It was yet early, when I was awakened by the sound of voices violently disputing in my antechamber. I listened: Bendel was forbidding access to my door. Rascal swore loudly and deeply that he would take no orders from his fellow-servant, and insisted on rushing into my apartment. The good Bendel warned him that if such language reached my ears, he might perchance lose a profitable place; but Rascal threatened to lay violent hands upon him, if he impeded his entrance any longer.
I had half dressed myself. I angrily flung the door open, and called out to Rascal, “What dost want, thou scoundrel?” He retreated two paces, and answered with perfect coldness,
“Humbly to request, may it please your lordship, for once to show me your shadow; the sun is shining so beautifully in the court.”
I felt as if scathed by a thunderbolt, and it was long before I could utter a word: “How can a servant presume against his master that—” He interrupted me with provokingcalmness: “A servant may be a very honest man, and yet refuse to serve a shadowless master—I must have my discharge.” I tried another weapon.
“But, Rascal, my dear Rascal, who has put this wild notion into your head? How can you imagine—” But he continued in the same tone, “There are people who assert you have no shadow; so, in a word, either show me your shadow, or give me my discharge!”
Bendel, pale and trembling, but more discreet than I, made me a sign to seek a resource in the silence-imposing gold—but it had lost its power; Rascal flung it at my feet: “I will take nothing from a shadowless being.” He turned his back upon me, put his hat on his head, and went slowly out of the apartment whistling a tune. I stood there like a petrifaction—looking after him, vacant and motionless.
Heavy and melancholy, with a deathlike feeling within me, I prepared to redeem my promise, and, like a criminal before his judges, to show myself in the forester’s garden. I ascended to the dark arbour which had been called by my name, where an appointment had been made to meet me. Mina’s mother came forwards toward me, gay, and free from care. Mina was seated there, pale and lovely, as theearliest snow when it kisses the last autumnal flower, and soon dissolves into bitter drops. The forest-master, with a written sheet in his hand, wandered in violent agitation from side to side, seemingly overcome with internal feelings, which painted his usually unvarying countenance with constantly changing paleness and scarlet. He came towards me as I entered, and with broken accents requested to speak to me alone. The path through which he invited me to follow him led to an open sunny part of the garden. I seated myself down without uttering a word; a long silence followed, which even our good mother dared not interrupt.
With irregular steps the forest-master paced the arbour backwards and forwards; he stood for a moment before me, looked into the paper which he held, and said with a most penetrating glance, “Count, and do you indeed know one Peter Schlemihl?” I was silent—“a man of reputable character, and of great accomplishments.” He waited for my answer. “And what if I were he?”—“He!” added he vehemently, “who has in some way got rid of his shadow!”—“Oh, my forebodings! my forebodings!” exclaimed Mina, “alas! I knew long ago that he had no shadow!” and she flung herself into her mother’s arms, who, alarmed,pressed her convulsively to her bosom, reproaching me with having concealed such a fatal secret from her:—but she, like Arethusa, was bathed in a fountain of tears, which flowed abundantly at the sound of my voice, and at my approach tempestuously burst forth.
“And so,” cried the forest-master furiously, “your matchless impudence has sought to betray that poor girl and me—and you pretended to love her—her whom you have dragged to the abyss—see how she weeps, how she is agonized! O shame! O sin!”
I was so completely confused that I answered incoherently: “After all, ’twas but a shadow—nothing but a shadow—one can manage without it; and surely it is not worth making such a noise about.” But I felt so deeply the deception of my language, that I was silent before he deigned to give me an answer. I added, “What a man has lost to-day he may find again to-morrow.”
He spoke angrily: “Explain to me, sir, explain how you got rid of your shadow.” I was compelled again to lie: “A vulgar fellow trod so clumsily upon my shadow, that he tore a great hole in it; I sent it to be mended—gold can do everything; I ought to have received it back yesterday.”
“Very well, sir, very well,” he replied. “You sue for my daughter—others do the same; as her father I must take care of her. I give you three days’ respite, which you may employ in procuring a shadow. Come to me after this, and if you have one that suits you, you will be welcome: but if not, on the fourth day, I must tell you, my daughter shall be the wife of another.” I attempted to address a word to Mina; but she clung, violently agitated, closer to her mother, who silently beckoned to me that I should retire. I slunk away as if the world’s gates had closed behind me.
Escaped to Bendel’s affectionate guidance, I wandered with erring footsteps through fields and woods, sweat-drops of anguish fell from my brow; deep groans broke from my bosom; within me raged a wild frenzy.
I know not how long it had lasted, when on a sunny heath I found myself held by the sleeve—I stood still, and looked around me. It was the grey-coated stranger; he seemed to have followed me till he was out of breath. He instantly began:
“I had announced myself for to-day; you have hardly been able to wait so long—but all is well—you will take good counsel: exchangeyour shadow again; it only waits your commands, and then turn back. You will be welcome in the forester’s garden; it was but a jest. Rascal, who has betrayed you, and who is a suitor to your betrothed, I will dispose of—the fellow is ripe.”
Schlemihl offered the parchment
I stood there still, as if I were asleep—“Announced for to-day?”—I reckoned the time over again; it was so. I had erred in my calculations. I put my right hand on the bag in my bosom; he discovered my meaning, and drew back two paces.
“No, Sir Count, that is in good hands; that you may retain.” I looked on him with staring and inquiring eyes. He spoke: “May I ask for a trifling memento? Be so good as to sign this note.” The following words were on the parchment he held:
“I hereby promise to deliver over my soul to the bearer after its natural separation from my body.”
“I hereby promise to deliver over my soul to the bearer after its natural separation from my body.”
I looked with dumb astonishment, now on the grey unknown, and now on the writing. In the mean time he had dipped a new pen in a drop of my blood, which was flowing from a scratch made by a thorn in my hand. He handed the pen to me.
“Who are you, then?” I at last inquired.
“What does that matter?” he answered. “Don’t you see what I am?—a poor devil; a sort of philosopher or alchemist, who receives spare thanks for great favours he confers on his friends; one who has no enjoyment in this world, except a littleexperimentializing:—but sign, I pray—ay, just there on the right,Peter Schlemihl.”
I shook my head. “Forgive me, sir, for I will not sign.”—“Not!” replied he, with seeming surprise, “why not?”
