The Marvellous History of the Shadowless Man, and The Cold Heart

Transcriber's Note: Source: http://www.archive.org/details/marvelloushistor00chamrich
In 1813 Europe was busy watching the career of the Corsican Giant--which was nearing its end. Having reached the summit of power, and put his foot on the neck of Europe, Napoleon was suddenly hurled down from his dizzy height. And yet in the midst of stirring events and the din of arms, people found time to pay attention to important literary productions. A curious book, The Strange Narrative of Peter Schlemihl, by Louis Adelbert von Chamisso, which made its first appearance in Germany in 1813, aroused an ever increasing interest, in spite of the distraction of the public mind, until the name of the author became world-famous.
But at last Chamisso found consolation in work. With great ardour he applied himself to the study of the German language and literature, and particularly to poetry and philosophy. He learned Greek, and the Iliad became his constant companion. Klopstock and Schiller attracted him greatly; but he also read J. J. Rousseau, Voltaire and Diderot. He published several poems in the language of his adopted country, compositions distinguished by an originality of style and a peculiar vigour. Chamisso's first work is supposed to have been The Count de Comminges, written in 1801 or 1802. It is not an original work, but rather an imitation or translation of a drama from the pen of Baculard d'Arnaud, produced in 1790. Later on he read Wieland and Goethe, and in 1803 appeared his Faust, in which the influence of the philosophy of Fichte made itself felt. It was also in this year that love, by the side of poetry and metaphysics, occupied the mind and heart of the young lieutenant. Chamisso fell in love with Madame Cérès Duvernay, a young French coquette widow, of whom--unlike Sam Weller--he did not learn to beware. He had made her acquaintance in the salon of the banker Ephraim, and asked her to marry him. Madame Duvernay, however, was a practical Frenchwoman and refused the legitimate love of the poor lieutenant! This love affair and its sad ending increased Chamisso's melancholy and his inclination for solitude. The war with France then broke out, and Chamisso tasted the bitterness which is so often the lot of that unhappy product of modern civilization and political circumstances: the naturalized alien ! He found himself in an anomalous position which caused him great distress, for it isolated him among many millions. Although a naturalized German, nay, at heart attached to Germany and animated--like so many of his confrères --by the spirit of liberty--he was nevertheless of French parentage. It was not only a question whether he should take up arms on behalf of Germany, but also, whether he should fight against France and the people with whom he was connected by ties of blood and family relationship. Hence arose a struggle in his breast. I, and I alone, he exclaimed in his despair, am forbidden at this juncture to wield a sword! Very few people understand the tragedy of those exiles who are compelled to seek a new home and adopt a new country which they love as much, if not more, than the people among whom they have come to dwell. Instead of meeting with sympathy on account of his peculiar situation, Chamisso was frequently doomed to hear, in the Capital of Prussia, the headquarters of the confederation against France and Napoleon, expressions of hatred and scorn directed against his countrymen. He was himself too fair-minded to mistake the cause of such expressions, which were, after all, only natural in the circumstances, but they nevertheless deeply hurt the sensitive poet when they reached his ears.