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The Black Man in the White Cloud
(Der schwarze Mann in der weißen Wolke) 1812
The family friend had never been much of a believer in ghosts, even when
they appeared; nor was he this time. For one night, as he was walking
home through the Brassenheim Forest with the Adjunkt and the
vice-president; distinguished gentlemen are not ashamed to walk with him
and be good friends, especially at night, when no one sees them, and
when they themselves are glad to have company; for as we came out of the
forest, the clock struck twelve in Brassenheim and midnight sighed in
the trees. A faint breeze blew through the dark night and the sky was
overcast; only now and then did the waning moon glimmer a little through
the clouds where they were thinnest. “Adjunkt,” said the Vice-President,
“do you have nothing to tell?” “Yes,” said the Adjunkt: “the people of
Hirschau wanted to build a bridge in the year 3, so they placed the
bridge lengthwise across the stream, for they said: ‘It looks better,
and when the water rises, it can flow past the bridge more easily and
won’t carry it away.’” “Adjunkt,” said the family friend, “were shotguns
invented first, or the ramrods?” The Adjunkt said: “The ramrods. For
otherwise it would not have been worth the trouble to invent the
shotguns, since one would not have been able to load them anyway.” But
when the Adjunkt had to sneeze, he turned his head sideways towards the
field and sneezed. Turning his head to one side, he suddenly pressed
himself against the family friend. “Didn’t you see anything, family
friend?” he said anxiously and quietly, “A snow-white cloud rose from
the ground, and in the cloud stood a black man who beckoned to me to
come.” “Why didn’t you go?” said the family friend. “Sparks flew from
your eyes because you had to sneeze.” “He saw the fire in Alsace,” said
the Vice-President. But soon the fun was over, and the midnight hour
sent a chill through everyone’s very bones. For at that very moment the
white cloud appeared again, and within the white cloud the black figure,
beckoning. And just like that, it was gone again. “Did you see it now?”
asked the Adjunkt, “it is good that the President is with us; with just
the two of us, he would have made short work of us.” But the President
thought, it is good that the family friend is with me, that I can take
heart from him. For everyone’s knees were trembling, and none’s courage
rose particularly high—only their hair stood on end. The family friend
now wishes to advise the kind reader as to what it was. For when we had
regained our senses a little, although the apparition returned at least
seven times, the President finally said: “family friend – you drank the
most in Neuhausen, so you will also have the most courage; speak to the
spirit.” Then the family friend cried out: “All good spirits! Black
figure of midnight, who are you?” Then the ghost cried out in a shrill
voice: “I am Xaveri Taubenkorn of Brassenheim. For the sake of our dear
wives, spare me!”
Note: Taubenkorn is an upright magistrate in Brassenheim and runs an inn;
thus the house steward knows him well, and he is a commendable farmer
for whom no hour of the night is too late or too early for his fields.
When the steward asked him: “Xaveri, what sort of trickery are you up
to? Are you in league with the Devil?” – he replied: “Are you, steward?
No, I am scattering gypsum on my clover field. The wind is favourable,
and a gentle rain is coming soon.” So when he threw out a handful of
gypsum, a cloud arose, faintly lit by the moon, and one could see Xaveri
in it like a shadow; and when he withdrew his hand, it seemed as though
he were waving, but once the gypsum dust had blown away and settled,
nothing could be seen. - “You gave me quite a fright,” said Xaveri to
the family friend, “for I could not help thinking a ghost was haunting
me. Next time, spare me your antics.”
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