The Complete Fairy Tales

  “Yes, I will tell you about it,” agreed the shadow, and sat down. “But first you must promise me that you will never tell anyone that I once was your shadow. I’ve been thinking of becoming engaged; after all, I am quite rich enough to support a large family.”

  “Don’t give it another moment’s thought,” the philosopher said. “I will never tell anyone who you really are. Here is my hand on it. A man is no better than his word.”

  “And a word is a shadow,” remarked the shadow, because it could not speak otherwise.

  It was really amazing, how human the shadow appeared. It was dressed completely in black, but everything was of the finest quality from its patent leather boots to its hat of the softest felt. The gold chain and the rings have already been described, but one’s eye fell upon them so often that one cannot help mentioning them again. Yes, the shadow was well dressed, and clothes make the man.

  “Now I shall begin,” announced the shadow, and it stamped its boots as hard as it could on the philosopher’s new shadow, which was curled up like a poodle at the feet of the man. Perhaps it did this because it hoped to attach the philosopher’s shadow to itself, or maybe just because it was arrogant; but the new shadow did not appear ruffled. It lay perfectly still and listened, for it too wanted to know how one could be free and become one’s own master.

  “Do you know who lived in the house across the street?” asked the shadow. “That’s the best of all, it was Poetry! I was there for three weeks, and that is just as edifying as having lived three thousand years and read everything that’s ever been composed or written. This I say, and what I say is true! I have seen all and I know all!”

  “Poetry!” cried the philosopher. “Yes … yes. She is often a hermit in the big cities. I saw her myself once, but only for a short moment and my eyes were drowsy from sleep. She was standing on the balcony and it was as if the northern lights were shining around her.… Go on, go on! There you were on the balcony; then you walked through the doorway and … and …”

  “I was in the entrance hall. That’s what you sat looking at all the time, the vestibule. There was no lamp in there, and that’s why from the outside the apartment appeared dark. But there was a door. It opened onto another room, which opened onto another, which opened onto another. There was a long row of rooms and anterooms before one reached the innermost where Poetry lived. And these were ablaze with more than enough light to kill a shadow, so I never saw the maiden up close. I was cautious and patient, and that is the same as being virtuous.”

  “Come, come,” commanded the philosopher curtly. “Tell me what you saw.”

  “Everything! And I’ll tell you about it, but first … It has nothing whatever to do with pride, but out of respect to my accomplishments, not to speak of my social position, I wish you wouldn’t address me so familiarly.”

  “Forgive me!” exclaimed the philosopher. “It is an old habit, and they are the hardest to get rid of. But you are quite right, and I’ll try to remember.… Please do continue, for I am immensely interested.”

  “Everything! I have seen all, and I know all!”

  “I beg you to tell me about the innermost room where Poetry dwelled. Was it like the beech forest in spring? Was it like the interior of a great cathedral? Or was it like the heavens when one stands on a mountaintop?”

  “Everything was there!” replied the shadow. “Of course, I never went all the way in. The twilight of the vestibule suited me better, and from there I had an excellent view. I saw everything and I know all. I was at the court of Poetry, in the entrance hall.”

  “But what did you see?” urged the philosopher. “Did Thor and Odin walk those halls? Did Achilles and Hector fight their battles again? Or did innocent children play there and tell of their dreams?”

  “I am telling you that I was there. And you understand, I saw everything that there was to see. You could not have stayed there and remained a human being, but it made a human being of me! I quickly came to understand my innermost nature, that part of me which from birth can claim kinship to Poetry. When I lived with you, I didn’t even think about such things. You’ll remember that I was always larger at sunrise and at sunset, and that I was more noticeable in the moonlight than you were. Still, I had no understanding of my nature; that did not come until I was in the vestibule, and then I became a human being.

