +end—no difficult matter, so long as we can find a bit. As a mark of +friendship I will give you my cap into the bargain.” +</p> + +<p> +The mother now came out, and the following conversation took place: “What +is Minna doing?”—“She is weeping.”—“Silly +child! what good can that do?”—“None, certainly; but it is so +soon to bestow her hand on another. O husband, you are too harsh to your poor +child.”—“No, wife; you view things in a wrong light. When she +finds herself the wife of a wealthy and honorable man, her tears will soon +cease; she will waken out of a dream, as it were, happy and grateful to Heaven +and to her parents, as you will see.”—“Heaven grant it may be +so!” replied the wife. “She has, indeed, now considerable property; +but after the noise occasioned by her unlucky affair with that adventurer, do +you imagine that she is likely soon to meet with so advantageous a match as Mr. +Rascal? Do you know the extent of Mr. Rascal’s influence and wealth? Why, +he has purchased with ready money, in this country, six millions of landed +property, free from all encumbrances. I have had all the documents in my hands. +It was he who outbid me everywhere when I was about to make a desirable +purchase; and, besides, he has bills on Mr. Thomas John’s house to the +amount of three millions and a half.”—“He must have been a +prodigious thief!”—“How foolishly you talk! he wisely saved +where others squandered their property.”—“A mere +livery-servant!”—“Nonsense! he has at all events an +unexceptionable shadow.”—“True, but…” +</p> + +<p> +While this conversation was passing, the gray-coated man looked at me with a +satirical smile. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, and Minna entered, leaning on the arm of her female attendant, +silent tears flowing down her fair but pallid face. She seated herself in the +chair which had been placed for her under the lime trees, and her father took a +stool by her side. He gently raised her hand; and as her tears flowed afresh, +he addressed her in the most affectionate manner: +</p> + +<p> +“My own dear, good child—my Minna—will act reasonably, and +not afflict her poor old father, who only wishes to make her happy. My dearest +child, this blow has shaken you—dreadfully, I know it; but you have been +saved, as by a miracle, from a miserable fate, my Minna. You loved the unworthy +villain most tenderly before his treachery was discovered: I feel all this, +Minna; and far be it from me to reproach you for it—in fact, I myself +loved him so long as I considered him to be a person of rank: you now see +yourself how differently it has turned out. Every dog has a shadow; and the +idea of my child having been on the eve of uniting herself to a man who… but I +am sure you will think no more of him. A suitor has just appeared for you in +the person of a man who does not fear the sun—an honorable man—no +prince indeed, but a man worth ten millions of golden ducats sterling—a +sum nearly ten times larger than your fortune consists of—a man, too, who +will make my dear child happy—nay, do not oppose me—be my own good, +dutiful child—allow your loving father to provide for you, and to dry up +these tears. Promise to bestow your hand on Mr. Rascal. Speak my child: will +you not?” +</p> + +<p> +Minna could scarcely summon strength to reply that she had now no longer any +hopes or desires on earth, and that she was entirely at her father’s +disposal. Rascal was therefore immediately sent for, and entered the room with +his usual forwardness; but Minna in the meantime had swooned away. +</p> + +<p> +My detested companion looked at me indignantly, and whispered: “Can you +endure this? Have you no blood in your veins?” He instantly pricked my +finger, which bled. “Yes, positively,” he exclaimed, “you +have some blood left!—come, sign.” The parchment and pen were in my +hand!… +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<p> +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…. +</p> + +<p> +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?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +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!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have but to command; I depart,” was all his reply. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +I had not a word to reply. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +I held out the purse to him. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Mr. Schlemihl; not at that price.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +Recollections of former days came over me; and I hastily asked him if he had +obtained Mr. Thomas John’s signature. +</p> + +<p> +He smiled, and said: “It was by no means necessary from so excellent a +friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he? for God’s sake tell me; I insist upon knowing.