Tales of the German Imagination from the Brothers Grimm to Ingeborg Bachmann (Penguin Classics) (17 page)

BOOK: Tales of the German Imagination from the Brothers Grimm to Ingeborg Bachmann (Penguin Classics)
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With all the splendour and extravagance of my festivities, I maintained a very simple household regime and lived apart from the world. I made the most fastidious caution my rule; under no circumstances was anyone but Bendel allowed to enter my private rooms. As long as the sun shone in the sky, I remained locked away with Bendel as my sole companion; word had it that the Count was busy at his desk. In accordance with these arrangements, I had a steady stream of couriers I charged with any trifle continuously coming and going. I received guests only in the evening under my trees or in my great hall, which was brightly illuminated according to Bendel’s instructions. And when I went out, with Bendel watching over me like a hawk, my destination was always the forest warden’s garden, to see
her
; for love alone plucked at my heartstrings and gave me the will to live.

O my dear old friend Chamisso, I hope that you have not forgotten what love is! I will let you fill in the details here as you see fit. Mina was a truly lovable, kind and devoted child. I had drawn her heart and soul to mine; modest as she was, she had no idea how she had earned the honour of my attentions,
and with all the youthful energy of an innocent heart, she returned love for love. She loved in every way just like a woman, giving her all: forgetting herself, dedicating herself without reservation to the man who was her life, even if it meant her own demise; in short, it was true love.

But I, on the other hand – oh, what awful hours I spent! – awful! and yet well worth wishing back – how often I wept on Bendel’s breast after the unconscious raptures of love had subsided, when I came to my senses and cast a sharp eye upon myself. How could I, a man without a shadow, so selfishly and deceitfully corrupt such an angel, besmirch and filch her pure soul! At first I resolved to reveal to her the truth about myself; then I swore with solemn oaths to tear myself away from her and escape; then I broke down in tears all over again, forgot my resolve and made arrangements with Bendel that very evening to visit the forest warden’s garden.

At times I deceived myself, putting great store in the imminent visit of the grey stranger, and then I wept again and gave up all hope. I had calculated the day on which I was once again to meet that awful man; for he had said it would be a year and a day, and I took him at his word.

Mina’s parents were kind, honourable old folk who loved their only child very much; the nature of our involvement, once they fathomed the depth of emotion Mina and I already felt for each other, came as a total surprise to them, and they didn’t know what to do. They would never have dreamt that Count Peter might so much as blink an eye at their child; now he was in love with her, and was loved in return. The mother was indeed vain enough to imagine the possibility of a match and to work towards that end, but the old man’s healthy common sense could not countenance such far-fetched aspirations. Both were in any case convinced of my pure intentions; they could do nothing but pray for their child. I still have a letter that Mina wrote me back then. Here it is. Word for word!

‘What a weak and foolish girl I am – just to imagine that because I love him so very, very much, my beloved would not want to hurt me. Dear heart, you are so good, so unspeakably good to me; but you mustn’t, mustn’t sacrifice anything for me;
O God! how I could hate myself if you ever were to do such a thing. No – you have already made me so immeasurably happy. You taught me how to love you. But enough of this nonsense – I know what lies in store for me, Count Peter belongs not to me but to the world. I’ll be proud just to hear: that was him, and that was him again, and this is what he achieved; and that those people revere him and others worship him. You see, just let me start thinking these thoughts, and I could be furious with you for forgetting your proud destiny in the arms of a simple-minded child.

‘Enough! Better stop, or the thought of you may yet make me sad, you, oh you! who have made me so happy, so very happy. Have I not also woven an olive branch and a rosebud in your life, as in the wreath that I was privileged to pass to you? I will always have you here in my heart, my beloved, so don’t be afraid to leave me. Dear God, I could die, you’ve made me so happy, so unspeakably happy.’

You can well imagine how these words cut me to the quick. I tried to explain to her that I was not who people thought I was, that I was nothing but a rich, if miserable, man. A curse was upon me, the nature of which would have to remain a secret between us for the moment, since I had not yet given up all hope of its being lifted. This curse was the poison of my days; and heaven forbid that I drag her along with me into the abyss, she who was the only light, the only joy, the very heartbeat of my life. Then she wept again at my unhappiness. Dear God, she was so loving, so good! Just to save me a single tear, that blessed child, she would have sacrificed herself. In truth, she was far from fathoming the real meaning of my words; she imagined me to be the scion of a noble dynasty, a grand and respected ruler struck down by some ill-fated happenstance, and her active imagination sketched out an elaborate heroic backdrop for the portrait of her beloved.

