{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_32219/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_32219","id":"gutenberg_32219","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/32219","summary":null,"tags":["Category: German Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Conduct of life -- Fiction","Fairy tales -- Germany","Shades and shadows -- Fiction"],"text":"Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note:\nSource: http://www.archive.org/details/marvelloushistor00chamrich\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 _THE_\n                           MARVELLOUS HISTORY\n                                  _OF_\n                             THE SHADOWLESS\n                                  MAN.\n\n                         _by_ A. von CHAMISSO\n\n                                 _and_\n\n                             THE COLD HEART\n\n                          _by_ WILHELM HAUFF\n\n                       _With an Introduction by_\n                          DR. A. S. RAPPOPORT\n\n                            _Illustrated by_\n                             FORSTER ROBSON\n\n\n                                 LONDON\n                          HOLDEN & HARDINGHAM\n\n\n\n\n                                CONTENTS\n\n                           THE SHADOWLESS MAN\n\n                                                        PAGE\nINTRODUCTION\nAUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION\nCHAPTER 1\n   \"    2\n   \"    3\n   \"    4\n   \"    5\n\n                             THE COLD HEART\n\nINTRODUCTION\nPART 1\n  \"  2\n\n\n\n\n                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n                           THE SHADOWLESS MAN\n\n\"THE WHOLE SWARM PROCEEDED IMMEDIATELY TO RECONNOITRE\n      ME AND TO PELT ME WITH MUD\"                   _Frontispiece_\n                                                    _To face page_\n\n\"AN EXTRAORDINARY LOOKING OLD MAN LEFT ME THESE\n      PAPERS SAYING HE CAME FROM BERLIN\"                         2\n\nFANNY                                                            6\n\n\"I DREW THE ILL-FATED PURSE FROM MY BOSOM; AND IN A\n      SORT OF FRENZY THAT RAGED LIKE A SELF-FED FIRE\n      WITHIN ME, I TOOK OUT GOLD--GOLD--GOLD\"                   16\n\n\"AND TREMBLING LIKE A CRIMINAL STOLE OUT OF THE HOUSE\"          18\n\n\"I SUFFERED HER TO FALL FROM MY ARM IN A FAINTING FIT\"          28\n\n\"SHE ADVANCED FROM THE MIDST OF HER COMPANIONS, AND\n      BLUSHINGLY KNELT BEFORE ME PRESENTING A WREATH\"           30\n\n\"NEXT EVENING I WENT AGAIN TO THE FORESTER'S GARDEN\"            42\n\n\"SO SAYING HE DREW MY SHADOW OUT OF HIS POCKET AND\n      STRETCHED IT OUT AT HIS FEET IN THE SUN\"                  50\n\n\"ALONE ON THE WILD HEATH I DISBURDENED MY HEART\"                52\n\nTHE FOREST OF ANCIENT FIRS                                      62\n\n\"WITH SOME HESITATION HE PUT HIS HAND INTO HIS POCKET\n      AND DREW OUT THE ALTERED AND PALLID FORM OF MR.\n      JOHN\"                                                     76\n\nTHE DREAM                                                       78\n\n\"AND SO WAS OBLIGED TO CONTENT MYSELF WITH A\n      SECONDHAND PAIR\"                                          80\n\nTHE FROZEN SEA                                                  82\n\n\"AT LAST I SAT DOWN AT THE EXTREME POINT OF LOMBOCK\n      LAMENTING\"                                                 86\n\nPETER AT HOME                                                   92\n\n\n                             THE COLD HEART\n\n                                                    _To face page_\n\nDUTCH MICHAEL FELLING THE TREES                                 14\n\nPETER'S DREAM                                                   22\n\n\"HAVE YOU HAD ENOUGH, THEY ASKED HIM\"                           24\n\n\"PETER MUNK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE PINE GROVE\"              26\n\n\"THEN IN A FLASH A MONSTROUS WOODCOCK SWEPT DOWN\n      FROM ABOVE AND SEIZED THE SNAKE IN ITS BEAK\"              28\n\n\"YOU HAVEN'T QUITE HIT IT, CHARCOAL PETER\"                      30\n\nPETER GAMBLING AT THE INN                                       36\n\n\"SO HERE WE ARE AT THE END OF IT ALL\"                           40\n\n\"THEN THE MONSTER STRETCHED FORTH AN ARM AS LONG AS A\n      WEAVER'S BEAM AND A HAND AS BROAD AS A LARGE\n      TABLE\"                                                    46\n\n\"AH, HAVE MERCY, GOOD LADY AND GIVE ME A DRINK OF\n      WATER\"                                                    58\n\n\"BUT SCARCELY HAD HE UTTERED THESE WORDS THAN THE\n      GLASS MANIKIN SUDDENLY BEGAN TO INCREASE IN SIZE\n      AND STATURE\"                                              62\n\n\"AND AS HE PRAYED MICHAEL DECREASED MORE AND MORE IN\n      SIZE, FALLING TO THE GROUND\"                              68\n\n\"LOOK ONCE MORE AROUND, PETER MUNK!\"                            72\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                              INTRODUCTION\n\n\n                      LOUIS ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO\n\nIn 1813 Europe was busy watching the career of the Corsican\nGiant--which was nearing its end. Having reached the summit of power,\nand put his foot on the neck of Europe, Napoleon was suddenly hurled\ndown from his dizzy height. And yet in the midst of stirring events and\nthe din of arms, people found time to pay attention to important\nliterary productions. A curious book, \"The Strange Narrative of Peter\nSchlemihl,\" by Louis Adelbert von Chamisso, which made its first\nappearance in Germany in 1813, aroused an ever increasing interest, in\nspite of the distraction of the public mind, until the name of the\nauthor became world-famous.\n\nChamisso was by birth a Frenchman, having been born at the castle of\nBon-Court in Champagne, on January 27, 1781.[1] On the outbreak of the\nFrench Revolution our author left France with his parents; and in 1795\nwe find them in Bayreuth, which then belonged to the King of Prussia,\nthe Margrave of Anspach having sold the town to his Prussian Majesty in\n1791. Chamisso's parents at last came to Berlin, and young Adelbert was\nappointed page to Queen Louise. This famous queen, wife of Frederic\nWilliam II. and mother of Frederic William III., took a lively interest\nin the young page and decided to complete his somewhat neglected\neducation. A commission in the army was secured for him, he was made\nensign and soon afterwards lieutenant. Napoleon having in the meantime\nbecome First Consul, he recalled the French emigrants, and Chamisso's\nparents availed themselves of the permission and returned to their\nhome, but they nevertheless advised their son to remain in Prussian\nservice. Adelbert obeyed them, although he felt far from happy in\nBerlin. The service of page did not please him, and his correspondence\nis full of passages revealing the melancholy state of his mind. The\ncourt atmosphere was stifling him, and his poverty caused him a great\ndeal of humiliation. We see him, at that time, as a young man of a\nserious and independent disposition, a dreamer and a sceptic, timid and\nnaive, dissatisfied with his position as page and as soldier, unhappy\nin his exile, his misery and his solitude!\n\nBut at last Chamisso found consolation in work. With great ardour he\napplied himself to the study of the German language and literature, and\nparticularly to poetry and philosophy. He learned Greek, and the Iliad\nbecame his constant companion. Klopstock and Schiller attracted him\ngreatly; but he also read J. J. Rousseau, Voltaire and Diderot. He\npublished several poems in the language of his adopted country,\ncompositions distinguished by an originality of style and a peculiar\nvigour. Chamisso's first work is supposed to have been \"The Count de\nComminges,\" written in 1801 or 1802. It is not an original work, but\nrather an imitation or translation of a drama from the pen of Baculard\nd'Arnaud, produced in 1790. Later on he read Wieland and Goethe, and in\n1803 appeared his Faust, in which the influence of the philosophy of\nFichte made itself felt. It was also in this year that love, by the\nside of poetry and metaphysics, occupied the mind and heart of the\nyoung lieutenant. Chamisso fell in love with Madame C\u00e9r\u00e8s Duvernay, a\nyoung French coquette widow, of whom--unlike Sam Weller--he did not\nlearn to beware. He had made her acquaintance in the salon of the\nbanker Ephraim, and asked her to marry him. Madame Duvernay, however,\nwas a practical Frenchwoman and refused the legitimate love of the poor\nlieutenant! This love affair and its sad ending increased Chamisso's\nmelancholy and his inclination for solitude. The war with France then\nbroke out, and Chamisso tasted the bitterness which is so often the lot\nof that unhappy product of modern civilization and political\ncircumstances: _the naturalized alien_! He found himself in an\nanomalous position which caused him great distress, for it isolated him\namong many millions. Although a naturalized German, nay, at heart\nattached to Germany and animated--like so many of his _confr\u00e8res_--by\nthe spirit of liberty--he was nevertheless of French parentage. It was\nnot only a question whether he should take up arms on behalf of\nGermany, but also, whether he should fight against France and the\npeople with whom he was connected by ties of blood and family\nrelationship. Hence arose a struggle in his breast. \"I, and I alone,\"\nhe exclaimed in his despair, \"am forbidden at this juncture to wield a\nsword!\" Very few people understand the tragedy of those exiles who are\ncompelled to seek a new home and adopt a new country which they love as\nmuch, if not more, than the people among whom they have come to dwell.\nInstead of meeting with sympathy on account of his peculiar situation,\nChamisso was frequently doomed to hear, in the Capital of Prussia, the\nheadquarters of the confederation against France and Napoleon,\nexpressions of hatred and scorn directed against his countrymen. He was\nhimself too fair-minded to mistake the cause of such expressions, which\nwere, after all, only natural in the circumstances, but they\nnevertheless deeply hurt the sensitive poet when they reached his ears.\n\nAfter the treaty of Tilsit had been signed by Napoleon and the King of\nPrussia, Chamisso visited France, where his family regained possession\nof part of their estates, and our author secured, for a short time, the\npost of professor at the school at Napol\u00e9onville in the Vend\u00e9e. It was\nduring his stay in France that Chamisso was drawn into the circle of\nMadame de Stael, and he followed her to Coppet, where she had been\nexiled by Napoleon in 1811. In the house of this \"magnificent and\nwonderful woman,\" as he calls her in his letters, he passed\nincomparable days in the company of August Wilhelm von Schlegel, Madame\nR\u00e9camier and other celebrities. It was also then that he began to study\nbotany on the advice of an English friend. Soon, however, Chamisso\nreturned to Berlin, which was to him what Delphi once was to the\nancient Athenians. He continued his botanical studies and at the age of\n31 entered the University as a student of medicine. Again the war broke\nout, and the uprising of the Germans against Napoleon involved Chamisso\nonce more in the popular hatred against the French. Anyone who lays\nclaim to some historical knowledge and a dash of culture is acquainted\nwith the events of 1813. A wave of patriotic enthusiasm swept over\nGermany, and Germans rose like one man, in answer to the appeal of\nFrederic William, King of Prussia. Houses, streets and universities\nresounded with the clash of arms and the shouts of war-like patriots.\nIn the midst of this effervescence Chamisso suffered greatly. He loved\nGermany and liberty, but he also cherished France, his native land;\nmoreover, he could not help admiring Napoleon, in spite of the latter's\ntyranny. While the German poets Koerner and Eichendorff took up arms,\nwhile Arndt, R\u00fcckert and Uhland fired the courage of their compatriots\nby their warlike songs, Chamisso not only stood alone, but was even\nexposed to danger. His friends therefore decided to remove him from\nBerlin. Lichtenstein, his professor at the University, found him a\nposition as teacher in the family of Count Itzenplitz, where he taught\nFrench and botany. He was sufficiently near to the capital to be kept\nacquainted with the gradual development of the all-important crisis,\nand yet remained free from any unpleasant personal contact with it!\nHere, at Kunnersdorf, the family seat of Count Itzenplitz, scarcely a\nday's journey from Berlin, while occupied with the study of botany and\nother sciences, Chamisso conceived the idea of \"The Shadowless Man,\"\nand with rapid pen completed the story.\n\nOne day, to divert himself and to amuse the wife and children of his\nfriend Hitzig, whom Heine calls _Der Dekan der Schlemihle_, he wrote\nPeter Schlemihl.\n\nIn 1814, this wonderful narrative was brought to the notice of Baron de\nla Motte Fouqu\u00e9, the celebrated author of _Undine_, under whose\nauspices the book was published with the following letter from de la\nMotte Fouqu\u00e9 to Julius Edward Hitzig, by way of introduction:--\n\n\n           FROM THE BARON DE LA MOTTE FOUQUE TO JULIUS EDWARD\n                                 HITZIG.\n\nWe should take care, my dear Edward, not to expose the history of poor\nSchlemihl to eyes unfit to look upon it. That would be a bad\nexperiment. Of such eyes there are plenty; and who is able to predict\nwhat may befall a _manuscript_, which is almost more difficult to guard\nthan spoken language? Like a person seized with vertigo, therefore,\nwho, in the paroxysm of his feelings, leaps into the abyss, I commit\nthe story to the press.\n\nAnd yet there are better and more serious reasons for the step I have\ntaken. If I am not wholly deceived, there are in our dear Germany many\nhearts both capable and worthy of comprehending poor Schlemihl,\nalthough a smile will arise on the countenance of many among our honest\ncountrymen at the bitter sport which was death to him and to the\ninnocent being whom he drew along with him. And you, Edward, when you\nhave seen the estimable work and reflected on the number of unknown and\nsympathising bosoms who, with ourselves, will learn to love it,--you\nwill then, perhaps, feel that some drops of consolation have been\ninstilled into those wounds inflicted on you, and on all who love you,\nby death.\n\nTo conclude: I have become convinced, by repeated experience, that a\nguardian angel watches over books, places them in proper hands, and if\nnot always, yet often, prevents them from falling into improper. In any\ncase, he exercises an invisible guardianship over every work of true\ngenius and genuine feeling, and with unfailing tact and skill opens or\nshuts its pages as he sees fit.\n\nTo this guardian angel I commit our Schlemihl. And so, adieu!\n\nNeunhausen, May 1814.                                       FOUQU\u00c9.\n\nSome of the incidents of the wonderful story of \"The Shadowless Man\"\nwere suggested by actual experiences of its author; and it is\nremarkable that in the latter part of the narrative Chamisso should\nhave anticipated his own voyage round the world.\n\nChamisso was often pestered with questions respecting what he really\nmeant by the story of Schlemihl. These questions amused as well as\nannoyed him. The truth is, that his intention in writing it was perhaps\nscarcely of so precise a nature as to admit of his giving a formal\naccount of it. The story sprang into being of itself, like every work\nof genius, prompted by a self-creating power. In a letter which he\nwrote to Trinius, Councillor at St. Petersburg in 1829, Chamisso says:\n\"When I write I rarely have anything in view; I am, if you like, a\nnightingale, a singing bird, and not a reasoning man.\" And when he had\njust commenced the book he wrote to Hitzig as follows: \"A book was the\nlast thing you would have expected from me! Place it before your wife\nthis evening, if you have time; should she be desirous to know\nSchlemihl's further adventures, and particularly who the man in the\ngrey cloak is--send me back the MS. immediately, that I may continue\nthe story; but if you do not return it, I shall know the meaning of the\nsignal perfectly.\" \"One day,\" Chamisso further relates, \"I had lost my\nhat, portmanteau, gloves and all my luggage, and Fouqu\u00e9 asked me\njestingly whether I had also lost my shadow. We then amused ourselves\nimagining such a calamity. I conceived the idea of Peter Schlemihl, and\nas I had leisure in the country I wrote the story.\"\n\nIn the preface to a French translation (which appeared in 1838) of this\nstory, Chamisso amuses himself over the prying curiosity of those who\nwant to know what was his real object in writing this tale:--\"The\npresent story,\" he says, \"has fallen into the hands of thoughtful\npeople, who, being accustomed to read only for instruction's sake, have\nbeen at a loss to know what the shadow signifies. On this point several\nhave formed curious hypotheses; others, who do me the honour to believe\nthat I am more learned than I really am, have addressed themselves to\nme for the solution of their doubts. The questions with which they have\nbesieged me have made me blush on account of my ignorance. I have\ntherefore been induced to devote myself to the investigation of a\nmatter not hitherto the subject of my studies; and I now beg to submit\nto the world the result of my learned researches:\n\n\"'_Concerning Shadows._--A dark body can only be partially illuminated\nby a bright one. The dark space which lies in the direction of the\nun-illuminated part is what we call a _shadow_. Properly speaking,\nshadow signifies a bodily space, the form of which depends upon the\nform of the illuminating body, and upon their opposite position with\nregard to each other. The shadow thrown on a surface situated before\nthe shadow-projecting body is therefore nothing else than the\nintersection of this surface by the bodily space [in French, _le\nsolide_, on which word _solid_ the whole force of the humour turns],\nwhich we before designated by the word shadow.'\n\n\"The question in this wonderful history of Peter Schlemihl relates\nentirely to the last-mentioned quality, _solidity_. The science of\nfinance instructs us sufficiently as to the value of money: the value\nof a shadow is less generally acknowledged. My thoughtless friend was\ncovetous of money, of which he knew the value, and forgot to think of\nsolid substance. It was his wish that the lesson which he had paid for\nso dearly should be turned to our profit; and his bitter experience\ncalls to us with a loud voice. Think of the solid--the substantial!\"\n\nIn Peter Schlemihl, it is practically admitted by all literary critics,\nChamisso drew his own portrait, not only with regard to external\nappearance but also in a moral sense. He is supposed to have described\nhis own sufferings, the sufferings of a man who has lost his fatherland\nand nationality, and is an exile. Peter Schlemihl, the shadowless man,\nat last finds consolation and reconciliation in wandering over the face\nof earth. Here again the author mirrors his own yearning in a moment\nwhen--in the tumult of war--he, a German Frenchman or a French German,\nfinds no proper place in countries limited by political boundaries. He\nstrove therefore to rise above the quarrels of the human race and to\nwander forth into the vast space of nature, or plunge into the depths\nof science! His dream soon became realised, when he found himself on\nboard the Rurik. It was in the early part of 1815 when Chamisso\ngladly accepted the invitation of Count Roumyanzov to accompany the\nlatter on a voyage round the world. The ships left Kronstadt in 1815,\nand returned in 1818, and although the discovery of a north-west\npassage--the object of the expedition--was not accomplished, yet\nextensive acquisitions were made in every department of scientific\nresearch.\n\nChamisso's share in the voyage is recorded in the third volume of the\naccount of it published at Weimar in 1821, and does honour to his spirit\nof careful observation and his accuracy. Like Darwin after him,\nChamisso has related his experiences interspersed with scientific\nobservations. He now again fixed his residence at Berlin, from which\nUniversity he received the degree of Doctor in Philosophy. An\nappointment at the Botanic Gardens allowed him full liberty to follow\nup his favourite pursuit of Natural History, and bound him by still\nstronger ties to his second fatherland. He soon married Antonie Piaste,\na relation of Hitzig. Chamisso then wrote an account of the principal\nplants of the north of Germany, with views respecting the vegetable\nkingdom, and science of Botany; this work appeared at Berlin in 1827.\nPoetry, however, had still some share of his attention; and he\ncontinued, during the latter years of his life, to maintain his claims\nto an honourable place among the poets of Germany. In 1829 he published\nhis famous work \"Salas y Gomez.\" Several of his ballads and romances\nrank with the most distinguished of modern times in this branch of\ncomposition. With regard to the story before us, the narrative of Peter\nSchlemihl, it is in any case very original. At once comic and tragic,\ngrotesque and terrible, it is full of gaiety and emotion, and the\nsupernatural, phantastic and absurd are skillfully mixed with natural\nand real elements. From the world which we inhabit the author leads us\ninto the realm of mystery--and yet, while we experience sensations of\nthe marvellous, we do not seem to leave the world of reality. And\nherein lies the difference between Peter Schlemihl and other tales of\nthe period. In Tieck and Arnim the fairy and real worlds are opposed\nand hostile to each other, in Fouqu\u00e9's _Undine_ these elements are\nreconciled, but the events are laid in the middle-ages, when people\nbelieved in fairies. Chamisso, however, wields into one the\nsupernatural and the real and writes a fable in accordance with modern\ncivilization! Of course, Chamisso cannot be compared with Ariosto and\nThe Thousand and One Nights,--where we find logic even in the domain of\nthe impossible. Chamisso, it must further be pointed out, while\npossessing all the qualities of the Romanticists, is free from their\nobscurities. His nationally dual nature and his peculiar poetic gifts\nenabled him to give expression in poetry to the variegated\nmanifestations of science and of art. He contributed greatly to the\nunification of the national German and foreign elements, and was one of\nthe most useful and productive workers in the lovely garden of fairy\ntales. Surrounded by a circle of admiring friends, Chamisso continued\nhis literary work until his death in 1839.\n\n                                                   A. S. RAPPOPORT.\n\nBerck-Plage,\n      September, 1913.\n\nFOOTNOTE TO THE INTRODUCTION:\n\n[Footnote 1: From certain passages in Chamisso's works it appears,\nhowever, that he was born on January 31st.--Cf. Brun X., A. de\nChamisso's de Boncourt, Lyon, 1895, p. 4.]\n\n\n\n\n                       THE MARVELLOUS HISTORY OF\n                           THE SHADOWLESS MAN\n\n\n[Illustration: \"An extraordinary looking old man left me these papers,\nsaying he came from Berlin.\"]\n\n\n\n\n                         AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION\n\n\n            A LETTER FROM CHAMISSO TO JULIUS EDWARD HITZIG.\n\nYou, who forget nobody, must surely remember one Peter Schlemihl, whom\nyou used to meet occasionally at my house,--a long-legged youth, who\nwas considered stupid and lazy, on account of his awkward and careless\nair. I was sincerely attached to him. You cannot have forgotten him,\nEdward. He was, on one occasion, the hero of our rhymes, in the hey-day\nof our youthful spirits; and I recollect taking him one evening to a\npoetical tea-party, where he fell asleep while I was writing, without\neven waiting to hear my effusion: and this reminds me of a witticism of\nyours respecting him. You had already seen him, I know not where or\nwhen, in an old black frock-coat, which indeed, he constantly wore; and\nyou said, \"He would be a lucky fellow if his soul were half as immortal\nas his coat,\"--so little opinion had you of him. _I_ loved him,\nhowever: and to this very Schlemihl, of whom for many years I had\nwholly lost sight, I am indebted for the little volume which I\ncommunicate to you, Edward, my most intimate friend, my second self,\nfrom whom I have no secrets;--to you, and of course our Fouqu\u00e9, I\ncommit them, who, like you, is intimately entwined about my dearest\naffections,--to him I communicate them only as a friend, but not as a\npoet; for you can easily imagine how unpleasant it would be if a secret\nconfided to me by an honest man, relying implicitly on my friendship\nand honour, were to be exposed to the public in a poem.\n\nOne word more as to the manner in which I obtained these sheets;\nyesterday morning early, as soon as I was up, they were brought to me.\nAn extraordinary-looking man, with a long grey beard, and wearing an\nold black frock-coat, with a botanical case hanging at his side and\nslippers over his boots, in the damp, rainy weather, had just been\ninquiring for me, and left me these papers, saying he came from Berlin.\n\n                                             ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO.\n\n\n\n\n\n           The Marvellous History of the Shadowless Man\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER I\n\n\nAfter a prosperous, but to me very wearisome, voyage, we came at last\ninto port. Immediately on landing, I got together my few effects; and,\nsqueezing myself through the crowd, went into the nearest and humblest\ninn which first met my gaze. On asking for a room, the waiter looked at\nme from head to foot, and conducted me to one. I asked for some cold\nwater, and for the correct address of Mr. Thomas John, which was\ndescribed as being \"by the north gate, the first country-house to the\nright, a large new house of red and white marble, with many pillars.\"\nThis was enough. As the day was not far advanced, I untied my bundle,\ntook out my newly-turned black coat, dressed myself in my best clothes,\nand, with my letter of recommendation, set out for the man who was to\nassist me in the attainment of my moderate wishes.\n\nAfter proceeding up North Street, I reached the gate, and saw the\nmarble columns glittering through the trees. Having wiped the dust from\nmy shoes with my pocket-handkerchief, and re-adjusted my cravat, I rang\nthe bell--offering up, at the same time, a silent prayer. The door flew\nopen; and the porter sent in my name. I had soon the honour to be\ninvited into the park, where Mr. John was walking with a few friends. I\nrecognised him at once by his corpulency and self-complacent air. He\nreceived me very well; just as a rich man receives a poor devil; and,\nturning to me, took my letter.\n\n\"Oh, from my brother! It is a long time since I heard from him, is he\nwell?--Yonder,\" he went on, turning to the company, and pointing to a\ndistant hill--\"Yonder is the site of the new building.\" He broke the\nseal without discontinuing the conversation, which turned upon riches.\n\"The man,\" he said, \"who does not possess at least a million is a poor\nwretch.\"\n\n\"O how true!\" I exclaimed, in the fulness of my heart.\n\nHe seemed pleased at this, and replied with a smile, \"Stop here, my\ndear friend; afterwards I shall, perhaps, have time to tell you what I\nthink of this,\" pointing to the letter, which he then put into his\npocket, and turned round to the company, offering his arm to a young\nlady. His example was followed by the other gentlemen, each politely\nescorting a lady; and the whole party proceeded towards a little hill\nthickly planted with blooming roses.\n\nI followed without troubling any one, for none took the least further\nnotice of me. The party were in high spirits--lounging about and\njesting--speaking sometimes of trifling matters very seriously, and of\nserious matters as triflingly--and exercising their wit in particular\nto great advantage on their absent friends and their affairs. I was too\nignorant of what they were talking about to understand much of it, and\ntoo anxious and absorbed in my own reflections to occupy myself with\nthe solution of such enigmas as their conversation presented.\n\nBy this time we had reached the thicket of roses. A beautiful girl, who\nseemed to be the queen of the day, was obstinately bent on plucking a\nrose-branch for herself, and, in the attempt, pricked her finger with a\nthorn. The crimson stream, as if flowing from the dark-tinted rose,\ntinged her fair hand with the purple current. This circumstance set the\nwhole company in commotion; and court-plaster was called for. A quiet,\nelderly man, tall, and meagre-looking, who was one of the company, but\nwhom I had not before observed, immediately put his hand into the tight\nbreast-pocket of his old-fashioned coat of grey sarsnet, pulled out a\nsmall letter-case, opened it, and, with a most respectful bow,\npresented the lady with the wished-for article. She received it without\nnoticing the giver, or thanking him. The wound was bound up; and the\nparty proceeded along the hill towards the back part, from which they\nenjoyed an extensive view across the green labyrinth of the park to the\nwide-spreading ocean.\n\nThe view was truly a magnificent one. A slight speck was observed on\nthe horizon, between the dark flood and the azure sky.\n\n\"A telescope!\" called out Mr. John. But before any of the servants\ncould answer the summons, the grey man, with a modest bow, drew his\nhand from his pocket, and presented a beautiful Dollond's telescope to\nMr. John, who, on looking through it, informed the company that the\nspeck in the distance was the ship which had sailed yesterday, and\nwhich was detained within sight of the haven by contrary winds.\n\nThe telescope passed from hand to hand, but was not returned to the\nowner, whom I gazed at with astonishment, for I could not conceive how\nso large an instrument could have proceeded from so small a pocket.\nThis, however, seemed to excite surprise in no one; and the grey man\nappeared to create as little interest as myself.\n\nRefreshments were now brought forward, consisting of the rarest fruits\nfrom all parts of the world, served up in the most costly dishes. Mr.\nJohn did the honours with unaffected grace, and addressed me for the\nsecond time, saying, \"You had better eat; you did not get such things\nat sea.