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<p> +I was now left equally without gold and without shadow; but a heavy load was +taken from my breast, and I felt cheerful. Had not my Minna been irrecoverably +lost to me, or even had I been perfectly free from self-reproach on her +account, I felt that happiness might yet have been mine. At present I was lost +in doubt as to my future course. I examined my pockets, and found I had a few +gold-pieces still left, which I counted with feelings of great satisfaction. I +had left my horse at the inn, and was ashamed to return, or at all events I +must wait till the sun had set, which at present was high in the heavens. I +laid myself down under a shady tree and fell into a peaceful sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Lovely forms floated in airy measures before me, and filled up my delightful +dreams. Minna, with a garland of flowers entwined in her hair, was bending over +me with a smile of good-will; also the worthy Bendel was crowned with flowers, +and hastened to meet me with friendly greetings. Many other forms seemed to +rise up confusedly in the distance: thyself among the number, Chamisso. Perfect +radiance beamed around them, but none had a shadow; and what was more +surprising, there was no appearance of unhappiness on this account. Nothing was +to be seen or heard but flowers and music; and love and joy, and groves of +never-fading palms, seemed the natives of that happy clime. +</p> + +<p> +In vain I tried to detain and comprehend the lovely but fleeting forms. I was +conscious, also, of being in a dream, and was anxious that nothing should rouse +me from it; and when I did awake, I kept my eyes closed, in order if possible +to continue the illusion. At last I opened my eyes. The sun was now visible in +the east; I must have slept the whole night: I looked upon this as a warning +not to return to the inn. What I had left there I was content to lose, without +much regret; and resigning myself to Providence, I decided on taking a by-road +that led through the wooded declivity of the mountain. I never once cast a +glance behind me; nor did it ever occur to me to return, as I might have done, +to Bendel, whom I had left in affluence. I reflected on the new character I was +now going to assume in the world. My present garb was very +humble—consisting of an old black coat I formerly had worn at Berlin, and +which by some chance was the first I put my hand on before setting out on this +journey, a travelling-cap, and an old pair of boots. I cut down a knotted stick +in memory of the spot, and commenced my pilgrimage. +</p> + +<p> +In the forest I met an aged peasant, who gave me a friendly greeting, and with +whom I entered into conversation, requesting, as a traveller desirous of +information, some particulars relative to the road, the country, and its +inhabitants, the productions of the mountain, etc. He replied to my various +inquiries with readiness and intelligence. At last we reached the bed of a +mountain-torrent, which had laid waste a considerable tract of the forest; I +inwardly shuddered at the idea of the open sunshine. I suffered the peasant to +go before me. In the middle of the very place which I dreaded so much, he +suddenly stopped, and turned back to give me an account of this inundation; but +instantly perceiving that I had no shadow, he broke off abruptly, and +exclaimed: “How is this?—you have no shadow!” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, alas!” said I, “in a long and serious illness I had +the misfortune to lose my hair, my nails, and my shadow. Look, good father; +although my hair has grown again, it is quite white; and at my age my nails are +still very short; and my poor shadow seems to have left me, never to +return.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said the old man, shaking his head; “no shadow! that +was indeed a terrible illness, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +But he did not resume his narrative; and at the very first cross-road we came +to left me without uttering a syllable. Fresh tears flowed from my eyes, and my +cheerfulness had fled. With a heavy heart I travelled on, avoiding all society. +I plunged into the deepest shades of the forest; and often, to avoid a sunny +tract of country, I waited for hours till every human being had left it, and I +could pass it unobserved. In the evenings I took shelter in the villages. I +bent my steps to a mine in the mountains, where I hoped to meet with work +underground; for besides that my present situation compelled me to provide for +my own support, I felt that incessant and laborious occupation alone could +divert my mind from dwelling on painful subjects. A few rainy days assisted me +materially on my journey; but it was to the no small detriment of my boots, the +soles of which were better suited to Count Peter than to the poor +foot-traveller. I was soon barefoot, and a new purchase must be made. The +following morning I commenced an earnest search in a market-place, where a fair +was being held; and I saw in one of the booths new and second-hand boots set +out for sale. I was a long time selecting and bargaining; I wished much to have +a new pair, but was frightened at the extravagant price; and so was obliged to +content myself with a second-hand pair, still pretty good and strong, which the +beautiful fair-haired youth who kept the booth handed over to me with a +cheerful smile, wishing me a prosperous journey. I went on, and left the place +immediately by the northern gate. +</p> + +<p> +I was so lost in my own thoughts, that I walked along scarcely knowing how or +where. I was calculating the chances of my reaching the mine by the evening, +and considering how I should introduce myself. I had not gone two hundred +steps, when I perceived I was not in the right road. I looked round, and found +myself in a wild-looking forest of ancient firs, where apparently the stroke of +the axe had never been heard. A few steps more brought me amid huge rocks +covered with moss and saxifragous plants, between which whole fields of snow +and ice were extended. The air was intensely cold. I looked round, and the +forest had disappeared behind me; a few steps more, and there was the stillness +of death itself. The icy plain on which I stood stretched to an immeasurable +distance, and