THE SHADOW

                                  1872

                 FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN

                               THE SHADOW

                       by Hans Christian Andersen



IN very hot climates, where the heat of the sun has great power,

people are usually as brown as mahogany; and in the hottest

countries they are negroes, with black skins. A learned man once

travelled into one of these warm climates, from the cold regions of

the north, and thought he would roam about as he did at home; but he

soon had to change his opinion. He found that, like all sensible

people, he must remain in the house during the whole day, with every

window and door closed, so that it looked as if all in the house

were asleep or absent. The houses of the narrow street in which he

lived were so lofty that the sun shone upon them from morning till

evening, and it became quite unbearable. This learned man from the

cold regions was young as well as clever; but it seemed to him as if

he were sitting in an oven, and he became quite exhausted and weak,

and grew so thin that his shadow shrivelled up, and became much

smaller than it had been at home. The sun took away even what was left

of it, and he saw nothing of it till the evening, after sunset. It was

really a pleasure, as soon as the lights were brought into the room,

to see the shadow stretch itself against the wall, even to the

ceiling, so tall was it; and it really wanted a good stretch to

recover its strength. The learned man would sometimes go out into

the balcony to stretch himself also; and as soon as the stars came

forth in the clear, beautiful sky, he felt revived. People at this

hour began to make their appearance in all the balconies in the

street; for in warm climates every window has a balcony, in which they

can breathe the fresh evening air, which is very necessary, even to

those who are used to a heat that makes them as brown as mahogany;

so that the street presented a very lively appearance. Here were

shoemakers, and tailors, and all sorts of people sitting. In the

street beneath, they brought out tables and chairs, lighted candles by

hundreds, talked and sang, and were very merry. There were people

walking, carriages driving, and mules trotting along, with their bells

on the harness, "tingle, tingle," as they went. Then the dead were

carried to the grave with the sound of solemn music, and the tolling

of the church bells. It was indeed a scene of varied life in the

street. One house only, which was just opposite to the one in which

the foreign learned man lived, formed a contrast to all this, for it

was quite still; and yet somebody dwelt there, for flowers stood in

the balcony, blooming beautifully in the hot sun; and this could not

have been unless they had been watered carefully. Therefore some one

must be in the house to do this. The doors leading to the balcony were

half opened in the evening; and although in the front room all was

dark, music could be heard from the interior of the house. The foreign

learned man considered this music very delightful; but perhaps he

fancied it; for everything in these warm countries pleased him,

excepting the heat of the sun. The foreign landlord said he did not

know who had taken the opposite house- nobody was to be seen there;

and as to the music, he thought it seemed very tedious, to him most

uncommonly so.

"It is just as if some one was practising a piece that he could

not manage; it is always the same piece. He thinks, I suppose, that he

will be able to manage it at last; but I do not think so, however long

he may play it."

Once the foreigner woke in the night. He slept with the door

open which led to the balcony; the wind had raised the curtain

before it, and there appeared a wonderful brightness over all in the

balcony of the opposite house. The flowers seemed like flames of the

most gorgeous colors, and among the flowers stood a beautiful

slender maiden. It was to him as if light streamed from her, and

dazzled his eyes; but then he had only just opened them, as he awoke

from his sleep. With one spring he was out of bed, and crept softly

behind the curtain. But she was gone- the brightness had

disappeared; the flowers no longer appeared like flames, although

still as beautiful as ever. The door stood ajar, and from an inner

room sounded music so sweet and so lovely, that it produced the most

enchanting thoughts, and acted on the senses with magic power. Who

could live there? Where was the real entrance? for, both in the street

and in the lane at the side, the whole ground floor was a continuation

of shops; and people could not always be passing through them.

One evening the foreigner sat in the balcony. A light was

burning in his own room, just behind him. It was quite natural,

therefore, that his shadow should fall on the wall of the opposite

house; so that, as he sat amongst the flowers on his balcony, when

he moved, his shadow moved also.

"I think my shadow is the only living thing to be seen

opposite," said the learned man; "see how pleasantly it sits among the

flowers. The door is only ajar; the shadow ought to be clever enough

to step in and look about him, and then to come back and tell me

what he has seen. You could make yourself useful in this way," said

he, jokingly; "be so good as to step in now, will you?" and then he

nodded to the shadow, and the shadow nodded in return. "Now go, but

don't stay away altogether."