\" I acknowledged his politeness with a bow, which, however, he\ndid not perceive, having turned round to speak with some one else.\n\nThe party would willingly have stopped some time here on the declivity\nof the hill, to enjoy the extensive prospect before them, had they not\nbeen apprehensive of the dampness of the grass.\n\n\"How delightful it would be,\" exclaimed some one, \"if we had a Turkey\ncarpet to lay down here!\"\n\nThe wish was scarcely expressed, when the man in the grey coat put his\nhand in his pocket, and, with a modest and even humble air, pulled out\na rich Turkey carpet, embroidered in gold. The servant received it as a\nmatter of course, and spread it out on the desired spot; and, without\nany ceremony, the company seated themselves on it. Confounded by what I\nsaw, I gazed again at the man, his pocket, and the carpet, which was\nmore than twenty feet in length and ten in breadth; and rubbed my eyes,\nnot knowing what to think, particularly as no one saw anything\nextraordinary in the matter.\n\nI would gladly have made some inquiries respecting the man, and asked\nwho he was, but knew not to whom I should address myself, for I felt\nalmost more afraid of the servants than of their master. At length I\ntook courage, and stepping up to a young man who seemed of less\nconsequence than the others, and who was more frequently standing by\nhimself, I begged of him, in a low tone, to tell me who was the\nobliging gentleman in the grey cloak.\n\n\"That man who looks like a piece of thread just escaped from a tailor's\nneedle?\"\n\n\"Yes; he who is standing alone yonder.\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" was the reply; and to avoid, as it seemed, any further\nconversation with me, he turned away, and spoke of some common-place\nmatters with a neighbour.\n\nThe sun's rays now becoming stronger, the ladies complained of feeling\noppressed by the heat; and the lovely Fanny, she who had pricked her\nfinger with the thorn, turning carelessly to the grey man, to whom I\nhad not yet observed that any one had addressed the most trifling\nquestion, asked him if, perhaps, he had not a tent about him. He\nreplied with a low bow, as if some unmerited honour had been conferred\nupon him; and, putting his hand in his pocket, drew from it canvass,\npoles, cord, irons--in short, every thing belonging to the most\nsplendid tent for a party of pleasure. The young gentlemen assisted in\npitching it; and it covered the whole carpet: but no one seemed to\nthink that there was anything extraordinary in it.\n\nI had long secretly felt uneasy--indeed, almost horrified; but how was\nthis feeling increased when, at the next wish expressed, I saw him take\nfrom his pocket three horses! Yes, three large beautiful steeds, with\nsaddles and bridles, out of the very pocket whence had already issued a\nletter-case, a telescope, a carpet twenty feet broad and ten in length,\nand a pavilion of the same extent, with all its appurtenances!\n\nThis man, although he appeared so humble and embarrassed in his air and\nmanners, and passed so unheeded, had inspired me with such a feeling of\nhorror by the unearthly paleness of his countenance, from which I could\nnot avert my eyes, that I was unable longer to endure it.\n\nI determined, therefore, to steal away from the company, which appeared\nno difficult matter, from the undistinguished part I acted in it. I\nresolved to return to the town, and pay another visit to Mr. John the\nfollowing morning, and, at the same time, make some inquiries of him\nrelative to the extraordinary man in grey, provided I could command\nsufficient courage. Would to Heaven that such good fortune had awaited\nme!\n\nI had stolen safely down the hill, through the thicket of roses, and\nnow found myself on an open plain; but fearing lest I should be met out\nof the proper path, crossing the grass, I cast an inquisitive glance\naround, and started as I beheld the man in the grey cloak advancing\ntowards me. He took off his hat, and made me a lower bow than mortal\nhad ever yet favoured me with. It was evident that he wished to address\nme; and I could not avoid encountering him without seeming rude. I\nreturned his salutation, therefore, and stood bareheaded in the\nsunshine, as if rooted to the ground. I gazed at him with the utmost\nhorror, and felt like a bird fascinated by a serpent.\n\nHe affected himself to have an air of embarrassment. With his eyes on\nthe ground, he bowed several times, drew nearer, and at last, without\nlooking up, addressed me in a low and hesitating voice, almost in the\ntone of a suppliant: \"Will you, sir, excuse my importunity in venturing\nto intrude upon you in so unusual a manner? I have a request to\nmake,--would you most graciously be pleased to allow me--?\"\n\n\"Hold! for Heaven's sake!\" I exclaimed; \"what can I do for a man\nwho\"--I stopped in some confusion, which he seemed to share.\n\nAfter a moment's pause, he resumed: \"During the short time I have\nhad the pleasure to be in your company, I have--permit me, sir, to\nsay--beheld with unspeakable admiration your most beautiful shadow, and\nremarked the air of noble indifference with which you, at the same\ntime, turn from the glorious picture at your feet, as if disdaining to\nvouchsafe a glance at it. Excuse the boldness of my proposal; but\nperhaps you would have no objection to sell me your shadow?\"\n\nHe stopped; while my head turned round like a millwheel. What was I to\nthink of so extraordinary a proposal? To sell my shadow!\n\n\"He must be mad,\" thought I; and assuming a tone more in character with\nthe submissiveness of his own, I replied, \"My good friend, are you not\ncontent with your own shadow? This would be a bargain of a strange\nnature indeed!\"\n\n\"I have in my pocket,\" he said, \"many things which may possess some\nvalue in your eyes: for that inestimable shadow, I should deem the\nhighest price too little.\"\n\nA cold shuddering came over me as I recollected the pocket; and I could\nnot conceive what had induced me to style him \"_good friend_,\" which I\ntook care not to repeat, endeavouring to make up for it by a studied\npoliteness.\n\nI now resumed the conversation:--\"But, sir--excuse your humble\nservant--I am at a loss to comprehend your meaning,--my shadow!--how\ncan I?\"\n\n\"Permit me,\" he exclaimed, interrupting me, \"to gather up the noble\nimage as it lies on the ground, and to take it into my possession. As\nto the manner of accomplishing it, leave that to me. In return, and as\nan evidence of my gratitude, I shall leave you to choose among all the\ntreasures I have in my pocket, among which are a variety of enchanting\narticles, not exactly adapted for you, who, I am sure, would like\nbetter to have the wishing-cap of Fortunatus, all made new and sound\nagain, and a lucky purse, which also belonged to him.\"\n\n\"Fortunatus's purse!\" cried I; and, great as was my mental anguish,\nwith that one word he had penetrated the deepest recesses of my soul. A\nfeeling of giddiness came over me, and double ducats glittered before\nmy eyes.\n\n\"Be pleased, gracious sir, to examine this purse, and make a trial of\nits contents.\"\n\nHe put his hand in his pocket, and drew forth a large strongly stitched\nbag of stout Cordovan leather, with a couple of strings to match, and\npresented it to me. I seized it--took out ten gold pieces, then ten\nmore, and this I repeated again and again. Instantly I held out my hand\nto him.\n\n\"Done,\" said I; \"the bargain is made: my shadow for the purse.\"\n\n\"Agreed,\" he answered; and, immediately kneeling down, I beheld him,\nwith extraordinary dexterity, gently loosen my shadow from the grass,\nlift it up, fold it together, and, at last, put it in his pocket. He\nthen rose, bowed once more to me, and directed his steps towards the\nrose-bushes. I fancied I heard him quietly laughing to himself.\nHowever, I held the purse fast by the two strings. The earth was\nbasking beneath the brightness of the sun; but I presently lost all\nconsciousness.\n\n                           *   *   *   *   *\n\nOn recovering my senses, I hastened to quit a place where I hoped there\nwas nothing further to detain me. I first filled my pockets with gold,\nthen fastened the strings of the purse round my neck, and concealed it\nin my bosom. I passed unnoticed out of the park, gained the high road,\nand took the way to the town.\n\nAs I was thoughtfully approaching the gate, I heard some one behind me\nexclaiming, \"Young man! young man! you have lost your shadow!\" I\nturned, and perceived an old woman calling after me. \"Thank you,\nmy good woman,\" said I; and throwing her a piece of gold for her\nwell-intended information, I stepped under the trees.\n\nAt the gate, again, it was my fate to hear the sentry inquiring where\nthe gentleman had left his shadow; and immediately I heard a couple of\nwomen exclaiming, \"Jesu Maria! the poor man has no shadow!\" All this\nbegan to depress me, and I carefully avoided walking in the sun; but\nthis could not everywhere be the case: for in the next broad street I\nhad to cross, and, unfortunately for me, at the very hour in which the\nboys were coming out of school, a humpbacked lout of a fellow,--I see\nhim yet,--soon made the discovery that I was without a shadow, and\ncommunicated the news, with loud outcries, to a knot of young urchins.\nThe whole swarm proceeded immediately to reconnoitre me, and to pelt me\nwith mud. \"People,\" cried they, \"are generally accustomed to take their\nshadows with them when they walk in the sunshine.\"\n\nIn order to drive them away, I threw gold by handfuls among them, and\nsprang into a hackney-coach which happened to be passing.\n\nAs soon as I found myself alone in the rolling vehicle, I began to weep\nbitterly. I had by this time a misgiving that, in the same degree in\nwhich gold in this world prevails over merit and virtue, by so much\none's shadow excels gold; and now that I had sacrificed my conscience\nfor riches, and given my shadow in exchange for mere gold, what on\nearth would become of me?\n\nAs the coach stopped at the door of my late inn, I felt much perplexed,\nand not at all disposed to enter so wretched an abode. I called for my\nthings, and received them with an air of contempt, threw down a few\ngold pieces, and desired to be conducted to a first-rate hotel. This\nhouse had a  northern aspect, so that I had nothing to fear from the\nsun. I dismissed the coachman with gold; asked to be conducted to the\nbest apartment, and locked myself up in it as soon as possible.\n\nImagine, my friend, what I then set about? O my dear Chamisso! even to\nthee I blush to mention what follows.\n\n[Illustration: I drew the ill-fated purse from my bosom and took\ngold--gold--gold, more and more.]\n\nI drew the ill-fated purse from my bosom; and, in a sort of frenzy that\nraged like a self-fed fire within me, I took out gold--gold--gold--more\nand more, till I strewed it on the floor, trampled upon it, and\nfeasting on its very sound and brilliancy, added coins to coins,\nrolling and revelling on the gorgeous bed, until I sank exhausted.\n\nThus passed away that day and evening; and as my door remained locked,\nnight found me still lying on the gold, where, at last, sleep\noverpowered me.\n\nThen I dreamed of thee, and fancied I stood behind the glass door of\nthy little room, and saw thee seated at thy table between a skeleton\nand a bunch of dried plants; before thee lay open the works of Haller,\nHumboldt, and Linn\u00e6us; on thy sofa a volume of Goethe, and the\nEnchanted Ring. I stood a long time contemplating thee, and every thing\nin thy apartment; and again turning my gaze upon thee, I perceived that\nthou wast motionless--thou didst not breathe--thou wast dead.\n\nI awoke--it seemed yet early--my watch had stopped. I felt thirsty,\nfaint, and worn out; for since the preceding morning I had not tasted\nfood. I now cast from me, with loathing and disgust, the very gold with\nwhich but a short time before I had satiated my foolish heart. Now I\nknew not where to put it--I dared not leave it lying there. I examined\nmy purse to see if it would hold it,--impossible! Neither of my windows\nopened on the sea. I had no other resource but, with toil and great\nfatigue, to drag it to a huge chest which stood in a closet in my room;\nwhere I placed it all, with the exception of a handful or two. Then I\nthrew myself, exhausted, into an arm-chair, till the people of the\nhouse should be up and stirring. As soon as possible, I sent for some\nrefreshment, and desired to see the landlord.\n\nI entered into some conversation with this man respecting the\narrangement of my future establishment. He recommended for my personal\nattendant one Bendel, whose honest and intelligent countenance\nimmediately prepossessed me in his favour. It is this individual whose\npersevering attachment has consoled me in all the miseries of my life,\nand enabled me to bear up under my wretched lot. I was occupied the\nwhole day in my room with servants in want of a situation, and\ntradesmen of every description. I decided on my future plans, and\npurchased various articles of vertue and splendid jewels, in order to\nget rid of some of my gold; but nothing seemed to diminish the\ninexhaustible heap.\n\n[Illustration: And trembling like a criminal, stole out of the house.]\n\nI now reflected on my situation with the utmost uneasiness. I dared not\ntake a single step beyond my own door; and in the evening I had forty\nwax-tapers lighted before I ventured to leave the shade. I reflected\nwith horror on the frightful encounter with the school-boys; yet I\nresolved, if I could command sufficient courage, to put the public\nopinion to a second trial. The nights were now moonlight. Late in the\nevening I wrapped myself in a large cloak, pulled my hat over my eyes,\nand, trembling like a criminal, stole out of the house.\n\nI did not venture to leave the friendly shadow of the houses until I\nhad reached a distant part of the town: and then I emerged into the\nbroad moonlight, fully prepared to hear my fate from the lips of the\npassers-by.\n\nSpare me, my beloved friend, the painful recital of all that I was\ndoomed to endure. The women often expressed the deepest sympathy for\nme--a sympathy not less piercing to my soul than the scoffs of the\nyoung people, and the proud contempt of the men, particularly of the\nmore corpulent, who threw an ample shadow before them. A fair and\nbeauteous maiden, apparently accompanied by her parents, who gravely\nkept looking straight before them, chanced to cast a beaming glance at\nme; but was evidently startled at perceiving that I was without a\nshadow, and hiding her lovely face in her veil, and holding down her\nhead, passed silently on.\n\nThis was past all endurance. Tears streamed from my eyes; and with a\nheart pierced through and through, I once more took refuge in the\nshade. I leant on the houses for support, and reached home at a late\nhour, worn out with fatigue.\n\nI passed a sleepless night. My first care the following morning was, to\ndevise some means of discovering the man in the grey cloak. Perhaps I\nmay succeed in finding him; and how fortunate it were if he should be\nas ill satisfied with his bargain as I am with mine!\n\nI desired Bendel to be sent for, who seemed to possess some tact and\nability. I minutely described to him the individual who possessed a\ntreasure without which life itself was rendered a burden to me. I\nmentioned the time and place at which I had seen him, named all\nthe persons who were present, and concluded with the following\ndirections:--he was to inquire for a Dollond's telescope, a Turkey\ncarpet interwoven with gold, a marquee, and, finally, for some black\nsteeds,--the history, without entering into particulars, of all these\nbeing singularly connected with the mysterious character who seemed to\npass unnoticed by every one, but whose appearance had destroyed the\npeace and happiness of my life.\n\nAs I spoke, I produced as much gold as I could hold in my two hands,\nand added jewels and precious stones of still greater value. \"Bendel,\"\nsaid I, \"this smooths many a path, and renders that easy which seems\nalmost impossible. Be not sparing of it, for I am not so; but go, and\nrejoice thy master with intelligence on which depends all his hopes.\"\n\nHe departed, and returned late and melancholy. None of Mr. John's\nservants, none of his guests (and Bendel had spoken to them all) had\nthe slightest recollection of the man in the grey cloak. The new\ntelescope was still there, but no one knew how it had come; and the\ntent and Turkey carpet were still stretched out on the hill. The\nservants boasted of their master's wealth; but no one seemed to know by\nwhat means he had become possessed of these newly acquired luxuries. He\nwas gratified; and it gave him no concern to be ignorant how they had\ncome to him. The black coursers which had been mounted on that day were\nin the stables of the young gentlemen of the party, who admired them as\nthe munificent present of Mr. John.\n\nSuch was the information I gained from Bendel's detailed account; but,\nin spite of this unsatisfactory result, his zeal and prudence deserved\nand received my commendation. In a gloomy mood, I made him a sign to\nwithdraw.\n\n\"I have, sir,\" he continued, \"laid before you all the information in my\npower relative to the subject of the most importance to you. I have now\na message to deliver which I received early this morning from a person\nat the gate, as I was proceeding to execute the commission in which I\nhave so unfortunately failed. The man's words were precisely these:\n'Tell your master, Peter Schlemihl, he will not see me here again. I am\ngoing to cross the sea; a favourable wind now calls all the passengers\non board; but, in a year and a day, I shall have the honour of paying\nhim a visit; when, in all probability, I shall have a proposal to make\nto him of a very agreeable nature. Commend me to him most respectfully,\nwith many thanks.' I inquired his name; but he said you would remember\nhim.\"\n\n\"What sort of person was he?\" cried I, in great emotion; and Bendel\ndescribed the man in the grey coat, feature by feature, word for word;\nin short, the very individual in search of whom he had been sent.\n\n\"How unfortunate!\" cried I, bitterly; \"it was himself.\"\n\nScales, as it were, fell from Bendel's eyes.\n\n\"Yes, it was he,\" cried he, \"undoubtedly it was he; and fool, madman,\nthat I was, I did not recognise him--I did not, and have betrayed my\nmaster!\"\n\nHe then broke out into a torrent of self-reproach; and his distress\nreally excited my compassion. I endeavoured to console him, repeatedly\nassuring him that I entertained no doubt of his fidelity; and\ndespatched him immediately to the wharf, to discover, if possible, some\ntrace of the extraordinary being. But on that very morning many\nvessels, which had been detained in port by contrary winds, had set\nsail, all bound to different parts of the globe; and the grey man had\ndisappeared with my shadow.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER II\n\n\nOf what use were wings to a man fast bound in chains of iron? They\nwould but increase the horror of his despair. Like the dragon guarding\nhis treasure, I remained cut off from all human intercourse, and\nstarving amidst my very gold, for it gave me no pleasure: I\nanathematised it as the source of all my wretchedness.\n\nSole depository of my fearful secret, I trembled before the meanest of\nmy attendants, whom, at the same time, I envied; for he possessed a\nshadow, and could venture to go out in the daytime; while I shut myself\nup in my room day and night, and indulged in all the bitterness of\ngrief.\n\nOne individual, however, was daily pining away before my eyes--my\nfaithful Bendel, who was the victim of silent self-reproach, tormenting\nhimself with the idea that he had betrayed the confidence reposed in\nhim by a good master, in failing to recognise the individual in quest\nof whom he had been sent, and with whom he had been led to believe that\nmy melancholy fate was closely connected. Still, I had nothing to\naccuse him with, as I recognised in the occurrence the mysterious\ncharacter of the unknown.\n\nIn order to leave no means untried, I one day despatched Bendel with a\ncostly ring to the most celebrated artist in the town, desiring him to\nwait upon me. He came; and dismissing the attendants, I secured the\ndoor, placing myself opposite to him, and, after extolling his art,\nwith a heavy heart came to the point, first enjoining the strictest\nsecrecy.\n\n\"For a person,\" said I, \"who most unfortunately has lost his shadow,\ncould you paint a false one?\"\n\n\"Do you speak of the natural shadow?\"\n\n\"Precisely so.\"\n\n\"But,\" he asked, \"by what awkward negligence can a man have lost his\nshadow?\"\n\n\"How it occurred,\" I answered, \"is of no consequence; but it was in\nthis manner\"--(and here I uttered an unblushing falsehood)--\"he was\ntravelling in Russia last winter, and one bitterly cold day it froze so\nintensely, that his shadow remained so fixed to the ground, that it was\nfound impossible to remove it.\"\n\n\"The false shadow that I might paint,\" said the artist, \"would be\nliable to be lost on the slightest movement, particularly in a person\nwho, from your account, cares so little about his shadow. A person\nwithout a shadow should keep out of the sun, that is the only safe and\nrational plan.\"\n\nHe rose and took his leave, casting so penetrating a look at me, that I\nshrank from it. I sank back in my chair, and hid my face in my hands.\n\nIn this attitude Bendel found me, and was about to withdraw silently\nand respectfully on seeing me in such a state of grief: looking up,\noverwhelmed with my sorrows, I felt that I must communicate them to\nhim.\n\n\"Bendel,\" I exclaimed, \"Bendel, thou the only being who seest and\nrespectest my grief too much to inquire into its cause--thou who\nseemest silently and sincerely to sympathise with me--come and share my\nconfidence. The extent of my wealth I have not withheld from thee,\nneither will I conceal from thee the extent of my grief. Bendel!\nforsake me not. Bendel, you see me rich, free, beneficent; you fancy\nall the world in my power; yet you must have observed that I shun it,\nand avoid all human intercourse. You think Bendel, that the world and I\nare at variance; and you yourself, perhaps, will abandon me, when I\nacquaint you with this fearful secret. Bendel, I am rich, free,\ngenerous; but, O God, I have _no shadow_!\"\n\n\"No shadow!\" exclaimed the faithful young man, tears starting from his\neyes. \"Alas! that I am born to serve a master without a shadow!\" He was\nsilent, and again I hid my face in my hands.\n\n\"Bendel,\" at last I tremblingly resumed, \"you have now my confidence;\nyou may betray me--go--bear witness against me.\"\n\nHe seemed to be agitated with conflicting feelings; at last he threw\nhimself at my feet and seized my hand, which he bathed with his tears.\n\"No,\" he exclaimed; \"whatever the world may say, I neither can nor will\nforsake my excellent master because he has lost his shadow. I will\nrather do what is right than what may seem prudent. I will remain with\nyou--I will shade you with my own shadow--I will assist you when I\ncan--and when I cannot, I will weep with you.\"\n\nI fell upon his neck, astonished at sentiments so unusual; for it was\nvery evident that he was not prompted by the love of money.\n\n                           *   *   *   *   *\n\nMy mode of life and my fate now became somewhat different. It is\nincredible with what provident foresight Bendel contrived to conceal my\ndeficiency. Everywhere he was before me, and with me, providing against\nevery contingency, and in cases of unlooked-for danger, flying to\nshield me with his own shadow, for he was taller and stouter than\nmyself. Thus I once more ventured among mankind, and began to take a\npart in worldly affairs. I was compelled, indeed, to affect certain\npeculiarities and whims; but in a rich man they seem only appropriate;\nand so long as the truth was kept concealed, I enjoyed all the honour\nand respect which gold could procure.\n\nI now looked forward with more composure to the promised visit of the\nmysterious unknown at the expiration of the year and a day.\n\nI was very sensible that I could not venture to remain long in a place\nwhere I had once been seen without a shadow, and where I might easily\nbe betrayed; and perhaps, too, I recollected my first introduction to\nMr. John, and this was by no means a pleasing reminiscence. However, I\nwished just to make a trial here, that I might with greater ease and\nsecurity visit some other place. But my vanity for some time withheld\nme, for it is in this quality of our race that the anchor takes the\nfirmest hold.\n\nEven the lovely Fanny, whom I again met in several places, without her\nseeming to recollect that she had ever seen me before, bestowed some\nnotice on me; for wit and understanding were mine in abundance now.\nWhen I spoke, I was listened to; and I was at a loss to know how I had\nso easily acquired the art of commanding attention, and giving the tone\nto the conversation.\n\nThe impression which I perceived I had made upon this fair one\ncompletely turned my brain; and this was just what she wished. After\nthat, I pursued her with infinite pains through every obstacle. My\nvanity was only intent on exciting hers to make a conquest of me; but\nalthough the intoxication disturbed my head, it failed to make the\nleast impression on my heart.\n\nBut why detail to you the oft-repeated story which I have so often\nheard from yourself?\n\nHowever, in the old and well-known drama in which I played so worn-out\na part, a catastrophe occurred of quite a peculiar nature, in a manner\nequally unexpected to her, to me, and to everybody.\n\n[Illustration: \"I suffered her to fall from my arm in a fainting fit.\"]\n\nOne beautiful evening I had, according to my usual custom, assembled a\nparty in a garden, and was walking arm in arm with Fanny at a little\ndistance from the rest of the company, and pouring into her ear the\nusual well-turned phrases, while she was demurely gazing on vacancy,\nand now and then gently returning the pressure of my hand. The moon\nsuddenly emerged from behind a cloud at our back. Fanny perceived only\nher own shadow before us. She started, looked at me with terror, and\nthen again on the ground, in search of my shadow. All that was passing\nin her mind was so strangely depicted in her countenance, that I should\nhave burst into a loud fit of laughter, had I not suddenly felt my\nblood run cold within me. I suffered her to fall from my arm in a\nfainting-fit; shot with the rapidity of an arrow through the astonished\nguests, reached the gate, threw myself into the first conveyance I met\nwith, and returned to the town, where this time, unfortunately, I had\nleft the wary Bendel.\n\nHe was alarmed on seeing me: one word explained all. Post-horses were\nimmediately procured. I took with me none of my servants, one cunning\nknave only excepted, called Rascal, who had by his adroitness become\nvery serviceable to me, and who at present knew nothing of what had\noccurred. I travelled thirty leagues that night; having left Bendel\nbehind to discharge my servants, pay my debts, and bring me all that\nwas necessary.\n\nWhen he came up with me next day, I threw myself into his arms, vowing\nto avoid such follies and to be more careful for the future.\n\nWe pursued our journey uninterruptedly over the frontiers and\nmountains; and it was not until I had placed this lofty barrier\nbetween myself and the before-mentioned unlucky town, that I was\npersuaded to recruit myself, after my fatigues, in a neighbouring and\nlittle-frequented watering-place.\n\n                           *   *   *   *   *\n\nI must now pass rapidly over one period of my history, on which how\ngladly would I dwell, could I conjure up your lively powers of\ndelineation! But the vivid hues which are at your command, and which\nalone can give life and animation to the picture, have left no trace\nwithin me; and were I now to endeavour to recall the joys, the griefs,\nthe pure and enchanting emotions, which once held such powerful\ndominion in my breast, it would be like striking a rock which yields no\nlonger the living spring, and whose spirit is fled for ever. With what\nan altered aspect do those bygone days now present themselves to my\ngaze!\n\nIn this watering-place I acted an heroic character, badly studied; and\nbeing a novice on such a stage, I forgot my part before a pair of\nlovely blue eyes.\n\nAll possible means were used by the infatuated parents to conclude the\nbargain; and deception put an end to these usual artifices. And that is\nall--all.\n\nThe powerful emotions which once swelled my bosom seem now in the\nretrospect to be poor and insipid, nay, even terrible to me.\n\nAlas, Minna! as I wept for thee the day I lost thee, so do I now weep\nthat I can no longer retrace thine image in my soul.\n\nAm I, then, so far advanced into the vale of years? O fatal effects of\nmaturity! would that I could feel one throb, one emotion of former days\nof enchantment--alas, not one! a solitary being, tossed on the wild\nocean of life--it is long since I drained thine enchanted cup to the\ndregs!\n\nBut to return to my narrative. I had sent Bendel to the little town\nwith plenty of money to procure me a suitable habitation. He spent my\ngold profusely; and as he expressed himself rather reservedly\nconcerning his distinguished master (for I did not wish to be named),\nthe good people began to form rather extraordinary conjectures.\n\nAs soon as my house was ready for my reception, Bendel returned to\nconduct me to it. We set out on our journey. About a league from the\ntown, on a sunny plain, we were stopped by a crowd of people, arrayed\nin holiday attire for some festival. The carriage stopped. Music,\nbells, cannons, were heard; and loud acclamations rang through the air.\n\n[Illustration: She blushingly knelt before me, presenting on a silken\ncushion, a wreath.]