a thick cloud rested upon it; the sun was of a red blood-color at +the verge of the horizon: the cold was insupportable. I could not imagine what +had happened to me. The benumbing frost made me quicken my pace. I heard a +distant sound of waters; and at one step more I stood on the icy shore of some +ocean. Innumerable droves of sea-dogs rushed past me and plunged into the +waves. I continued my way along this coast, and again met with rocks, plains, +birch and fir forests, and yet only a few minutes had elapsed. It was now +intensely hot. I looked around, and suddenly found myself between some fertile +rice-fields and mulberry trees; I sat down under their shade, and found by my +watch that it was just one quarter of an hour since I had left the village +market. I fancied it was a dream; but no, I was indeed awake, as I felt by the +experiment I made of biting my tongue. I closed my eyes in order to collect my +scattered thoughts. Presently I heard unintelligible words uttered in a nasal +tone; and I beheld two Chinese, whose Asiatic physiognomies were not to be +mistaken, even had their costume not betrayed their origin. They were +addressing me in the language and with the salutations of their country. I rose +and drew back a couple of steps. They had disappeared; the landscape was +entirely changed; the rice-fields had given place to trees and woods. I +examined some of the trees and plants around me, and ascertained such of them +as I was acquainted with to be productions of the southern part of Asia. I made +one step towards a particular tree, and again all was changed. I now moved on +like a recruit at drill, taking slow and measured steps, gazing with astonished +eyes at the wonderful variety of regions, plains, meadows, mountains, steppes, +and sandy deserts, which passed in succession before me. I had now no doubt +that I had seven-leagued boots on my feet. +</p> + +<p> +I fell on my knees in silent gratitude, shedding tears of thankfulness; for I +now saw clearly what was to be my future condition. Shut out by early sins from +all human society, I was offered amends for the privation by Nature herself, +which I had ever loved. The earth was granted me as a rich garden; and the +knowledge of her operations was to be the study and object of my life. This was +not a mere resolution. I have since endeavored, with anxious and unabated +industry, faithfully to imitate the finished and brilliant model then presented +to me; and my vanity has received a check when led to compare the picture with +the original. I rose immediately, and took a hasty survey of this new field, +where I hoped afterwards to reap a rich harvest. +</p> + +<p> +I stood on the heights of Thibet; and the sun I had lately beheld in the east +was now sinking in the west. I traversed Asia from east to west, and thence +passed into Africa, which I curiously examined, at repeated visits, in all +directions. As I gazed on the ancient pyramids and temples of Egypt, I +descried, in the sandy deserts near Thebes of the hundred gates, the caves +where Christian hermits dwelt of old. +</p> + +<p> +My determination was instantly taken, that here should be my future dwelling. I +chose one of the most secluded, but roomy, comfortable, and inaccessible to the +jackals. +</p> + +<p> +I stepped over from the pillars of Hercules to Europe; and having taken a +survey of its northern and southern countries, I passed by the north of Asia, +on the polar glaciers, to Greenland and America, visiting both parts of this +continent; and the winter, which was already at its height in the south, drove +me quickly back from Cape Horn to the north. I waited till daylight had risen +in the east of Asia, and then, after a short rest, continued my pilgrimage. I +followed in both the Americas the vast chain of the Andes, once considered the +loftiest on our globe. I stepped carefully and slowly from one summit to +another, sometimes over snowy heights, sometimes over flaming volcanoes, often +breathless from fatigue. At last I reached Elias’s mountain, and sprang +over Behring’s Straits into Asia; I followed the western coast in its +various windings, carefully observing which of the neighboring isles was +accessible to me. From the peninsula of Malacca my boots carried me to Sumatra, +Java, Bali, and Lombok. I made many attempts—often with danger, and +always unsuccessfully—to force my way over the numerous little islands +and rocks with which this sea is studded, wishing to find a northwest passage +to Borneo and other islands of the Archipelago. +</p> + +<p> +At last I sat down at the extreme point of Lombok, my eyes turned towards the +southeast, lamenting that I had so soon reached the limits allotted to me, and +bewailing my fate as a captive in his grated cell. Thus was I shut out from +that remarkable country, New Holland, and the islands of the southern ocean, so +essentially necessary to a knowledge of the earth, and which would have best +assisted me in the study of the animal and vegetable kingdoms. And thus, at the +very outset, I beheld all my labors condemned to be limited to mere fragments. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! Chamisso, what is the activity of man? +</p> + +<p> +Frequently in the most rigorous winters of the southern hemisphere I have +rashly thrown myself on a fragment of drifting ice between Cape Horn and Van +Diemen’s Land, in the hope of effecting a passage to New Holland, +reckless of the cold and the vast ocean, reckless of my fate, even should this +savage land prove my grave. +</p> + +<p> +But all in vain—I never reached New Holland. Each time, when defeated in +my attempt, I returned to Lombok; and seated at its extreme point, my eyes +directed to the southeast, I gave way afresh to lamentations that my range of +investigation was so limited. At last I tore myself from the spot, and, +heartily grieved at my disappointment, returned to the interior of Asia. +Setting out at morning dawn, I traversed it from east to west, and at night +reached the cave in Thebes which I had previously selected for my +dwelling-place, and had visited yesterday afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +After a short repose, as soon as daylight had visited Europe, it was my first +care to provide myself with the articles of which I stood most in need. First +of all a drag to act on my boots; for I had experienced the inconvenience of +these whenever I wished to shorten my steps and examine surrounding objects +more fully. A pair of slippers to go over the boots served the purpose +effectually; and from that time I carried two pairs about me, because I +frequently cast them off from my feet in my botanical investigations, without +having time to pick them up, when threatened by the approach of lions, men, or +hyenas. My excellent watch, owing to the short duration of my movements, was +also on these occasions an admirable chronometer. I wanted, besides, a sextant, +a few philosophical instruments, and some books. To purchase these things, I +made several unwilling journeys to London and Paris, choosing a time when I +could be hid by the favoring clouds. As all my ill-gotten gold was exhausted, I +carried over from Africa some ivory, which is there so plentiful, in payment of +my purchases—taking care, however; to pick out the smallest teeth, in +order not to overburden myself. I had thus soon provided myself with all that I +wanted, and now entered on a new mode of life as a student—wandering over +the globe—measuring the height of the mountains, and the temperature of +the air and of the springs—observing the manners and habits of +animals—investigating plants and flowers. From the equator to the pole, +and from the new world to the old, I was constantly engaged in repeating and +comparing my experiments. +</p> + +<p> +My usual food consisted of the eggs of the African ostrich or northern +sea-birds, with a few fruits, especially those of the palm and the banana of +the tropics. The tobacco-plant consoled me when I was depressed; and the +affection of my spaniel was a compensation for the loss of human sympathy and +society. When I returned from my excursions, loaded with fresh treasures, to my +cave in Thebes, which he guarded during my absence, he ever sprang joyfully +forward to greet me, and made me feel that I was indeed not alone on the earth. +An adventure soon occurred which brought me once more among my +fellow-creatures. +</p> + +<p> +One day, as I was gathering lichens and algae on the northern coast, with the +drag on my boots, a bear suddenly made his appearance, and was stealing towards +me round the corner of a rock. After throwing away my slippers, I attempted to +step across to an island, by means of a rock, projecting from the waves in the +intermediate space, that served as a stepping-stone. I reached the rock safely +with one foot, but instantly fell into the sea with the other, one of my +slippers having inadvertently remained on. The cold was intense; and I escaped +this imminent peril at the risk of my life. On coming ashore, I hastened to the +Libyan sands to dry myself in the sun; but the heat affected my head so much, +that, in a fit of illness, I staggered back to the north. In vain I sought +relief by change of place—hurrying from east to west, and from west to +east—now in climes of the south, now in those of the north; sometimes I +rushed into daylight, sometimes into the shades of night. I know not how long +this lasted. A burning fever raged in my veins; with extreme anguish I felt my +senses leaving me. Suddenly, by an unlucky accident, I trod upon some +one’s foot, whom I had hurt, and received a blow in return which laid me +senseless. +</p> + +<p> +On recovering, I found myself lying comfortably in a good bed, which, with many +other beds, stood in a spacious and handsome apartment. Some one was watching +by me; people seemed to be walking from one bed to another; they came beside +me, and spoke of me as NUMBER TWELVE. On the wall, at the foot of my +bed—it was no dream, for I distinctly read it—on a black-marble +tablet was inscribed my name, in large letters of gold: +</p> + +<p class="center"> +PETER SCHLEMIHL. +</p> + +<p> +Underneath were two rows of letters in smaller characters, which I was too +feeble to connect together, and closed my eyes again. +</p> + +<p> +I now heard something read aloud, in which I distinctly noted the words, +“Peter Schlemihl,” but could not collect the full meaning. I saw a +man of benevolent aspect, and a very beautiful female dressed in black, +standing near my bed; their countenances were not unknown to me, but in my weak +state I could not remember who they were. Some time elapsed, and I began to +regain my strength. I was called Number Twelve, and, from my long beard, was +supposed to be a Jew, but was not the less carefully nursed on that account. No +one seemed to perceive that I was destitute of a shadow. My boots, I was +assured, together with everything found on me when I was brought here, were in +safe keeping, and would be given up to me on my restoration to health. This +place was called the SCHLEMIHLIUM: the daily recitation I had heard was an +exhortation to pray for Peter Schlemihl as