  “I was fully mature when I came out; by then you had already left the south. Being human made me ashamed to go around as I was; I needed boots, clothes, and all the other trimmings that make a man what he is. So there was nothing else for me to do but hide.… I wouldn’t say this to anyone but you, and you mustn’t mention it in any of your books.… I hid under the skirts of the woman who sold gingerbread men in the market. Luckily, she never found out how much her petticoats concealed. I came out only in the evening; then I would walk around in the moonlight, stretching myself up the walls to get the kinks out of my back. Up and down the streets I went, peeping through the windows of the attics as well as the drawing rooms. And I saw what no one ever sees, what no one ever should see! It’s really a horrible world, and I wouldn’t be human if it weren’t so desirable. I saw things that ought to be unthinkable; and these were not only done by husbands and wives, but by parents and the sweet, innocent children! I saw,” said the shadow, “I saw everything that man must not know, but what he most ardently wishes to know—his neighbor’s evil! If I had written a newspaper, everyone would have read it; but instead I wrote directly to the persons themselves, and I wreaked havoc in every city that I came to. People feared me so much and were so fond of me! The universities gave me honorary degrees, the tailors gave me clothes, and the women said that I was handsome. In a word, each donated what he could, and so I became the man that I am.… But it is getting late, and I must say good-by. Here is my card. I live on the sunnier side of the street and am always home when it rains.”

  “How strange!” remarked the philosopher after the shadow had left.

  The years and the days passed, and the shadow came again. “How are things going?” it asked.

  “Oh,” replied the philosopher, “I have been writing about all that is true and beautiful and good, but no one cares to hear about anything like that, and I am terribly disappointed because those are the things that are dear to me.”

  “Well, they aren’t to me,” said the shadow. “I’ve been concentrating on gaining weight, and that there’s some point in. You don’t understand the world, that’s what’s the matter with you. You ought to travel. I am going on a trip this summer, would you like to join me? If you would like to travel as my shadow it would be a pleasure to have you along. I’ll pay for your trip!”

  “You go too far!” retorted the philosopher.

  “It all depends how you look at it. The trip will do you good and, traveling as my shadow, you’ll have all your expenses paid by me.”

  “Monstrous!” shouted the philosopher.

  “But that’s the way of the world, and it isn’t going to change,” said the shadow, and left.

  Matters did not improve for the philosopher; on the contrary, sorrow and misery had attached themselves to his coattails. For the most part, whenever he spoke of the true and the beautiful and the good, it was like setting roses before a cow. Finally he became seriously ill. “You look like a shadow of your former self,” people would say, and when he heard these words a shiver went down his spine.

  “You ought to go to a health resort,” suggested the shadow when it came to visit him again. “There’s no other alternative. I will take you along for old time’s sake. I’ll pay the expenses, and you’ll talk and try to amuse me along the journey. I’m going to a spa, myself, because my beard won’t grow. That’s a disease too, you know, because beards are a necessity. If you’re sensible, you’ll accept. We’ll travel as friends.”

  And so they traveled, the shadow as master and the master as shadow, for whether they were being driven in a coach, riding horseback, or simply walking, they were alway
s side by side and the shadow kept itself a little in the fore or in the rear, according to the direction of the sun. It knew how to create the impression that it was the superior. The philosopher, however, was not aware of any of this. He had a kind heart, which did not even have a guest room reserved for envy. The journey was not yet over when the philosopher suggested to the shadow, “Now that we’re traveling companions—and when you consider the fact that we’ve grown up together, shouldn’t we call each other by first names? It makes for a much pleasanter atmosphere.”

  “There’s something in what you say,” began the shadow, who now was the real master. “You have spoken frankly, and what you have said was well meant; therefore, I ought to be honest with you. As a philosopher, you know how strange nature can be. Some people cannot bear to have a rough piece of material next to their bodies, and others can’t hear a nail scratching on glass without it upsetting their nervous systems. Well, I would have the same feeling if you were to call me by my first name. I would have the feeling that I was being pressed to the ground, as if my relationship to you had never changed. You understand it’s merely a feeling, it has nothing whatever to do with pride. But I could call you by your first name and satisfy half of your request.”