“’Tis an affair that requires some consideration—to add my soul to my shadow in the bargain.”—“Oh, oh!” he exclaimed, “consideration!” and burst into a loud laugh. “May I then be allowed to ask, what sort of a thing is your soul? Have you ever seen it? Do you know what will become of it when you are once departed? Rejoice that you have found somebody to take notice of it; to buy, even during your lifetime, the reversion of this X, this galvanic power, this polarising influence, or whatever the silly trifle may turn out to be; to pay for it with your bodily shadow, with something really substantial; the hand of your mistress, the fulfilment of your prayers. Or will you rather deliver over the sweet maiden to that contemptible scoundrel, Mr. Rascal? No, no!look to that with your own eyes. Come hither; I will lend you the wishing-cap too, (he drew something from his pocket), and we will have a ramble unseen through the forest-garden.”
I must confess I was sadly ashamed to be thus laughed at by this fellow. I hated him from the bottom of my soul; and I believe this personal antipathy prevented me, more than my principles, from giving the required signature for my shadow, necessary as it was to me. The thought was unbearable, that I should undertake such a walk in his company. This sneaking scoundrel, this scornful, irritating imp, placing himself betwixt me and my beloved, sporting with two bleeding hearts, roused my deepest feelings. I looked on what had past as ordained, and considered my misery as irretrievable. I turned upon the man and said:
“Sir, I sold you my shadow for this most estimable bag of yours: I have repented it enough; if the bargain can be annulled, in the name of—” He shook his head—looked at me with a dark frown. I began again: “I will sell you nothing more of my possessions, though you may offer as high a price as for my shadow; and I will sign nothing. Hence you may conclude that the metamorphosis to which you invite me would perhaps be more agreeable toyou than to me. Forgive me, but it cannot be otherwise; let us part.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Schlemihl, that you so capriciously push away the favours which are presented to you; but I may be more fortunate another time. Farewell, till our speedy meeting! By the way, you will allow me to mention, that I do not by any means permit my purchases to get mouldy; I hold them in special regard, and take the best possible care of them.” With this he took my shadow out of his pocket, and with a dexterous fling it was unrolled and spread out on the heath on the sunny side of his feet, so that he stood between the two attendant shadows, mine and his, and walked away; mine seemed to belong to him as much as his own; it accommodated itself to all his movements and all his necessities.
When I saw my poor shadow again, after so long a separation, and found it applied to such base uses, at a moment when for its sake I was suffering nameless anguish, my heart broke within me, and I began to weep most bitterly. The hated one walked proudly on with his spoil, and unblushingly renewed his proposals.
“You may have it—’tis but a stroke of the pen; you will save, too, your poor unhappy Mina from the claws of the vagabond; save herfor the arms of the most honourable Count. ’Tis but a stroke of the pen, I say.” Tears broke forth with new violence; but I turned away, and beckoned him to be gone.
Bendel, who had followed my steps to the present spot, approached me full of sadness at this instant. The kind-hearted fellow perceived me weeping, and observed my shadow, which he could not mistake, attached to the figure of the extraordinary, grey, unknown one, and he endeavoured by force to put me in possession of my property; but not being able to lay firm hold on this subtle thing, he ordered the old man, in a peremptory tone, to abandon what did not belong to him. He, for a reply, turned his back upon my well-meaning servant, and marched away. Bendel followed him closely, and lifting up the stout black-thorn cudgel which he carried, required the man to give up the shadow, enforcing the command with the strength of his nervous arm; but the man, accustomed perhaps to such encounters, bowed his head, raised his shoulders, and walked silently and calmly over the heath, accompanied by my shadow and my faithful man. For a long time I heard the dull sound echoed over the waste. It was lost at last in the distance. I stood alone with my misery as before.
Thus left behind on the dreary heath, I gave vent to countless tears, which seemed to lighten my bosom of its intolerable weight. But I saw no bounds, no outlet, no term to my terrible misery, and with wild impatience I sucked in the poison which the mysterious being had poured into my wounds. When I recalled the image of Mina, her soft and lovely form appeared pale and weeping before me, as I had seen her in my hour of ignominy; and the shade of Rascal impudently and contumaciously seemed to step between us. I veiled my face, I fled across the waste; but the ghastly vision still pursued me; I ran—it was close to me. I sank breathless to the ground, and watered it with renewed springs of tears.
And all about a shadow! a shadow which a stroke of the pen would have restored to me! I mused again on the strange proposal and my refusal. All was dark and desolate within me; I had neither argument nor reason left.
The day rolled by. I calmed my hunger withwild fruits; my thirst with the nearest mountain stream. Night approached; I stretched myself under a tree. The damp dawn awaked me from a heavy sleep, in which I had heard myself groan, as if struggling with death. Bendel had surely lost my traces, and I rejoiced to think so. I determined to return no more among men, from whom I fled like the shy beasts of the mountain. Thus I existed through three weary days.
On the morning of the fourth I found myself on a shady plain, where the sun was shining brightly. I sat down there on the fragment of rock in its beam, for I enjoyed to bask again in its long-forbidden glance. I nourished my heart with its own despair. But I was alarmed by a gentle rustling. I looked eagerly round me preparing to fly—I saw no one; but there passed by on the sunny sand a man’s shadow not unlike my own, wandering about alone, and which appeared straying from its owner.
A mighty impulse was roused within me. Shadow, thought I, art thou seeking thy master. I will be he; and I sprang forward to possess myself of it. I imagined that if I were lucky enough to get into its track, I could so arrange that its feet should just meet mine; it would even attach and accommodate itself to me.
Schlemihl chasing his shadow
The shadow on my moving fled before me, and I was compelled to begin an active chase after the unsubstantial wanderer. The eager desire to be released from the perplexities in which I stood armed me with unusual strength. It fled to a distant wood, in whose obscurity it necessarily would have been immediately lost. I saw it—a terror pierced my heart, kindled my burning desire, and gave wings to my feet. I gained on the shadow, approached it nearer and nearer,—I was within reach of it. It stopped suddenly and turned round towards me; like the lion pouncing on its prey, I sprang forward upon it with a mighty effort to take possession. I felt most unexpectedly that I had dashed against something which made a bodily resistance—I received from an unseen power the most violent thrust which a human being ever felt. The working of terror was acting dreadfully within me; its effect was to close my arms as in a spasm, to seize on what stood unseen before me. I staggered onwards, and fell prostrate on the ground; beneath me on his back was a man whom I held fast, and who now was visible.
The whole affair was now naturally explained. The man must have possessed the viewless charm which makes the possessor but not hisshadow, invisible. He first held it, and afterwards had thrown it away. I looked round, and immediately discovered the shadow of the invisible charm. I leaped up and sprang towards it, and did not miss at last the valuable spoil; unseen, and shadowless, I held the charm in my hand.