\n\nBefore the carriage now appeared in white dresses a chorus of maidens,\nall of extraordinary beauty; but one of them shone in resplendent\nloveliness, and eclipsed the rest as the sun eclipses the stars of\nnight. She advanced from the midst of her companions, and with a lofty\nyet winning air, blushingly knelt before me, presenting on a silken\ncushion a wreath, composed of laurel-branches, the olive, and the rose,\nsaying something respecting majesty, love, honour, &c., which I could\nnot comprehend; but the sweet and silvery magic of her tones\nintoxicated my senses and my whole soul: it seemed as if some heavenly\napparition were hovering over me. The chorus now began to sing the\npraises of a good sovereign, and the happiness of his subjects. All\nthis, dear Chamisso, took place in the sun: she was kneeling two steps\nfrom me, and I, without a shadow, could not dart through the air, nor\nfall on my knees before the angelic being. O, what would I not now have\ngiven for a shadow! To conceal my shame, agony, and despair, I buried\nmyself in the recesses of the carriage. Bendel at last thought of an\nexpedient; he jumped out of the carriage. I called him back, and gave\nhim out of the casket I had by me a rich diamond coronet which had been\nintended for the lovely Fanny.\n\nHe stepped forward, and spoke in the name of his master, who, he said,\nwas overwhelmed by so many demonstrations of respect, which he really\ncould not accept as an honour--there must be some error; nevertheless\nhe begged to express his thanks for the good-will of the worthy\ntownspeople. In the meantime Bendel had taken the wreath from the\ncushion, and laid the brilliant crown in its place. He then\nrespectfully raised the lovely girl from the ground; and at one sign,\nthe clergy, magistrates, and all the deputations withdrew. The crowd\nseparated, to allow the horses to pass; and we pursued our way to the\ntown at full gallop, through arches ornamented with flowers and\nbranches of laurel. Salvos of artillery again were heard. The carriage\nstopped at my gate; I hastened through the crowd which curiosity had\nattracted to witness my arrival. Enthusiastic shouts resounded under my\nwindows, from whence I showered gold amidst the people; and in the\nevening the whole town was illuminated. Still all remained a mystery to\nme, and I could not imagine for whom I had been taken. I sent Rascal\nout to make inquiry; and he soon obtained intelligence that the good\nKing of Prussia was travelling through the country under the name of\nsome count; that my _aide-de-camp_ had been recognised, and that he had\ndivulged the secret; that on acquiring the certainty that I would enter\ntheir town, their joy had known no bounds: however, as they perceived I\nwas determined on preserving the strictest incognito, they felt how\nwrong they had been in too importunately seeking to withdraw the veil.\nBut I had received them so condescendingly and so graciously, that they\nwere sure I would forgive them. The whole affair was such capital\namusement to the unprincipled Rascal, that he did his best to confirm\nthe good people in their belief, while affecting to reprove them. He\ngave me a very comical account of the matter; and seeing that I was\namused by it, actually endeavoured to make a merit of his impudence.\n\nShall I own the truth? My vanity was flattered by having been mistaken\nfor our revered sovereign. I ordered a banquet to be got ready for the\nfollowing evening, under the trees before my house, and invited the\nwhole town. The mysterious power of my purse, Bendel's exertions, and\nRascal's ready invention, made the shortness of the time seem as\nnothing.\n\nIt was really astonishing how magnificently and beautifully everything\nwas arranged in these few hours. Splendour and abundance vied with each\nother, and the lights were so carefully arranged that I felt quite\nsafe: the zeal of my servants met every exigency, and merited all\npraise.\n\nEvening drew on, the guests arrived, and were presented to me. The word\n_majesty_ was now dropped; but, with the deepest respect and humility,\nI was addressed as the _count_. What could I do? I accepted the title;\nand from that moment I was known as Count Peter. In the midst of all\nthis festivity my soul pined for one individual. She came late--she who\nwas the empress of the scene, and wore the emblem of sovereignty on her\nbrow.\n\nShe modestly accompanied her parents, and seemed unconscious of her\ntranscendent beauty.\n\nThe Ranger of the Forests, his wife, and daughter, were presented to\nme. I was at no loss to make myself agreeable to the parents; but\nbefore the daughter I stood like a well-scolded school-boy, incapable\nof speaking a single word.\n\nAt length I hesitatingly entreated her to honour my banquet by\npresiding at it--an office for which her rare endowments pointed her\nout as admirably fitted. With a blush and an expressive glance she\nentreated to be excused; but in still greater confusion than herself, I\nrespectfully begged her to accept the homage of the first and most\ndevoted of her subjects; and one glance of the count was the same as a\ncommand to the guests, who all vied with each other in acting up to the\nspirit of the noble host.\n\nIn her person, majesty, innocence, and grace, in union with beauty,\npresided over this joyous banquet. Minna's happy parents were elated by\nthe honours conferred upon their child. As for me, I abandoned myself\nto all the intoxication of delight: I sent for all the jewels, pearls,\nand precious stones still left to me--the produce of my fatal wealth;\nand filling two vases, I placed them on the table in the name of the\nQueen of the banquet, to be divided among her companions and the\nremainder of the ladies.\n\nI ordered gold in the meantime to be showered down without ceasing\namong the happy multitude.\n\nNext morning Bendel told me in confidence that the suspicions he had\nlong entertained of Rascal's honesty were now reduced to a certainty:\nhe had yesterday embezzled many bags of gold.\n\n\"Never mind,\" said I; \"let him enjoy his paltry booty. _I_ like to\nspend it--why should not he? Yesterday he, and all the newly-engaged\nservants whom you had hired, served me honourably, and cheerfully\nassisted me to enjoy the banquet.\"\n\nNo more was said on the subject. Rascal remained at the head of my\ndomestics. Bendel was my friend and confidant; he had by this time\nbecome accustomed to look upon my wealth as inexhaustible, without\nseeking to inquire into its source. He entered into all my schemes, and\neffectually assisted me in devising methods of spending my money.\n\nOf the pale, sneaking scoundrel--the unknown--Bendel only knew thus\nmuch, that he alone had power to release me from the curse which\nweighed so heavily on me, and yet that I stood in awe of him on whom\nall my hopes rested. Besides, I felt convinced that he had the means of\ndiscovering me under any circumstances, while he himself remained\nconcealed; I therefore abandoned my fruitless inquiries, and patiently\nawaited the appointed day.\n\nThe magnificence of my banquet, and my deportment on the occasion, had\nbut strengthened the credulous towns-people in their previous belief.\n\nIt appeared, soon after, from accounts in the newspapers, that the\nwhole history of the King of Prussia's fictitious journey originated in\nmere idle report. But a king I was, and a king I must remain, by all\nmeans; and one of the richest and most royal, although people were at a\nloss to know where my territories lay.\n\nThe world has never had reason to lament the scarcity of monarchs,\nparticularly in these days; and the good people, who had never yet seen\na king, now fancied me to be first one, and then another, with equal\nsuccess; and in the meanwhile I remained as before. Count Peter.\n\nAmong the visitors at this watering-place, a merchant made his\nappearance, one who had become a bankrupt in order to enrich himself.\nHe enjoyed the general good opinion; for he projected a shadow of\nrespectable size, though of somewhat faint hue.\n\nThis man wished to shew off in this place by means of his wealth, and\nsought to rival me. My purse soon enabled me to leave the poor devil\nfar behind. To save his credit, he became bankrupt again, and fled\nbeyond the mountains; and thus I was rid of him. Many a one in this\nplace was reduced to beggary and ruin through my means.\n\nIn the midst of the really princely magnificence and profusion which\ncarried all before me, my own style of living was very simple and\nretired. I had made it a point to observe the strictest precaution;\nand, with the exception of Bendel, no one was permitted, on any\npretence whatever, to enter my private apartment. As long as the sun\nshone, I remained shut up with him; and the Count was then said to be\ndeeply occupied in his closet. The numerous couriers, whom I kept in\nconstant attendance about matters of no importance, were supposed to be\nthe bearers of my despatches. I only received company in the evening\nunder the trees of my garden, or in my saloons, after Bendel's\nassurance of their being carefully and brilliantly lit up.\n\nMy walks, in which the Argus-eyed Bendel was constantly on the watch\nfor me, extended only to the garden of the forest-ranger, to enjoy the\nsociety of one who was dear to me as my own existence.\n\nOh, my Chamisso! I trust thou hast not forgotten what love is! I must\nhere leave much to thine imagination. Minna was in truth an amiable and\nexcellent maiden: her whole soul was wrapped up in me, and in her lowly\nthoughts of herself, she could not imagine how she had deserved a\nsingle thought from me. She returned love for love with all the full\nand youthful fervour of an innocent heart; her love was a true woman's\nlove, with all the devotion and total absence of selfishness which is\nfound only in woman;--she lived but in me, her whole soul being bound\nup in mine, regardless what her own fate might be.\n\nYet I, alas, during those hours of wretchedness--hours I would even\nnow gladly recall--how often have I wept on Bendel's bosom, when after\nthe first mad whirlwind of passion I reflected, with the keenest\nself-upbraidings, that I, a shadowless man, had, with cruel\nselfishness, practised a wicked deception, and stolen away the pure and\nangelic heart of the innocent Minna!\n\nAt one moment I resolved to confess all to her; then that I would fly\nfor ever; then I broke out into a flood of bitter tears, and consulted\nBendel as to the means of meeting her again in the forester's garden.\n\nAt times I flattered myself with great hopes from the near approaching\nvisit of the unknown; then wept again, because I saw clearly on\nreflection that they would end in disappointment. I had made a\ncalculation of the day fixed on by the fearful being for our interview;\nfor he had said in a year and a day, and I depended on his word.\n\nThe parents were worthy old people, devoted to their only child; and\nour mutual affection was a circumstance so overwhelming, that they knew\nnot how to act. They had never dreamed for a moment that the _Count_\ncould bestow a thought on their daughter; but such was the case--he\nloved and was beloved. The pride of the mother might not have led her\nto consider such an alliance quite impossible, but so extravagant an\nidea had never entered the contemplation of the sounder judgment of the\nold man. Both were satisfied of the sincerity of my love, and could but\nput up prayers to Heaven for the happiness of their child.\n\nA letter which I received from Minna about that time has just fallen\ninto my hands. Yes, these are the characters traced by her own hand. I\nwill transcribe the letter:--\n\n\"I am indeed a weak, foolish girl to fancy that the friend I so\ntenderly love could give an instant's pain to his poor Minna! Oh no!\nthou art so good, so inexpressibly good! But do not misunderstand me. I\nwill accept no sacrifice at thy hands--none whatever. Oh heavens! I\nshould hate myself! No; thou hast made me happy--thou hast taught me to\nlove thee.\n\n\"Go, then--let me not forget my destiny--Count Peter belongs not to me,\nbut to the whole world; and oh! what pride for thy Minna to hear thy\ndeeds proclaimed, and blessings invoked on thy idolised head! Ah, when\nI think of this, I could chide thee that thou shouldst for one instant\nforget thy high destiny for the sake of a simple maiden! Go, then;\notherwise the reflection will pierce me. How blest I have been rendered\nby thy love! Perhaps, also, I have planted some flowers in the path of\nthy life, as I twined them in the wreath which I presented to thee!\n\n\"Go, then--fear not to leave me--you are too deeply seated in my\nheart--I shall die inexpressibly happy in thy love.\"\n\nConceive how these words pierced my soul, Chamisso!\n\nI declared to her that I was not what I seemed--that although a rich, I\nwas an unspeakably miserable man--that a curse was on me, which must\nremain a secret, although the only one between us--yet that I was not\nwithout a hope of its being removed--that this poisoned every hour of\nmy life--that I should plunge her with me into the abyss--she, the\nlight and joy, the very soul of my existence. Then she wept, because I\nwas unhappy. Oh! Minna was all love and tenderness. To save me one tear\nshe would gladly have sacrificed her life. Yet she was far from\ncomprehending the full meaning of my words. She still looked upon me as\nsome proscribed prince or illustrious exile; and her vivid imagination\nhad invested her lover with every lofty attribute.\n\nOne day I said to her, \"Minna, the last day in next month will decide\nmy fate, and perhaps change it for the better; if not, I would sooner\ndie than render you miserable.\"\n\nShe laid her head on my shoulder, to conceal her tears. \"Should thy\nfate be changed,\" she said, \"I only wish to know that thou art happy;\nif thy condition is an unhappy one, I will share it with thee, and\nassist thee to support it.\"\n\n\"Minna, Minna!\" I exclaimed, \"recall those rash words--those mad\nwords which have escaped thy lips! Didst thou know the misery and\ncurse--didst thou know who--what--thy lover----Seest thou not, my\nMinna, this convulsive shuddering, which thrills my whole frame, and\nthat there is a secret in my breast which you cannot penetrate?\" She\nsank sobbing at my feet, and renewed her vows and entreaties.\n\nHer father now entered, and I declared to him my intention to solicit\nthe hand of his daughter on the first day of the month after the\nensuing one. I fixed that time, I told him, because circumstances might\nprobably occur in the interval materially to influence my future\ndestiny; but my love for his daughter was unchangeable.\n\nThe good old man started at hearing such words from the mouth of Count\nPeter. He fell upon my neck, and rose again in the utmost confusion for\nhaving forgotten himself. Then he began to doubt, to ponder, and to\nscrutinise; and spoke of dowry, security, and future provision for his\nbeloved child. I thanked him for having reminded me of all this, and\ntold him it was my wish to remain in a country where I seemed to be\nbeloved, and to lead a life free from anxiety. I then commissioned him\nto purchase the finest estate in the neighbourhood in the name of his\ndaughter,--for a father was the best person to act for his daughter in\nsuch a case,--and to refer for payment to me. This occasioned him a\ngood deal of trouble, as a stranger had everywhere anticipated him; but\nat last he made a purchase for about 150,000_l_.\n\nI confess this was but an innocent artifice to get rid of him, as I had\nfrequently done before; for it must be confessed that he was somewhat\ntedious. The good mother was rather deaf, and not jealous, like her\nhusband, of the honour of conversing with the count.\n\nThe happy party pressed me to remain with them longer this evening. I\ndared not--I had not a moment to lose. I saw the rising moon streaking\nthe horizon--my hour was come.\n\n\n[Illustration: Next Evening, I went to the foresters ... She raised her\nhead and looked at me and started involuntarily.]\n\nNext evening I went again to the forester's garden. I had wrapped\nmyself closely up in my cloak, slouched my hat over my eyes, and\nadvanced towards Minna. As she raised her head and looked at me, she\nstarted involuntarily. The apparition of that dreadful night in\nwhich I had been seen without a shadow was now standing distinctly\nbefore me--it was she herself. Had she recognised me? She was silent\nand thoughtful. I felt an oppressive load at my heart. I rose from my\nseat. She laid her head on my shoulder, still silent, and in tears. I\nwent away.\n\nI now found her frequently weeping. I became more and more melancholy.\nHer parents were beyond expression happy. The eventful day approached,\nthreatening and heavy, like a thunder-cloud. The evening preceding\narrived. I could scarcely breathe. I had carefully filled a large chest\nwith gold, and sat down to await the appointed time--the twelfth\nhour--it struck.\n\nNow I remained with my eyes fixed on the hand of the clock, counting\nthe seconds--the minutes--which struck me to the heart like daggers. I\nstarted at every sound--at last daylight appeared. The leaden hours\npassed on--morning--evening--night came. Hope was fast fading away\nas the hand advanced. It struck eleven--no one appeared--the last\nminutes--the first and last stroke of the twelfth hour died away. I\nsank back in my bed in an agony of weeping. In the morning I should,\nshadowless as I was, claim the hand of my beloved Minna. A heavy sleep\ntowards daylight closed my eyes.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAPTER III\n\n\nIt was yet early, when I was suddenly awoke by voices in hot dispute in\nmy ante-chamber. I listened. Bendel was forbidding Rascal to enter my\nroom, who swore he would receive no orders from his equals, and\ninsisted on forcing his way. The faithful Bendel reminded him that if\nsuch words reached his master's ears, he would turn him out of an\nexcellent place. Rascal threatened to strike him, if he persisted in\nrefusing his entrance.\n\nBy this time, having half dressed myself, I angrily threw open the\ndoor; and addressing myself to Rascal, inquired what he meant by such\ndisgraceful conduct. He drew back a couple of steps, and coolly\nanswered, \"Count Peter, may I beg most respectfully that you will\nfavour me with a sight of your shadow? The sun is now shining brightly\nin the court below.\"\n\nI stood as if struck by a thunderbolt, and for some time was unable to\nspeak. At last, I asked him how a servant could dare to behave so\ntowards his master. He interrupted me by saying, quite coolly, \"A\nservant may be a very honourable man, and unwilling to serve a\nshadowless master--I request my dismissal.\"\n\nI felt that I must adopt a softer tone, and replied, \"But, Rascal, my\ngood fellow, who can have put such strange ideas into your head? How\ncan you imagine--\"\n\nHe again interrupted me in the same tone--\"People say you have no\nshadow. In short, let me see your shadow, or give me my dismissal.\"\n\nBendel, pale and trembling, but more collected than myself, made a sign\nto me. I had recourse to the all-powerful influence of gold. But even\ngold had lost its power--Rascal threw it at my feet: \"From a shadowless\nman,\" he said, \"I will take nothing.\"\n\nTurning his back upon me, and putting on his hat, he then slowly left\nthe room, whistling a tune. I stood, with Bendel, as if petrified,\ngazing after him.\n\nWith a deep sigh and a heavy heart, I now prepared to keep my\nengagement, and to appear in the forester's garden, like a criminal\nbefore his judge. I entered by the shady arbour, which had received the\nname of Count Peter's arbour, where we had appointed to meet. The\nmother advanced with a cheerful air; Minna sat fair and beautiful as\nthe early snow of autumn reposing on the departing flowers, soon to be\ndissolved and lost in the cold stream.\n\nThe ranger, with a written paper in his hand, was walking up and down\nin an agitated manner, and struggling to suppress his feelings--his\nusually unmoved countenance being one moment flushed, and the next\nperfectly pale. He came forward as I entered, and, in a faltering\nvoice, requested a private conversation with me. The path by which he\nrequested me to follow him led to an open spot in the garden, where the\nsun was shining. I sat down. A long silence ensued, which even the good\nwoman herself did not venture to break. The ranger, in an agitated\nmanner, paced up and down with unequal steps. At last he stood still;\nand glancing over the paper he held in his hand, he said, addressing me\nwith a penetrating look, \"Count Peter, do you know one Peter\nSchlemihl?\" I was silent.\n\n\"A man,\" he continued, \"of excellent character and extraordinary\nendowments.\"\n\nHe paused for an answer. \"And supposing I myself were that very man?\"\n\n\"You!\" he exclaimed, passionately; \"he has lost his shadow!\"\n\n\"Oh, my suspicion is true!\" cried Minna; \"I have long known it--he has\nno shadow!\" And she threw herself into her mother's arms, who,\nconvulsively clasping her to her bosom, reproached her for having so\nlong, to her hurt, kept such a secret. But, like the fabled Arethusa,\nher tears, as from a fountain, flowed more abundantly, and her sobs\nincreased at my reproach.\n\n\"And so,\" said the ranger fiercely, \"you have not scrupled, with\nunparalleled shamelessness, to deceive both her and me; and you\npretended to love her, forsooth!--her whom you have reduced to the\nstate in which you now see her. See how she weeps!--Oh, shocking,\nshocking!\"\n\nBy this time I had lost all presence of mind; and I answered,\nconfusedly, \"After all, it is but a shadow, a mere shadow, which a man\ncan do very well without; and really it is not worth the while to make\nall this noise about such a trifle.\" Feeling the groundlessness of what\nI was saying, I ceased; and no one condescended to reply. At last I\nadded, \"What is lost to-day may be found to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Be pleased, sir,\" continued the ranger, in great wrath--\"be pleased to\nexplain how you have lost your shadow.\"\n\nHere again an excuse was ready: \"A boor of a fellow,\" said I, \"one day\ntrod so rudely on my shadow that he tore a large hole in it. I sent it\nto be repaired--for gold can do wonders--and yesterday I expected it\nhome again.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" answered the ranger. \"You are a suitor for my daughter's\nhand, and so are others. As a father, I am bound to provide for her. I\nwill give you three days to seek your shadow. Return to me in the\ncourse of that time with a well-fitted shadow, and you shall receive a\nhearty welcome; otherwise, on the fourth day--remember, on the fourth\nday--my daughter becomes the wife of another.\"\n\nI now attempted to say one word to Minna; but, sobbing more violently,\nshe clung still closer to her mother, who made a sign for me to\nwithdraw. I obeyed; and now the world seemed shut out from me for ever.\n\nHaving escaped from the affectionate care of Bendel, I now wandered\nwildly through the neighbouring woods and meadows. Drops of anguish\nfell from my brow, deep groans burst from my bosom--frenzied despair\nraged within me.\n\nI knew not how long this had lasted, when I felt myself seized by\nthe sleeve on a sunny heath. I stopped, and looking up, beheld the\ngrey-coated man, who appeared to have run himself out of breath in\npursuing me.\n\n\"I had,\" he began, immediately, \"appointed this day; but your\nimpatience anticipated it. All, however, may yet be right. Take my\nadvice,--redeem your shadow, which is at your command, and return\nimmediately to the ranger's garden, where you will be well received,\nand all the past will seem a mere joke. As for Rascal--who has betrayed\nyou in order to pay his addresses to Minna--leave him to me; he is just\na fit subject for me.\"\n\nI stood like one in a dream. \"This day?\" I considered again. He was\nright--I had made a mistake of a day. I felt in my bosom for the purse.\nHe perceived my intention, and drew back.\n\n\"No, Count Peter; the purse is in good hands--pray keep it.\"\n\nI gazed at him with looks of astonishment and inquiry.\n\n\"I only beg a trifle as a token of remembrance. Be so good as to sign\nthis memorandum.\" On the parchment, which he held out to me, were these\nwords:--\"By virtue of this present, to which I have appended my\nsignature, I hereby bequeath my soul to the holder, after its natural\nseparation from my body.\"\n\nI gazed in mute astonishment alternately at the paper and the grey\nunknown. In the meantime he had dipped a new pen in a drop of blood\nwhich was issuing from a scratch in my hand just made by a thorn. He\npresented it to me.\n\n\"Who are you?\" at last I exclaimed.\n\n\"What can it signify?\" he answered; \"do you not perceive who I am? A\npoor devil--a sort of scholar and philosopher, who obtains but poor\nthanks from his friends for his admirable arts, and whose only\namusement on earth consists of his small experiments. But just sign\nthis; to the right, exactly underneath--Peter Schlemihl.\"\n\nI shook my head, and replied, \"Excuse me, sir; I cannot sign that.\"\n\n\"Cannot!\" he exclaimed; \"and why not?\"\n\n\"Because it appears to me a hazardous thing to exchange my soul for my\nshadow.\"\n\n\"Hazardous!\" he exclaimed, bursting into a loud laugh. \"And, pray, may\nI be allowed to inquire what sort of a thing your soul is?--have you\never seen it?--and what do you mean to do with it after your death? You\nought to think yourself fortunate in meeting with a customer who during\nyour life, in exchange for this infinitely-minute quantity, this\ngalvanic principle, this polarised agency, or whatever other foolish\nname you may give it, is willing to bestow on you something\nsubstantial--in a word, your own identical shadow, by virtue of which\nyou will obtain your beloved Minna, and arrive at the accomplishment of\nall your wishes; or do you prefer giving up the poor young girl to the\npower of that contemptible scoundrel Rascal? Nay, you shall behold her\nwith your own eyes. Come here; I will lend you an invisible cap (he\ndrew something out of his pocket), and we will enter the ranger's\ngarden unseen.\"\n\nI must confess that I felt excessively ashamed to be thus laughed at by\nthe grey stranger. I detested him from the very bottom of my soul; and\nI really believe this personal antipathy, more than principle or\npreviously formed opinion, restrained me from purchasing my shadow,\nmuch as I stood in need of it, at such an expense. Besides, the thought\nwas insupportable, of making this proposed visit in his society. To\nbehold this hateful sneak, this mocking fiend, place himself between me\nand my beloved, between our torn and bleeding hearts, was too revolting\nan idea to be entertained for a moment.\n\nI considered the past as irrevocable, my own misery as inevitable; and\nturning to the grey man, I said, \"I have exchanged my shadow for this\nvery extraordinary purse, and I have sufficiently repented it. For\nHeaven's sake, let the transaction be declared null and void!\"\n\nHe shook his head; and his countenance assumed an expression of the\nmost sinister cast.\n\nI continued, \"I will make no exchange whatever, even for the sake of my\nshadow, nor will I sign the paper. It follows, also, that the incognito\nvisit you propose to me would afford you far more entertainment than it\ncould possibly give me. Accept my excuses, therefore; and, since it\nmust be so, let us part.\"\n\n\"I am sorry, Mr. Schlemihl, that you thus obstinately persist in\nrejecting my friendly offer. Perhaps, another time, I may be more\nfortunate. Farewell! May we shortly meet again! But, allow me to shew\nyou that I do not undervalue my purchase, but preserve it carefully.\"\n\nSo saying, he drew my shadow out of his pocket; and shaking it cleverly\nout of its folds, he stretched it out at his feet in the sun--so that\nhe stood between two obedient shadows, his own and mine, which was\ncompelled to follow and comply with his every movement.\n\nOn again beholding my poor shadow after so long a separation, and\nseeing it degraded to so vile a bondage at the very time that I was so\nunspeakably in want of it, my heart was ready to burst; and I wept\nbitterly. The detested wretch stood exulting over his prey, and\nunblushingly renewed his proposal.\n\n\"One stroke of the pen, and the unhappy Minna is rescued from the\nclutches of the villain Rascal, and transferred to the arms of the\nhigh-born Count Peter--merely a stroke of your pen!\"\n\nMy tears broke out with renewed violence; but I turned away from him,\nand made a sign for him to be gone.\n\nBendel, whose deep solicitude had induced him to come in search of me,\narrived at this very moment. The good and faithful creature, on seeing\nme weeping, and that a shadow (evidently mine) was in the power of the\nmysterious unknown, determined to rescue it by force, should that be\nnecessary; and disdaining to use any finesse, he desired him directly,\nand without any disputing, to restore my property. Instead of a reply,\nthe grey man turned his back on the worthy fellow, and was making off.\nBut Bendel raised his buckthorn stick; and following close upon him,\nafter repeated commands, but in vain, to restore the shadow, he made\nhim feel the whole force of his powerful arm. The grey man, as if\naccustomed to such treatment, held down his head, slouched his\nshoulders, and, with soft and noiseless steps, pursued his way over the\nheath, carrying with him my shadow, and also my faithful servant. For a\nlong time I heard hollow sounds ringing through the waste, until at\nlast they died away in the distance, and I was again left to solitude\nand misery.\n\n                           *   *   *   *   *\n\n[Illustration: \"Alone on the wild Heath I disburdened my heart of an\ninsupportable load, by giving free vent to my tears.\"]\n\nAlone on the wild heath, I disburdened my heart of an insupportable\nload, by giving free vent to my tears. But I saw no bounds, no relief,\nto my surpassing wretchedness; and I drank in the fresh poison which\nthe mysterious stranger had poured into my wounds with a furious\navidity. As I retraced in my mind the loved image of my Minna, and\ndepicted her sweet countenance all pale and in tears, such as I had\nbeheld her in my late disgrace, the bold and sarcastic visage of Rascal\nwould ever and anon thrust itself between us. I hid my face, and fled\nrapidly over the plains; but the horrible vision unrelentingly pursued\nme, till at last I sank breathless on the ground, and bedewed it with a\nfresh torrent of tears--and all this for a shadow!--a shadow which one\nstroke of the pen would repurchase. I pondered on the singular\nproposal, and on my hesitation to comply with it. My mind was\nconfused--I had lost the power of judging or comprehending. The day was\nwaning apace. I satisfied the cravings of hunger with a few wild\nfruits, and quenched my thirst at a neighbouring stream. Night came on;\nI threw myself down under a tree, and was awoke by the damp morning air\nfrom an uneasy sleep, in which I had fancied myself struggling in the\nagonies of death. Bendel had certainly lost all trace of me, and I was\nglad of it. I did not wish to return among my fellow-creatures--I\nshunned them as the hunted deer flies before its pursuers.