Then the foreigner stood up, and the shadow on the opposite

balcony stood up also; the foreigner turned round, the shadow

turned; and if any one had observed, they might have seen it go

straight into the half-opened door of the opposite balcony, as the

learned man re-entered his own room, and let the curtain fall. The

next morning he went out to take his coffee and read the newspapers.

"How is this?" he exclaimed, as he stood in the sunshine. "I

have lost my shadow. So it really did go away yesterday evening, and

it has not returned. This is very annoying."

And it certainly did vex him, not so much because the shadow was

gone, but because he knew there was a story of a man without a shadow.

All the people at home, in his country, knew this story; and when he

returned, and related his own adventures, they would say it was only

an imitation; and he had no desire for such things to be said of

him. So he decided not to speak of it at all, which was a very

sensible determination.

In the evening he went out again on his balcony, taking care to

place the light behind him; for he knew that a shadow always wants his

master for a screen; but he could not entice him out. He made

himself little, and he made himself tall; but there was no shadow, and

no shadow came. He said, "Hem, a-hem;" but it was all useless. That

was very vexatious; but in warm countries everything grows very

quickly; and, after a week had passed, he saw, to his great joy,

that a new shadow was growing from his feet, when he walked in the

sunshine; so that the root must have remained. After three weeks, he

had quite a respectable shadow, which, during his return journey to

northern lands, continued to grow, and became at last so large that he

might very well have spared half of it. When this learned man

arrived at home, he wrote books about the true, the good, and the

beautiful, which are to be found in this world; and so days and

years passed- many, many years.

One evening, as he sat in his study, a very gentle tap was heard

at the door. "Come in," said he; but no one came. He opened the

door, and there stood before him a man so remarkably thin that he felt

seriously troubled at his appearance. He was, however, very well

dressed, and looked like a gentleman. "To whom have I the honor of

speaking?" said he.

"Ah, I hoped you would recognize me," said the elegant stranger;

"I have gained so much that I have a body of flesh, and clothes to

wear. You never expected to see me in such a condition. Do you not

recognize your old shadow? Ah, you never expected that I should return

to you again. All has been prosperous with me since I was with you

last; I have become rich in every way, and, were I inclined to

purchase my freedom from service, I could easily do so." And as he

spoke he rattled between his fingers a number of costly trinkets which

hung to a thick gold watch-chain he wore round his neck. Diamond rings

sparkled on his fingers, and it was all real.

"I cannot recover from my astonishment," said the learned man.

"What does all this mean?"

"Something rather unusual," said the shadow; "but you are yourself

an uncommon man, and you know very well that I have followed in your

footsteps ever since your childhood. As soon as you found that I

have travelled enough to be trusted alone, I went my own way, and I am

now in the most brilliant circumstances. But I felt a kind of

longing to see you once more before you die, and I wanted to see

this place again, for there is always a clinging to the land of

one's birth. I know that you have now another shadow; do I owe you

anything? If so, have the goodness to say what it is."

"No! Is it really you?" said the learned man. "Well, this is

most remarkable; I never supposed it possible that a man's old

shadow could become a human being."

"Just tell me what I owe you," said the shadow, "for I do not like

to be in debt to any man."

"How can you talk in that manner?" said the learned man. "What

question of debt can there be between us? You are as free as any

one. I rejoice exceedingly to hear of your good fortune. Sit down, old

friend, and tell me a little of how it happened, and what you saw in

the house opposite to me while we were in those hot climates."

"Yes, I will tell you all about it," said the shadow, sitting

down; "but then you must promise me never to tell in this city,

wherever you may meet me, that I have been your shadow. I am

thinking of being married, for I have more than sufficient to

support a family."

"Make yourself quite easy," said the learned man; "I will tell

no one who you really are. Here is my hand,- I promise, and a word

is sufficient between man and man."

"Between man and a shadow," said the shadow; for he could not help

saying so.

It was really most remarkable how very much he had become a man in

appearance. He was dressed in a suit of the very finest black cloth,

polished boots, and an opera crush hat, which could be folded together

so that nothing could be seen but the crown and the rim, besides the

trinkets, the gold chain, and the diamond rings already spoken of. The

shadow was, in fact, very well dressed, and this made a man of him.

