The Wonderful History of Peter Schlemihl
I.
After a fortunate but, to me, very arduous voyage, we finally reached port.
As soon as the boat set me on land, I loaded my little belongings on my back, and,
pushing my way through the swarming crowd, I walked into the nearest, humblest
house fronted with a hanging sign.
I desired a room; the boots, taking my measure with a glance, led me to a garret. I had fresh water brought to me, together with an exact description of where I could find Mr Thomas John:
“In front of the North Gate, the first country house on the right-hand side, a large, new house, of red and white marble, with many columns.”
Good.
The hour was yet early; I at once untied my bundle, took out my newlyturned black coat, dressed myself neatly in my best clothes, put my letter of introduction into my pocket, and set out on my way to the man who was to promote my modest expectations.
After I had climbed up the long North Street and reached the Gate, I saw the columns shimmering through the greenery.
“So here it is,” I thought. I wiped the dust from my feet with my handkerchief, straightened my cravat, and pulled the bell in God’s name.
The door flew open.
I had to pass an examination in the hall; but the porter announced my arrival, and I had the honour to be summoned to the park where Mr John was taking the air – with a small company.
I recognised the man at once from the sheen of his portly self-satisfaction.
He received me very well – as a rich man receives a poor devil, even turning towards me, without however turning away from the rest of the company – and took the proffered letter from my hand.
“So, so! from my brother; I have heard nothing from him for a long time.
I trust he is in health? – Over there,” he continued to the company, without waiting
for a reply, pointing with the letter to a hill, “over there I am having the new
After a fortunate but, to me, very arduous voyage, we finally reached port.
As soon as the boat set me on land, I loaded my little belongings on my back, and,
pushing my way through the swarming crowd, I walked into the nearest, humblest
house fronted with a hanging sign.
I desired a room; the boots, taking my measure with a glance, led me to a garret.
I had fresh water brought to me, together with an exact description of where I could find Mr Thomas John: “In front of the North Gate, the first country house on the right-hand side, a large, new house, of red and white marble, with many columns.”
Good.
The hour was yet early; I at once untied my bundle, took out my newlyturned black coat, dressed myself neatly in my best clothes, put my letter of introduction into my pocket, and set out on my way to the man who was to promote my modest expectations.
After I had climbed up the long North Street and reached the Gate, I saw the columns shimmering through the greenery.
“So here it is,” I thought. I wiped the dust from my feet with my handkerchief, straightened my cravat, and pulled the bell in God’s name.
The door flew open. I had to pass an examination in the hall; but the porter announced my arrival, and I had the honour to be summoned to the park where Mr John was taking the air – with a small company.
I recognised the man at once from the sheen of his portly self-satisfaction.
He received me very well – as a rich man receives a poor devil, even turning towards me, without however turning away from the rest of the company – and took the proffered letter from my hand.
“So, so! from my brother; I have heard nothing from him for a long time. I trust he is in health? – Over there,” he continued to the company, without waiting for a reply, pointing with the letter to a hill, “over there I am having the new building erected.” He broke the seal without breaking the conversation, which was steered onto the subject of wealth. “Whoever is not master of at least a million,” he exclaimed, “that man is, excuse the word, a blackguard!”
“Oh, how true!” I cried, with full, overflowing feeling.
That must have pleased him; he smiled at me and said: “Stay here, dear friend, I may have time later to tell you what I think of this” – here indicating the letter, which he then pocketed, before turning to the company again.
He offered his arm to a young lady, other gentlemen made themselves busy around other beauties, matters arranged themselves in the proper fashion, and everyone surged towards a hill rich with blooming roses.
I crept along at the back, without inconveniencing anyone, for not a soul
paid me any further attention.
The company was in high spirits, fribbling and jesting, now and then speaking seriously of trifles, and often speaking triflingly of serious matters, and wit flowed with particular ease at the expense of absent friends and their affairs.
I was too much a stranger there to understand much of all that, and too troubled and introspective to have a mind for such mysteries.
We had reached the rose grove.
The lovely Fanny, seemingly the Queen of the Day, would insist on breaking a blossoming branch in person; she injured herself on a thorn, and crimson flowed, as if from the dark roses, over her delicate hand.
This accident set the entire company in motion. Court-plaster was sought.
A silent, thin, gaunt, elongated, elderly man, who had been walking with the
company but whom I had not yet noticed, at once put his hand into the tight tailpocket of his old-fashioned coat of grey taffeta, brought forth a small wallet,
opened it, and proffered the desired article to the lady with a lowly bow.
She received it without paying any attention to the giver and without a word of thanks; the wound was bound, and everyone walked further up the hill, intending, from its crest, to enjoy a far-reaching prospect over the green labyrinth of the park towards the immeasurable ocean.
The sight was indeed immense and splendid.
A light speck appeared on the horizon, between the dark water and the blue of the sky.
“A telescope here!” cried John, and even before the servants who appeared at his call could set about their task, the grey man, bowing humbly, had put his hand in his coat-pocket, pulled out a handsome Dollond1 , and presented it to Mr John.
The latter, straightaway raising this to his eye, informed the company: it was the ship that had set sail on the previous day and was detained in sight of the harbour by contrary winds.
The telescope passed from hand to hand, but not back to that of the owner; while I
looked at the man in amazement, not understanding how the large apparatus had
emerged from the tiny pocket.
This enigma did not, however, seem to have struck any of the company, and they concerned themselves no more with the grey man than with me.
\Refreshments were now served, the rarest fruits from every zone in the most sumptuous vessels.
Mr John did the honneurs with an easy grace, and directed some words towards me for the second time:
“Eat this; you did not have it at sea.” I bowed; but he did not see, he was already talking to another. ~Adelbert von Chamisso, The Wonderful History of Peter Schlemihl, Page 1-3
history history history history history history history history history history