\n\nThus I passed three melancholy days.\n\nI found myself on the morning of the fourth on a sandy plain, basking\nin the rays of the sun, and sitting on a fragment of rock; for it was\nsweet to enjoy the genial warmth, of which I had so long been deprived.\nDespair still preyed on my heart. Suddenly a slight sound startled me;\nI looked round, prepared to fly, but saw no one. On the sunlit sand\nbefore me flitted the shadow of a man not unlike my own; and wandering\nabout alone, it seemed to have lost its master. This sight powerfully\nexcited me.\n\n\"Shadow!\" thought I, \"art thou in search of thy master? in me thou\nshalt find him.\" And I sprang forward to seize it, fancying that could\nI succeed in treading so exactly in its traces as to step in its\nfootmarks, it would attach itself to me, and in time become accustomed\nto me, and follow all my movements.\n\nThe shadow, as I moved, took to flight, and I commenced a hot chase\nafter the airy fugitive, solely excited by the hope of being delivered\nfrom my present dreadful situation; the bare idea inspired me with\nfresh strength and vigour.\n\nThe shadow now fled towards a distant wood, among whose shades I must\nnecessarily have lost it. Seeing this, my heart beat wild with fright,\nmy ardour increased, and lent wings to my speed. I was evidently\ngaining on the shadow--I came nearer and nearer--I was within reach of\nit, when it suddenly stopped and turned towards me. Like a lion darting\non its prey, I made a powerful spring and fell unexpectedly upon a hard\nsubstance. Then followed, from an invisible hand, the most terrible\nblows in the ribs that any one ever received. The effect of my terror\nmade me endeavour convulsively to strike and grasp at the unseen object\nbefore me. The rapidity of my motions brought me to the ground, where I\nlay stretched out, with a man under me, whom I held tight, and who now\nbecame visible.\n\nThe whole affair was now explained. The man had undoubtedly possessed\nthe bird's nest which communicates its charm of invisibility to its\npossessor, though not equally so to his shadow; and this nest he had\nnow thrown away. I looked all round, and soon discovered the shadow of\nthis invisible nest. I sprang towards it, and was fortunate enough to\nseize the precious booty, and immediately became invisible and\nshadowless.\n\nThe moment the man regained his feet he looked all round, over the wide\nsunny plain, to discover his fortunate vanquisher, but could see\nneither him nor his shadow, the latter seeming particularly to be the\nobject of his search: for previous to our encounter he had not had\nleisure to observe that I was shadowless, and he could not be aware of\nit. Becoming convinced that all traces of me were lost, he began to\ntear his hair, and give himself up to all the frenzy of despair. In the\nmeantime, this newly acquired treasure communicated to me both the\nability and the desire to mix again among mankind.\n\nI was at no loss for a pretext to vindicate this unjust robbery--or,\nrather, so deadened had I become, I felt no need of a pretext; and in\norder to dissipate every idea of the kind, I hastened on, regardless of\nthe unhappy man, whose fearful lamentations long resounded in my ears.\nSuch, at the time, were my impressions of all the circumstances of this\naffair.\n\nI now ardently desired to return to the ranger's garden, in order to\nascertain in person the truth of the information communicated by the\nodious unknown; but I knew not where I was, until, ascending an\neminence to take a survey of the surrounding country, I perceived, from\nits summit, the little town and the gardens almost at my feet. My heart\nbeat violently, and tears of a nature very different from those I had\nlately shed filled my eyes. I should, then, once more behold her!\n\nAnxiety now hastened my steps. Unseen I met some peasants coming from\nthe town; they were talking of me, of Rascal, and of the ranger. I\nwould not stay to listen to their conversation, but proceeded on. My\nbosom thrilled with expectation as I entered the garden. At this moment\nI heard something like a hollow laugh, which caused me involuntarily to\nshudder. I cast a rapid glance around, but could see no one. I passed\non; presently I fancied I heard the sound of footsteps close to me, but\nno one was within sight. My ears must have deceived me.\n\nIt was early; no one was in Count Peter's bower--the gardens were\ndeserted. I traversed all the well-known paths, and penetrated even to\nthe dwelling-house itself. The same rustling sound became now more and\nmore audible. With anguished feelings I sat down on a seat placed in\nthe sunny space before the door, and actually felt some invisible fiend\ntake a place by me, and heard him utter a sarcastic laugh. The key was\nturned in the door, which was opened. The forest-master appeared with a\npaper in his hand.\n\nSuddenly my head was, as it were, enveloped in a mist. I looked up,\nand, oh horror! the grey-coated man was at my side, peering in my face\nwith a satanic grin. He had extended the mist-cap[1] he wore over my\nhead. His shadow and my own were lying together at his feet, in perfect\namity. He kept twirling in his hand the well-known parchment, with an\nair of indifference; and while the ranger, absorbed in thought, and\nintent upon his paper, paced up and down the arbour, my tormentor\nconfidentially leaned towards me, and whispered, \"So, Mr. Schlemihl,\nyou have at length accepted my invitation; and here we sit, two heads\nunder one hood, as the saying is. Well, well, all in good time. But now\nyou can return me my bird's nest--you have no further occasion for it;\nand I am sure you are too honourable a man to withhold it from me. No\nneed of thanks, I assure you; I had infinite pleasure in lending it to\nyou.\"\n\nHe took it out of my unresisting hand, put it into his pocket, and then\nbroke into so loud a laugh at my expense, that the forest-master turned\nround, startled at the sound. I was petrified.\n\n\"You must acknowledge,\" he continued, \"that in our position a hood is\nmuch more convenient. It serves to conceal not only a man, but his\nshadow, or as many shadows as he chooses to carry. I, for instance,\nto-day bring two, you perceive.\" He laughed again. \"Take notice,\nSchlemihl, that what a man refuses to do with a good grace in the first\ninstance, he is always in the end compelled to do. I am still of\nopinion that you ought to redeem your shadow and claim your bride (for\nit is yet time); and as to Rascal, he shall dangle at a rope's end--no\ndifficult matter, so long as we can find a bit. As a mark of\nfriendship, I will give you my cap into the bargain.\"\n\nThe mother now came out, and the following conversation took place:\n\"What is Minna doing?\"\n\n\"She is weeping.\"\n\n\"Silly child! what good can that do?\"\n\n\"None, certainly; but it is so soon to bestow her hand on another. O\nhusband, you are too harsh to your poor child.\"\n\n\"No, wife; you view things in a wrong light. When she finds herself the\nwife of a wealthy and honourable man, her tears will soon cease; she\nwill waken out of a dream, as it were, happy, and grateful to Heaven\nand to her parents, as you will see.\"\n\n\"Heaven grant it may be so!\" replied the wife.\n\n\"She has, indeed, now considerable property; but after the noise\noccasioned by her unlucky affair with that adventurer, do you imagine\nthat she is likely soon to meet with so advantageous a match as Mr.\nRascal? Do you know the extent of Mr. Rascal's influence and wealth?\nWhy, he has purchased with ready money, in this country, six millions\nof landed property, free from all emcumbrances. I have had all the\ndocuments in my hands. It was he who outbid me everywhere when I was\nabout to make a desirable purchase; and, besides, he has bills on Mr.\nThomas John's house to the amount of three millions and a half.\"\n\n\"He must have been a prodigious thief!\"\n\n\"How foolishly you talk! he wisely saved where others squandered their\nproperty.\"\n\n\"A mere livery-servant!\"\n\n\"Nonsense! he has at all events an unexceptionable shadow.\"\n\n\"True, but----\"\n\nWhile this conversation was passing, the grey-coated man looked at me\nwith a satirical smile.\n\nThe door opened, and Minna entered, leaning on the arm of her female\nattendant, silent tears flowing down her fair but pallid face. She\nseated herself in the chair which had been placed for her under the\nlime-trees, and her father took a stool by her side. He gently raised\nher hand; and as her tears flowed afresh, he addressed her in the most\naffectionate manner.\n\n\"My own dear, good child--my Minna--will act reasonably, and not\nafflict her poor old father, who only wishes to make her happy. My\ndearest child, this blow has shaken you--dreadfully, I know it; but you\nhave been saved, as by a miracle, from a miserable fate, my Minna. You\nloved the unworthy villain most tenderly, before his treachery was\ndiscovered: I feel all this, Minna; and far be it from me to reproach\nyou for it--in fact, I myself loved him so long as I considered him to\nbe a person of rank: you now see yourself how differently it has turned\nout. Every dog has a shadow; and the idea of my child having been on\nthe eve of uniting herself to a man who----but I am sure you will think\nno more of him. A suitor has just appeared for you in the person of a\nman who does not fear the sun--an honourable man--no prince indeed, but\na man worth ten millions of golden ducats sterling--a sum nearly ten\ntimes larger than your fortune consists of--a man, too, who will make\nmy dear child happy--nay, do not oppose me--be my own good, dutiful\nchild--allow your loving father to provide for you, and to dry up these\ntears. Promise to bestow your hand on Mr. Rascal. Speak my child: will\nyou not?\"\n\nMinna could scarcely summon strength to reply that she had now no\nlonger any hopes or desires on earth, and that she was entirely at her\nfather's disposal. Rascal was therefore immediately sent for, and\nentered the room with his usual forwardness; but Minna in the meantime\nhad swooned away.\n\nMy detested companion looked at me indignantly, and whispered, \"Can you\nendure this? Have you no blood in your veins?\" He instantly pricked my\nfinger, which bled. \"Yes, positively,\" he exclaimed, \"you have some\nblood left!--come, sign.\" The parchment and pen were in my hand!----\n\n\nFOOTNOTE TO CHAPTER III:\n\n[Footnote 1: The Nebelkappe, or Tarnkappe (Germ.), which imparts\ninvisibility to its owner.]\n\n\n[Illustration: The forest of ancient firs.]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER IV\n\n\nI submit myself to thy judgment, my dear Chamisso; I do not seek to bias\nit. I have long been a rigid censor of myself, and nourished at my\nheart the worm of remorse. This critical moment of my life is ever\npresent to my soul, and I dare only cast a hesitating glance at it,\nwith a deep sense of humiliation and grief. Ah, my dear friend, he who\nonce permits himself thoughtlessly to deviate but one step from the\nright road, will imperceptibly find himself involved in various\nintricate paths, all leading him farther and farther astray. In vain he\nbeholds the guiding-stars of Heaven shining before him. No choice is\nleft him--he must descend the precipice, and offer himself up a\nsacrifice to his fate. After the false step which I had rashly made,\nand which entailed a curse upon me, I had, in the wantonness of\npassion, entangled one in my fate who had staked all her happiness upon\nme. What was left for me to do in a case where I had brought another\ninto misery, but to make a desperate leap in the dark to save her?--the\nlast, the only means of rescue presented itself. Think not so meanly of\nme, Chamisso, as to imagine that I would have shrunk from any sacrifice\non my part. In such a case it would have been but a poor ransom. No,\nChamisso; but my whole soul was filled with unconquerable hatred to the\ncringing knave and his crooked ways. I might be doing him injustice;\nbut I shuddered at the bare idea of entering into any fresh compact\nwith him. But here a circumstance took place which entirely changed the\nface of things----\n\nI know not whether to ascribe it to excitement of mind, exhaustion of\nphysical strength (for during the last few days I had scarcely tasted\nanything), or the antipathy I felt to the society of my fiendish\ncompanion; but just as I was about to sign the fatal paper, I fell into\na deep swoon, and remained for a long time as if dead. The first sounds\nwhich greeted my ear on recovering my consciousness were those of\ncursing and imprecation; I opened my eyes--it was dusk; my hateful\ncompanion was overwhelming me with reproaches. \"Is not this behaving\nlike an old woman? Come, rise up, and finish quickly what you were\ngoing to do; or perhaps you have changed your determination, and prefer\nto lie groaning there?\"\n\nI raised myself with difficulty from the ground, and gazed around me,\nwithout speaking a word. It was late in the evening, and I heard\nstrains of festive music proceeding from the ranger's brilliantly\nilluminated house; groups of company were lounging about the gardens;\ntwo persons approached, and seating themselves on the bench I had\nlately occupied, began to converse on the subject of the marriage which\nhad taken place that morning between the wealthy Mr. Rascal and Minna.\nAll was then over.\n\nI tore off the cap which rendered me invisible; and my companion having\ndisappeared, I plunged in silence into the thickest gloom of the grove,\nrapidly passed Count Peter's bower towards the entrance-gate; but my\ntormentor still haunted me, and loaded me with reproaches. \"And is this\nall the gratitude I am to expect from you, Mr. Schlemihl--you, whom I\nhave been watching all the weary day, until you should recover from\nyour nervous attack? What a fool's part I have been enacting! It is of\nno use flying from me, Mr. Perverse--we are inseparable--you have my\ngold, I have your shadow; this exchange deprives us both of peace. Did\nyou ever hear of a man's shadow leaving him?--yours follows me until\nyou receive it again into favour, and thus free me from it. Disgust and\nweariness sooner or later will compel you to do what you should have\ndone gladly at first. In vain you strive with fate!\"\n\nHe continued unceasingly in the same tone, uttering constant sarcasms\nabout the gold and the shadow, till I was completely bewildered. To fly\nfrom him was impossible. I had pursued my way through the empty streets\ntowards my own house, which I could scarcely recognise--the windows\nwere broken to pieces, no light was visible, the doors were shut, and\nthe bustle of domestics had ceased. My companion burst into a loud\nlaugh. \"Yes, yes,\" said he, \"you see the state of things: however, you\nwill find your friend Bendel at home; he was sent back the other day so\nfatigued, that I assure you he has never left the house since. He will\nhave a fine story to tell! So I wish you a very good night--may we\nshortly meet again!\"\n\nI had repeatedly rung the bell: at last a light appeared and Bendel\ninquired from within who was there. The poor fellow could scarcely\ncontain himself at the sound of my voice. The door flew open, and we\nwere locked in each other's arms. I found him sadly changed; he was\nlooking ill and feeble. I, too, was altered; my hair had become quite\ngrey. He conducted me through the desolate apartments to an inner room,\nwhich had escaped the general wreck. After partaking of some\nrefreshment, we seated ourselves; and, with fresh lamentations, he\nbegan to tell me that the grey withered old man whom he had met with my\nshadow had insensibly led him such a zig-zag race, that he lost all\ntraces of me, and at last sank down exhausted with fatigue; that,\nunable to find me, he had returned home, when, shortly after, the mob,\nat Rascal's instigation, assembled violently before the house, broke\nthe windows, and by all sorts of excesses completely satiated their\nfury.\n\nThus had they treated their benefactor. My servants had fled in all\ndirections. The police had banished me from the town as a suspicious\ncharacter, and granted me an interval of twenty-four hours to leave the\nterritory. Bendel added many particulars as to the information I had\nalready obtained respecting Rascal's wealth and marriage. This villain,\nit seems--who was the author of all the measures taken against\nme--became possessed of my secret nearly from the beginning, and,\ntempted by the love of money, had supplied himself with a key to my\nchest, and from that time had been laying the foundation of his present\nwealth. Bendel related all this with many tears, and wept for joy that\nI was once more safely restored to him, after all his fears and\nanxieties for me. In me, however, such a state of things only awoke\ndespair.\n\nMy dreadful fate now stared me in the face in all its gigantic and\nunchangeable horror. The source of tears was exhausted within me; no\ngroans escaped my breast; but with cool indifference I bared my\nunprotected head to the blast.\n\n\"Bendel,\" said I, \"you know my fate; this heavy visitation is a\npunishment for my early sins: but as for thee, my innocent friend, I\ncan no longer permit thee to share my destiny. I will depart this very\nnight--saddle me a horse--I will set out alone. Remain here, Bendel--I\ninsist upon it: there must be some chests of gold still left in the\nhouse--take them, they are thine. I shall be a restless and solitary\nwanderer on the face of the earth; but should better days arise, and\nfortune once more smile propitiously on me, then I will not forget thy\nsteady fidelity; for, in hours of deep distress, thy faithful bosom has\nbeen the depository of my sorrows.\"\n\nWith a bursting heart, the worthy Bendel prepared to obey this last\ncommand of his master; for I was deaf to all his arguments and blind to\nhis tears. My horse was brought--I pressed my weeping friend to my\nbosom--threw myself into the saddle, and, under the friendly shades of\nnight, quitted this sepulchre of my existence, indifferent which road\nmy horse should take; for now on this side the grave I had neither\nwishes, hopes, or fears.\n\n                           *   *   *   *   *\n\nAfter a short time I was joined by a traveller on foot, who, after\nwalking for a while by the side of my horse, observed, that as we both\nseemed to be travelling the same road, he should beg my permission to\nlay his cloak on the horse's back behind me, to which I silently\nassented. He thanked me with easy politeness for this trifling favour,\npraised my horse, and then took occasion to extol the happiness and the\npower of the rich, and fell, I scarcely know how, into a sort of\nconversation with himself, in which I merely acted the part of\nlistener. He unfolded his views of human life and of the world, and\ntouching on metaphysics, demanded an answer from that cloudy science to\nthe question of questions--the answer that should solve all mysteries.\nHe deduced one problem from another in a very lucid manner, and then\nproceeded to their solution.\n\nYou may remember, my dear friend, that after having run through the\nschool-philosophy, I became sensible of my unfitness for metaphysical\nspeculations, and therefore totally abstained from engaging in them.\nSince, then, I have acquiesced in some things, and abandoned all hope\nof comprehending others; trusting, as you advised me, to my own plain\nsense and the voice of conscience to direct and, if possible, maintain\nme in the right path.\n\nNow this skilful rhetorician seemed to me to expend great skill in\nrearing a firmly-constructed edifice, towering aloft on its own\nself-supported basis, but resting on, and upheld by, some internal\nprinciple of necessity. I regretted in it the total absence of what I\ndesired to find; and thus it seemed a mere work of art, serving only by\nits elegance and exquisite finish to captivate the eye. Nevertheless I\nlistened with pleasure to this eloquently gifted man, who diverted my\nattention from my own sorrows to the speaker; and he would have secured\nmy entire acquiescence, if he had appealed to my heart as well as to my\njudgment.\n\nIn the meantime the hours had passed away, and morning had already\ndawned imperceptibly in the horizon; looking up, I shuddered as I\nbeheld in the east all those splendid hues that announce the rising\nsun. At this hour, when all natural shadows are seen in their full\nproportions, not a fence or a shelter of any kind could I descry in\nthis open country, and I was not alone! I cast a glance at my\ncompanion, and shuddered again--it was the man in the grey coat\nhimself! He laughed at my surprise, and said, without giving me time to\nspeak: \"You see, according to the fashion of this world, mutual\nconvenience binds us together for a time: there is plenty of time to\nthink of parting. The road here along the mountain, which perhaps has\nescaped your notice, is the only one that you can prudently take; into\nthe valley you dare not descend--the path over the mountain would but\nre-conduct you to the town which you have left--my road, too, lies this\nway. I perceive you change colour at the rising sun--I have no\nobjections to let you have the loan of your shadow during our journey;\nand in return you may not be indisposed to tolerate my society. You\nhave now no Bendel; but I will act for him. I regret that you are not\nover-fond of me; but that need not prevent you from accepting my poor\nservices. The devil is not so black as he is painted. Yesterday you\nprovoked me, I own; but now that is all forgotten, and you must confess\nI have this day succeeded in beguiling the wearisomeness of your\njourney. Come, take your shadow, and make trial of it.\"\n\nThe sun had risen, and we were meeting with passengers; so I\nreluctantly consented. With a smile, he immediately let my shadow glide\ndown to the ground; and I beheld it take its place by that of my horse,\nand gaily trot along with me. My feelings were anything but pleasant. I\nrode through groups of country-people, who respectfully made way for\nthe well-mounted stranger.\n\nThus I proceeded, occasionally stealing a sidelong glance, with a\nbeating heart, from my horse, at the shadow once my own, but now, alas,\naccepted as a loan from a stranger, or rather a fiend.\n\nHe moved on carelessly at my side, whistling a song. He being on foot,\nand I on horseback, the temptation to hazard a silly project occurred\nto me; so, suddenly turning my bridle, I set spurs to my horse, and at\nfull gallop struck into a by-path; but my shadow, on the sudden\nmovement of my horse, glided away, and stood on the road, quietly\nawaiting the approach of its legal owner. I was obliged to return\nabashed towards the grey man; but he very coolly finished his song, and\nwith a laugh set my shadow to rights again, reminding me that it was at\nmy option to have it irrevocably fixed to me, by purchasing it on just\nand equitable terms: \"I hold you,\" said he, \"by the shadow; and you\nseek in vain to get rid of me. A rich man, like you, requires a shadow,\nunquestionably; and you are to blame for not having seen this sooner.\"\n\nI now continued my journey on the same road; every convenience and even\nluxury of life was mine; I moved about in peace and freedom, for I\npossessed a shadow, though a borrowed one; and all the respect due to\nwealth was paid to me. But a deadly disease preyed on my heart. My\nextraordinary companion, who gave himself out to be the humble\nattendant of the richest individual in the world, was remarkable for\nhis dexterity; in short, his singular address and promptitude admirably\nfitted him to be the very _beau ideal_ of a rich man's lacquey. But he\nnever stirred from my side, and tormented me with constant assurances\nthat a day would most certainly come, when, if it were only to get rid\nof him, I should gladly comply with his terms, and redeem my shadow.\nThus he became as irksome as he was hateful to me. I really stood in\nawe of him--I had placed myself in his power. Since he had effected my\nreturn to the pleasures of the world, which I had resolved to shun, he\nhad the perfect mastery of me. His eloquence was irresistible, and at\ntimes I almost thought he was in the right. A shadow is indeed\nnecessary to a man of fortune; and if I chose to maintain the position\nin which he had placed me, there was only one means of doing so. But on\none point I was immovable: since I had sacrificed my love for Minna,\nand thereby blighted the happiness of my whole life, I would not now,\nfor all the shadows in the universe, be induced to sign away my soul to\nthis being--I knew not how it might end.\n\nOne day we were sitting by the entrance of a cavern, much visited by\nstrangers, who ascended the mountain: the rushing noise of a\nsubterranean torrent resounded from the fathomless abyss, the depths of\nwhich exceeded all calculation. He was, according to his favourite\ncustom, employing all the powers of his lavish fancy, and all the charm\nof the most brilliant colouring, to depict to me what I might effect in\nthe world by virtue of my purse, when once I had recovered my shadow.\nWith my elbows resting on my knees, I kept my face concealed in my\nhands, and listened to the false fiend, my heart torn between the\ntemptation and my determined opposition to it. Such indecision I could\nno longer endure, and resolved on one decisive effort.\n\n\"You seem to forget,\" said I, \"that I tolerate your presence only on\ncertain conditions, and that I am to retain perfect freedom of action.\"\n\n\"You have but to command, I depart,\" was all his reply.\n\nThe threat was familiar to me; I was silent. He then began to fold up\nmy shadow. I turned pale, but allowed him to continue. A long silence\nensued, which he was the first to break.\n\n\"You cannot endure me, Mr. Schlemihl--you hate me--I am aware of\nit--but why?--is it, perhaps, because you attacked me on the open\nplain, in order to rob me of my invisible bird's nest? or is it because\nyou thievishly endeavoured to seduce away the shadow with which I had\nentrusted you--my own property--confiding implicitly in your honour? I,\nfor my part, have no dislike to you. It is perfectly natural that you\nshould avail yourself of every means, presented either by cunning, or\nforce, to promote your own interests. That your principles also should\nbe of the strictest sort, and your intentions of the most honourable\ndescription,--these are fancies with which I have nothing to do; I do\nnot pretend to such strictness myself. Each of us is free, I to act,\nand you to think, as seems best. Did I ever seize you by the throat, to\ntear out of your body that valuable soul I so ardently wish to possess?\nDid I ever set my servant to attack you, to get back my purse, or\nattempt to run off with it from you?\"\n\nI had not a word to reply.\n\n\"Well, well,\" he exclaimed, \"you detest me, and I know it; but I bear\nyou no malice on that account. We must part--that is clear; also I must\nsay that you begin to be very tiresome to me. Once more let me advise\nyou to free yourself entirely from my troublesome presence, by the\npurchase of your shadow.\"\n\nI held out the purse to him.\n\n\"No, Mr. Schlemihl; not at that price.\"\n\nWith a deep sigh, I said, \"Be it so, then; let us part, I entreat;\ncross my path no more. There is surely room enough in the world for us\nboth.\"\n\nLaughing, he replied, \"I go; but just allow me to inform you how you\nmay at any time recall me whenever you have a mind to see your most\nhumble servant: you have only to shake your purse, the sound of the\ngold will bring me to you in an instant. In this world every one\nconsults his own advantage; but you see I have thought of yours, and\nclearly confer upon you a new power. Oh this purse! it would still\nprove a powerful bond between us, had the moth begun to devour your\nshadow.--But enough: you hold me by my gold, and may command your\nservant at any distance. You know that I can be very serviceable to my\nfriends; and that the rich are my peculiar care--this you have\nobserved. As to your shadow, allow me to say, you can only redeem it on\none condition.\"\n\nRecollections of former days came over me; and I hastily asked him if\nhe had obtained Mr. Thomas John's signature.\n\nHe smiled, and said, \"It was by no means necessary from so excellent a\nfriend.\"\n\n\"Where is he? for God's sake tell me: I insist upon knowing.\"\n\nWith some hesitation, he put his hand into his pocket, and drew out the\naltered and pallid form of Mr. John by the hair of his head, whose\nlivid lips uttered the awful words, \"_Justo judicio Dei judicatus sum;\njusto judicio Dei condemnatus sum_\"--\"I am judged and condemned by the\njust judgment of God.\"\n\nI was horrorstruck; and instantly throwing the jingling purse into the\nabyss, I exclaimed, \"Wretch! in the name of Heaven, I conjure you to be\ngone!--away from my sight!--never appear before me again!\" With a dark\nexpression on his countenance, he arose, and immediately vanished\nbehind the huge rocks which surrounded the place.\n\n[Illustration: He put his hand in his pocket and drew out the altered\nand pallid form of Mr. John.]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAPTER V\n\n\nI was now left equally without gold and without shadow; but a heavy\nload was taken from my breast, and I felt cheerful. Had not my Minna\nbeen irrecoverably lost to me, or even had I been perfectly free from\nself-reproach on her account, I felt that happiness might yet have been\nmine. At present I was lost in doubt as to my future course. I examined\nmy pockets, and found I had a few gold pieces still left, which I\ncounted with feelings of great satisfaction. I had left my horse at the\ninn, and was ashamed to return, or at all events I must wait till the\nsun had set, which at present was high in the heavens. I laid myself\ndown under a shady tree, and fell into a peaceful sleep.\n\nLovely forms floated in airy measures before me, and filled up my\ndelightful dreams. Minna, with a garland of flowers entwined in her\nhair, was bending over me with a smile of good-will; also the worthy\nBendel was crowned with flowers, and hastened to meet me with friendly\ngreetings. Many other forms seemed to rise up confusedly in the\ndistance: thyself among the number, Chamisso. Perfect radiance beamed\naround them, but none had a shadow; and what was more surprising, there\nwas no appearance of unhappiness on this account. Nothing was to be\nseen or heard but flowers and music; and love and joy, and groves of\nnever-fading palms, seemed the natives of that happy clime.