"Now I will relate to you what you wish to know," said the shadow,

placing his foot with the polished leather boot as firmly as

possible on the arm of the new shadow of the learned man, which lay at

his feet like a poodle dog. This was done, it might be from pride,

or perhaps that the new shadow might cling to him, but the prostrate

shadow remained quite quiet and at rest, in order that it might

listen, for it wanted to know how a shadow could be sent away by its

master, and become a man itself. "Do you know," said the shadow, "that

in the house opposite to you lived the most glorious creature in the

world? It was poetry. I remained there three weeks, and it was more

like three thousand years, for I read all that has ever been written

in poetry or prose; and I may say, in truth, that I saw and learnt

everything."

"Poetry!" exclaimed the learned man. "Yes, she lives as a hermit

in great cities. Poetry! Well, I saw her once for a very short moment,

while sleep weighed down my eyelids. She flashed upon me from the

balcony like the radiant aurora borealis, surrounded with flowers like

flames of fire. Tell me, you were on the balcony that evening; you

went through the door, and what did you see?"

"I found myself in an ante-room," said the shadow. "You still

sat opposite to me, looking into the room. There was no light, or at

least it seemed in partial darkness, for the door of a whole suite

of rooms stood open, and they were brilliantly lighted. The blaze of

light would have killed me, had I approached too near the maiden

myself, but I was cautious, and took time, which is what every one

ought to do."

"And what didst thou see?" asked the learned man.

"I saw everything, as you shall hear. But- it really is not

pride on my part, as a free man and possessing the knowledge that I

do, besides my position, not to speak of my wealth- I wish you would

say you to me instead of thou."

"I beg your pardon," said the learned man; "it is an old habit,

which it is difficult to break. You are quite right; I will try to

think of it. But now tell me everything that you saw."

"Everything," said the shadow; "for I saw and know everything."

"What was the appearance of the inner rooms?" asked the scholar.

"Was it there like a cool grove, or like a holy temple? Were the

chambers like a starry sky seen from the top of a high mountain?"

"It was all that you describe," said the shadow; "but I did not go

quite in- I remained in the twilight of the ante-room- but I was in

a very good position,- I could see and hear all that was going on in

the court of poetry."

"But what did you see? Did the gods of ancient times pass

through the rooms? Did old heroes fight their battles over again? Were

there lovely children at play, who related their dreams?"

"I tell you I have been there, and therefore you may be sure

that I saw everything that was to be seen. If you had gone there,

you would not have remained a human being, whereas I became one; and

at the same moment I became aware of my inner being, my inborn

affinity to the nature of poetry. It is true I did not think much

about it while I was with you, but you will remember that I was always

much larger at sunrise and sunset, and in the moonlight even more

visible than yourself, but I did not then understand my inner

existence. In the ante-room it was revealed to me. I became a man; I

came out in full maturity. But you had left the warm countries. As a

man, I felt ashamed to go about without boots or clothes, and that

exterior finish by which man is known. So I went my own way; I can

tell you, for you will not put it in a book. I hid myself under the

cloak of a cake woman, but she little thought who she concealed. It

was not till evening that I ventured out. I ran about the streets in

the moonlight. I drew myself up to my full height upon the walls,

which tickled my back very pleasantly. I ran here and there, looked

through the highest windows into the rooms, and over the roofs. I

looked in, and saw what nobody else could see, or indeed ought to see;

in fact, it is a bad world, and I would not care to be a man, but that

men are of some importance. I saw the most miserable things going on

between husbands and wives, parents and children,- sweet, incomparable

children. I have seen what no human being has the power of knowing,

although they would all be very glad to know- the evil conduct of

their neighbors. Had I written a newspaper, how eagerly it would

have been read! Instead of which, I wrote directly to the persons

themselves, and great alarm arose in all the town I visited. They

had so much fear of me, and yet how dearly they loved me. The

professor made me a professor. The tailor gave me new clothes; I am

well provided for in that way. The overseer of the mint struck coins

for me. The women declared that I was handsome, and so I became the

man you now see me. And now I must say adieu. Here is my card. I

live on the sunny side of the street, and always stay at home in rainy

weather." And the shadow departed.

"This is all very remarkable," said the learned man.