Once again I said to her, ‘Mina, dear, the last day of the coming month may alter and decide my fate; if things go badly, then I must die, for I could not bear to make you unhappy.’ She buried her tear-stained face in my arms. ‘Should destiny rule in your favour, just let me know that you are well, I have no claim
on you. But if misery is to be your lot, then bind me to you so that I may help you bear it.’

‘My dear girl, take back those rash and foolish words – do you know the misery of which you speak, can you picture the curse? Do you know who your beloved – who he – is? Can’t you see how I’m standing here shuddering before you, carrying the burden of a terrible secret?’ She fell sobbing at my feet, and with solemn oaths repeated her plea.

To the forest warden, who at that very moment happened upon us, I declared my intention of asking his daughter’s hand in marriage on the first day of the next month. I specified the time and date, explaining that certain things might happen between now and then that could have a hand in my fate. The only certainty was my love for his daughter.

The good man was considerably taken aback to hear such words from the mouth of Count Peter. He hugged me to him, and immediately thereafter felt mightily ashamed to have lost control of himself. Then doubt entered his mind, followed by deliberation and paternal concern; he spoke of the dowry, of security and of his worry above all for the future of his beloved child. I thanked him for bringing all these matters to my attention. I informed him that I wished to settle permanently here where I appeared to be so popular, and that I hoped to lead a carefree life. I bid him acquire in his daughter’s name the finest properties available in the area, and to charge the purchase price to me. It was in this way, I said, that a father could best serve the happy couple. This gave him much to do, as wherever he turned some stranger had good land to offer; he restricted himself to the purchase of a mere million-worth of property.

I occupied him with this as an innocent ploy to get him out of our way for a while; I had already used other such ruses, for I must admit that the old man could become a little tiresome. The mother, on the other hand, was somewhat deaf, and not, like her husband, avidly eager to entertain the Count.

The mother then came out to join us, and together the old people urged me to stay a while longer, but I did not have a moment to lose, for already I spotted the moon rising over the horizon. My time was up.

The following evening, I once again set out for the forest warden’s garden. I had draped my coat broadly over my shoulders and pulled my hat down low over my eyes as I eagerly approached Mina. When she looked up and saw me, she started back with an involuntary jerk; then it came to me again, the spectre of that terrible night on which I had shown myself in the moonlight without a shadow. It was she, no doubt about it. But did she put two and two together and realize who I was? She grew silent and reflective. My worry weighed like a millstone on my chest; I sat down, and got up again. Silently weeping, she threw herself into my arms. I took my leave.

After that, I often found her in tears; I myself sank ever deeper into the darkness of my soul. Only her parents seemed to swim in boundless jubilation; the fateful day drew near, dark and dreadful as a storm cloud. Then it was night before I could scarcely draw a breath. I had prudently filled several chests with gold, just in case; I lay awake awaiting midnight. At last the clock struck twelve.

Eyes glued to the hands of the clock, each passing minute like a dagger thrust in my heart, I sat there, starting at the slightest sound. And so I welcomed daybreak. The leaden hours rolled on, one, two, three, each displaced by the next; then it was noon, evening, night; the clock hands shifted, hope faded; the clock struck eleven, and no one appeared; the last minutes of the last hour of the day ticked by, and still no one; the first stroke of midnight, the twelfth stroke, and I fell back soaking the cover of my couch in desperate and unending tears. For tomorrow I, an ill-fated shadow-less man, was to ask for the hand of my beloved. Towards morning a heavy sleep finally pressed my eyes shut.

V

It was still early when I awoke to the sound of heated voices raised in a quarrel in my antechamber. I listened carefully. Bendel stood at my door blocking entry, as Rascal, swearing up and down that he would take no orders from a mere lackey, demanded entry into my room. Kind-hearted Bendel warned him that should such words reach my ears, he would risk the
loss of a very favourable position. Rascal threatened to use force if Bendel continued to bar his entry.

I threw on some clothes, angrily flung open the door and spoke to Rascal in a rage. ‘What do you want with me, you lout?’