\n\n[Illustration: The Dream.]\n\nIn vain I tried to detain and comprehend the lovely but fleeting forms.\nI was conscious, also, of being in a dream, and was anxious that\nnothing should rouse me from it; and when I did awake, I kept my eyes\nclosed, in order if possible to continue the illusion. At last I opened\nmy eyes. The sun was now visible in the east; I must have slept the\nwhole night: I looked upon this as a warning not to return to the inn.\nWhat I had left there I was content to lose, without much regret; and\nresigning myself to Providence, I decided on taking a by-road that led\nthrough the wooded declivity of the mountain. I never once cast a\nglance behind me; nor did it ever occur to me to return, as I might\nhave done, to Bendel, whom I had left in affluence. I reflected on the\nnew character I was now going to assume in the world. My present garb\nwas very humble,--consisting of an old black coat I formerly had worn\nat Berlin, and which by some chance was the first I put my hand on\nbefore setting out on this journey, a travelling-cap, and an old pair\nof boots. I cut down a knotted stick in memory of the spot, and\ncommenced my pilgrimage.\n\nIn the forest I met an aged peasant, who gave me a friendly greeting,\nand with whom I entered into conversation, requesting, as a traveller\ndesirous of information, some particulars relative to the road, the\ncountry, and its inhabitants, the productions of the mountains, &c. He\nreplied to my various inquiries with readiness and intelligence. At\nlast we reached the bed of a mountain-torrent, which had laid waste a\nconsiderable tract of the forest; I inwardly shuddered at the idea of\nthe open sunshine. I suffered the peasant to go before me. In the\nmiddle of the very place which I dreaded so much, he suddenly stopped,\nand turned back to give me an account of this inundation; but instantly\nperceiving that I had no shadow, he broke off abruptly, and exclaimed,\n\"How is this?--you have no shadow!\"\n\n\"Alas, alas!\" said I, \"in a long and serious illness I had the\nmisfortune to lose my hair, my nails, and my shadow. Look, good father;\nalthough my hair has grown again, it is quite white; and at my age, my\nnails are still very short; and my poor shadow seems to have left me,\nnever to return.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the old man, shaking his head; \"no shadow! that was indeed\na terrible illness, sir.\"\n\nBut he did not resume his narrative; and at the very first cross-road\nwe came to, left me without uttering a syllable.\n\nFresh tears flowed from my eyes, and my cheerfulness had fled. With a\nheavy heart I travelled on, avoiding all society. I plunged into the\ndeepest shades of the forest; and often, to avoid a sunny tract of\ncountry, I waited for hours till every human being had left it, and I\ncould pass it unobserved. In the evenings I took shelter in the\nvillages. I bent my steps to a mine in the mountains, where I hoped to\nmeet with work underground; for besides that my present situation\ncompelled me to provide for my own support, I felt that incessant and\nlaborious occupation alone could divert my mind from dwelling on\npainful subjects. A few rainy days assisted me materially on my\njourney; but it was to the no small detriment of my boots, the\nsoles of which were better suited to Count Peter than to the poor\nfoot-traveller. I was soon barefoot, and a new purchase must be made.\n\n[Illustration: \"So was obliged to content myself with a second-hand\npair.\"]\n\nThe following morning I commenced an earnest search in a market-place,\nwhere a fair was being held; and I saw in one of the booths new and\nsecond-hand boots set out for sale. I was a long time selecting and\nbargaining; I wished much to have a new pair, but was frightened at\nthe extravagant price; and so was obliged to content myself with a\nsecond-hand pair, still pretty good and strong, which the beautiful\nfair-haired youth who kept the booth handed over to me with a cheerful\nsmile, wishing me a prosperous journey. I went on, and left the place\nimmediately by the northern gate.\n\nI was so lost in my own thoughts, that I walked along scarcely knowing\nhow or where. I was calculating the chances of my reaching the mine by\nthe evening, and considering how I should introduce myself. I had not\ngone two hundred steps, when I perceived I was not in the right road. I\nlooked round, and found myself in a wild-looking forest of ancient\nfirs, where apparently the stroke of the axe had never been heard. A\nfew steps more brought me amid huge rocks covered with moss and\nsaxifragous plants, between which whole fields of snow and ice were\nextended. The air was intensely cold. I looked round, and the forest\nhad disappeared behind me; a few steps more, and there was the\nstillness of death itself. The icy plain on which I stood stretched to\nan immeasurable distance, and a thick cloud rested upon it; the sun was\nof a red blood-colour at the verge of the horizon; the cold was\ninsupportable. I could not imagine what had happened to me. The\nbenumbing frost made me quicken my pace. I heard a distant sound of\nwaters; and, at one step more, I stood on the icy shore of some ocean.\nInnumerable droves of sea-dogs rushed past me and plunged into the\nwaves. I continued my way along this coast, and again met with rocks,\nplains, birch and fir forests, and yet only a few minutes had elapsed.\n\nIt was now intensely hot. I looked around, and suddenly found myself\nbetween some fertile rice-fields and mulberry-trees; I sat down under\ntheir shade, and found by my watch that it was just one quarter of an\nhour since I had left the village-market. I fancied it was a dream; but\nno, I was indeed awake, as I felt by the experiment I made of biting my\ntongue. I closed my eyes, in order to collect my scattered thoughts.\nPresently I heard unintelligible words uttered in a nasal tone; and I\nbeheld two Chinese, whose Asiatic physiognomies were not to be\nmistaken, even had their costume not betrayed their origin. They were\naddressing me in the language and with the salutations of their\ncountry.\n\n[Illustration: On the shores of the Frozen Sea.]\n\nI rose, and drew back a couple of steps. They had disappeared; the\nlandscape was entirely changed; the rice-fields had given place to\ntrees and woods. I examined some of the trees and plants around me, and\nascertained such of them as I was acquainted with to be productions of\nthe southern part of Asia. I made one step towards a particular tree,\nand again all was changed. I now moved on like a recruit at drill,\ntaking slow and measured steps, gazing with astonished eyes at the\nwonderful variety of regions, plains, meadows, mountains, steppes, and\nsandy deserts, which passed in succession before me. I had now no doubt\nthat I had seven-leagued boots on my feet.\n\nI fell on my knees in silent gratitude, shedding tears of thankfulness;\nfor I now saw clearly what was to be my future condition. Shut out by\nearly sins from all human society, I was offered amends for the\nprivation by Nature herself, which I had ever loved. The earth was\ngranted me as a rich garden; and the knowledge of her operations was to\nbe the study and object of my life. This was not a mere resolution. I\nhave since endeavoured, with anxious and unabated industry, faithfully\nto imitate the finished and brilliant model then presented to me; and\nmy vanity has received a check when led to compare the picture with the\noriginal. I rose immediately, and took a hasty survey of this new\nfield, where I hoped afterwards to reap a rich harvest.\n\nI stood on the heights of Thibet; and the sun I had lately beheld in\nthe east was now sinking in the west. I traversed Asia from east to\nwest, and thence passed into Africa, which I curiously examined at\nrepeated visits in all directions. As I gazed on the ancient pyramids\nand temples of Egypt, I descried, in the sandy deserts near Thebes of\nthe hundred gates, the caves where Christian hermits dwelt of old.\n\nMy determination was instantly taken, that here should be my future\ndwelling. I chose one of the most secluded, but roomy, comfortable, and\ninaccessible to the jackals.\n\nI stepped over from the pillars of Hercules to Europe; and having taken\na survey of its northern and southern countries, I passed by the north\nof Asia, on the polar glaciers, to Greenland, and America, visiting\nboth parts of this continent; and the winter, which was already at its\nheight in the south, drove me quickly back from Cape Horn to the north.\nI waited till daylight had risen in the east of Asia, and then, after a\nshort rest, continued my pilgrimage. I followed in both the Americas\nthe vast chain of the Andes, once considered the loftiest on our globe.\nI stepped carefully and slowly from one summit to another, sometimes\nover snowy heights, sometimes over flaming volcanoes, often breathless\nfrom fatigue. At last I reached Elias's mountain, and sprang over\nBehring's straits into Asia; I followed the western coast in its\nvarious windings, carefully observing which of the neighbouring isles\nwas accessible to me. From the peninsula of Malacca, my boots carried\nme to Sumatra, Java, Bali, and Lombock. I made many attempts--often\nwith danger, and always unsuccessfully--to force my way over the\nnumerous little islands and rocks with which this sea is studded,\nwishing to find a north-west passage to Borneo and other islands of the\nArchipelago.\n\nAt last I sat down at the extreme point of Lombock, my eyes turned\ntowards the south-east, lamenting that I had so soon reached the limits\nallotted to me, and bewailing my fate as a captive in his grated cell.\nThus was I shut out from that remarkable country, New Holland, and the\nislands of the southern ocean, so essentially necessary to a knowledge\nof the earth, and which would have best assisted me in the study of the\nanimal and vegetable kingdoms. And thus, at the very outset, I beheld\nall my labours condemned to be limited to mere fragments.\n\nAh! Chamisso, what is the activity of man?\n\nFrequently in the most rigorous winters of the southern hemisphere I\nhave rashly thrown myself on a fragment of drifting ice between Cape\nHorn and Van Dieman's Land, in the hope of effecting a passage to New\nHolland, reckless of the cold and the vast ocean, reckless of my fate,\neven should this savage land prove my grave.\n\nBut all in vain--I never reached New Holland. Each time, when defeated\nin my attempt, I returned to Lombock; and seated at its extreme point,\nmy eyes directed to the south-east, I gave way afresh to lamentations\nthat my range of investigation was so limited. At last I tore myself\nfrom the spot, and, heartily grieved at my disappointment, returned to\nthe interior of Asia. Setting out at morning dawn, I traversed it from\neast to west, and at night reached the cave in Thebes which I had\npreviously selected for my dwelling-place, and had visited yesterday\nafternoon.\n\n[Illustration: At last I sat down at the extreme point of Lombock,\nlamenting.]\n\nAfter a short repose, as soon as daylight had visited Europe, it was my\nfirst care to provide myself with the articles of which I stood most in\nneed. First of all a drag, to act on my boots; for I had experienced\nthe inconvenience of these whenever I wished to shorten my steps and\nexamine surrounding objects more fully. A pair of slippers to go over\nthe boots served the purpose effectually; and from that time I carried\ntwo pairs about me, because I frequently cast them off from my feet in\nmy botanical investigations, without having time to pick them up, when\nthreatened by the approach of lions, men, or hyenas. My excellent\nwatch, owing to the short duration of my movements, was also on these\noccasions an admirable chronometer. I wanted, besides, a sextant, a few\nphilosophical instruments, and some books. To purchase these things, I\nmade several unwilling journeys to London and Paris, choosing a time\nwhen I could be hid by the favouring clouds. As all my ill-gotten gold\nwas exhausted, I carried over from Africa some ivory, which is there so\nplentiful, in payment of my purchases--taking care, however, to pick\nout the smallest teeth, in order not to overburden myself. I had thus\nsoon provided myself with all that I wanted, and now entered on a new\nmode of life as a student--wandering over the globe--measuring the\nheight of the mountains, and the temperature of the air and of the\nsprings--observing the manners and habits of animals--investigating\nplants and flowers. From the equator to the pole, and from the new\nworld to the old, I was constantly engaged in repeating and comparing\nmy experiments.\n\nMy usual food consisted of the eggs of the African ostrich or northern\nsea-birds, with a few fruit, especially those of the palm and the\nbanana of the tropics. The tobacco-plant consoled me when I was\ndepressed; and the affection of my spaniel was a compensation for the\nloss of human Sympathy and society. When I returned from my excursions,\nloaded with fresh treasures, to my cave in Thebes, which he guarded\nduring my absence, he ever sprang joyfully forward to greet me, and\nmade me feel that I was indeed not alone on the earth. An adventure\nsoon occurred which brought me once more among my fellow-creatures.\n\n                           *   *   *   *   *\n\nOne day, as I was gathering lichens and algae on the northern coast,\nwith the drag on my boots, a bear suddenly made his appearance, and was\nstealing towards me round the corner of a rock. After throwing away my\nslippers, I attempted to step across to an island, by means of a rock,\nprojecting from the waves in the intermediate space, that served as a\nstepping-stone. I reached the rock safely with one foot, but instantly\nfell into the sea with the other, one of my slippers having\ninadvertently remained on. The cold was intense; and I escaped this\nimminent peril at the risk of my life. On coming ashore, I hastened to\nthe Libyan sands, to dry myself in the sun; but the heat affected my\nhead so much, that, in a fit of illness, I staggered back to the north.\nIn vain I sought relief by change of place--hurrying from east to west,\nand from west to east--now in climes of the south, now in those of the\nnorth; sometimes I rushed into daylight, sometimes into the shades of\nnight. I know not how long this lasted. A burning fever raged in my\nveins; with extreme anguish I felt my senses leaving me. Suddenly, by\nan unlucky accident, I trod upon someone's foot, whom I had hurt, and\nreceived a blow in return, which laid me senseless.\n\nOn recovering, I found myself lying comfortably in a good bed, which,\nwith many other beds, stood in a spacious and handsome apartment.\nSomeone was watching by me; people seemed to be walking from one bed to\nanother; they came beside me, and spoke of me as _Number Twelve_. On\nthe wall, at the foot of my bed,--it was no dream, for I distinctly\nread it,--on a black-marble tablet was inscribed my name, in large\nletters of gold:\n\n                            PETER SCHLEMIHL.\n\nUnderneath were two rows of letters in smaller characters, which I was\ntoo feeble to connect together, and closed my eyes again.\n\nI now heard something read aloud, in which I distinctly noted the words\n\"Peter Schlemihl,\" but could not collect the full meaning. I saw a man\nof benevolent aspect, and a very beautiful female dressed in black,\nstanding near my bed; their countenances were not unknown to me, but in\nmy weak state I could not remember who they were. Some time elapsed,\nand I began to regain my strength. I was called Number Twelve, and,\nfrom my long beard, was supposed to be a Jew, but was not the less\ncarefully nursed on that account. No one seemed to perceive that I was\ndestitute of a shadow. My boots, I was assured, together with every\nthing found on me when I was brought here, were in safe keeping, and\nwould be given up to me on my restoration to health. This place was\ncalled the SCHLEMIHLIUM: the daily recitation I had heard, was an\nexhortation to pray for Peter Schlemihl as the founder and benefactor\nof this institution. The benevolent-looking man whom I had seen by my\nbedside was Bendel; the beautiful lady in black was Minna.\n\nI had been enjoying the advantages of the Schlemihlium without being\nrecognised; and I learned, further, that I was in Bendel's native town,\nwhere he had employed a part of my once unhallowed gold in founding a\nhospital in my name, under his superintendence, and that its\nunfortunate inmates daily pronounced blessings on me. Minna had become\na widow: an unhappy law-suit had deprived Rascal of his life, and Minna\nof the greater part of her property. Her parents were no more; and here\nshe dwelt in widowed piety, wholly devoting herself to works of mercy.\n\nOne day, as she stood by the side of Number Twelve's bed with Bendel,\nhe said to her, \"Noble lady, why expose yourself so frequently to this\nunhealthy atmosphere? Has fate dealt so harshly with you as to render\nyou desirous of death?\"\n\n\"By no means, Mr. Bendel,\" she replied; \"since I have awoke from my\nlong dream, all has gone well with me. I now neither wish for death nor\nfear it, and think on the future and on the past with equal serenity.\nDo you not also feel an inward satisfaction in thus paying a pious\ntribute of gratitude and love to your old master and friend?\"\n\n\"Thanks be to God, I do, noble lady,\" said he. \"Ah, how wonderfully has\neverything fallen out! How thoughtlessly have we sipped joys and\nsorrows from the full cup now drained to the last drop; and we might\nfancy the past a mere prelude to the real scene for which we now wait\narmed by experience. How different has been the reality! Yet let us not\nregret the past, but rather rejoice that we have not lived in vain. As\nrespects our old friend also, I have a firm hope that it is now better\nwith him than formerly.\"\n\n\"I trust so too,\" answered Minna; and so saying, she passed by me, and\nthey departed.\n\nThis conversation made a deep impression on me; and I hesitated whether\nI should reveal myself, or depart unknown. At last I decided; and,\nasking for pen and paper, wrote as follows:--\n\n\"Matters are indeed better with your old friend than formerly. He has\nrepented; and his repentance has led to forgiveness.\"\n\nI now attempted to rise, for I felt myself stronger. The keys of a\nlittle chest near my bed were given me; and in it I found all my\neffects. I put on my clothes--fastened my botanical case round me,\nwherein, with delight, I found my northern lichens all safe--put on my\nboots--and leaving my note on the table, left the gates, and was\nspeedily far advanced on the road to Thebes.\n\nPassing along the Syrian coast, which was the same road I had taken on\nlast leaving home, I beheld poor Figaro, my spaniel, running to meet\nme. The faithful animal, after vainly waiting at home for his master's\nreturn, had probably followed his traces. I stood still, and called\nhim. He sprang towards me with leaps and barks, and a thousand\ndemonstrations of unaffected delight. I took him in my arms--for he was\nunable to follow me--and carried him home.\n\nThere I found everything exactly in the order in which I had left it;\nand returned by degrees, as my increasing strength allowed me, to my\nold occupations and usual mode of life, from which I was kept back a\nwhole year by my fall into the Polar ocean. And this, dear Chamisso, is\nthe life I am still leading. My boots are not yet worn out, as I had\nbeen led to fear would be the case, from that very learned work of\nTieckius--_De rebus gestis Pollicilli_. Their energies remain\nunimpaired; and although mine are gradually failing me, I enjoy the\nconsolation of having spent them in pursuing incessantly one object,\nand that not fruitlessly.\n\n[Illustration: Peter at Home.]\n\nSo far as my boots would carry me, I have observed and studied our\nglobe and its conformation, its mountains and temperature, the\natmosphere in its various changes, the influences of the magnetic\npower,--in fact, I have studied all living creation--and more\nespecially the kingdom of plants--more profoundly than any one of our\nrace. I have arranged all the facts in proper order, to the best of my\nability, in different works. The consequences deducible from these\nfacts, and my views respecting them, I have hastily recorded in some\nessays and dissertations. I have settled the geography of the interior\nof Africa and the Arctic regions, of the interior of Asia and of its\neastern coast. My _Historia stirpium plantarum utriusque orbis_ is an\nextensive fragment of a _Flora universalis terr\u00e6_ and a part of my\n_Systema natur\u00e6_. Besides increasing the number of our known species by\nmore than a third, I have also contributed somewhat to the natural\nsystem of plants, and to a knowledge of their geography. I am now\ndeeply engaged on my _Fauna_, and shall take care to have my\nmanuscripts sent to the University of Berlin before my decease.\n\nI have selected thee, my dear Chamisso, to be the guardian of my\nwonderful history, thinking that, when I have left this world, it may\nafford valuable instruction to the living. As for thee, Chamisso, if\nthou wouldst live amongst thy fellow-creatures, learn to value thy\nshadow more than gold; if thou wouldst only live to thyself and thy\nnobler part--in this thou needest no counsel.\n\n\n\n\n\n                             THE COLD HEART\n\n\n\n\n                              INTRODUCTION\n\n                             WILHELM HAUFF\n\nWilhelm Hauff was born on the 29th November, 1802, at Stuttgart, and\ndied in the same town on the 18th November, 1827, within a few days of\ncompleting his twenty-fifth year.\n\nLosing his father when but six years of age, he was placed in the care\nof his grandfather in T\u00fcbingen, and was later sent to a convent school\nat Blaubeuren. Returning to T\u00fcbingen, he devoted four years, 1820-24,\nto the study of theology, and was appointed tutor to the family of\nBaron von H\u00fcgel in Stuttgart.\n\nIt was at this time that Hauff began his remarkable literary career\nwith the publication in November, 1825, of his \"Fairy Tale Annual for\n1826.\" The years 1826 and 1827 saw the appearance of two succeeding\nannuals of fairy stories, which were everywhere received with the most\nenthusiastic admiration.\n\nHauff's productivity was truly amazing; in four years he wrote, besides\nthe fairy-tales, poems, short stories, fantasies satirical and\nhumourous, and the classic novel \"Lichtenstein,\" all of which have\ngained an enduring place in German literature.\n\nReturning from a journey through France, Holland and North Germany,\nHauff was appointed to the literary editorship of the \"Morgenblatt,\" a\nposition which enabled him to marry, the wedding taking place in\nN\u00f6rdlingen, on the 13th February, 1827.\n\nHauff's journalistic duties did not interfere with his activity in\nother spheres of literary work. In this last year of his short life he\ncontinued to produce short stories and fantasies, his experiences while\non his travels furnishing him with plenty of material. Indeed, it was\nwhile on a journey that he wrote the second \"Fairy-tale Annual.\"\n\nShortly after his marriage he set himself to the composition of his\nthird a final \"Annual\"--the connecting story of which is entitled \"The\nInn in Spessart,\" and in which occurs the story of \"The Cold Heart,\" a\nnew translation of which is published in the present volume.\n\nHauff's brilliant career was now drawing to a close. The last work to\nproceed from his pen was the playful fantasy, \"Phantasien im Bremer\nRatskeller.\" Early in November, 1827, a daughter was born to him; but\nhe was already suffering from an attack of typhoid fever, to which he\nsuccumbed on the 18th day of the same month.\n\nNotwithstanding the genius displayed in his other works, the\n\"Fairytales\" will always be regarded as the most precious legacy which\nthe great author has bequeathed to posterity; and of these \"The Cold\nHeart\" holds undoubtedly the first place in popular esteem. Unlike the\nmajority of his fairy-tales, it owes something of its origin to\nfolk-lore, as it is based on an old Black Forest Legend. But the human\nfigures in the story are Hauff's very own; those conversant with the\nmaster's works will recognise in Charcoal Peter and Fat Ezekiel\ncharacters which only Hauff could have created.\n\nAs in all his fairy-tales the human element is supreme, even Dutch\nMichael and the Glassmanikin evince more human characteristics than\nsupernatural, and though they came from a mythological source they\nnever appear to us pale and colourless as the supernatural beings in\nthe fairy-tales of the brothers Grimm. Having chosen the groundwork of\nhis story, Hauff developed it with all the force of his vivid\nimagination, fantastic humour and rare talent for narration.\n\n                                        H. ROBERTSON MURRAY.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                             THE COLD HEART\n\n\n\n                                 PART I.\n\n\nHe who travels through Suabia should not pass without seeing something\nof the Black Forest; not because of the trees, although such countless\nmasses of stately pines are not to be met with everywhere; but because\nof the people, who differ remarkably from their neighbours on every\nside. They are broad-shouldered and strong-limbed and taller than the\ngenerality of human beings; it is as if the invigorating air, which\nblows every morning through the pines, has endowed them with a freer\nrespiration, a clearer eye and a firmer though, perhaps, rougher\ncourage than is possessed by the dwellers in valley and on plain.\nAnd not only in bearing and stature, but also in customs and dress\nthey form a marked contrast to those who live beyond the confines\nof the forest. The costume of the Baden Black Forester is the\nmore picturesque: with full-grown beards, as in accordance with\nNature's intention, the men, in their black jerkins, their enormous\nnarrow-pleated breeches, their red stockings and their peaked,\nbroad-brimmed hats, have an air somewhat strange, but, at the same\ntime, serious and dignified. These people are mostly occupied in\nglassblowing; but they are also noted for the manufacture of clocks,\nwhich are exported to all parts of the world.\n\nOn the other side of the forest dwell people of the same stock; but\ntheir employment has imparted to them habits, manners and customs\ndiffering from those of the glass-blowers. They are occupied with their\nforest, felling and splitting up the pine trees, which they float down\nthe Nagold to the Necker, and thence to the Rhine and to far-away\nHolland. The Black Foresters and their rafts are familiar objects even\nto the inhabitants of the remote coast regions. The raftsmen touch at\nevery town along the river, proudly awaiting offers for their baulks\nand beams; but the strongest and the longest of the former they sell\nfor gold to the Mynheers, who build ships of them. These men are\naccustomed, therefore, to a rough, wandering existence. Their delight\nis to float down stream on their rafts, while the return homeward along\nthe river-banks is but weary work.\n\nTheir holiday costume is also very different from that of the\nglass-blowers on the other side of the Black Forest. They wear dark\nlinen jerkins with wide, green braces across their broad chests, and\nblack leathern breeches, from the pocket of which peeps, as a badge of\nhonour, the end of a brass foot-rule. But they take most joy and pride\nin their boots, the biggest, perhaps, which have ever been in fashion\nin any part of the world, for these are drawn quite two handspans above\nthe knee, so that the raftsmen can wade knee deep in the water without\ngetting wet.\n\nUntil quite recently the inhabitants of this forest believed it\ninhabited by supernatural beings, and it is only latterly that they\nhave begun to abandon the superstition, and it is remarkable that even\nthe forest spirits, which according to legend haunt the Black Forest,\nare also distinguished by their different costume and habits. Thus we\nare assured, the Glass-manikin, a benevolent elf, of about four feet in\nheight, is never seen in anything but a little peaked broad trimmed\nhat, with jerkin, knee-breeches and red stockings.\n\nDutch Michael again, who dwells on the other side of the forest, is\nsaid to be a gigantic, broad shouldered fellow, dressed in like fashion\nto the raftsmen; and many people, who have seen him, are wont to\ndeclare that they would not like to bear the cost of the calves, the\nskins of which have gone to the making of the boots. \"So big are they\nthat an ordinary man could stand up to his neck in them,\" say the\nlatter, protesting that the description is no exaggerated one.\n\nNow, there is a story of the very strange adventure which a young Black\nForester once had with these forest spirits, and which story I will now\nrelate.\n\nIn the Black Forest there lived a widow, one Mistress Barbara Munk; her\nhusband had been a charcoal burner, and after his death she brought up\nher son, a lad of sixteen, to the same calling. Peter Munk, a slenderly\nbuilt young fellow, took to the business as a matter of course, because\nhe had never seen his father do aught else but sit by his smoking\ncharcoal-kiln, or, blackened and begrimed, travel to the towns to sell\nhis charcoal.\n\nNow, a charcoal-burner has a great deal of time for meditation on\nthings as they are, and on himself; and as Peter Munk sat before his\nkiln, the dark trees around him and the heavy silence of the forest\nstirred his heart to sorrow and to vague longings. He felt grieved and\nvexed at something; but what that something was he could not tell. At\nlast, the cause of his discontent was revealed to him: it was--his\nposition in the world.\n\n\"A grimy, lonely charcoal-burner!\" he exclaimed to himself. \"What a\nwretched existence! Look at the glassblowers, the watchmakers, even the\nmusicians who play on Sunday evenings--how they are respected! And I,\nPeter Munk, though cleaned up and dressed in my father's best jerkin\nwith the silver buttons, and with my brand-new red stockings on, if\nsomeone follows me and asks himself 'Who can that slim young fellow\nbe?'--admiring my stockings and easy gait, no sooner does he pass me\nand chance to look round, than he exclaims, 'Pooh, it's only that\ncharcoal-burning Peter Munk after all.'