FROM THE BARON DE LA MOTTE FOUQUE TO JULIUS EDWARD HITZIG. We should take care, my dear Edward, not to expose the history of poor Schlemihl to eyes unfit to look upon it. That would be a bad experiment. Of such eyes there are plenty; and who is able to predict what may befall a _manuscript_, which is almost more difficult to guard than spoken language? Like a person seized with vertigo, therefore, who, in the paroxysm of his feelings, leaps into the abyss, I commit the story to the press. And yet there are better and more serious reasons for the step I have taken. If I am not wholly deceived, there are in our dear Germany many hearts both capable and worthy of comprehending poor Schlemihl, although a smile will arise on the countenance of many among our honest countrymen at the bitter sport which was death to him and to the innocent being whom he drew along with him. And you, Edward, when you have seen the estimable work and reflected on the number of unknown and sympathising bosoms who, with ourselves, will learn to love it,--you will then, perhaps, feel that some drops of consolation have been instilled into those wounds inflicted on you, and on all who love you, by death. To conclude: I have become convinced, by repeated experience, that a guardian angel watches over books, places them in proper hands, and if not always, yet often, prevents them from falling into improper. In any case, he exercises an invisible guardianship over every work of true genius and genuine feeling, and with unfailing tact and skill opens or shuts its pages as he sees fit. To this guardian angel I commit our Schlemihl. And so, adieu! Neunhausen, May 1814. FOUQUÉ. Some of the incidents of the wonderful story of "The Shadowless Man" were suggested by actual experiences of its author; and it is remarkable that in the latter part of the narrative Chamisso should have anticipated his own voyage round the world.