He stepped back two paces and responded coldly, ‘What I want, sir, is to humbly request that you show me your shadow – the sun is just up, and shining so brightly in the yard.’

I stood there shaken to the core. It took me a while to find words. ‘How in heaven’s name can a servant speak so … so … so rudely to his master?’

He calmly and quietly replied, ‘A servant can stand on his honour and refuse to serve a shadow-less master. I demand forthwith my release, and tender my resignation.’

I was forced to try another tack. ‘But Rascal, dear Rascal, who ever gave you such a ridiculous idea? How can you even think—?’

He continued in the same tone of voice: ‘Certain people claim that you have no shadow, sir – in short, either show me your shadow or hand me my release.’

Pale and trembling, but with more presence of mind than I had at the moment, Bendel motioned to me. I sought to appease Rascal with the gold I had lying about; that too had lost its power. He threw it back at my feet: ‘I take no alms from a shadow-less man.’ He spun round on his heels, put his hat on his head and slowly waltzed out of the door, whistling a tune. Motionless and without a thought in my mind as if turned to stone, I stood staring after him with Bendel at my side.

With a heavy sigh and death in my heart, I finally pulled myself together and, slinking along like a thief preparing to face judgment, I made my way to the forest warden’s garden. I stepped through the shady bower that had been named after me, and where no doubt I was expected. The old mother came towards me carefree and cheerful as ever. Mina sat there, pale and lovely as the first snow that sometimes in late autumn bestows a kiss on the last flowers of summer before melting into bitter dew. The forest warden paced up and down, clutching a handwritten note, and appeared to be doing his best to repress a surge of emotion that erupted the moment he spotted
me, now in a flush of red, now with a deathlike pallor clouding his otherwise lacklustre face. He approached me as I entered the garden and haltingly requested a word with me alone. The
allée
along which he invited me to follow him led to an open, sunny corner of the garden. Without a word I sank on a bench. A long silence followed that not even the kindly mother dared break.

The forest warden kept pacing with uneven steps up and down the bower; suddenly he came up to me and stood before me in a numb silence, staring down at the sheet of paper in his hand. With a piercing look, he asked me, ‘I wonder, Sir Count, if you may not be acquainted with a certain Peter Schlemiel?’ I said nothing. ‘A man of impeccable character and incomparable gifts.’ He clearly expected an answer.

‘And what if I myself happened to be he?’

‘The man,’ he added with a dark intensity, ‘who misplaced his shadow!’

‘I knew it, I knew it!’ cried Mina, ‘I’ve known it for a long time, he has no shadow!’ And with that she threw herself into the arms of her horrified mother, who held her close, reproaching her for having kept such an unhappy secret to herself. But like Arethusa, the poor girl became a fountain of tears that erupted at the sound of my voice, gushing forth uncontrollably at my approach and accompanied by convulsive sobs.

‘How could you,’ the forest warden went on angrily, ‘how could you have the utter gall to deceive this dear girl and me in such an unscrupulous manner; you who claim to love her, and have dragged her so low? See how she’s weeping and wringing her hands! What an awful thing you’ve done!’

I was in such a state that I started talking nonsense. ‘A shadow is after all nothing but a shadow,’ I said, ‘one can just as well do without it, why make such a fuss?’ And yet I felt so profoundly the insincerity of my words that I cut myself short without waiting for an answer. I did, however, point out that a thing lost may yet be found again.

The old man replied in anger, ‘Admit it, sir, own up to the truth! How did you lose your shadow?’

I had to invent another lie. ‘Why, not so very long ago, an
uncouth burly fellow stamped so vehemently on my shadow that he tore a big hole in it. I was obliged to have it repaired – money talks, you know; I was supposed to get it back from the tailor yesterday.’

‘Well and good, well and good!’ the forest warden replied. ‘You’ve come a-courting my daughter; well, you’re not the only one. As her father, I must look out for her best interests. I give you three days to acquire a shadow; if in three days’ time you appear here before me wearing a well-fitting shadow, you will be welcome; but on the fourth day – mark my word! – my daughter will be wed to another.’ I still wanted to say something to Mina, but she clasped her mother’s hand all the more tightly and sobbed all the louder, so that the old woman silently motioned to me to make myself scarce. I staggered off, and it was as if the world itself were closing its gates behind me.

BOOK: Tales of the German Imagination from the Brothers Grimm to Ingeborg Bachmann (Penguin Classics)
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