\"\n\nThe raftsmen on the other side of the forest were also objects of his\nenvy. When these giants came over to his side of the forest, in all\ntheir glory of apparel, their buttons, chains and buckles representing\ngreat weight and wealth of silver; when they stood with outstretched\nlegs looking on at the dancing, swearing Dutch oaths, and smoking\nyard-long Rhenish pipes like the grandest Mynheers, each of these\nhandsome raftsmen appeared to him to be a perfect representation of a\nreally happy man. And when one of these lucky fellows chanced to dive\nhis hands into his pockets, bringing forth whole handsful of silver\nthalers, and throwing them down on the dice table, five gulden here,\nten there, Peter became well-nigh distracted, and slunk dolefully back\nto his hut; for on many a festival he had seen one or other of these\nwoodsmen play away more money than his poor father had been able to\nearn in a year.\n\nThere were three of these men in particular of whom he could not say\nwhich he admired the most. One was a big, fat, red-faced man, generally\nconceded to be the richest person in those parts. He was called Fat\nEzekiel. Twice a year he travelled to Amsterdam with building timber,\nand always had the good fortune to dispose of it at so much better\nprofit than his comrades could, that he was able to travel homewards in\nluxurious style, while they were compelled to return on foot.\n\nThe second was the tallest and lankiest fellow in the whole forest. He\nwas called Lanky Schlurker, and Munk envied him because of his\nextraordinary boldness. He would flatly contradict the most worthy\npeople, and always took up more room in the overcrowded tavern than was\nrequired by four others of the bulkiest, leaning with both elbows on\nthe table, or stretching his legs along the bench; yet nobody dared to\ncomplain, for he was fabulously rich.\n\nThe third was a handsome young man, the best dancer for miles round,\nwho had earned the nickname of the Dance King. He had formerly been a\npoor man in the service of a wealthy timber merchant; but all at once\nhe had become immensely rich. Some said that he had found a jar, full\nof money, at the root of an old pine tree; others maintained that not\nfar from Bingen on the Rhine he had brought up with his pole, such as\nthe raftsmen use to spear fish, a bundle filled with gold, and that\nthis bundle had formed part of the great Nibelung's hoard which lies\nburied there. But no matter--the fact was that he had suddenly become\nrich, and was consequently respected by young and old as if he had been\na prince.\n\nThe charcoal-burner, Peter Munk, thought long and oft of these men as\nhe sat alone among the pine-trees. All three of them had one great\nfailing which made them hated by all; and this common failing was\ntheir inhuman avarice, their callousness towards debtors and the poor,\nfor the Black-foresters were a kindly and good-hearted people.\nNevertheless, as is often found in such cases, though they were hated\nbecause of their covetousness, they were held in awe because of their\nmoney; for who but they could fling thalers broadcast as though by\nsimply shaking the pine-trees the money fell into their hands.\n\n\"I cannot endure this any longer!\" said Peter to himself, sorely\ndepressed, one day when there had been a f\u00eate, and the people had\nforegathered in the tavern to enjoy themselves. \"If I do not soon have\na stroke of luck, I shall be doing myself some harm. Oh, if I were only\nas rich and feared as Fat Ezekiel, or as bold and strong as the Lanky\nSchlurker, or as famous as the Dance King, throwing thalers instead of\nkreuzers to the musicians, as he does! Where the fellow gets his money\nfrom is a mystery to me!\" He turned over in his mind all possible means\nof earning money, but none attracted him; at last, he fell to\nreflecting on the stories which he had heard of people who in bygone\ntimes had become rich through the aid of Dutch Michael or the\nGlassmanikin. While his father was alive, other poor folk would often\npay him visits, and the conversation would turn on rich people and how\nthey had gained their wealth. In these stories the Glassmanikin often\nplayed a part. Indeed, after some striving, Peter was able to recall a\nportion of the little rhymed incantation which had to be pronounced in\nthe depths of the forest before the Glassmanikin would appear. It began\nthus:\n\n     \"Guardian of gold in the pine-tree wold,\n      Art many hundred ages old.\n      Lord of all lands where pine-trees grow.\"\n\nBut tax his memory as he might, he could not recollect any more of the\nrhyme. He often felt inclined to question this or that old man how the\nlittle incantation ran, but a certain shyness always prevented him from\nbetraying the drift of his thoughts. He came also to the conclusion\nthat not many could be acquainted with the story of the Glassmanikin,\nand but few could know the incantation, as there were hardly any rich\npeople in the forest, and--but why had not his father and other poor\nfolk tried their luck? At last, he coaxed his mother to talk of the\nGlassmanikin; but she could only tell him what he already knew, being\nable to quote only the first line of the rhymed incantation, although\nshe informed him, at length, that the goblin showed himself only to\nthose born on a Sunday between the hours of eleven and two. He himself,\nhaving been born at noon on a Sunday, was, therefore, one of the elect,\nif he but knew the incantation.\n\nWhen Charcoal-Peter Munk heard this he could scarcely contain himself\nwith joy and eagerness to make the adventure. Because he knew a part of\nthe incantation and was born on Sunday, he conjectured that the\nGlassmanikin would surely show himself. One day, therefore, having sold\nall his charcoal he kindled no fresh fires in his kilns, but dressed\nhimself in his father's state-jerkin and new red stockings, donned his\nSunday hat, took his five-foot blackthorn stick in hand, and bade\nfarewell to his mother. \"I must go to the mayoralty in town,\" he said,\n\"for we have to draw lots as to who shall serve as soldier, and I will\nimpress it on the mayor, for once and for all, that you are a widow and\nthat I am your only son.\"\n\nHis mother having commended his resolution, he made his way to the\nPine-grove. The Pine-grove lies on the highest point of the Black\nForest, for miles around which there lay at that time no village, not\neven a hut, for the superstitious people believed that the spot was\nhaunted. Further, no one cared to fell wood in that quarter, though the\npines there grew tall and stately, for it often happened that when\nwoodcutters were at work there, their axeheads flew from the hafts and\nwounded them in the foot, or the trees fell over without warning,\ninjuring and even killing the men round about; besides which, even the\nfinest trees growing there were only used as firewood, for the raftsmen\nnever took any timber from the Pine-grove, because the saying went that\nman and wood would surely come to grief if a tree from the Pine-grove\nfound itself in a raft. This is the reason why the trees grew so thick\nand tall in the Pine-grove, so that even in the brightest sunshine all\nwas as dark as night. Well might Peter Munk shudder with fear, for he\ncould hear no sound of of human voice, no ring of axe, and no footfall\nsave his own; even the very birds appeared to shun this awesome grove.\n\nHaving reached the highest point in the Pine-grove, Charcoal-Peter Munk\nstood before a pine of huge circumference, one for which any Dutch\nship-builder would have given many hundred guilders on the spot.\n\n\"This must be the place,\" thought Peter, \"where the Treasure-guardian\nlives.\" Saying which, he doffed his big Sunday hat, made a deep bow\nbefore the tree, cleared his throat and spoke in a trembling voice: \"I\nwish you a very good evening, Master Glassmanikin!\"\n\nNo answer--all was as silent as before.\n\n\"Perhaps I had better recite the little verse,\" thought Peter, and\nstraightway began to mutter:\n\n     \"Guardian of gold in the pine-tree wold,\n      Art many hundred ages old;\n      Lord of all lands where pine-trees grow.\"\n\nAs he uttered these words he saw to his amazement a tiny, weird figure\npeeping forth from behind the great pine tree. He fancied he could see\nthe little Glassmanikin just as the latter had been described to him,\nwith his little black jerkin, little red stockings, little hat;\neverything, indeed, even the pale, but wise and refined little face of\nwhich he had heard so much. But, alas! the Glassmanikin vanished as\nquickly as he had appeared.\n\n\"Master Glassmanikin!\" said Peter Munk, after a moment's hesitation,\n\"please don't take me for a fool!--Master Glassmanikin, if you think\nthat I did not catch sight of you, you are greatly mistaken: I saw you\nquite clearly peeping from behind the tree.\"\n\nStill no answer, though, at times, he fancied he could hear a faint,\nhoarse chuckle from behind the tree. Finally, his impatience overcame\nhis fear, which until now had restrained him.\n\n\"Just you wait a moment, you little beggar,\" he cried out, \"I'll soon\nhave you!\" and at one bound he was behind the pine-tree, but there was\nno \"guardian of gold in the pine-tree wold,\" nothing but a pretty\nlittle squirrel clambering away up the tree.\n\nPeter Munk shook his head; he perceived that he had succeeded in\nworking the spell to a certain degree; and if he could only think of\nthe last line to the rhyme he would be able to induce the Glassmanikin\nto show himself. He pondered, and pondered, and pondered, but all to no\npurpose. He could see the little squirrel perched on the lowest branch\nof the pine, and he could not be sure whether it was trying to inspire\nhim with courage or only making fun of him. It cleaned itself, whisked\nits beautiful tail to and fro, gazing at him all the while with\nintelligent eyes, until he began to be almost afraid of being alone\nwith the creature; for, at one moment, the little squirrel appeared to\nhave a human head covered with a three cornered hat; then it looked\njust like any other squirrel, except that on its hind legs it had red\nstockings and black shoes. In short it was a comical creature; but,\nnevertheless, it made Charcoal Peter feel quite uncomfortable, for it\nseemed to him to be so uncanny.\n\nPeter returned at a quicker pace than he had gone thither. The gloom of\nthe pine-forest seemed to be intensified, the trees grew in denser\nclumps, and at last he was so fearful that he broke into a run, and did\nnot regain courage until he heard dogs barking in the distance, and\nsaw, shortly afterwards the smoke from a cottage rising between the\ntrees. On drawing nearer, he was able to distinguish the costume of the\npeople in the cottage, and he realised to his consternation that he had\nfled in exactly the opposite direction to the one he had intended, and\nhad arrived among the raftsmen instead of among the glass-blowers.\nThe cottagers were wood-fellers, and the family consisted of an old\nman, his son, who was the owner of the cottage, and some grown-up\ngrandchildren. They bade Charcoal-Peter a kindly welcome when he asked\nfor a night's lodging, without questioning him as to his name or whence\nhe came, offered him cider to drink, and set on the table for supper a\nlarge woodcock, which is the choicest dish of the Black Forest.\n\n[Illustration: Dutch Michael felling the trees.]\n\nAfter supper the housewife and her daughters betook themselves to\ntheir spinning, sitting round the large burning wood-splinter, which\nserved as light and which the young people kept fed with the finest\npine-resin, while the grandfather, the house-owner and their guest\nsmoked and watched the women, and the boys busied themselves cutting\nspoons and forks out of wood. Without, in the forest the storm howled\nand rushed through the pines, heavy thuds being heard every now and\nthen, as if whole trees were being torn up by the roots and flung to\nearth. The fearless youngsters wanted to run out into the forest to\nwitness the scene in all its awful grandeur, but their grandfather\nforbade them with stern words and looks. \"I advise no one to set foot\noutside the door this night,\" he cried to them; \"he who does so will\nnever return; for Dutch Michael is abroad to-night hewing down timber\nfor a new raft.\"\n\nThe young ones stared at him; although they must have heard many a time\nof Dutch Michael, yet they begged their grandfather to relate them once\nmore some good story of that forest-spirit. Peter Munk, also, who had\nonly heard vague rumours of Dutch Michael on his side of the forest,\nchimed in with the others and begged the old man to say who and what he\nmight be.\n\n\"He is the lord of this forest,\" answered the old man, \"and for one of\nyour age not to have heard of him tells me that your home lies on the\nother side of the Pine-grove, or even farther off. But I will relate to\nyou what I know of Dutch Michael, and what people say of him. About a\nhundred years ago, at least, so my grandfather told me, there were no\nmore honourable people than the Black-Foresters in the whole world. But\nnow that money is so plentiful, dishonesty and evil are everywhere. Our\nyoung lads dance and riot on the Sabbath, and swear terribly. But\nformerly it was quite otherwise, and, though he himself were to look\nthrough the window at this moment, I say, as I have said time and\nagain, that Dutch Michael is to blame for all the mischief. Well--one\nhundred or more years ago, there lived a rich timber merchant who had a\nvery large business; he traded far away down the Rhine, and his affairs\nprospered, for he was a good Christian. One evening there came to his\ndoor a man, the like of whom he had never cast eyes upon. He was\ndressed as one of our young Black-Foresters, but was a good head taller\nthan any of them; indeed, one could hardly have believed that there was\nsuch a giant in existence. The fellow asked the merchant for work, and\nthe latter, seeing how strong and capable of doing heavy work he\nlooked, was ready to engage him at a fair wage. So the matter was\nagreed upon. Michael turned out to be a workman such as that merchant\nhad never yet employed. He was equal to three men at felling trees, and\nwhere it took six men to carry one end of a trunk, he could manage the\nother end all by himself. But after six months at tree-felling, he went\none day to his master, and demanded of him: 'I have been hewing wood\nlong enough in this place, and I would like to know where the felled\ntrunks go; how would it be if you were to let me go for a time on one\nof your rafts?'\"\n\nThe timber merchant replied: \"I won't stand in your way, Michael, if\nyou want to see a bit of the world. It's true that I am in sore need of\nstrong fellows like yourself for the tree-felling, while on the rafts\nit is more a question of skill. For this once, however, you may go!\"\n\nAnd thus it was; the raft upon which he was to go was in eight parts,\nthe last part being composed of enormous roof-beams. But what happened?\nThe night before starting, this huge fellow brought down to the water\nyet another eight beams, bigger and longer than any that had ever been\nseen, so much so that everybody was amazed. And no one knows to this\nday where he had felled them. The merchant chuckled to himself when he\ncalculated the price these beams would fetch. But Michael said: \"These\nare for me to travel upon, for I could not make any headway on those\nlittle splinters.\"\n\nHis grateful master then wished to present him with a pair of\nraftsmen's boots, but Michael put them aside, and brought forth another\npair, such as had never before been made. My grandfather used to\ndeclare that they must have weighed a hundred pounds, and were five\nfeet in length.\n\nThe raft went on its way, and as Michael had hitherto astonished the\nwood-cutters, he now caused the raftsmen to marvel; for the raft,\ninstead of going more slowly down the stream, as one would have\nthought, taking the monstrous baulks into consideration, it simply flew\nforward like an arrow as soon as it reached the Neckar. And when it\ncame to a bend in the river where otherwise the raftsmen would have had\ntrouble to keep the raft in mid-stream or to prevent it from stranding,\nMichael would spring into the water, and with one push would force the\nraft to left or right, so that it escaped danger; and if they came to a\nshallow, he ran to the forepart of the raft, made them all lay aside\ntheir poles, laid a huge round beam on the sandbank, and with one push\nthe raft sped over, so fast that land, trees and villages seemed to fly\npast. Thus they came to Cologne in about half the time it usually\ntakes. Here it was that the wood was always sold at that time; but\nMichael addressed the raftsmen: \"I can see that you are all good\nbusiness men, and know how to manage your affairs to the best\nadvantage! Do you suppose that here in Cologne they want all the timber\nwhich comes from the Black Forest for their own use? Not at all: they\nbuy it from you at half its value, and then sell it at a higher price\nin Holland. Let us sell our smaller beams here, and then go on to\nHolland with the big ones; and what we receive above the usual price\nwill be for our own profit.\"\n\nThus spoke the cunning Michael, and the others agreed; some because\nthey wished to go to Holland, others for the sake of the money. There\nwas only one honest man among them, and he tried to dissuade them from\nrisking their master's goods, and from cheating him out of any higher\nprice they might get. But they would not listen to him, and soon forgot\nthe words he had said; though Dutch Michael did not forget them.\n\nThe raft continued its journey down the Rhine with Michael in command,\nso that it soon arrived at Rotterdam. There they received about four\ntimes the price usually obtained, while Michael's huge baulks fetched\nan enormous sum of money. When the Black Foresters saw so much gold\nthey could scarcely contain themselves for joy. Michael divided the\nmoney into four parts, setting aside one for the master, and dividing\nthe remainder among the men. With this they mixed with sailors and evil\ncharacters, spending their money in dissipation and debauchery in the\ntaverns. As to the honest man, who had warned them, Dutch Michael is\nsaid to have sold him to a slave-dealer, for nothing more was ever\nheard of him.\n\nFrom that day forth Holland has been the paradise of our Black Forest\nlads; the timber merchants knew nothing of this trade, and all the\nwhile money, swearing, evil habits, drink and gambling were being\nintroduced by the raftsmen from Holland.\n\nDutch Michael, so the story goes, disappeared and was nowhere to be\nfound; but it is certain that he did not die. For one hundred years his\nspirit has haunted the forest, and it is said that he has helped many\nto become rich, at the cost of their poor souls, of which I would\nrather not say any more. This much is certain, that on such stormy\nnights as this he is up in the Pine-grove, where no one fells trees,\nselecting the biggest pines. And my father has seen him take hold of\none, four to five feet in thickness, and snap it as one would a reed.\nThis is his gift to those who turn from the straight path to go to him;\nat midnight they carry their timber to the water, and fare away on it\ninto Holland. Oh, if I were only king and lord of Holland, I would send\nhim to the bottom with grape-shot; for every ship, the hull of which\ncontains one single beam of Dutch Michael's felling, must come to\ngrief. And that is the reason why one hears of so many shipwrecks; how\notherwise could a fine, strong ship, as big as a church, sink in the\nopen sea? Every time Dutch Michael fells a pine on a stormy night in\nthe Black Forest, one of his old ones is sprung from the bottom of some\nship, the water rushes in, and that ship with all on board is lost.\n\nSuch is the story of Dutch Michael, and it is but the truth when people\ndeclare that he is the author of all the evil which is committed in the\nBlack Forest!\n\n\"Ah! he can make you rich enough!\" continued the old man,\nconfidentially. \"But I would receive nothing at his hands, not for all\nthe gold in the world would I stand in the shoes of Fat Ezekiel or the\nLanky Schlurker. And it is also thought that the Dance-King is one of\nhis familiars.\"\n\nThe storm had abated during the recital of the old man's story; the\ngirls lit the lamps, and stole away; the men gave Peter Munk a sack\nfull of leaves to serve as a pillow, and left him to sleep on the\nhearth, wishing him good-night as they went.\n\nNever in his life had Charcoal-Peter dreamed so heavily as during that\nnight. First there appeared to him the dark gigantic form of Dutch\nMichael, who wrenched open the window and stretched an enormously long\narm into the room, in the hand of which was a purse full of gold\npieces, which he shook so that the money jingled temptingly. Then he\nsaw the little, friendly Glassmanikin riding round the room on a huge\ngreen bottle, and he seemed again to hear that hoarse chuckle he had\nheard in the Pine-grove. Then it was as if someone was murmuring in his\nleft ear:\n\n     \"From Holland comes Gold!\n      Canst have it, if bold.\n      For payment soon told!\n      Gold! Gold!\"\n\nThen again in his right ear he heard the little rhyme beginning:\n\n     \"Guardian of gold in the pine tree wold!\"\n\nand a soft voice whispered: \"Stupid Charcoal-Peter! silly Peter Munk!\ncannot you find a rhyme to 'grow,' and yet you were born at noon on a\nSunday! Rhyme, stupid Peter, rhyme!\"\n\n[Illustration: Peter's dream in the woodman's cottage.]\n\nHe sighed and groaned in his sleep, he tried hard to find a rhyme; but\nas he had never been able to make one when awake, to do so in a dream\nwas equally beyond him. But when he awoke with the first flush of dawn,\nhis dream seemed to have been very wonderful; he sat with folded arms\nat the table, and thought of the whispered exhortation which still\nresounded in his ear: \"Rhyme, stupid Charcoal-Peter, rhyme!\" he\nrepeated to himself, pressing his finger to his forehead; but no rhyme\nwas forthcoming. But while he sat there, staring despondently in front\nof him and trying to think of a rhyme to \"grow,\" three lads passed the\nhouse on their way through the forest, and one of them was singing as\nhe trudged along:\n\n     \"To the mountains there above,\n      To the heights where pine-trees grow,\n      I go to meet my love;\n      She's true to me, I know.\"\n\nThe words thrilled Peter's senses like a flash of lightning. He leapt\nto his feet and rushed out of the house, for he was not sure whether he\nhad caught the words correctly. He ran after the three lads, and seized\nthe singer by the arm.\n\n\"Stop, my friend!\" he cried, \"what was it you made to rhyme with\n'grow'? For the love of Heaven tell me what you were singing?\"\n\n\"What ever is the matter with you?\" demanded the Black Forester. \"I can\nsing what I like--and if you don't leave go of my arm, I'll----\"\n\n\"Not till you tell me what you were singing,\" screamed Peter, nearly\nbeside himself, and gripping the other more tightly by the arm.\n\nSeeing which, the two friends of the singer lost all patience, and\nstarted punching the wretched Peter with all their might until the pain\nhe suffered forced him to loose his hold and to sink to his knees.\n\n\"Have you had enough?\" they asked him, while laughing at him. \"Take\ncare, you foolish fellow, that in future you do not molest people on\nthe public highway.\"\n\n\"Ah, I will be careful enough as to that,\" replied Charcoal-Peter,\ndismally. \"But now that you have beaten me, be so good as to repeat\nslowly and distinctly what that friend of yours was singing.\"\n\nAt which all three once more burst out laughing, making game of him;\nbut the singer repeated the words of his song for him, and, laughing\nand singing, they went their way.\n\n\"Then _know_ is the word,\" said Peter Munk, getting once more on to his\nlegs. \"_Know_ rhymes with _grow_--and now Master Glassmanikin we will\nhave another little chat together.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Have you had enough?\" they asked him.]\n\nHe returned to the cottage, took his hat and long stick, bade farewell\nto the cottagers, and strode away in the direction of the pine-grove.\nBecoming engrossed in thought, he slackened his speed, for it had\noccurred to him that, now he had found a rhyme, he must complete the\nverse. At length, approaching the Pine-grove, and reaching the part\nwhere the trees grow taller and denser, he completed the missing line,\nand his delight caused him to bound into the air. At the same moment\nthere stepped from behind a pine a gigantic man, dressed as a raftsman,\nand with a pole as big as a ship's mast in his hand. Peter Munk sank in\nterror to his knees, as he saw the stranger striding slowly towards\nhim. He felt that this could be none other than Dutch Michael. No sound\ncame from the terrible apparition, while Peter stole fearful glances at\nhim every now and then. He towered a full head above the tallest man\nwhom Peter had ever seen; his features were not youthful in appearance,\nneither did he look old, though his face was a mass of wrinkles and\nfurrows. He wore a linen jerkin, and his huge boots, which were drawn\nup well over his leather knee-breeches, were exactly as they had been\ndescribed to Peter.\n\n\"Peter Munk! what are you doing in the Pine-grove?\" asked the lord of\nthe forest, at last, in deep, threatening tones.\n\n\"Good morning, countryman,\" answered Peter, trying to conceal his\nterror, but trembling violently all the same. \"I am going home through\nthe Pine-grove.\"\n\n\"Peter Munk,\" rejoined the other, surveying him with a terrible\npenetrating look. \"Your way lies not through this glade.\"\n\n\"You are quite right,\" said Peter, \"but it is so hot to-day, and I\nthought it would be cooler here.\"\n\n\"Utter no falsehoods, Charcoal-Peter!\" thundered Dutch Michael; \"or I\nwill strike you to earth with my staff! Do you think that I have not\nseen you begging of that pigmy yonder?\" And he continued in more gentle\ntones: \"Go to! Go to! that was a silly thing to do, and well it was for\nyou that you did not know the incantation. He is a niggard, that little\nfellow, and gives but little; and those to whom he gives have not\nenough wherewith to enjoy themselves. Peter, you are a poor simpleton,\nand my heart grieves for you; such a brave and handsome fellow as\nyou are, one who should make his mark in the world, and yet but a\ncharcoal-burner! While others can throw away whole armsful of thalers\nand ducats, you have but a few farthings to spend;--'tis a wretched\nexistence.\"\n\n\"True! true! You are right! 'Tis a miserable life!\"\n\n\"Well, it is no fault of mine,\" pursued the terrible Michael; \"I have\nalready rescued many a brave fellow from misery, and you would not be\nthe first. Tell me: how many hundred thalers do you want to begin\nwith?\"\n\nAs he spoke Michael rattled the money in his huge pocket, and the sound\nof it was as in the dream overnight. But his words caused Peter's heart\nto quake fearfully and painfully in his breast, he went hot and cold,\nfor he did not look as one who offers gold out of compassion without\nexpecting something in exchange.\n\n[Illustration: Peter Munk, what are you doing in the pine grove?]\n\nThere flashed into his mind the mysterious words of the old man when\nspeaking of those who had become rich, whereupon, seized with\nindefinable horror and dread, he exclaimed: \"Many thanks, good sir! but\nI would rather have nothing to do with you; I have heard enough of you\nalready!\" Saying which, he turned and ran away as fast as he could.\n\nBut the Forest demon, taking enormous strides, kept at his side,\nmuttering in a dull and threatening voice: \"You will repent this,\nPeter--so stands it written on your brow; I can read it in your eyes!\n_You cannot escape me!_--Run not so fast: hearken to a word of reason;\nyonder is the boundary of my domain.\"\n\nHearing this and seeing not far ahead a little ditch, Peter redoubled\nhis speed in order to cross it and escape, and Michael was compelled to\nhurry in order to keep up with him, cursing and muttering threats the\nwhile. On coming to the ditch, the lad made a desperate leap, for he\nperceived that the demon had raised his staff to crush him with it.\nLuckily he managed to jump the ditch, and as he did so the staff flew\ninto splinters as though it had struck against an invisible wall, while\na large piece of it fell at Peter's feet.\n\nHe seized it, turning triumphantly to hurl it at the brutal Dutch\nMichael; but, in the same moment, he felt the wood moving in his hand,\nand discovered to his horror that he had hold of a huge snake, which\nwas rearing its head at him with venomous tongue and glittering eyes.\nHe loosened his grasp of it; but it had already entwined itself about\nhis arm, bringing its swaying head nearer and nearer to his face. Then,\nin a flash, a monstrous woodcock swept down from above, seized the\nsnake in its beak, and bore it aloft in the air. Dutch Michael, who had\nbeen watching the scene from the further side of the ditch, howled and\nshouted and raved as he saw the snake overpowered by this powerful\nantagonist.\n\n[Illustration: \"Then, in a flash, a monstrous woodcock swept down from\nabove and seized the snake in its beak.\"]\n\nExhausted and trembling, Peter pursued his way; the path grew steeper,\nthe scene ever wilder, until he found his way blocked by a huge\npine-tree.\n\nBowing low towards the invisible Glassmanikin, just as he had done the\nday before, he began:\n\n     \"Guardian of all in the pine-tree wold,\n      Art many hundred ages old,\n      Lord of all lands where pine-trees grow,\n      Thee only Sunday's children know.\"\n\n\"You haven't quite hit it, Charcoal-Peter; but as it is yourself, we\nwill let it pass,\" said a soft clear voice close by him. He turned\nround in amazement; and there, under a splendid pine-tree, he saw a\nlittle, old manikin, clad in black jerkin and red stockings, and with a\nlarge hat on his head. He had a delicate friendly little face and\nbeard, the latter as fine as a spider's web. And what was the more\nwonderful, he was smoking a pipe of blue glass; and Peter, on going\nnearer was astounded to see that the little man's clothes, shoes and\nhat were also made of coloured glass; yet it was as pliant as if still\nmolten, for it folded and creased like cloth with every movement of the\nlittle body.\n\n\"So you have just met that vagabond, Dutch Michael,\" said the manikin,\nwith an odd wheeze between each word. \"He tried to give you a good\nfright; but I have relieved him of that magic cudgel of his--it will\nnever serve him again as a weapon.