  From then on, the shadow always spoke and referred to the philosopher by his first name. “He goes too far,” thought the man. “He’s hardly civil to me.” But when one is poor, one does more thinking than speaking.

  At last they arrived at the famous resort where people came from all over the world to be cured. Among the guests was a beautiful princess who suffered from seeing too clearly, which is a very painful disease. She noticed at once that one of the new arrivals was very different from everyone else. He had come to make his beard grow, she was told. “But that’s not the real reason,” she muttered to herself. And to satisfy her curiosity, she went right up and spoke to the stranger, for the daughter of a king need not stand on ceremony with anyone.

  “Your trouble is that you cannot cast a shadow,” the princess announced.

  “Your Royal Highness is getting well!” exclaimed the shadow. “I know that you suffered from seeing too clearly, but you must be getting over it. You show signs of perfect health.… I grant you that it is a very unusual one, but I do have a shadow. Other people have just ordinary shadows, but I despise the ordinary. You know how one dresses one’s servants so that their livery is finer than one’s own clothes; well, I let my shadow pretend that he is human. As you can see, I have even bought him a shadow. It was very expensive, but I am fond of doing the original.”

  “What!” thought the princess. “Have I really been cured? This is the finest spa there is. How fortunate I am to be born in the time when these marvelous waters were discovered.… But just because I am well is no reason to leave. I’m enjoying myself here. That stranger interests me, I hope his beard won’t grow too quickly.”

  That night there was a grand ball that everyone attended, and the shadow danced with the princess. The princess was light on her toes, but the shadow was even lighter; such a graceful partner she had never had before. They discovered that he had once visited her country while she was abroad. There, too, the shadow had peeped through all of the windows, those that faced the street and those that did not. He had seen both this and that; and he knew how to tell about some of what he had seen and how to hint at the rest, which was even more impressive. The princess was astounded. She had never spoken to anyone who was so worldly wise, and out of respect for what he knew, she danced with him again.

  The next time they danced together the princess fell in love. The shadow noticed the sudden change with relief. “She’s finally been cured of seeing too clearly,” he thought.

  The princess would have confessed her feelings immediately if she hadn’t been so prudent. She thought of her realm and of the people she ruled. “He knows well the ways of the world, that’s a good sign,” she commented silently. “He dances well, that is also a virtue. But is he really educated, for that is very important? I’d better test him.” Then she began to ask the shadow questions so difficult that she herself did not know the answers.

  An expression of confusion came over the shadow’s face. “You cannot answer!” exclaimed the princess.

  “I learned the answers to questions like that in childhood,” said the shadow. “I believe that even my shadow, who is sitting over there by the door, could respond correctly.”

  “Your shadow! That really would be remarkable!”

  “I can’t say for certain,” continued the shadow. “I just wouldn’t be surprised if he could. After all, he’s never done anything but follow me around and listen to what I say. Yes,” he cried in a sudden burst of enthusiasm, “I believe he will be able to answer you! … But, Your Royal Highness, if you will allow me to make a suggestion. My shadow is so proud of being thought to be human, if Your Royal Highness wishes to create the right atmosphere, so that the shadow will be able to do his best, please treat him as if he were a man.”

  “I’d prefer it that way,” said the king’s daughter, and she joined the philosopher, who was alongside the door. She questioned him about the sun and the moon, and about the human race, both inside and out; and he answered every query both cleverly and politely.

  “What must the man be worth, if his shadow is so wise!” thought the princess. “It would be a blessing for my people if I chose him for my husband. I shall do it!”

  The shadow was very amenable. It agreed without hesitation that their plans must not be revealed until the princess had returned home. “I will not even tell my shadow,” he said, while he thought how admirably the world had been created.

  Not long after they came to the land which the princess ruled whenever she was there.