Years passed, days and years went by, and the shadow came again.

"How are you going on now?" he asked.

"Ah!" said the learned man; "I am writing about the true, the

beautiful, and the good; but no one cares to hear anything about it. I

am quite in despair, for I take it to heart very much."

"That is what I never do," said the shadow; "I am growing quite

fat and stout, which every one ought to be. You do not understand

the world; you will make yourself ill about it; you ought to travel; I

am going on a journey in the summer, will you go with me? I should

like a travelling companion; will you travel with me as my shadow?

It would give me great pleasure, and I will pay all expenses."

"Are you going to travel far?" asked the learned man.

"That is a matter of opinion," replied the shadow. "At all events,

a journey will do you good, and if you will be my shadow, then all

your journey shall be paid."

"It appears to me very absurd," said the learned man.

"But it is the way of the world," replied the shadow, "and

always will be." Then he went away.

Everything went wrong with the learned man. Sorrow and trouble

pursued him, and what he said about the good, the beautiful, and the

true, was of as much value to most people as a nutmeg would be to a

cow. At length he fell ill. "You really look like a shadow," people

said to him, and then a cold shudder would pass over him, for he had

his own thoughts on the subject.

"You really ought to go to some watering-place," said the shadow

on his next visit. "There is no other chance for you. I will take

you with me, for the sake of old acquaintance. I will pay the expenses

of your journey, and you shall write a description of it to amuse us

by the way. I should like to go to a watering-place; my beard does not

grow as it ought, which is from weakness, and I must have a beard. Now

do be sensible and accept my proposal; we shall travel as intimate

friends."

And at last they started together. The shadow was master now,

and the master became the shadow. They drove together, and rode and

walked in company with each other, side by side, or one in front and

the other behind, according to the position of the sun. The shadow

always knew when to take the place of honor, but the learned man

took no notice of it, for he had a good heart, and was exceedingly

mild and friendly.

One day the master said to the shadow, "We have grown up

together from our childhood, and now that we have become travelling

companions, shall we not drink to our good fellowship, and say thee

and thou to each other?"

"What you say is very straightforward and kindly meant," said

the shadow, who was now really master. "I will be equally kind and

straightforward. You are a learned man, and know how wonderful human

nature is. There are some men who cannot endure the smell of brown

paper; it makes them ill. Others will feel a shuddering sensation to

their very marrow, if a nail is scratched on a pane of glass. I myself

have a similar kind of feeling when I hear any one say thou to me. I

feel crushed by it, as I used to feel in my former position with

you. You will perceive that this is a matter of feeling, not pride.

I cannot allow you to say thou to me; I will gladly say it to you, and

therefore your wish will be half fulfilled." Then the shadow addressed

his former master as thou.

"It is going rather too far," said the latter, "that I am to say

you when I speak to him, and he is to say thou to me." However, he was

obliged to submit.

They arrived at length at the baths, where there were many

strangers, and among them a beautiful princess, whose real disease

consisted in being too sharp-sighted, which made every one very

uneasy. She saw at once that the new comer was very different to every

one else. "They say he is here to make his beard grow," she thought;

"but I know the real cause, he is unable to cast a shadow." Then she

became very curious on the matter, and one day, while on the

promenade, she entered into conversation with the strange gentleman.

Being a princess, she was not obliged to stand upon much ceremony,

so she said to him without hesitation, "Your illness consists in not

being able to cast a shadow."

"Your royal highness must be on the high road to recovery from

your illness," said he. "I know your complaint arose from being too

sharp-sighted, and in this case it has entirely failed. I happen to

have a most unusual shadow. Have you not seen a person who is always

at my side? Persons often give their servants finer cloth for their

liveries than for their own clothes, and so I have dressed out my

shadow like a man; nay, you may observe that I have even given him a

shadow of his own; it is rather expensive, but I like to have things

about me that are peculiar."

"How is this?" thought the princess; "am I really cured? This must

be the best watering-place in existence. Water in our times has

certainly wonderful power. But I will not leave this place yet, just

as it begins to be amusing. This foreign prince- for he must be a

prince- pleases me above all things. I only hope his beard won't grow,

or he will leave at once."