The man rose up speedily; he looked round after his fortunate subduer, not being able to discover in the broad sunny plain either him or his shadow, which he sought with the greatest anxiety: for he had no reason to suspect, and no time to observe, that I was a shadowless being. As soon as he discovered that every trace was vanished, he raised his hands against himself in the wildest despair, and tore his hair. But this newly-acquired treasure gave me the means and the disposition to mingle again among my fellow-men. No pretext was wanting for palliating to my own mind this despicable robbery; or, rather, it wanted no such pretext. With a view of ridding myself of any internal reproaches, I hurried away, not even looking back on the unfortunate victim, whose agonized tones I heard long repeated after me. So, at least, at that time I looked upon the circumstances of that event.
I longed to go to the forest-garden, in orderto inform myself of the truth of what the hated one had announced to me; but I knew not where I was; and in order to inform myself as to the neighbourhood, I mounted the nearest hill, and saw from its brow the tower of the forest-garden lying at my feet. My heart beat with agitation, and tears, very different from those I had before shed, burst into my eyes. I was to see her again. An anxious, longing desire hurried my steps down the straightest path. A crowd of peasants I passed unseen going from town; they were talking of me and of Rascal, and of the forester. I would listen to nothing; I hastened by.
I walked into the garden, my bosom trembling with the alarm of expectation. A laugh approached me. I shook; looked eagerly around me, but could perceive nobody. I moved farther forward, and a noise as of the pacing of human feet seemed near me. Still I could see nothing—I thought my ears were deceived; but it was early, nobody was in Count Peter’s arbour—the garden was empty. I rambled over the familiar paths, until I came near to the mansion. I heard the same sound more distinctly. I sat down with a sorrowful heart upon a bank immediately opposite the front door, in a sunny spot. It appeared to me as if I heard the invisibleimp laughing insultingly. The key was turned in the door, which opened, and the forest-master walked out with papers in his hand. I felt something like a mist around my eyes—I looked round—and, oh horrible! the man in the grey coat was sitting close to me, looking on me with a satanic smile. He had drawn his wishing cap over my head. At his feet my shadow and his own lay peacefully one against the other; he was playing carelessly with the well-known parchment, which he held in his hand; and while the forest-master was walking backwards and forwards in the shade of the arbour, he bent himself familiarly to my ear, and whispered to me these words:—
“Now, then, you have at last accepted my offer, and so we set two heads under one cap. Very good! very good! But pray give me my charm again—you do not want it any more, and are too honourable a man to keep what does not belong to you: no thanks—I assure you I lent it to you from my heart.” He took it gently from my hand, put it into his pocket, laughed insultingly at me, and so loudly, that the forest-master looked round attracted by the noise. I sat there as if I had been petrified.
“You must agree,” he rejoined, “that such acap is much more convenient. It does not cover its possessor alone, but his shadow also, and as many people besides as he likes to have with him. Look, now, to-day I get two of ye.” He laughed again. “You must know, Schlemihl, that what is not done by fair means at first, may be enforced at last; I still thought you would have bought the trifle. Take back your bride (there is yet time), and send Rascal to swing on the gallows; that is an easy matter while we have a rope at hand. Hearken, I give you the cap into the bargain.”
The mother came forth, and this conversation followed. “What is my Mina doing?”—“Weeping.”—“Simple child! but can it not be altered?”—“No, indeed.”—“But to give her so soon to another—O husband! you are cruel to your own child!”—“Mother! you don’t see clearly. Even before she has wept out her childish tears, when she finds herself the wife of a rich and noble man, she will be consoled for her sorrows, as if awakened from a dream. She will thank Heaven and us; and that you will see.”—“God grant it!”—“She already possesses a pretty handsome dowry; but after the noise made by that unfortunate adventurer, do you believe that so brilliant a proposal as Mr. Rascal’s will soon or easily be found? Doyou know what wealth he possesses? He has six million florins in landed property in this country paid for in cash, free from all incumbrances. I have the writings in hand. It was he who forestalled me always in the best purchases. Besides this, he has in his portfolio bills of exchange on Mr. Thomas Jones for above three millions and a half of florins.”—“He must have pilfered at a pretty rate.”—“That’s all nonsense. He has hoarded wisely, where others foolishly squandered.”—“But a man who has worn a livery!”—“Folly! he has an irreproachable shadow!”—“You are right, but—”
The man in the great coat laughed and looked full in my face. The door opened, and Mina came out; she was supporting herself on her maid’s arm; silent tears were flowing over her pale and lovely cheeks. She sat down in a chair placed for her under the lime-trees, and her father seated himself beside her. He gently seized her hand, and while she wept still more bitterly, addressed her in the gentlest accents.
“Thou art my best, my dearest child; thou wilt be prudent too; thou wilt not grieve thy old father, who thinks only of making thee happy. I well understand, my sweet girl, thatthis has sadly shaken thee; thou hast wonderfully escaped from misery. Before the shameless cheat was unveiled, thou lovedst that unworthy one most affectionately. I know it, Mina, but I do not reproach thee. I, too, loved him, while I deemed him to be a rich and noble man. But thou hast seen in what it ended. The veriest vagabond has his own shadow; and shall my beloved, my only daughter, be married to—Oh, no! thou thinkest of him no more. Listen, my Mina: a lover addresses thee, who does not dread the sun; an honourable man, who is no Count indeed, but who possesses ten millions, ten times more than thou hast ever possessed; a man who will make my beloved child happy. Do not oppose me; make no reply; be my good, obedient daughter. Let thy affectionate father care for thee, and dry thy tears. Promise me to give thy hand to Mr. Rascal; say, wilt thou promise me?”
She answered with a dying voice, “I have no farther will nor wish on earth; let my father’s will be accomplished!” On this Mr. Rascal was announced, and daringly joined the circle. Mina lay in a swoon. My hated evil genius fixed his eyes angrily on me, and whispered in these rapid words, “Can you bearthattoo? What runs in your veins instead of blood?” With a swift motion he made a slight wound in my hand—blood gushed forth: he cried, “Red blood, truly! sign.” The parchment and the pen were in my hand.