the founder and benefactor of this +institution. The benevolent-looking man whom I had seen by my bedside was +Bendel; the beautiful lady in black was Minna. I had been enjoying the +advantages of the Schlemihlium without being recognized; and I learned, +further, that I was in Bendel’s native town, where he had employed a part +of my once unhallowed gold in founding an hospital in my name, under his +superintendence, and that its unfortunate inmates daily pronounced blessings on +me. Minna had become a widow: an unhappy lawsuit had deprived Rascal of his +life, and Minna of the greater part of her property. Her parents were no more; +and here she dwelt in widowed piety, wholly devoting herself to works of mercy. +</p> + +<p> +One day, as she stood by the side of Number Twelve’s bed with Bendel, he +said to her, “Noble lady, why expose yourself so frequently to this +unhealthy atmosphere? Has fate dealt so harshly with you as to render you +desirous of death?” +</p> + +<p> +“By no means, Mr. Bendel,” she replied; “since I have awoke +from my long dream, all has gone well with me. I now neither wish for death nor +fear it, and think on the future and on the past with equal serenity. Do you +not also feel an inward satisfaction in thus paying a pious tribute of +gratitude and love to your old master and friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks be to God, I do, noble lady,” said he. “Ah, how +wonderfully has everything fallen out! How thoughtlessly have we sipped joys +and sorrows from the full cup now drained to the last drop; and we might fancy +the past a mere prelude to the real scene for which we now wait armed by +experience. How different has been the reality! Yet let us not regret the past, +but rather rejoice that we have not lived in vain. As respects our old friend +also, I have a firm hope that it is now better with him than formerly.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust so, too,” answered Minna; and so saying, she passed by me, +and they departed. +</p> + +<p> +This conversation made a deep impression on me; and I hesitated whether I +should discover myself or depart unknown. At last I decided; and, asking for +pen and paper, wrote as follows: +</p> + +<p> +“Matters are indeed better with your old friend than formerly. He has +repented; and his repentance has led to forgiveness.” +</p> + +<p> +I now attempted to rise, for I felt myself stronger. The keys of a little chest +near my bed were given me; and in it I found all my effects. I put on my +clothes; fastened my botanical case round me—wherein, with delight, I +found my northern lichens all safe—put on my boots, and, leaving my note +on the table, left the gates, and was speedily far advanced on the road to +Thebes. +</p> + +<p> +Passing along the Syrian coast, which was the same road I had taken on last +leaving home, I beheld my poor Figaro running to meet me. The faithful animal, +after vainly waiting at home for his master’s return, had probably +followed his traces. I stood still, and called him. He sprang towards me with +leaps and barks, and a thousand demonstrations of unaffected delight. I took +him in my arms—for he was unable to follow me—and carried him home. +</p> + +<p> +There I found everything exactly in the order in which I had left it; and +returned by degrees, as my increasing strength allowed me, to my old +occupations and usual mode of life, from which I was kept back a whole year by +my fall into the Polar Ocean. And this, dear Chamisso, is the life I am still +leading. My boots are not yet worn out, as I had been led to fear would be the +case from that very learned work of Tieckius—De Rebus Gestis Pollicilli. +Their energies remain unimpaired; and although mine are gradually failing me, I +enjoy the consolation of having spent them in pursuing incessantly one object, +and that not fruitlessly. +</p> + +<p> +So far as my boots would carry me, I have observed and studied our globe and +its conformation, its mountains and temperature, the atmosphere in its various +changes, the influences of the magnetic power; in fact, I have studied all +living creation—and more especially the kingdom of plants—more +profoundly than any one of our race. I have arranged all the facts in proper +order, to the best of my ability, in different works. The consequences +deducible from these facts, and my views respecting them, I have hastily +recorded in some essays and dissertations. I have settled the geography of the +interior of Africa and the Arctic regions, of the interior of Asia and of its +eastern coast. My Historia Stirpium Plantarum Utriusque Orbis is an extensive +fragment of a Flora universalis terrae and a part of my Systema Naturae. +Besides increasing the number of our known species by more than a third, I have +also contributed somewhat to the natural system of plants and to a knowledge of +their geography. I am now deeply engaged on my Fauna, and shall take care to +have my manuscripts sent to the University of Berlin before my decease. +</p> + +<p> +I have selected thee, my dear Chamisso, to be the guardian of my wonderful +history, thinking that, when I have left this world, it may afford valuable +instruction to the living. As for thee, Chamisso, if thou wouldst live amongst +thy fellow-creatures, learn to value thy shadow more than gold; if thou wouldst +only live to thyself and thy nobler part—in this thou needest no counsel. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES BY FOREIGN AUTHORS: GERMAN ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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