In the evening, the princess and the shadow danced together in the

large assembly rooms. She was light, but he was lighter still; she had

never seen such a dancer before. She told him from what country she

had come, and found he knew it and had been there, but not while she

was at home. He had looked into the windows of her father's palace,

both the upper and the lower windows; he had seen many things, and

could therefore answer the princess, and make allusions which quite

astonished her. She thought he must be the cleverest man in all the

world, and felt the greatest respect for his knowledge. When she

danced with him again she fell in love with him, which the shadow

quickly discovered, for she had with her eyes looked him through and

through. They danced once more, and she was nearly telling him, but

she had some discretion; she thought of her country, her kingdom,

and the number of people over whom she would one day have to rule. "He

is a clever man," she thought to herself, "which is a good thing,

and he dances admirably, which is also good. But has he

well-grounded knowledge? that is an important question, and I must try

him." Then she asked him a most difficult question, she herself

could not have answered it, and the shadow made a most unaccountable

grimace.

"You cannot answer that," said the princess.

"I learnt something about it in my childhood," he replied; "and

believe that even my very shadow, standing over there by the door,

could answer it."

"Your shadow," said the princess; "indeed that would be very

remarkable."

"I do not say so positively," observed the shadow; "but I am

inclined to believe that he can do so. He has followed me for so

many years, and has heard so much from me, that I think it is very

likely. But your royal highness must allow me to observe, that he is

very proud of being considered a man, and to put him in a good

humor, so that he may answer correctly, he must be treated as a man."

"I shall be very pleased to do so," said the princess. So she

walked up to the learned man, who stood in the doorway, and spoke to

him of the sun, and the moon, of the green forests, and of people near

home and far off; and the learned man conversed with her pleasantly

and sensibly.

"What a wonderful man he must be, to have such a clever shadow!"

thought she. "If I were to choose him it would be a real blessing to

my country and my subjects, and I will do it." So the princess and the

shadow were soon engaged to each other, but no one was to be told a

word about it, till she returned to her kingdom.

"No one shall know," said the shadow; "not even my own shadow;"

and he had very particular reasons for saying so.

After a time, the princess returned to the land over which she

reigned, and the shadow accompanied her.

"Listen my friend," said the shadow to the learned man; "now

that I am as fortunate and as powerful as any man can be, I will do

something unusually good for you. You shall live in my palace, drive

with me in the royal carriage, and have a hundred thousand dollars a

year; but you must allow every one to call you a shadow, and never

venture to say that you have been a man. And once a year, when I sit

in my balcony in the sunshine, you must lie at my feet as becomes a

shadow to do; for I must tell you I am going to marry the princess,

and our wedding will take place this evening."

"Now, really, this is too ridiculous," said the learned man. "I

cannot, and will not, submit to such folly. It would be cheating the

whole country, and the princess also. I will disclose everything,

and say that I am the man, and that you are only a shadow dressed up

in men's clothes."

"No one would believe you," said the shadow; "be reasonable,

now, or I will call the guards."

"I will go straight to the princess," said the learned man.

"But I shall be there first," replied the shadow, "and you will be

sent to prison." And so it turned out, for the guards readily obeyed

him, as they knew he was going to marry the king's daughter.

"You tremble," said the princess, when the shadow appeared

before her. "Has anything happened? You must not be ill to-day, for

this evening our wedding will take place."

"I have gone through the most terrible affair that could

possibly happen," said the shadow; "only imagine, my shadow has gone

mad; I suppose such a poor, shallow brain, could not bear much; he

fancies that he has become a real man, and that I am his shadow."

"How very terrible," cried the princess; "is he locked up?"

"Oh yes, certainly; for I fear he will never recover."

"Poor shadow!" said the princess; "it is very unfortunate for him;

it would really be a good deed to free him from his frail existence;

and, indeed, when I think how often people take the part of the

lower class against the higher, in these days, it would be policy to

put him out of the way quietly."

"It is certainly rather hard upon him, for he was a faithful

servant," said the shadow; and he pretended to sigh.

"Yours is a noble character," said the princess, and bowed herself

before him.

In the evening the whole town was illuminated, and cannons fired

"boom," and the soldiers presented arms. It was indeed a grand

wedding. The princess and the shadow stepped out on the balcony to

show themselves, and to receive one cheer more. But the learned man

heard nothing of all these festivities, for he had already been

executed.

                        THE END

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