I shall expose myself, dear Chamisso, to your criticism, and not seek to elude it. I have long visited myself with the heaviest judgment, for I have fed the devouring worm in my heart. This terrible moment of my existence is everlastingly present to my soul; and I can contemplate it only in a doubting glance, with humility and contrition. My friend, he who carelessly takes a step out of the straight path, is imperceptibly impelled into another course, in which he will be deluded farther and farther astray. For him in vain the pole-star twinkles in the heavens; there is no choice for him; he must slide down the declivity, and offer himself up to Nemesis. After the false and precipitate step which had brought down the curse upon me, I had daringly thrust myself upon the fate of another being. What now remained, but where I had sowed perdition, and prompt salvation was urgent—again blindly to rush forward to save?—for the last knell had tolled. Do not think so basely of me, my Chamisso, asto imagine that I should have thought any price too dear, or should have been more sparing with anything I possessed than with my gold? No! but my soul was filled with unconquerable hatred towards this mysterious sneaker in crooked paths. Perhaps I might be unjust to him, yet my mind revolted against all communication with him. But here, as often in my life, and generally in the history of the world, an accident rather than an intention, determined the issue. Afterwards I became reconciled to myself. I learnt, in the first place, to respect necessity, and those accidents which are yet more the result of necessity than any will of our own. Then was I also taught to obey this necessity, as a wise arrangement of Providence, which sets all this machinery in action, in which we only co-operate by moving and setting other wheels in motion. What must be, will happen; what should have been, was; and not without the intervention of that Providence, which I at last learnt to reverence in my fate, and in the fate of her who controlled mine.
I know not if I should ascribe it to the strain of my soul under the pressure of such mighty emotions, or to the exhaustion of my physical strength, weakened by the unwonted abstinenceof the days gone by, or to that fatal agitation which the approach of this grey adversary produced through my whole frame; but certain it is, that while preparing to sign, I fell into a deep swoon, and lay a long time as in the arms of death.
On coming to my recollection, the first tones that reached my ears were the stamping of feet and cursing. I opened my eyes; it was dark; my hated companion was there holding me, but scolding thus: “Now, is not that behaving like a silly old woman? Let the gentleman rise up—conclude the business—as he intended—or, perhaps he has other thoughts—would like still to weep.” With difficulty I raised myself from the ground where I lay, and looked silently around me. The evening was advanced; festive music broke from the brightly-lighted forest-house, and groups of company were scattered over the garden walks. Some drew near who were engaged in conversation, and seated themselves on the benches. They spoke of the nuptials of the daughter of the house with the rich Mr. Rascal—they had taken place in the morning—all—all was over.
I struck away with my hand from my head the wishing-cap of the instantly-vanishing unknown one, and fled in silence to conceal myselfin the deepest darkness of the wood, hurrying to the garden gate before Count Peter’s arbour. But my evil genius accompanied me unseen, pursuing me with bitter words. “This, then, is the reward one is to get for the trouble of taking care, through the live-long day, of the nervous gentleman! And I am then to be fooled at last? Very well, very well, Mr. Wronghead: fly from me, but we are inseparable. You have my gold, and I your shadow; they leave no rest to either. Did anybody ever hear of a shadow abandoning its master? Yours draws me after you, till you condescend to take it again, and I get rid of it. What you have sold, or neglected to do, of your own free-will, that will you be compelled to repair with repugnance and weariness; man cannot oppose his destiny.” He continued to talk in the same tone,—I fled from him in vain—he was always behind me—ever present—and speaking sneeringly of gold and shadow. I could not repose on a single thought.
Through untrodden, vacant streets, I hastened to my abode. I stood before it—looked up—and hardly recognized it. Behind the closed windows no light was burning; the doors were shut—no servants appeared to be moving. He stood behind me, and laughedaloud. “Ay, ay! but your Bendel is certainly at home; he was sent hither so thoroughly exhausted, that no doubt he has carefully kept house.” He laughed again—“He will have some stories to amuse you—take courage. Good night for to-day, till an early interview.”
I rang again, and a light appeared. Bendel asked from within, “who is there?” When he heard my voice, the poor fellow could scarcely contain his joy; the door flew open, and we lay weeping in each other’s arms. He was greatly changed—weak and ill. My hair had become wholly grey.
He led me through the vacant chambers to an inner apartment, which remained furnished. He fetched meat and drink—we sat down—he again began to weep; he then told me that he had lately beaten the grey-clad meagre man, whom he had met with my shadow, so lustily and so long, that he lost all trace of me, and had sunk exhausted to the earth; that afterwards, not being able to discover me, he had returned home, and that the mob, excited by Rascal, had raised a tumult, broken the windows of the house, and given full reins to their love of destruction. Thus they had rewarded their benefactors. One after another my servants had fled. The police of the place had orderedme to leave the town as a suspicious person, allowing me a delay of only four-and-twenty hours to quit their territory. He had a great deal to add to what I already knew of Rascal’s wealth and espousals. This scoundrel, who had originated all the proceedings against me, must have possessed my secret from the beginning. It seemed that, attracted by the gold, he had forced himself upon me, and had procured a key for that treasure-chest where he laid the foundation of his fortune, which he now seemed determined to enjoy.
Bendel told me all with abundant tears, and wept anew for joy at seeing me again, and again possessing me: and he rejoiced that, after all his fears as to what misfortune might have brought me, he found me bearing everything with calmness and fortitude; for such was the form in which despair reigned over me, while I saw gigantic and unchangeable misery before me. I had wept away all my tears; grief could force out no other accent of distress from my bosom. I raised against it, coldly and unconcernedly, my uncovered head.
“Bendel,” said I, “you know my fate. Not without certain guilt does the heavy penalty fall on me. You, innocent being as you are, shall no longer bind your destiny to mine, I will nolonger let it be so. To-night I will hasten away. Saddle me my horse—I ride alone—you must remain—I require it. Some chests of gold must yet be here. They are now yours. I shall wander restlessly through the world; but if a happier day should dawn, and bliss should again smile upon me, I will faithfully think of you; for on your faithful bosom I have wept in many a weary, wretched, sorrowful hour.”
The honest fellow obeyed with a broken heart this last command of his master. It agonized his soul; but I was deaf to his representations and entreaties, and blind to his tears. He brought the horse to me, I pressed him while he wept against my breast, sprang into the saddle, and pursued my way under the mantle of night from the grave of my existence; indifferent as to the direction my horse might take. On the earth I had no goal—no wish—no hope.
A foot passenger soon joined me, and, after walking some time by my horse’s side, begged me, as we were bound the same way, to be allowed to throw the cloak which he carried on the crupper; I quietly allowed him to do so. He thanked me with a graceful address for this trifling service, praised my horse, and thence took the opportunity of lauding the happiness and the influence of the wealthy. He went on I know not how, in a sort of soliloquy, for I was only a hearer.