\"\n\n\"Yes, Master Guardian,\" replied Peter, with a deep bow \"I was quite\nterrified. You must indeed have been that Master Woodcock which bit the\nsnake to death; for which I thank you with all my heart. But I have\ncome to you for advice; things are very bad and irksome with me; a\ncharcoal-burner cannot do much for himself; and as I am still young, I\nthought that, perhaps, I could become something better. And I cannot\nhelp thinking of others, and how well they have done for themselves in\na very short time--take, for example, that fellow, Ezekiel, and the\nDance-King, why, money is to them as leaves in autumn.\"\n\n\"Peter,\" said the little man gravely, emitting a long puff of smoke\nfrom his mouth: \"Peter, don't mention such people to me. What profit\nhave those who are able to appear to be happy for a year or two, only\nat the cost of misery hereafter? You must not despise your trade; it\nwas your father's and your grandfather's before you, and they were\nworthy men, Peter Munk! I should not like to think that it is love of\nidleness that has led you to me!\"\n\nThe seriousness with which the manikin spoke disconcerted Peter. \"No,\nno,\" he replied, blushing. \"Idleness, I know well, Master Guardian, is\nthe root of all evil; but you cannot blame me for preferring other\ntrades to my own. Charcoal-burning is held by the world to be such a\nmean calling, while glassblowers, and raftsmen, and watchmakers and\nsuch like are highly respected.\"\n\n\"Pride often comes before a fall,\" replied the diminutive lord of the\nPine-forest, in somewhat friendlier tones. \"You are a peculiar race,\nyou human beings! It is seldom indeed that one is found who is\ncontented with the lot to which he was born and bred. And to little\npurpose would it be if you did become a glass-blower, you would then\nyearn to be a timber-merchant; and were you timber-merchant, you would\nat once be coveting the post of forester or magistrate! Yet, so be it,\nPeter! if you promise me to be diligent, I will help you to something\nbetter. To every Sunday's child who knows how to find me, I am bound to\naccord three wishes. The first two I freely grant; but the third I can\nrefuse, if it be a foolish one. Wherefore, Peter, wish yourself\nsomething: but take care that it is something good and useful!\"\n\n[Illustration: You hav'nt quite hit, Charcoal Peter.]\n\n\"Hurrah! what a splendid Glass-manikin you are; you rightly deserve to\nbe called Guardian, for you can dispense treasures indeed! Well--and so\nI may wish for whatever my heart desires! Now, for my first, I wish I\ncould dance even better than the Dance-King, and could always have as\nmuch money in my pocket as Fat Ezekiel.\"\n\n\"You idiot!\" cried the dwarf, angrily. \"What a miserable wish--to be a\ngood dancer, and to have money wherewith to gamble! Are you not ashamed\nof yourself, you stupid Peter, to cheat yourself of so good a chance of\nhappiness? What good will your dancing be to your mother or to\nyourself? How will your money help you, which, according to your wish,\nis only for the tavern, and will only stay there like that of the\nwretched Dance-King? For the rest of the week you will have nothing,\nand be no better off than before. One more wish I am to grant you; but\ntake care you ask for something more sensible.\" Peter scratched his\nhead, and after a little hesitation, said: \"Well, I will wish myself\nthe finest and richest glass-factory in the whole Black Forest with\neverything complete and money to carry it on.\"\n\n\"Nothing else?\" asked the little man, anxiously. \"Nothing else, Peter?\"\n\n\"Well--you might add a horse, and a little trap--\"\n\n\"Oh, you stupid Charcoal-Peter!\" exclaimed the dwarf, throwing his\nglass-pipe angrily against a big pine, where it shattered to atoms.\n\"Horses! Traps! _Sense_, I say to you, _good sense, sound common-sense\nand insight_ you should have wished for--not horses and traps. Ah well,\ndon't be so downcast; we will see whether we cannot keep you from\ncoming to harm, for the second wish was not so foolish on the whole. A\ngood glass-factory will support both master and man; if you had only\ninsight and understanding into the bargain, carriages and horses would\nhave come of themselves.\"\n\n\"But, Master Guardian,\" remarked Peter, \"I have still one wish left. I\ncould wish for sense with that, if it is so supremely necessary as you\nsay.\"\n\n\"No, no, Peter. You will find yourself in many an awkward fix yet, when\nyou will be glad that you have still another wish left you. For the\npresent, take yourself homewards. Here are two thousand guilders,\"\ncontinued the little forest gnome, drawing a little purse from his\npocket. \"Be satisfied with them; for if you come here again asking for\nmoney, I shall have to hang you to the tallest of yonder pine-trees.\nSuch has been my custom ever since I came to live in this forest. Old\nWinkfritz, who owned that large glass-factory in the lower part of the\nforest, died three days ago. Go thither early to-morrow morning, and\nmake a bid for the property. Behave yourself, be industrious, and I\nwill visit you from time to time, to be at hand with advice and help,\nseeing that you did not wish for common-sense. But--and I am now\nspeaking in all seriousness--your first wish was a bad one. Have a care\nof becoming too fond of the tavern, Peter! it is a place which brings\ngood to nobody in the long run!\"\n\nWhile speaking, the little man had pulled out another pipe of the\nfinest flint-glass, and after filling it with dried pine-needles, had\nthrust it into his little, toothless mouth. He then produced a huge\nburning-glass, stepped into the sunlight and lit his pipe. This\nbusiness over, he turned to Peter, and shook hands with him in the most\nfriendly manner, gave him a few more words of advice, puffed away at\nhis pipe even more vigorously until he disappeared in a cloud of smoke\nwhich gave forth an aroma of the finest Dutch tobacco as it curled\nslowly upwards among the pine branches overhead.\n\nOn arriving home, Peter found his mother in great trouble about him,\nfor the good lady had come to the conclusion that her son must have\nenlisted as a soldier. But with great glee he bade her be of good\ncheer, telling her how he had fallen in with a good friend in the\nforest, who had advanced him money so that he could set himself up in a\nbusiness other than charcoal-burning. Although his mother had been\nliving for a good thirty years in the charcoal-burner's hut, and had\ngrown as accustomed to the sight of grimy faces as a miller's wife to\nthe flour-covered features of her husband, yet she was vain enough to\ndespise her former station from the very moment in which Peter showed\nher the means to a more ostentatious way of life.\n\n\"Ah!\" she said, \"as the mother of the owner of a glass factory, my\nposition is very different from that of my neighbours, Greta and Beta;\nin future I shall occupy a more prominent place in church, in a pew\nwhere the better class people sit.\"\n\nHer son soon came to an agreement with the owners of the glass-factory.\nHe kept on the old staff of workmen, and busied himself night and day\nin the manufacture of glass. At first, he was very interested in the\nwork. It was his pleasure to go down to the glass-works, walking about\nwith a pompous air and with his hands in both pockets, up and down, in\nand out, peeping in here, and peering in there, talking to this man,\nand then to that one, often causing his work-people to laugh heartily\nat his comments; while his chief delight was to watch the glass being\nblown, frequently taking a hand himself in the work, forming from the\nmolten mass the most extraordinary patterns.\n\nBut too soon he began to weary of the business; at first, he was at the\nfactory for only one hour per day, then only every other day, and,\nfinally, only once a week, so that his workmen did just as they\npleased. And it was all the result of his visits to the tavern. On the\nSunday after his return from the Pine-grove, he went into the tavern,\nand who should be footing it on the dancing floor but the Dance-King;\nwhile Fat Ezekiel was already sitting behind a stoup of ale, throwing\ndice for crown-thalers. At sight of the latter Peter thrust his hands\nin his pockets to find out if the Glassmanikin had kept his word--and\nbehold! his pockets were stuffed full of gold and silver pieces.\nMeanwhile, his legs were twitching and jerking as if they were itching\nto be dancing; so when the first dance was over, he took up a position\nwith his partner exactly opposite the Dance-King. Whenever the latter\nsprang three feet into the air, Peter leapt four; and if his rival\nperformed any particularly wonderful or graceful steps, Peter twirled\nand twisted his feet so that all beholders were well nigh beside\nthemselves with delight and admiration. And when those at the dance\nheard that Peter had bought a glass-factory, and when they saw how he\nflung a small coin to the musicians every time he danced past them,\nthere was no limit to their astonishment. Some were of opinion that he\nhad discovered a treasure in the forest; others held that he must have\ninherited a fortune; while all paid him honour, and thought him to be a\nman of position, simply because he had money. He might gamble away\ntwenty guilders in an evening, yet his pockets rattled and jingled just\nthe same, as though they still contained hundreds of thalers. When\nPeter saw how much he was respected, he did not know how to contain\nhimself, so great was his joy and pride. He threw money about by\nhandsful, and was particularly liberal to the poor, because he himself\nknew what it was to feel the pinch of poverty. The supernatural ability\nof the new dancer soon cast all the feats of the Dance-King into the\nshade, and Peter was now hailed as \"Dance-Emperor.\" The most\nventuresome gamblers did not stake so recklessly as he did, and\ntherefore did not lose so heavily. But the more he lost, the more he\ngained--which was quite in accordance with the promise he had obtained\nfrom the Glassmanikin. He had wished always to have as much money in\nhis pockets as there was in Fat Ezekiel's, and it was to him he lost\nmost of his money. No matter whether he lost twenty or thirty guilders\non a single throw, there they were again in his pocket as soon as\nEzekiel had gathered them from the table.\n\n[Illustration: Peter gambling at the Inn.]\n\nBut gradually he brought his debauchery and gambling to a degree worse\nthan that of the vilest character in the Black Forest; and he was\nmore often dubbed Gambling-Peter than Dance-Emperor, for he was at\nthe gambling table nearly the whole week through. Meanwhile his\nglass-business was going rapidly to rack and ruin, and it was all due\nto Peter's folly. He manufactured glass as fast as it could be made;\nbut with the glass-factory he had not bought the secret how to manage\nit. In the end he had so much glass on hand that he did not know what\nto do with it; and he was forced to sell it at half its value to\npedlars in order to find the money wherewith to pay his workpeople. One\nevening while returning home from the tavern, despite all the wine he\nhad drunk to keep up his spirits, he could not help contemplating with\nterror and grief the ruin of his fortunes. All at once he noticed that\nsomebody was walking at his side; he looked round, and behold--it was\nthe Glassmanikin. He flew at once into a furious passion, bewailing his\nbad luck and cursing the little man as the cause of all his misfortune.\n\"What am I to do now with my horses and carts?\" he said. \"Of what use\nto me is my factory and all my glass? Even when I was a miserable\ncharcoal-burner, I was happier, and did not have all these worries.\nNow, I am expecting any day to see the bailiffs in my factory to sell\nme up in order to pay my debts.\"\n\n\"So-ho?\" rejoined the Glassmanikin. \"So-ho? Then I am to be blamed for\nyour misfortunes? Is this your gratitude for all my kindness to you?\nDid I not warn you not to make such foolish wishes. You wished to\nbecome a glass-blower, without having the slightest idea how to sell\nyour glass. Did I not tell you not to wish too hastily? Common-sense,\nPeter, Wisdom, that was what you lacked.\"\n\n\"Bother your Common-sense and Wisdom!\" cried the other. \"I am as clever\na fellow as anyone else--and what is more I will prove it to you,\nGlassmanikin.\" Saying which he seized the little man by the collar, and\nshouted: \"Ha! I have you now. Guardian of the pine-tree wold! And now I\nwill make my third wish, which you will have to grant me. I demand,\nwithout delay, on this very spot, two hundred thousand thalers, and a\nhouse, and--oh-oh-ah!\" he shrieked, wringing his hands, for the\nGlassmanikin had turned into a mass of white-hot glass, burning Peter's\nhand as if he had thrust it into fire; and in the same moment the\nmanikin vanished.\n\nFor several days afterwards Peter's scorched and swollen hand reminded\nhim of his ingratitude, and folly. But he soon turned a deaf ear to the\nvoice of conscience, consoling himself with the reflection: \"What if\nthey do sell up my glass-factory and everything else. Fat Ezekiel is\nstill left to me! So long as he has money on Sundays, I shall not go\nwithout.\"\n\nVery good Peter! But supposing he should happen to have none at all,\nfor once?\n\nAnd this is what actually came to pass. One Sunday, Peter drove to the\ntavern, people observing him through their windows as he passed.\n\n\"There goes Gambling-Peter!\" cried some; while others exclaimed:\n\"Hullo, there's the Dance-Emperor, the rich Glass-manufacturer.\" But a\nfew shook their heads, saying: \"Don't be so sure about his wealth; why,\neverybody is talking about his debts, and it is rumoured among the\ntownspeople that the bailiffs will soon be selling him up.\"\n\nMeanwhile Peter bowed proudly and gravely to those he knew, and on\narriving at the tavern, alighted from his carriage, crying out: \"Good\nevening, landlord; has Fat Ezekiel yet arrived?\" To which a deep voice\nreplied: \"Just come in, Peter? Your place has been kept for you, and we\nhave got the cards out already.\"\n\nPeter entered and got ready to play, well aware that Ezekiel must be\nwell supplied with funds, for his own pockets were stuffed full with\nmoney.\n\nHaving taken his seat opposite the others he began playing, now\nwinning, and now losing; and they kept on until such a late hour that\nall respectable people went off home. The lamps were lighted, and still\nthey played on, until two of the players said: \"There, that's enough!\nwe must be getting home to wife and child.\"\n\nBut Gambling-Peter urged Fat Ezekiel to stay on. The latter was for a\ntime unwilling, but said at last: \"Well, I will just count my money,\nand then we will play at dice--and let the stake be five guilders, for\nto throw for less is child's play.\"\n\nHe pulled out his purse and counted his money, of which he found he had\nnearly a hundred guilders; whereby, Peter knew at once how much he\nhimself had in his pockets without being under the necessity of\nreckoning.\n\nBut Ezekiel's luck had gone; exactly as he had been winning, hitherto,\nhe now lost steadily at every throw, cursing heartily the while. If he\nthrew a pair, Gambling-Peter followed with one, two pips higher. At\nlength he laid his last five guilders on the table, saying: \"One more\nthrow, and if I lose, you can lend me some of your winnings, Peter, so\nthat we can continue, for every good sportsman ought to help another.\"\n\n\"As much as you like, even to a hundred guilders,\" said the\nDance-Emperor, rejoicing in his luck; whereupon Fat Ezekiel shook the\ndice-box and threw \"fifteen.\"\n\n\"Good,\" he cried, \"now we shall see.\" Peter threw eighteen, and as he\nlooked he heard a harsh voice, not unknown to him, mutter in his ear:\n\"So, here we are at the end of it all!\" He swung round. There, standing\ndirectly behind him, towered the gigantic form of Dutch Michael.\nStricken with surprise and horror he let the money, which he had just\npicked up from the table, slip through his fingers.\n\nFat Ezekiel apparently, had not noticed the demon, for he requested\nGambling-Peter to lend him ten guilders so that he could go on playing.\nAs one in a dream, Peter put his hand in his pocket--it was empty! He\ntried another pocket--there was nothing in that, either. He took off\nhis coat and turned it upside down, shaking it--but not a single coin\nshowed itself. And now, for the first time he remembered his first\nwish--to have always as much money in his pockets as Fat Ezekiel had in\nhis. But all had vanished like smoke.\n\n[Illustration: \"So! here we are at the end of it all.\"]\n\nMeanwhile the landlord and Ezekiel sat staring at him in bewilderment,\nas he searched himself all over in vain to find some money somewhere.\nThey refused to believe that he had none; and, at last, after they\nthemselves had felt in his pockets, they grew angry, vowing that\nGambling-Peter must be a magician who had transported all the money he\nhad won together with his own to his house. Peter defended himself as\nbest he could, but appearances were against him. Ezekiel vowed he would\nspread the shameful story all over the Black Forest; and the landlord\ndeclared he would go to town the first thing on the morrow, and\ndenounce Peter as a sorcerer, and he would see to it, he added, that he\nwas burnt at the stake as such. Whereupon they both fell on him in a\nfury, tore his clothes from his back, and flung him out into the road.\n\nIt was pitch-dark, not a star appearing in the sky, as Peter slunk\nhomewards; but the misery which he suffered did not prevent him from\nrecognising a dark form which strode along at his side, and which broke\nsilence, at length, with the following words: \"It is all up with you,\nPeter Munk; all your glory has come to an end; as I would have told you\nat first, if you had but listened to me instead of running off to that\nstupid Glassmanikin. Now you can see for yourself what is to be gained\nby despising my advice. Just try your luck with me for once, for I am\nvery sorry for you in your present miserable condition. Nobody who\ncomes to me ever repents having done so; and if you are not too afraid\nto come, I shall be awaiting you all day in the Pine-grove and you have\nonly to call me, and I will come to you.\"\n\nPeter knew well who it was thus addressing him. Seized with a sudden\ndread, he made no reply, but sped onwards to his home.\n\n\n                             END OF PART I.\n\n\n\n\n                             THE COLD HEART\n\n                                PART II\n\n\nOn the Monday morning when Peter arrived at his Glassworks, he found\nnot only his workpeople there, but also some very unwelcome visitors;\nthese were the Bailiff and three of his myrmidons. The Bailiff greeted\nPeter with a \"Good-morning,\" asked how he had slept, and then produced\na lengthy document on which appeared the names of Peter's creditors.\n\n\"Can you settle or not?\" demanded the official, with a keen glance at\nPeter. \"And make haste, please, for I have very little time to spare,\nas the tower-clock struck three some time ago.\"\n\nThen Peter, in despair, had to confess that he had no more money in the\nworld, and made over to the Bailiff for appraisement all his property,\nincluding factory, stock, stables, horses, wagons, etc.; and as the\nofficial and his men went round making an inventory of everything, he\nthought to himself: \"The Pine-grove is not so far away; and as the\n_Little One_ has not come to my aid, I'll try my luck with the _Big\nOne_.\" And straightway he set off running for the Pine-grove as fast as\nif the officers of justice were at his heels.\n\nAs he passed the spot where he had first spoken to the Glassmanikin, he\nfelt as though an invisible hand had caught hold of him; but he\nwrenched himself free, and ran on towards the ditch which, as he had\nhad occasion to remember marked the boundary of Dutch Michael's domain,\nand no sooner did he spy it than he cried out with what breath he had\nleft in his lungs: \"Dutch Michael! Master Dutch Michael!\" and\nimmediately there stood before him the gigantic form of the raftsman,\npole in hand.\n\n\"So, you've come!\" cried Michael, with a laugh. \"Did they want to strip\nthe skin from your back in order to sell it for the benefit of your\ncreditors? Well, don't worry about it; as I have already told you, for\nyour troubles you have to thank that sanctimonious little hypocrite,\nthe Glassmanikin. When one gives at all, it should be with a lavish\nhand, and not stingily as is that niggard's wont. But come,\" he\ncontinued, turning towards the forest, \"follow me to my house, and we\nwill see if we cannot strike a bargain.\"\n\n\"Strike a bargain?\" thought Peter. \"What can he get out of me? What\nhave I to offer him? Must I serve him in some way; or what else will he\nrequire of me?\"\n\nAt first, they climbed a steep incline which ended abruptly on the edge\nof a dark, deep, precipitous ravine. Dutch Michael sprang down from\nrock to rock as easily as down a broad staircase; and Peter nearly\nfainted with terror when he perceived how the form of the demon, as\nsoon as the latter's foot had touched bottom, shot up to the height of\na church steeple. Then the monster stretched forth an arm as long as a\nweaver's beam, and a hand as broad as a large table, crying out in a\ndeep voice that sounded like a death-knell: \"Stand on my hand and take\nhold of my fingers, so that you do not fall.\" Trembling all over, Peter\ndid as he was bid, sitting down on the palm and steadying himself by\ngrasping the gigantic thumb.\n\nDeep down into the bowels of the earth he descended, but to Peter's\nsurprise it grew no darker; on the contrary, the daylight seemed to\nbecome more and more intense in the ravine, until his eyes could\nscarcely bear the glare of it.\n\nAs Peter descended, Dutch Michael gradually decreased in size until\nwhen Peter had reached the ground the former had regained his normal\nstature, and there they stood before a house similar in all respects to\nthose owned by well-to-do peasants in the Black Forest. The room, into\nwhich Peter was conducted, differed in no particular from the rooms of\nother Black Forest cottages, except that its appearance imparted a\nfeeling of loneliness. The wooden clock hanging on the wall, the huge\nDutch stove, the broad benches, the crockery arranged along the cornice\nwere just as one might see anywhere.\n\nMichael bade Peter take a seat at the great table, and then left the\nroom, returning immediately with a jug of wine and glasses. He poured\nout some for Peter and himself, after which they sat and talked, Dutch\nMichael speaking of the joys of life, of foreign countries, of\nbeautiful cities and rivers, until Peter became possessed of a longing\nto visit the same, and expressed his desire to the Dutchman.\n\n[Illustration: And stretched forth an arm as long as a weaver's beam,\nand a hand as broad as a large table.]\n\n\"But even if your whole frame were pulsating with the courage and\nenergy to undertake something of the sort, would not a few beats of\nthat foolish heart of yours set you all of a tremble at the prospect?\nAnd why should a sensible fellow such as you be troubled with such\nthings as misfortune or wounded pride? The other day when they called\nyou a cheat and a villain, was it in your head that you felt the\ndisgrace? Did you get a pain in your stomach when the bailiff appeared\njust now and turned you out of doors? Come, tell me, where did you feel\nmost anguish?\"\n\n\"In my heart,\" Peter replied, pressing his hand on his throbbing\nbreast; for he felt that his heart was turning over and over in his\nbosom.\n\n\"Now, don't be angry at what I am going to say--you have thrown away\nmany a hundred guilders to beggars and other worthless people; and what\nprofit has it brought you? They have showered blessings on your head,\nand wished you good health; but did you ever feel any better for that?\nWhy, you could have kept a physician on half the money you thus wasted.\nA blessing, indeed--a fine blessing, now that they have seized your\ngoods and turned you out! What was it that drove you to dive your hands\ninto your pockets every time a beggarman stretched out his tattered hat\nto you?--Your heart it was, and always your heart; never your eyes, nor\nyour tongue, your arms, nor your legs,--but your heart; you have always\ntaken it too much to heart, as the saying is.\"\n\n\"But how can one manage to avoid it? I am trying all I can to suppress\nit, but my heart keeps on thumping and causing me anguish.\"\n\n\"By yourself, poor wretch that you are, you can do nothing,\" cried the\nother with a laugh; \"but just let me take charge of the fluttering\nthing, and you will see how much more pleasant it will be.\"\n\n\"Give you my heart?\" shrieked the horrified Peter. \"Why I should fall\ndown dead on the spot! Not if I can help it!\"\n\n\"Of course, if one of your master surgeons were to remove your heart,\nthen you would die to a certainty; but with me it is quite another\nmatter. But just come in here and satisfy yourself.\"\n\nSaying which, he opened a door leading into another room, and bade\nPeter follow him. As the latter crossed the threshold his heart\ncontracted convulsively, but he did not notice it, for the sight which\nnow presented itself to him was too weird and amazing. On a number of\nwooden shelves stood glass-vessels filled with some transparent fluid,\nand in each of these was a human heart. Moreover, to every vessel was\naffixed a label upon which a name had been inscribed, several of which\nPeter's curiosity drove him to read. Here was the heart of the mayor of\na neighbouring town; there, that of Fat Ezekiel; in the next vessel lay\nthe heart of the Dance-King; further on, was the head-forester's heart.\nHere were also six hearts of well-known corn-brokers, eight belonging\nto conscription overseers, three to money lenders; in short, it was a\ncollection of hearts of the most respected people in the district for\ntwenty miles round.\n\n\"Look,\" said Dutch Michael, \"all these people have shaken themselves\nfree from the cares and troubles of life! These hearts beat anxiously\nand painfully no longer, and their original owners rejoice that they\nhave been able to rid themselves of such restless companions.\"\n\n\"But what do they carry in their breasts in place of these?\" asked\nPeter, who was quite faint with all that he had seen.\n\n\"This!\" answered the other, as he took from a drawer _a heart of\nstone_.\n\n\"What?\" cried Peter, unable to repress a shudder which affected his\nentire frame. \"_A heart of marble?_ But, if it is as you say, Master\nDutch Michael, such a thing must feel very cold inside one's bosom.\"\n\n\"Not exactly cold, but quite pleasantly cool. Why should one's heart be\nwarm? It doesn't keep you warm in winter--a good glass of spirits is\nfar better for that purpose than a warm heart; while in summer, when it\nis so hot and close, you cannot think how cooling is the effect of such\na heart as this. Besides which, as I have already told you, such a\nheart as this never throbs with anguish or terror, with foolish\ncompassion or with any other emotion.\"\n\n\"And is that all that you have to give me?\" asked Peter disappointedly.\n\"I hoped for money, and you offer me a stone!\"\n\n\"Well, perhaps a hundred thousand guilders may satisfy you for a start.\nIf you went the right way to work, you would soon be a millionaire.\"\n\n\"A hundred thousand?\" cried the poor charcoal-burner in an ecstasy.\n\"There, don't beat so violently in my breast, we shall soon have done\nwith one another. Good, Michael! give me the stone and the money, and\nyou may relieve this habitation of its restless inmate.\"\n\n\"Ah, I was sure that you were a sensible fellow!\" answered the\nDutchman, smiling amiably. \"Come, we will have just one more glass, and\nthen I will count out the money for you!\"\n\nWhereupon they returned to the other room, and sat down to their wine,\ndrinking glass after glass, until Peter fell into a deep sleep.\n\n                           *   *   *   *   *\n\nCharcoal-Peter was awakened by the joyous fanfare of a posthorn, and\nbehold he was sitting in a coach, which was bowling along a handsome\nbroad highway, and when he leaned out of the window he could see the\nBlack-Forest lying far behind him in the distance. At first he could\nnot believe that it was he himself who could be thus sitting in this\ncoach. His clothes were not the same that he had been wearing the day\nbefore; yet he remembered everything that had happened so clearly, that\nat last he doubted no longer, but cried out: \"I am Charcoal-Peter,\nthat's certain--Charcoal-Peter Munk and no other!\"\n\nHe fell to wondering why it was that he could feel no regret,\nconsidering that, for the first time in his life, he had left the\npeaceful homestead and the forest where he had lived so long. Even when\nthe thought of his mother occurred to him, helpless and wretched as she\nmust be now, no tear came to his eyes, not a sigh escaped him--he felt\nso absolutely indifferent to everything. \"Truly,\" he muttered, \"tears\nand sighs, homesickness and melancholy, all come from the heart; thanks\nto Dutch Michael, mine is cold and made of stone.\"\n\nHe laid his hand on his breast; all was still within; there was no\nmovement whatever. \"If he has kept his word as to the hundred thousand\nguilders as he has with regard to my heart, I shall be quite content,\"\nhe cried, beginning to examine everything in the coach. He found\nwearing apparel in such quantity and of such variety as he could\npossibly desire, but no money. At last he came upon a pocket in which\nhe found many thousands of thalers in gold, besides bills drawn on\nbusiness houses in all the great cities. \"Now I have got what I want,\"\nhe thought, and he settled himself comfortably in a corner of the\ncoach, as it drove onward into the wide world.\n\nFor two years Peter drove about everywhere, gazing to left and right\nfrom his coach at the houses as he passed them, and at the signboards\nof the inns at which he stopped, afterwards wandering about the towns,\nwhere everything that was worthy of note was shown to him. But he\nfound pleasure in nought;--no picture, no building, no music, no\ndance,--nothing could move his heart of stone; his eyes and ears could\nno longer convey to him any sense of the beautiful. Nothing remained\nfor him but to take what joy he could in eating, drinking, and\nsleeping; and thus he lived; travelling aimlessly about the world,\neating, drinking for his sole entertainment, and sleeping his only\nescape from ennui. Now and then he would recollect how he had been\nhappier when he was poor and had to work for his living. Then every\nbeautiful vista over hill and vale had enchanted him, music and song\nhad always delighted him, and he had found lasting enjoyment in the\nsimple fare brought him by his mother as he sat by the charcoal pile.