  “My good friend,” the shadow began to the philosopher. “Now that I am as happy and as powerful as anyone can hope to be, I’d like to share my good fortune with you. You may live with me always, here in the castle; you may drive with me in the royal coach; and you will be paid one hundred thousand gold pieces a year. In return, all I ask is that you let everyone call you a shadow; that you never admit to anyone that you have ever been a human being; and that once a year, when I sit on the balcony so that the people can pay me homage, you lie at my feet as a shadow should.… I might as well tell you that I am marrying the princess, and the wedding is tonight.”

  “No, this cannot happen!” cried the philosopher. “I don’t want to do it, and I won’t! You are a fraud! I will tell everything! You’ve fooled both the people and the princess; but now I will tell them that I am a human being and that you are only my shadow, who’s been masquerading as a man!”

  “No one will believe you,” warned the shadow. “Now be reasonable or I’ll call the guard.”

  “I intend to ask for an audience with the princess,” replied the philosopher.

  “But I will speak with her first,” said the shadow, “and you will be imprisoned.”

  The shadow’s threat very quickly became a reality, for the royal sentry knew whom the princess had chosen to be her husband.

  “You are shivering,” remarked the princess as soon as he entered her chambers. “You must not get sick this evening, not for the wedding!”

  “I’ve just had the most horrible experience that one can have,” replied the shadow. “Imagine! … Oh, how fragile a shadow’s brain must be! … Imagine, my shadow has gone mad. He believes he is a man. And that I … that I am his shadow!”

  “How dreadful!” she exclaimed. “He isn’t running around loose, I hope.”

  “No, no, he’s not,” he said softly. “I am so afraid he will never get well.”

  “Poor shadow,” continued the princess. “He must be suffering terribly. It would really be kinder to free him from that particle of life he has. Yes, the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that it’s necessary for him to be done away with.… Quietly, of course.”

  “It seems so cruel,” said the shadow, “when I think of how lo
yal a servant it was,” and a sound resembling a sigh escaped from the shadow’s lips.

  “How noble you are!” exclaimed the princess.

  That night the whole city was brilliantly lighted. The cannons were shot off. Bum! Bum! Bum! The soldiers presented arms. Oh, what a wedding it was! The shadow and the princess came out onto the balcony, and the people screamed, “Hurrah!”

  The philosopher heard nothing of all of this, for they had already taken his life.

  46

  The Old House

  Once upon a time there stood in a street a very old house; it was nearly three hundred years old. You could tell what year it had been built by reading the date cut into one of the beams; all around it tulips and curling hop vines had been carved. Right above the entrance a whole verse had been inscribed, and above each window appeared a grinning face. The second story protruded out over the first. The lead gutters, which hung under the roof, were shaped like dragons, with the monster’s head at either end. The water was supposed to spout out of their mouths, but it didn’t; the gutter was filled with holes and the water ran out of the dragons’ stomachs.

  All the other houses in the street were new and well kept, their walls were straight and smooth, and they had large windows. It was quite reasonable that they should feel themselves superior to the old house. Had they been able to speak they probably would have said: “How long are we to tolerate that old ruin? Bow windows are out of fashion and, besides, they obstruct our view. It must believe itself to be a castle, judging from the size of the steps leading up to the entrance, and that iron railing makes one think of funerals; not to speak of the brass knobs. It’s embarrassing!”

  Right across from the old house stood a new house; it was of the same opinion as all the other houses in the street. But behind one of its windows sat a little boy, a little red-cheeked child with bright, shining eyes who preferred the old house, and that both in the daytime when the sun shone and at night in the moonlight. When he looked at the walls of the old house, with its cracks and bare spots where the mortar had fallen off, then he could imagine how the street once had looked: in olden times, when all the houses had had broad steps leading up to their doors, and bay windows, and gables with tall pointed roofs. He could see the soldiers marching through the streets armed with halberds. Oh, he found the old house worth looking at and dreaming about.