He unfolded his views of life and the world, and soon introduced metaphysics, from whence the word was to emanate which should solve all mysteries. He developed his theme with great distinctness, and led forward to its deductions.
You know very well that I have often confessed, since I drove through the school of philosophy, that I do not consider myself as by any means calculated for philosophical speculations, and that I have altogether renounced that branch ofstudy. From that time I have let many things be settled as they could, renounced much which I might have understood or learnt, and, following your counsels by trusting to my innate senses, that voice of the heart, I have gone forward in my own road as far as I was able. This rhetorician appeared to me to build his firmly-cemented edifice with great ability. It seemed to bear itself on its firm and solid foundation, and stood, as it were, on its own absolute necessity. Then I missed in the edifice what I particularly sought; and it was to me merely a piece of art, whose completeness and decorations served only to delight the eye; but I listened willingly to the eloquent man, who seemed to transfer to himself my observations on my own sorrows; and I should have cheerfully surrendered myself to him, if he would have taken possession of my soul as well as of my understanding.
In the mean while time passed on, and morning dawn had imperceptibly stolen over the heaven. I trembled as I looked around, and saw the magnificent colours blending in the east, and heralding the ascending sun; and at that hour, when the shadows stretch themselves out in all their extension, no shelter, no protection was to be discovered—and I was not alone! I lookedupon my companion, and again I trembled: it was even the man in the grey coat.
He smiled at my alarms, and without allowing me to utter a word, began: “Let us then, as is the custom of the world, unite our different advantages for a while! we have always time to separate. The road along-side the mountain, if you have not already thought about it, is the only one which you can prudently take. You dare not descend into the valley; and over the hill you will hardly think of returning as it would lead you whence you came; and the road in which you are is just mine. I see the uprising sun makes you look pale; I will lend you your shadow while we remain together, and this may induce you to bear my being near to you. Your Bendel is no longer with you, but I will do you good service. You do not love me: I am sorry for it; but you may make use of me notwithstanding. The devil is not so black as he is represented. Yesterday, you vexed me, ’tis true, but I will bear you no grudge to-day. I have shortened your way thus far, as you must yourself confess; now take your shadow on trial again.”
The sun had arisen; travellers were approaching us on the road, and in spite of an internal repugnance, I accepted his offer. He smiled,and let my shadow fall on the ground; it took its station upon that of my horse, and cheerfully moved forward. My mind was in a strange mood. I rode by a body of country people, who were respectfully making room with their heads uncovered as for a wealthy-looking man. I rode farther, and looked aside from my horse with eager eyes and beating heart, on what was once my shadow; but which I had now borrowed from a stranger, ay, from an enemy.
He came on carelessly by my side, and whistled a tune—he on foot, I on horseback. A dizziness seized me, the temptation was too great; I hastily turned the reins, drove both spurs into the horse, and thus went off at full speed through a cross road. I could not elope with the shadow, it slipped away when the horse started, and waited on the road for its lawful owner. I was obliged to turn round, ashamed; the man in the grey coat, as he unconcernedly finished his tune, began to laugh at me, and fixing the shadow again in its place, informed me it would only stick to me, and remain with me, when I had properly and lawfully become possessed of it. “I hold you fast,” he cried, “fast attached to the shadow; you cannot escape from me. A wealthy man like you may want a shadow: likely enough—andyou are only to blame for not having earlier looked into the matter.”
I continued my journey on the same road as before. I possessed all the comforts of life, and all its luxuries. I could move about freely and easily; and I possessed a shadow too, though but a borrowed one, and I imposed everywhere that reverence which wealth commands; but death was at my heart. My marvellous conductor, who represented himself to be the unworthy slave of the richest man in the world, had extraordinary readiness as a servant, and was exceedingly dexterous and clever, the very model of a valet for a wealthy gentleman; but he never separated himself from my side, and incessantly plagued me, exhibiting the greatest assurance in order that I should conclude the bargain with him respecting the shadow, if it were only to get rid of him. He was as troublesome as hateful to me; I always stood in awe of him. I had made myself dependent on him; I was still in his power, and he had again driven me into the vanities of the world which I had abandoned: I was compelled to allow to his eloquence full mastery over me, and almost felt he was in the right. A wealthy man ought to have a shadow in the world; and so long as I wished to occupy that station whichhe had induced me to fill, there was only one outlet for me. But on this I determined—having sacrificed my love, and made my existence a curse, I would not transfer my soul to this being—no, not for all the shadows in the world; but I knew not how it would end.
One day we were sitting before a cave, which the travellers who had to cross the mountain were accustomed to visit. There was heard the noise of subterraneous streams roaring from unmeasurable deeps; and the stone that was thrown into the abyss seemed in its echoing fall to find no bottom. He depicted to me, as he had often done, with a luxuriant fancy, and in the glowing charms of the brightest colouring, careful and detailed pictures of the brilliant figure I might make in the world by means of my purse, if I had only my shadow again in my possession. My elbows were supported on my knees while I covered my face with my hands, listening to the evil one, my heart twice rent between temptation and my own earnest will. Such internal discord I could no longer endure, and the decisive struggle began.
“You seem to forget, good sir, that I have allowed you to remain in my company only on certain conditions, and that I retained for myself my unrestrained liberty.”—“If you order me, Ishall move off:” the threat was one to which he was accustomed.—I ceased: he sat himself quietly down, and began to roll up my shadow. I grew pale, but I stood dumb while he did so. There was a long silence. He thus broke it:
“You cannot endure me, sir! you hate me—I know it: but why do you hate me? Is it because, when you attacked me on the highway, you attempted to steal my charm by force? or is it because you endeavoured fraudulently to get possessed of my property, the shadow, which had been confided to your simple honour? For myself, I do not hate you for that; it is quite natural you should seek to turn your advantages, your cunning, your strength to good account. That you have the most rigid principles, and are honesty itself, is a hobby-horse belief of your own, to which I can have no objection. My notions are not so strict as yours: I only act according to your notions. But did I ever attempt to strangle you in order to possess your valuable soul, to which I really have a great liking? Have I, for the sake of my bartered purse, let loose a servant upon you, and endeavoured to run away with it?” I could answer nothing to all this,—and he continued.—“Well then, sir, well! You cannot endure me, Iunderstand it, and am not displeased with you for that. It is clear we must part, and you really are become very tedious to me; but to get rid of my perplexing presence altogether for the future, I will give you a piece of advice—buy the thing of me!” I held out the purse to him. “At the price?”—“No!”—I sighed deeply, and began again.—“Well, then, I insist upon it, we must part,—do not stop up my way any longer in a world which is wide enough for both of us.” He smiled, and replied:—“I go, sir; but I will first instruct you how to summon me, when you wish for the presence of your most humble slave: you need only shake your purse, that its exhaustless pieces may tinkle, and the sound will draw me instantly to you. Everybody in this world thinks of his own interests; you see I also am attending to yours—for I give you spontaneously a new power.—Excellent purse! and even if the moths had devoured your shadow, there would be a strong bond of union between us. But enough—you possess me while you possess my gold; however distant, command your servant—you know I am always ready to do honour to my friends, and that I have for the wealthy an especial regard; that you yourself have seen—but as for your shadow, sir,allow me to assure you, your shadow will never be yours but on one condition.”