\nAnd as he pondered on the fact, he thought it very strange that now he\ncould laugh at nothing, whereas, formerly, he had been wont to roar\nover the smallest joke. Now, when others laughed, he, for politeness'\nsake, distended his mouth, but there was no laughter in his heart. He\nperceived then that this outward tranquility of his brought no\ncontentment. In the end it was not homesickness or melancholy which\ndrove him homeward, but a depressing sense of solitude and joylessness.\n\nAs he drove over from Strasburg and came within view of the dark forest\nwhich was his home; when he saw for the first time since his departure\nthe powerful frames, the friendly, trusty faces of the Black Foresters;\nas his ears caught the old familiar homely sounds, he put his hand to\nhis heart, for his pulse beat more quickly, and he was sure that in\nanother moment he must either rejoice or weep--but, how was it possible\nfor him to be so foolish; had he not a heart of stone?\n\nHis first visit was to Dutch Michael, who welcomed him with all his old\nfriendliness.\n\n\"Michael,\" he said to the latter, \"I've been on my travels, and have\nseen everything; but it is all trash and humbug, and has only succeeded\nin boring me. Certainly, this stony thing of yours, which I bear in my\nbosom, saves me from much. I am never angry, and never sorrowful; but\nthen I am never glad, and I feel as if I were only half alive. Cannot\nyou put a little life into this stone heart? or, better still, give me\nback my old heart? It was my companion for five and twenty years, and\nif at times it did play me a bad turn, yet on the whole it was a merry\nand brave heart.\"\n\nThe forest spirit laughed grimly and bitterly.\n\n\"When you are dead, Peter Munk,\" he replied, \"it will not fail you;\nthen, indeed, will that soft, emotional heart be yours once more, and\nyou will be able to feel whatever happens to you, joy or sorrow. But\nhere on this earth it can never return to you! Yes, Peter, you have\ncertainly been on your travels, but the way in which you lived was too\naimless to be of any use to you. Settle down somewhere in the forest,\nbuild yourself a house, marry; set up in business--it is occupation of\nwhich you are in need; you were bored because you were idle, and yet\nyou blamed it all upon this unoffending heart!\"\n\nPeter perceived that Michael was right in so far as his idleness was\nconcerned, and determined to amass riches for himself. Michael gave him\nanother hundred thousand guilders, and they parted good friends.\n\nThe story was soon spread throughout the Black-Forest that\nCharcoal-Peter Munk, or Gambling-Peter, had returned, this time richer\nthan before. And it was the same as it is always: when he was reduced\nto beggary, they had thrust him from the door in broad daylight; but\nnow, when he once more visited the inn one fine Sunday afternoon, they\nheld out their hands to him, praised his horse, asked him about his\ntravels, and when he sat down to play with Fat Ezekiel with thalers for\npoints, he stood as high in their esteem as ever. He no longer engaged\nin glass-making, but in timber dealing, though this was merely a blind.\nHis real business was corn-selling and money-lending. By degrees nearly\nhalf the Black Forest was in his debt; he lent money only at a\nruinously high rate of interest, and sold corn only to the poor, to\nthose who could not pay him cash down for it, at three times its value.\nHe and the bailiff were now on the friendliest terms, and when anybody\nfailed to pay Master Peter Munk to the very day, the bailiff and his\nmyrmidons rode over, made an inventory of all the debtor's belongings\nand sold him up, driving father, mother and child out into the forest.\nAt first, these proceedings caused the wealthy Peter some trouble; for\nthe poor outcasts besieged his door, the men begging for time to pay,\nwhile their wives sought to move his stony heart by drawing his\nattention to their children, who were crying for bread. But after he\nhad provided himself with one or two big and savage dogs, there was\nsoon an end to these \"cat's concerts,\" as he termed them. He had but to\nwhistle and call his dogs, and the beggars fled, crying and screaming,\nin all directions.\n\nHis chief annoyance was the \"old woman\"--who was none other than Dame\nMunk, his own mother. She had lived in misery and want from the day\nwhen they had sold up her house and home; and now her son, though he\nhad come back rich, no longer took any notice of her. Yet she, old,\nfeeble and broken down, would come from time to time and stand, leaning\non her stick, in front of his house. She did not now dare to enter, for\nhe had once driven her out. But her greatest grief was that she was\ncompelled to accept the charity of others in order to live, though her\nown son could have made her old age happy and free from care. But the\ncold heart was never touched at the sight of those pale well-known\nfeatures, by their pleading expression, by the withered outstretched\nhand, by the frail and tottering form. When she knocked at the door on\nSaturdays he would draw sixpence from his pocket, grumbling the while,\nwrap it up in a piece of paper, and send a servant out to her with it.\nHe caught the sound of her quavering voice as she spoke her thanks and\nwished him well on this earth; he heard her pant as she shuffled away\nfrom his door; then he thought no more of her except to regret that\nanother sixpence had been so profitlessly expended.\n\nAt length Peter determined to marry. He knew well that any father in\nthe Black Forest would be glad to let him wed his daughter; but he took\npains over his choice, for he wanted everybody to praise his good luck\nand sense even in this matter. Wherefore he rode about on a round of\ninspection, visiting several houses in all parts of the forest; but\nnone of the pretty Black Forest maidens seemed to be beautiful enough\nfor him. At last, after having vainly attended all the dance-meetings\nin his search for a beautiful damsel, he heard one day that the\nloveliest and most virtuous of all the girls in the forest was the\ndaughter of a poor woodcutter.\n\nShe lived quietly and alone, keeping house for her father, was clever\nand diligent, and never attended a dance, not even at Whitsuntide nor\non Dedication Day. When Peter learnt of this jewel of the Black Forest,\nhe resolved to marry her, and rode to the cottage which had been\npointed out to him. The father of the lovely girl, whose name was\nElspeth, received his distinguished visitor with surprise, but was even\nmore astonished when he discovered that this was the wealthy Peter, and\nthat he was anxious to become his son-in-law. He was not long making up\nhis mind, for he considered that now there would be an end to all his\ntroubles and poverty; therefore, without consulting Elspeth, he gave\nhis consent; and the good child was so obedient that she became Dame\nPeter Munk without a murmur of dissent.\n\nBut it did not turn out so well for the poor girl as she had expected.\nShe thought she knew how to keep house, but in nothing could she please\nMaster Peter. She was sorry for poor people, and as her husband was a\nrich man, she considered it no crime to give a penny to a beggar-woman,\nor to offer an old man a \"schnaps.\" But one day Master Peter, who had\nbeen watching her, spoke to her roughly and angrily: \"Why are you\nwasting my fortune on rascals and vagabonds? Did you bring anything\nwith you into the house that you might give away? In your father's\nhouse there was not enough broth to go round, and yet you are now\nthrowing money about as if you were a princess! Let me catch you once\nmore, and you shall feel the weight of my hand.\"\n\nThe lovely Elspeth wept in her room over her husband's ill-nature, and\nshe often wished she were back again in her father's mean cottage\ninstead of having to live in the house of the rich, avaricious and\nhard-hearted Peter. Even had she known that he had a heart of marble,\nand could never love anybody, not even herself, she would not have been\nso greatly surprised. Whenever she sat in the porch and a beggar passed\nby, taking off his hat and asking for alms, she shut her eyes in order\nnot to see his wretchedness; she clenched her fist as if to keep her\nhand from straying against her will into her pocket in order to bestow\na farthing or so. And so it came about that people throughout the\nforest began to speak despitefully of the beautiful Elspeth, saying\nthat she was even more miserly than Peter Munk.\n\nBut one day Elspeth was sitting in front of the house, spinning and\nhumming a little song, for she was in good spirits, the day was fine,\nand her husband, Peter, had ridden away across the country. And as she\nsat there, there came along the road a little old man, who was carrying\na great heavy sack, and she could hear him panting from a long way off.\nDame Elspeth regarded him sympathetically, thinking the while that such\na little old man should not have to carry so heavy a burden.\n\nMeanwhile the little man, panting and staggering, drew near, and as he\npassed Elspeth, he nearly broke down under the weight of the sack. \"Ah,\nhave mercy, good lady, and give me a drink of water!\" said the little\nman; \"I can go no further, and feel ready to perish.\"\n\n\"But at your age you ought not to carry such a heavy load,\" said\nElspeth.\n\n[Illustration: Oh, have mercy, good lady and give a drink of water.]\n\n\"But I must run errands; I am so poor, and I have to earn my living\nsomehow,\" he replied. \"Surely so rich a lady as yourself can never know\nhow hard it is to be poor, and how welcome would be a fresh drink on\nsuch a hot day.\"\n\nHearing this, she hurried indoors, took down a jug and filled it with\nwater; but as she was returning, and was only a few paces away from\nhim, she noticed how wretched and miserable the little man looked, and\nhow he had sunk in exhaustion on his sack. This filled her with pity\nfor him, and, the thought occurring to her that her husband was not at\nhome, she put down the jug of water, took a goblet and filled it with\nwine, and carried it, with a loaf of good rye-bread, out to the old\nman. \"There!\" she said, \"as you are so very old a draught of wine will\ndo you much more good than water. But don't drink it so quickly, and\neat a little of the bread with it.\"\n\nThe little man looked at her in astonishment, then great tears gathered\nin his eyes, and he spoke: \"I am very old, but I have seen few people\nwho were so compassionate and who have known so well how to dispense\ncharity as you, Dame Elspeth. And therefore it will go well with you on\nthis earth, such a heart as yours shall not lack its reward.\"\n\n\"Nay, and her reward she shall have on this very spot,\" cried a\nterrible voice. Both turned, and there stood Peter, his face crimson\nwith rage.\n\n\"Not only do you offer my best wine to beggars, but you bring it out in\nmy own goblet so that it may be contaminated by the lips of vagabonds!\nThere--take your reward!\" Elspeth fell at his feet, imploring pardon;\nbut the stony heart knew no mercy; he swung the whip which he held in\nhis hand, and with the ebony handle of it struck the beautiful forehead\nuplifted to him. Elspeth sank lifeless into the old man's arms.\n\nWhen he saw her fall, Peter bent over her to see if she still lived. It\nwas as if he repented the deed for a moment. And as he looked, the\nlittle man spoke to him in a well-known voice: \"Don't trouble yourself,\nCharcoal-Peter; this was the most beautiful and most lovable flower in\nthe forest; you have struck it down, and it will never bloom again.\"\n\nAll the blood left Peter's face as he replied: \"So, it is you, Master\nGuardian? Well, what has been done cannot be undone, and it was bound\nto happen thus. But I hope you won't accuse me before the justices as a\nmurderer.\"\n\n\"Wretch!\" answered the Glassmanikin. \"What profit could it be to me to\nbring your mortal body to the gallows? It is no earthly judge that you\nhave to fear, but another and sterner Judge; for you have sold your\nsoul to the Evil One.\"\n\n\"And if I have sold my heart,\" shrieked Peter, \"then nobody is to blame\nbut yourself and your illusory gifts. Malicious spirit that you are,\nyou led me on to my destruction; it was you who drove me to seek help\nof that other, and you will have to answer for it.\"\n\nBut scarcely had he uttered these words than the Glassmanikin suddenly\nbegan to increase in size and stature, his eyes became as big as\nsoup-plates, and his mouth was as a glowing furnace, flames darting\nfrom between his lips. Peter sank to his knees, and even his\nstone-heart did not prevent his limbs from trembling like an aspen.\nWith vulture-like claws the forest spirit seized Peter by the neck,\nswung him round like dried leaves in a whirlwind, and flung him to\nearth with such force that all his ribs cracked.\n\n\"Earth-worm!\" cried the spirit in a voice that rolled like thunder; \"I\ncould smash you to atoms if I would, for you have blasphemed against\nthe lord of the forest. But for this dead woman's sake, who gave me\nfood and drink, I give you eight days' grace. If you do not repent I\nwill come and crush your bones to powder, and send you hence in your\nsins.\"\n\nIt was not until nightfall that some men, who happened to be passing\nthat way, spied the wealthy Peter Munk lying stretched on the ground.\nThey turned him over, seeking to discover if he yet lived; and for a\nlong time he gave no sign. At last, one of them went to a house and\nfetched some water. After they had dashed some in his face, Peter drew\na deep breath, groaned and opened his eyes. He gazed about him, and\nthen asked for his wife, Elspeth; but no one had seen her. He thanked\nthe men for their assistance, rose and crept into his house, where he\nhunted high and low for Elspeth, but without finding her; and he now\nknew that what he had hoped had been only a terrible dream was a grim\nreality. In his loneliness strange thoughts occurred to him. He feared\nnothing, for his heart was insensible to that emotion; but whenever he\nthought of his wife's death, he could not help but contemplate his own\nprobable destiny; when his hour arrived to quit the world, how heavily\nladen he would be with the tears and curses of the poor who could not\nsoften his heart, with the wails of those wretched beings at whom\nhe had set his dogs, and, yet more, how he would have to bear the\nweight of his mother's silent despair, and the blood of his good and\nbeautiful wife. And what sort of answer would he give the old man,\nhis father-in-law, if he should come and demand: \"Where is my\ndaughter, your wife?\" And how should he answer Another, to Whom all\nbelongs--woods, seas, hills and the lives of human beings?\n\n[Illustration: \"His eyes became as big as soup plates and his mouth as\na glowing furnace.\"]\n\nThe thought of it haunted his dreams; and every now and then he was\nawakened by the sound of a sweet voice calling to him: \"Peter, get\nyourself a warmer heart!\" And when thus awakened, he would quickly\nclose his eyes again, for the voice was that of Elspeth, warning him.\nIn order to distract his thoughts he sought the tavern, and there he\nmet Fat Ezekiel. He took a seat opposite him, and they started talking\non various topics: the fine weather, the war, the taxes, and at last\nabout death and what happened afterwards. Ezekiel replied that the body\nis buried while the soul ascends to Heaven or descends to Hell.\n\n\"Then they bury one's heart with one?\" asked Peter with intense\ninterest.\n\n\"Certainly, that's buried with us.\"\n\n\"But if a man has no heart?\" Peter went on. Ezekiel stared at him in\nterror. \"What do you mean by that? Are you trying to make a fool of me?\nDo you suggest that I have no heart?\"\n\n\"Oh, you have a heart right enough--as hard as stone,\" replied Peter.\n\nEzekiel looked at him in amazement, then glanced around to make sure\nnobody was within earshot, and spoke: \"How do you know that? Perhaps,\nyour own heart beats no longer?\"\n\n\"It beats no more;--at least, not here in my breast,\" answered Peter.\n\"But tell me, now you know what I mean, what will happen to our\nhearts?\"\n\n\"My dear fellow, why worry about it?\" Ezekiel laughingly remonstrated.\n\"You have plenty to go through this life with, and that is all one\nwants. That is just the comfort of having a cold heart; we can never\nfeel any fear at such thoughts.\"\n\n\"That's true enough; but one cannot help thinking of such things, even\nthough one feels no dread of them; and I can well remember how terribly\nafraid of Hell I used to be when I was a little innocent boy.\"\n\n\"Well--it is certain that it will not go well with us hereafter,\" said\nEzekiel. \"I once asked a schoolmaster about it, and he told me that,\nafter death, our hearts are weighed to find out how much they are\nburdened with sins committed. The light ones mount upwards; the heavy\nones sink downwards; and our stone hearts will weigh a good bit, I'm\nthinking.\"\n\n\"That's very probable,\" replied Peter; \"and I often feel very uneasy\nthat my heart is so indifferent and unfeeling whenever such thoughts\noccur to me.\"\n\nThe night following this conversation Peter heard the well-known voice\nwhisper five or six times in his ear: \"Peter! get yourself a warmer\nheart!\"\n\nAlthough he felt no remorse that he had killed her, yet when he told\nhis servants that his wife had gone on a journey, he could not help\nthinking: \"Ah, but whither has she gone?\"\n\nSix days passed in this manner; every night he heard the voice, while\nthe little forest-spirit's terrible threat rang continually in his\nears. On the seventh morning he sprang out of bed, crying: \"Come, I\nwill see if I can get a warmer heart, for this insensible stone in my\nbreast makes life too wearisome and dull for anything!\"\n\nHe put on his best clothes, mounted his horse and rode off to the\nPine-grove.\n\nHaving arrived at the spot where the pines grew thickest, he\ndismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and then strode swiftly to the\nsummit of the hill, and taking his stand before the great pine, he\nrepeated the old rhyme:\n\n     \"Guardian of gold in the pine-tree wold.\n      Art many hundred ages old;\n      Lord of all lands where pine trees grow,\n      Thee only Sunday's children know.\"\n\nAnd then the Glassmanikin appeared, but not friendly and cordial as\nbefore, but sad and mournful. He was clad in a little coat of black\nglass, and a long mourning band trailed from his hat; and Peter knew\nwell enough for whom he mourned.\n\n\"What do you want with me, Peter Munk?\" he asked in a hollow voice.\n\n\"I have still one wish left, Master Guardian,\" replied Peter, casting\ndown his eyes.\n\n\"Can stone-hearts wish for anything?\" said the other. \"You have\neverything that your evil mind desired; and I shall be very reluctant\nto grant you anything.\"\n\n\"But you promised me three wishes; and one of them still remains to\nme.\"\n\n\"But I can reject it, if it is foolish,\" the forest spirit replied.\n\"Yet, speak out, I will listen to what you have to say.\"\n\n\"Then take this dead stone away, and give me my living heart,\" said\nPeter.\n\n\"Did I make the bargain with you?\" the Glassmanikin demanded. \"Am I\nDutch Michael, who gives away riches and cold hearts? To him you must\ngo if you want your own heart again.\"\n\n\"Alas, he will never give it back to me,\" answered Peter, dejectedly.\n\n\"I am sorry for you, bad as you are,\" said the little man, after a\nmoment's reflection. \"And as your wish is not a foolish one, I can at\nleast, not refuse to help you. Listen, therefore. By force you can\nnever regain possession of your heart, but you can do so by cunning;\nand by such means you may achieve your purpose without much difficulty;\nfor Michael is still the stupid Michael, although he deems himself so\nclever. Go straight to him, therefore, and do exactly as I tell you!\"\nSaying which, he gave him full instructions how to proceed, and handed\nhim a little cross of transparent glass. \"He cannot take your life, and\nif you hold this up in front of him, saying your prayers meanwhile, he\nwill have to let you go unharmed. And if you succeed in obtaining that\nwhich you go for, return to me here immediately.\"\n\nPeter Munk took the little cross, and trying to remember all that he\nhad been told to do, he proceeded to Dutch Michael's abode. Having\ncalled him thrice by name, the giant stood before him.\n\n\"And so you have slain your wife?\" asked the Dutchman, laughing\nhorribly. \"I should have done the same, for she was squandering all\nyour fortune on beggars. But you must leave the country for a time, for\nthere will be trouble when they find she is missing; and you want\nmoney, of course, and have come to me for some?\"\n\n\"You have guessed aright!\" replied Peter; \"and a substantial sum this\ntime, for it is a long way to America.\"\n\nMichael led the way to his cottage, where he opened a desk in which lay\na store of money, and took therefrom a roll of gold coins. As he was\ncounting them out on the table, Peter said to him: \"You are a miserable\ncheat, Michael, to have deceived me as you did, trying to make me\nbelieve that I had a stone in my breast and that you had my heart.\"\n\nMichael stared at him perplexedly. \"And is it not so?\" he asked. \"Can\nyou feel your heart? Is it not as cold as ice? Do you know what it is\nto be afraid, or sorry, or remorseful?\"\n\n\"You have only made my heart stop still; but it is still here in my\nbreast; and Ezekiel, also, agrees with me that you have imposed on\nboth of us. You are not the sort of man who could tear anybody's heart\nout of their breast without their knowledge, or without danger to\nthem--that would be witchcraft indeed!\"\n\n\"But I assure you,\" cried Michael angrily, \"you and Ezekiel and all\nthose who came to me and are now rich have cold hearts in their bosoms\njust as you have, and their own hearts I have here in my keeping.\"\n\n\"Ah; how glibly the lies slip off your tongue,\" laughed Peter. \"You may\ntell that story to other people. Do you think I did not come across\ndozens of such conjuring tricks when on my travels? The hearts here in\nthis room are made of wax. You are a wealthy fellow--I will concede so\nmuch, but you are a fool at magic.\"\n\nThe giant flew into a rage, and, flinging open the door to the inner\nroom, he cried: \"Come in here and read all the labels, especially that\none there; look, that is Peter Munk's heart. See how it beats! Do you\nthink it is possible to make such a thing as that out of wax?\"\n\n\"And yet it is wax,\" answered Peter. \"A real heart would not beat thus;\nand mine is here in my breast. No, no, you are no good at magic.\"\n\n\"But I will prove it to you!\" cried Michael, angrily. \"You shall feel\nfor yourself that it is your own heart.\" He took up the heart, tore\nPeter's jerkin open, and drew from his breast a stone which he held\nbefore him; then he breathed on the heart carefully and put it back in\nits original place; and as Peter felt the old familiar beat of it, he\nrejoiced, that it was possible to him once more.\n\n\"How do you feel now?\" asked Michael, smiling.\n\n\n\"Well, I must confess you were right after all,\" answered Peter,\nfeeling carefully in his pocket for the little cross. \"I could not have\nbelieved that anybody could do such things.\"\n\n\"Well, it's possible, anyway! And I can work magic, as you see. But\ncome, I will now replace the stone.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"And, as he prayed, Michael decreased more and more in\nsize, falling to the ground, where he lay writhing to and fro like a\nworm.\"]\n\n\"Gently, Master Michael!\" cried Peter, retreating a step and holding up\nthe cross in front of him. \"I laid the trap for _you_ this time, and you\nhave fallen into it!\" And straightway he began to pray, saying whatever\ncame to his mind. And as he prayed, Michael decreased more and more in\nsize, falling to the ground, where he lay writhing to and fro like a\nworm, groaning and moaning; and all the hearts on the surrounding\nshelves began to beat and throb until the place sounded as it might\nhave been a clockmaker's workshop. Then Peter's courage left him; he\nrushed from the room and out of the house, and, goaded on by terror,\nbegan to clamber up the rocky precipice; and as he climbed he heard\nMichael stamping and clattering and roaring out the most terrible\ncurses, as he rose from the ground to follow him. Having succeeded in\nsurmounting the cliff, Peter set out to run to the Pine-grove; and at\nthe same time a most frightful storm broke out; lightning flashes fell\nto right and left of him, creating havoc among the trees. But Peter\nreached the Glassmanikin's domain in safety.\n\nHis heart beat joyfully in his breast; but only because it _did_ beat.\nThen all his past life flashed before him, as horrible as the storm\nwhich was laying waste the forest on all sides behind him. He thought\nof Elspeth, his lovely, gentle wife, whom in his avaricious rage he had\nmurdered; he saw himself as an outcast from society, and he burst into\ntears as he stood before the mount on which the Glassmanikin had sat.\n\nAnd there was the Guardian of the Pine-forest, sitting under a pine and\nsmoking a little pipe; but he looked more cheerful now. \"Why are you\nweeping, Charcoal-Peter?\" he asked. \"Have you your own heart again, or\nis the cold stone still in your breast?\"\n\n\"Ah, Master Guardian!\" sobbed Peter; \"when I had that cold stone heart\nI could not weep, my eyes were as dry as the country in July; and now\nthis real heart of mine is like to break with grief at my misdeeds! I\ndrove my debtors to ruin; I set my dogs at the poor and sick, and, you\nyourself saw how with my whip I struck the fair forehead of Elspeth!\"\n\n\"Peter! you were a great sinner!\" said the manikin. \"Money and idleness\nwere your undoing, until your heart was turned to stone, knowing\nneither joy, nor sorrow, nor remorse, nor compassion. But repentance\natones for much; and if I were only sure that you truly repent for your\npast life, I could do something for you even now.\"\n\n\"I want nothing now,\" answered Peter, sadly, while his head drooped on\nhis bosom. \"I have nothing left to live for; I could never be happy\nagain; besides what is there for me to do now that I am left alone in\nthe world? My mother will never forgive my conduct towards her; and,\nperhaps, monster that I am, I have already sent her to her grave. And\nElspeth, my wife! Slay me also, Master Guardian, and then there will be\nan end at least of my wretched life.\"\n\n\"Good!\" replied the Glassmanikin, \"If that is your only wish, I can not\nrefuse to grant it; and my axe is here to my hand.\"\n\nCalmly he withdrew his little pipe from his mouth, knocked out the\nashes and pocketed it. Then, slowly, he arose and went behind the\npine-trees. Peter threw himself down weeping, on the grass; he had\nnothing more to do with this life but to await patiently the death-blow\nthat should end it. After a while he heard light footsteps approaching,\nand thought: \"Now he is coming.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Look once more around, Peter Munk.\"]\n\n\"Look once more around, Peter Munk!\" said the voice of the Manikin. He\nbrushed the tears from his eyes, and looked up,--and there before him\nstood his mother and Elspeth, his wife, smiling kindly at him.\n\nHe sprang joyfully to his feet: \"You are not dead, Elspeth! And you,\nmother!--Ah, how can you ever pardon me?\"\n\n\"They will pardon you,\" said the Glassmanikin, \"because you have truly\nrepented, and they will forget everything. Return to your father's\ncottage, a charcoal-burner as before. If you are good and honest, you\nwill do honour to your trade, and your neighbours will love and respect\nyou more than if you were the possessor of ten tons of gold.\"\n\nThus spoke the Glassmanikin, and bade them farewell.\n\nThe three praised and blessed him, and set out for home together.\n\nThe grand house which had belonged to Peter in his days of splendour\nwas no longer there; it had been struck by lightning and had been burnt\nto the ground with all its treasures; but the cottage which had been\nhis father's home was not far distant; thither they went their way,\nquite unmoved by their heavy loss.\n\nBut what a surprise was in store for them when they reached the\ncottage. It had been changed into a fine farmhouse, and everything\nwithin, though simple, was good and clean.\n\n\"The good Glassmanikin has done all this!\" cried Peter.\n\n\"How lovely!\" exclaimed Elspeth. \"I shall feel much more at home here\nthan in that big house with all those servants.\"\n\nThenceforth Peter Munk became a hard-working and noble man. He was\ncontent with his lot, and worked at his trade without murmuring; and\nthus it came that by his own efforts he made money, and earned the love\nand respect of all in the forest. He never spoke another harsh word to\nhis wife Elspeth, he honoured his mother, and relieved all the poor who\nknocked at his door.\n\nOne year after, when his wife bore him a beautiful boy, Peter set out\nfor the Pine-grove and repeated the old rhyme. But no Glassmanikin\nshowed himself.\n\n\"Master Guardian!\" he shouted. \"Do listen to me! I don't want anything,\nbut have come to ask you to be godfather to my little son.\"\n\nBut there was no answer; nothing but a light breath of wind which\nrustled through the pines, causing a few pinecones to fall at his feet.\n\n\"Well, I will take these with me in remembrance, as you will not show\nyourself,\" cried Peter, putting the cones in his pocket, and turning\nhomewards. But when he took off his jerkin, and his mother turned the\npockets inside out before putting the jerkin away, there fell on the\nfloor four bulky packets of money, which, when opened, were seen to\ncontain nothing but bright new Baden thalers, with not a single bad one\namong them. And this was the manikin's present, as sponsor, to his\nlittle godchild, Peterkin.\n\nThus they lived on in peace and contentment, and Peter would often say\nthen, and in after years when a grey-haired old man: \"It is better to be\ncontent with a little, than to be possessed of wealth and _a cold\nheart_!\"\n\n\n\n\n\n                           *   *   *   *   *\n    Printed by Ebenezer Baylis & Son, Trinity Works, Worcester.","title":"The Marvellous History of the Shadowless Man, and The Cold Heart","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":42882}