Of what use would wings be to him
who is fast bound in iron fetters? He must still
despair, and despair with deeper melancholy.
I lay like Taffner by his stronghold, far removed
from any earthly consolation, starving in the midst
of riches. They gave me no enjoyment; I cursed
them; they had cut me off from mankind. Concealing
my gloomy secret within me, I trembled before the
meanest of my servants, whom I could not but envy:
for he had his shadow, and could show himself in the
sun. Alone in my apartments, I mourned through
harassing days and nights, and anguish fed upon my
heart.
One individual was constantly sorrowing
under my eyes. My faithful Bendel ceased not
to torment himself with silent reproaches that he had
deceived the confidence of his generous master, and
had not recognized him whom he was sent to seek, and
with whom my mournful fate seemed strongly intertwined.
I could not blame him: I recognized too well
in that event the mysterious nature of the unknown
being.
But, to leave nothing untried, I sent
Bendel with a costly brilliant ring to the most celebrated
painter in the city, requesting he would pay me a
visit. He came I ordered away my servants locked
the door sat myself by him; and after praising
his art, I came with a troubled spirit to the great
disclosure, having first enjoined on him the strictest
secresy.
“Mr. Professor,” I began,
“can you paint a false shadow for one, who in
the most luckless way in the world has lost his own?”
“You mean a reflected shadow?” “To
be sure.” “But,” he added,
“through what awkwardness, or what negligence,
could he lose his own shadow?” “How
it happened,” replied I, “that does not
matter, but ” I impudently began
again with a lie, “last winter, when
he was travelling in Russia, it froze so severely,
during the extraordinary cold, that his shadow was
frozen to the ground, and it was impossible for him
to get it free.”
“And I,” said the professor,
“could only make him a sheet shadow, which he
would be apt to lose again on the slightest motion;
especially for one whose genuine shadow was so badly
fixed, as must be inferred from your account; the
simplest and wisest determination for him who has no
shadow, is not to go in the sun.” He stood
up and walked away, after having sent through me a
piercing glance which I could not endure. I sunk
back on my chair, and veiled my face with my hands.
Thus Bendel found me when he entered.
He saw his master’s sorrow, and wanted silently
and respectfully to turn back. I raised my eyes:
the weight of my grief was upon me I determined
to divide it. “Bendel!” I called
to him; “Bendel! you, who alone see and respect
my sufferings, not curiously prying into them, but
secretly and devotedly sharing them with me come
to me, Bendel, be the nearest to my heart. The
stores of my gold I have not concealed from you:
from you I will not hide the store of my anguish.
Bendel, forsake me not. You know I am wealthy,
kind, and generous, and perhaps you think the world
should honour me for that: but, you see, I shun
the world; I hide myself from its observation.
Bendel, the world has judged me and condemned me and
Bendel, too, perhaps, will turn from me when he possesses
my dreadful secret. Bendel! I am indeed
rich, liberal, and independent, but heavens!
I have no shadow!”
“No shadow!” echoed the
good young man in an agony, while bright tears broke
from his eyelids; “Alas! alas! that I should
have been born to serve a shadowless master!”
He was silent, and I hid my face in my hands.
At last I tremblingly said, “Bendel!
you have now my confidence betray it if
you will away! and bear witness against
me.” He seemed struggling with internal
emotion; he threw himself at my feet, seized my hand,
and bathed it with his tears. “No,”
he cried, “let the world say what it may, I
will not leave my good master for the sake of a shadow;
I will do what is right and not what is prudent:
I will remain with you, I will lend you my shadow;
I will help you where I can; I will weep with you.”
I fell on his neck, overcome with such an unexpected
self-devotion. I felt assured he did nothing
for the sake of gold.
From that moment my fate and my mode
of life changed. It is indescribable how carefully
Bendel sought to cover my defects. He was ever
before and with me, foreseeing everything, arranging
everything, and where unexpected danger threatened,
covering me with his shadow, for he was fortunately
taller and stouter than I. Again I mingled with mankind,
and acted my part in the scenes of the world.
It was necessary to assume much singularity and queerness;
but these sit well upon a rich man, and while the
truth lay concealed, I enjoyed all the honour and esteem
to which wealth has a claim. I looked with more
calmness on the advancing year and day, whose close
was to bring with them the visit of the mysterious
unknown.
I was well aware that I could not
remain long in the place where I had been seen without
a shadow, and where I might so easily be betrayed;
and I thought perhaps more on this, remembering how
I had first shown myself to the merchant, which was
now a sad recollection to me; consequently I would
only make an experiment here, that I might learn how
to introduce myself hereafter with more ease and confidence;
nevertheless it happened that I was momentarily bound
down by my vanity; which is the firm ground in man
where the anchor fixes itself.
The beautiful Fanny, whom I again
met in another situation, bestowed on me some attention,
without recollecting that she had seen me before; for
now I had both wit and understanding. When I
talked, all listened, and I could not imagine when
or how I had acquired the talent of leading and directing
the conversation. The impression which I perceived
I had produced on the fair one, made me, as she would
have me, a very fool; and from this time I pursued
her, where only I could pursue her, through shades
and twilight. I was vain enough to make her vain
of me; yet I could not succeed, notwithstanding all
my efforts to drive the intoxication from my head
to my heart.
But why enter upon the details of
an everyday story? You know, and have often
told me, how other wealthy people spend their days.
From an old, well-known drama, in which I, out of
mere good-humour, was playing a hacknied part, arose
a singular and incredible catastrophe, unexpected by
me, or by Fanny, or by anybody.
According to my custom, one lovely
evening I had assembled a large company in an illuminated
garden. I was wandering about with my divinity
arm-in-arm, separated from the rest of the guests,
and endeavouring to amuse her with well-timed conversation;
she looked modestly towards the ground, and gently
returned the pressure of my hand. At this moment
the moon unexpectedly burst through the clouds:
her shadow alone was there, she started,
looked alarmed at me, then at the earth, as if her
eyes were asking for my shadow; all her
emotions were painted so faithfully on her countenance,
that I should have burst into a loud laugh, had I
not felt an icy dullness creeping over me.
She sunk down from my arms in a swoon.
I flew like an arrow through the alarmed company,
reached the door, threw myself into the first coach
I found waiting there, and hurried back to the city,
where, to my misfortune, I had left the foresighted
Bendel. He was startled at seeing me a
word told all. Post-horses were instantly ordered.
I took only one of my servants with me, an interested
villain called Rascal, who had learned to make himself
useful by his dexterity, and who could suspect nothing
of what had occurred. We travelled a hundred
miles before night. Bendel was left behind to
dismiss my household, to distribute my money by paying
my debts, and to bring away what was most necessary.
When he overtook me the next day, I threw myself
into his arms, solemnly promising to commit no farther
folly, but to be more discreet in future. We
continued our journey without interruption, passing
over the chain of mountains which formed the frontier;
and only when on the descent, and separated by the
high bastions from the land so fatal to my peace, did
I allow myself to be comforted, and hastened away
to a watering-place in the vicinity, where I sought
repose from my disappointments and my sorrows.