Visions of old time floated in my soul. I inquired hastily: “Did Mr. Jones give you his signature?” He smiled: “With so good a friend it was not necessary.”—“Where is he—where? By Heavens I will know!” He put his hand slowly into his pocket, and drew out by the hair the pale and ghastly form of Thomas Jones. Its blue and deadly lips trembled with the dreadful words: “Justo judicio Dei judicatus sum;justo judicio Dei condemnatus sum.” I was horror-struck—I dashed the clinking purse hastily into the abyss, and uttered these last words, “I conjure thee, in the name of God, monster, begone, and never again appear before these eyes.” He rose up with a gloomy frown, and vanished instantaneously behind the dark masses of rock which surrounded that wild and savage place.
I sat there shadowless and penniless: but a heavy weight had been removed from my bosom, and I was calm. Had I not lost my love, or had that loss left me free from self-reproach, I believe I might have been happy; but I knew not what steps I should take. I searched my pockets, and found that a few pieces of gold remained to me; I counted them smilingly. I had left my horse at the inn below. I was ashamed to return there, at least till the setting of the sun—and the sun was high in the heavens. I laid myself down in the shade of a neighbouring tree, and fell quietly asleep.
The sweetest images danced cheerfully around me in my delightful dreams. Mina, crowned with a garland of flowers, hovered over me, and cheered me with an affectionate smile. The noble Bendel was there, too, weaving a flowery wreath, and approaching me with a friendly greeting. Many others also were there, and among them methought I saw even thee, Chamisso, in the distant crowd. A brightlight shone, but there were no shadows; and, what was more singular, all appeared happy—flowers and songs, and love and joy, under groves of palms. I could hardly realize, understand, or point out the flitting, swiftly dispersed, and lovely forms; but I enjoyed such visions, I would fain not awake—but I awoke,—though I kept my eyes closed, that the vanishing dreams might play a little longer round my soul.
But I opened my eyes at last—the sun was in the heavens, but in the east; I had slept through the night. I took this for a sign that I ought not to return to the inn. I willingly abandoned that which I had so lately left there, and determined to take on foot a by-road, which led through the forest-girded base of the hill, leaving it to fate to determine what might be my lot. I looked not back; I thought not even of applying to Bendel, whom I had left in wealth behind me, which I might so easily have done. I began to consider what new character I should assume in the world. My appearance was very unpretending: I wore an old black coat, which I had formerly worn in Berlin, and which, I know not how, I had taken for this journey. I had only a travelling-cap on my head, and a pair of worn-out boots on my feet. I rose up,cut a knobbed stick from the spot as a sort of memento, and began my wanderings.
I overtook in the wood an old peasant, who greeted me with great kindness, and with whom I entered into conversation. I first inquired, like a curious traveller, about the road, then about the neighbourhood and its inhabitants, the productions of the mountain, and such matters. He answered my inquiries talkatively and sensibly. We came to the bed of a mountain-stream, which had spread its devastations over a wide part of the forest. I shuddered inwardly before the wide sunny place, and let the countryman precede me. He however stood still in the middle of this frightful spot, and turned round towards me, in order to give me the history of the overflow. He soon observed what was wanting to me, and stopped in the middle of his narrative to say: “But how is this—the gentleman has got no shadow!” “Alas! alas!” I replied with a sigh, “I had a long and dreadful illness, and lost my hair, my nails, and my shadow! Look, father, at my time of life, my hair, which has grown again, quite white, my nails sadly short, and my shadow is not yet springing forth.”—“Ay! ay,” said the old man, shaking his head, “no shadow! that’s odd—the gentleman must have had a sad illness!”But he did not go on with his story, and at the next cross path he glided away from, me without saying a word. Bitter tears trembled again on my cheeks—all my serenity was gone.
With a heavy heart I moved forwards, and sought the society of man no longer. I concealed myself in the thickest of the forest, and was often obliged to wait for hours in order to get over sunny spots, even where no human eye forbade my progress; in the evening I sought a retreat in the villages. At last I bent my course towards a mine in the mountain, where I hoped to find employment under ground; for besides that my situation required me even to procure my daily bread, I clearly perceived that nothing but the most laborious toil would be any protection from my convulsive thoughts.
A couple of rainy days helped me far on my way, but at the cost of my boots, whose soles were made to suit Count Peter, and not a running footman: I soon walked on my naked feet, and was obliged to procure another pair of boots. The next morning I attended earnestly to this affair in a village, where a fair was held, and where old and new boots were exposed in a shop for sale. I selected and bargained for a long time. I was obliged to abandon a newpair which I wished to possess—I was frightened by the extravagant price, and satisfied myself, therefore, with old ones, which were yet firm and strong, and which the fair and light-haired shop-boy handed to me for my ready cash with a smile, while he wished me a prosperous journey. I put them on immediately, and went away through a door which lay to the north.
I was lost in my own thoughts, and hardly observed where I put my foot—for I was still planning about the mine, whither I hoped to arrive by the evening, and hardly knew how I should manage to introduce myself there. I had not advanced two hundred paces ere I discovered that I had lost my way; I looked round, and found myself in an antique and desert wood of firs, to the roots of which it appeared the axe had never been laid. I still hastened onwards a few steps, and perceived I was among dreary rocks, surrounded only by moss and stones, between which lay piles of snow and ice. The wind was extremely cold, and when I looked round, the forest had wholly disappeared. Yet a few paces forward, the stillness of death possessed me—the ice on which I stood stretched boundlessly before me—a dark mist hung over it—the red sun looked from the edge of thehorizon. The cold was intolerable; I knew not how it had happened, but the benumbing frost forced me to accelerate my steps. I heard the roar of distant waters—another bewildered step, and I was on the ice-borders of the ocean. Countless herds of seals dashed splashing into the stream. I followed the sea-shore, and saw again naked rocks, land, forests of birch and pine-trees. I moved forwards for a few minutes—it was burning hot: around me were richly cultivated rice-fields under mulberry-trees, in whose shadow I sat down, and looking at my watch, I found it not less than a quarter of an hour since I left the village. I fancied I was dreaming—I bit my tongue to awake myself, and I was aroused most thoroughly. I closed my eyes in order to assemble my thoughts. I heard strange nasal sounds—I looked around; two Chinese, whose Asiatic countenances I could not mistake, were saluting me according to the custom of their country, and in their own language; I arose and walked back two steps. I saw them no longer—the landscape was wholly changed; trees and woods had succeeded to the rice-fields. I looked pensively on the trees and plants which were blooming around me, and saw that they were the productions of South-eastern Asia. I went towards a tree—and allwas again changed. I walked forwards like a drilled recruit, with slow paces. Wonderful varieties of countries, fields, meadows, mountains, wastes, and sandy deserts rolled along before my astounded sight; doubtless I had the seven-leagued boots on my legs.
I fell down on my knees in speechless devotion, and shed tears of gratitude—my future destiny seemed bright in my soul. Shut out from human society by my early guilt, nature, which I had ever loved, was given me for my enjoyment, spread out like a rich garden before me, an object of study for the guide and strength of my life, of which science was to be the end. It was no decision of my own. What then appeared bright and perfect in my inner thoughts I have since endeavoured to describe with calm, earnest, unremitting diligence, and my happiness has depended on the intensity of my recollections.
I rose up hastily, in order that by a rapid survey I might take possession of the field in which I wished to make my harvest. I stood upon the mountains of Thibet, and the sun, which had risen a few hours before, was now sinking in the evening sky. I journeyed from the east towards the west of Asia, overtaking the sun in his progress, and passed the boundariesof Africa. I looked round with great curiosity, and crossed it in all directions. As I glanced over the old pyramids and temples of Egypt, I observed in the deserts near the hundred-gated Thebes, the caverns once occupied by Christian anchorites: instantly it occurred impressively and distinctly to me—there is thy abode. I chose for my future dwelling, one of the most secret chambers, which was at the same time roomy, convenient, and inaccessible to the jackals, and moved forward with my staff.
I passed into Europe by the Pillars of Hercules, and, after I had taken a rapid survey of its southern and northern provinces, I hastened to North Asia, and thence over the polar glaciers to Greenland and America. I rambled through both parts of that continent, and the winter which had begun to reign in the south now drove me quickly back northwards from Cape Horn.
I lingered till the day dawned in eastern Asia, and after a short repose again entered on my wanderings. I followed the chains of mountains, through the two Americas, some of the highest elevations known in our globe. I trod slowly and prudently from height to height, now over flaming volcanos, and now over snowy cupolas. I was often almost breathless withweariness, but I reached the Elias mountain and sprung to Asia across Behring’s Straits. I pursued the western coast along its numerous windings, and endeavoured to ascertain by special observation which of the islands in the neighbourhood were accessible to me. From the Malacca peninsula my boots took me to Sumatra, Java, Balli, and Lamboc. I endeavoured, often with peril, and always in vain, to find a north-west passage over the inlets and the rocks with which the ocean is studded, to Borneo and the other islands of the Eastern Archipelago—but I was obliged to abandon the hope. I sat down at last on the farthest verge of Lamboc, and turning my eyes to the south and east, I wept as if within the grates of a prison, that I could proceed no farther. New Holland,[112]that extraordinary country, so essentially necessary to understanding the philosophy of the earth, and its sun-embroidered dress, the vegetable and the animal world; and the South Sea with its Zoophyte islands, were interdicted to me; and thus everything on which I would have gathered together and erected my hopes was condemned to be left a mere fragment, even in its very origin. O, my Adalbert! such is the reward for all the labours of man!
In the coldest winter of the southern hemisphere I have stood on Cape Horn, meditating on the two hundred paces, or thereabouts, which divided me from New Holland and Van Diemen’s Land—careless about the means of returning, and indifferent even though that strange land should lie over me like the cover of my bier. I attempted to cross the polar glaciers towards the west, and, with foolishly daring yet desponding steps, to pass upon the floating ice, braving the frost and the waves. In vain—I have never yet been in New Holland. I returned again to Lamboc—again I sat myself on the outer verge—my face turned to the south and east, and wept again, as if at the fast-closed iron-window of my prison.
Schlemihl using the boots
I rose up at last from this spot, and with a dejected heart journeyed to the interior of Asia. I hastened onwards, perceiving the day break towards the west, and at night reached my before-described abode in Thebes, which I had just looked into the previous afternoon.
As soon as I had taken some repose, and the day had dawned upon Europe, my first care was to provide for my necessities. First, stop-shoes; for I had discovered that, however inconvenient it might be, there was no way of shortening my pace in order to move convenientlyin my immediate neighbourhood, except by drawing off my boots. A pair of slippers, however, produced the wished-for effect, and henceforward I always took care to be provided with a couple of pair, as I often threw one pair away if I had not time to lay hold of them, when the approach of lions, men, or hyænas interrupted my botanizing. My excellent watch was an admirable chronometer to me for the short period of my peregrinations; but I required a sextant, some philosophical instruments, and books.
In order to obtain all these things, I made some tedious journeys to London, and Paris, which were both overshadowed by friendly fogs. As I had exhausted the remainder of my magic gold, I brought with me for the purposes of payment, some African elephants’ teeth which I easily obtained, though I was obliged to choose the smallest among them, that they might not be too much for my strength. I was soon supplied and stocked with everything I required, and began my new mode of life as a retired philosopher.
I journeyed over the east, now measuring its mountains—now the temperature of its streams and of its air; now observing its animals—now examining its plants. I hastened from theequator to the pole—from one world to another—comparing experience with experience. The eggs of the African ostrich, or the northern sea-fowl, and fruits, especially tropical palms and bananas, were my usual refreshments. Instead of my departed fortune I enjoyed myNicotiana—it served instead of the good opinion of mankind. And then as to my affections: I had a love of a little dog, that watched my Theban cave, and when I returned to it laden with new treasures, it sprang forwards to meet me, making me feel the spirit of humanity within me, and that I was not quite alone on the earth. But, notwithstanding this, calamity was yet to drive me back to the haunts of men!
Once, being on the northern coast, having drawn on my boots while I was gathering together my straggling plants and seaweeds, a white bear approached unawares the verge of the rock on which I stood. I wished to throw off my slippers and move off to an adjacent island, which I expected to reach over a rock whose head towered above the waves. With one foot I reached the rock; I stretched out the other and fell into the sea: I had not observed that my foot was only half-released from the slipper.
Schlemihl and the bear
Overpowered by the tremendous cold, I had the greatest difficulty in rescuing my life from this peril; but as soon as I reached the land, I hurried off to the wastes of Libya to dry myself there in the sun. I had, however, scarcely set out ere the burning heat so oppressed my head, that I reeled back again to the north very ill. I sought relief in rapid movements; and with uncertain and hurried steps I hastened from the west to the east, and from the east to thewest. I placed myself in the most rapid vicissitudes of day and night; now in the heats of summer, and now in the winter’s cold.
I know not how long I thus wandered over the earth. A burning fever glowed through my veins, and with dreadful agony I perceived my intellect abandoning me. Misfortune would have it that I should carelessly tread on a traveller’s heel; I must have hurt him, for I received a violent blow; I staggered, and fell.
When I recovered my senses I was comfortably stretched on an excellent bed, which stood among many others in a roomy and handsome apartment. Somebody was sitting near my pillow; many persons passed through the hall, going from one bed to another. They stood before mine, and I was the subject of their conversation. They called meNumber Twelve; and on the wall at the foot of my bed that number certainly stood—it was no illusion, for I could read it most distinctly: there was a black marble slab, on which was inscribed in large golden letters, my name,
Peter Schlemihl,
quite correctly written. On the slab, and under my name, were two lines of letters, but I wastoo weak to connect them, and closed my eyes again.
I heard something of which Peter Schlemihl was the subject, loudly and distinctly uttered, but I could not collect the meaning. I saw a friendly man and a beautiful woman in black apparel, standing before my bed. Their forms were not strangers to me, though I could not recognize them.
Some time passed by, and I gradually gathered strength. I was called No. 12, and No. 12, by virtue of his long beard, passed off for a Jew, but was not the less attended to on that account. Nobody seemed to notice that he had no shadow. My boots were, as I was assured, to be found, with everything else that had been discovered with me, in good and safe keeping, and ready to be delivered to me on my recovery. The place in which I lay ill was called theSchlemihlium; and there was a daily exhortation to pray for Peter Schlemihl, as the founder and benefactor of the hospital. The friendly man whom I had seen at my bedside was Bendel; the lovely woman was Mina.
I lived peaceably in theSchlemihlium, quite unknown; but I discovered that I was in Bendel’s native place, and that he had built this hospital with the remainder of my once-unhallowedgold. The unfortunate blessed me daily, for he had built it in my name, and conducted it wholly under his own inspection. Mina was a widow: an unlucky criminal process had cost Mr. Rascal his life, and taken from her the greater part of her property. Her parents were no more. She dwelt here like a pious widow, and dedicated herself to works of charity.
She was once conversing with Mr. Bendel near the bed No. 12.—“Why, noble woman, expose yourself to the bad air which is so prevalent here? Is your fate then so dreary that you long for death?”—“No, Mr. Bendel; since I have dreamt out my long dreams, and my inner self was awakened, all is well—death is the object of neither my hopes nor my fears. Since then, I think calmly of the past and of the future. And you—do you not yet serve your master and friend in this godlike manner, with sweet and silent satisfaction?”—“Yes, noble woman—God be praised! Ours has been a marvellous destiny. From our full cup we have thoughtlessly drunk much joy and much bitter sorrow: ’tis empty now. Hitherto we have had only a trial; now, with prudent solicitude, we wait for the real introduction to substantial things. Far different is the true beginning; but who wouldplay over again the early game of life, though it is a blessing, on the whole, to have lived? I am supported by the conviction that our old friend is better provided for now than then.”—“I feel it too,” answered the lovely widow, and they left me.
This conversation had produced a deep impression within me; but I doubted in my mind if I should discover myself, or set out unknown from the place. I decided, however; I ordered paper and pencil to be brought to me, and wrote these words:—
“Your old friend too is better provided for than formerly, and if he do penance it is the penance of reconciliation.”
On this, finding myself better, I desired to dress myself. The keys were deposited on the little trunk which stood close to my bed. I found in it everything that belonged to me: I put on my clothes; and hung over my black coat my botanical case, where I found again, with transport, my northern plants. I drew on my boots, laid the note which I had written on my bed, and when the door opened, was far on my way towards Thebes.
A long time ago, as I was tracing back my way homewards along the Syrian coast, the last time I had wandered from my dwelling, Isaw my poor Figaro approaching me. This charming spaniel seemed to wish to follow the steps of his master, for whom he must have so long waited. I stood still and called him to me. He sprang barking towards me, with a thousand expressions of his innocent and extravagant joy. I took him under my arm, for, in truth, he could not follow me, and brought him with me safely home.
I found everything thus in order, and returned again, as my strength returned, to my former engagements and habits of life. And now for a whole twelvemonth I have refrained from exposing myself to the unbearable winter’s cold.
And thus, my beloved Chamisso—thus do I yet live. My boots have not lost their virtues, as the very learned tome of Tieckius,De rebus gestis Pollicilli, gave me reason to apprehend. Their power is unbroken: but my strength is failing, though I have confidence I have applied them to their end, and not fruitlessly. I have learned more profoundly than any man before me, everything respecting the earth: its figure, heights, temperature; its atmosphere in all its changes; the appearance of its magnetic strength; its productions, especially of the vegetable world; all in every part whither my boots would carry me. I have published thefacts, clearly arranged, with all possible accuracy, in different works, with my ideas and conclusions set down in various treatises. I have established the geography of interior Africa and of the North Pole,—of central Asia and its eastern coasts. MyHistoria Stirpium Plantarum utriusque Orbishas appeared, being but a large fragment of myFlora universalis Terræ, and a companion to mySystema Naturæ. In that I believe I have not only increased the number of known species more than a third (moderately speaking), but have thrown some light on the general system of nature, and the geography of plants. I am now busily engaged with my Fauna. I will take care before my death that my MSS. be disposed in the Berlin university.
And you, my beloved Chamisso, you have I chosen for the keeper of my marvellous history, which, when I shall have vanished from the earth, may tend to the improvement of many of its inhabitants. But, my friend, while you live among mankind, learn above all things first to reverence your shadow, and next your money. If you will only live for Chamisso and his better self, you need no counsel of mine.
FINIS.
robert hardwicke,printer,192,piccadilly,london.