Anecdotal Recollections of the Congress of ViennaLa Garde-Chambonas, Auguste Louis Charles, Comte de
History
Anecdotal Recollections of the Congress of Vienna
La Garde-Chambonas, Auguste Louis Charles, Comte de
Congress of Vienna (1814-1815)
Hence, I took my courage in both hands and slowly crossed the court,
still further slackening my pace in ascending the steps of the ancient
residence of the Ducs de Lévis, both fearing and dreading to reach
the top. I rang the bell, and in answer a servant appeared. Doffing
my tri-cornered hat, considerably too big for me, with that air of
humility which renders the man down on his luck so awkward, I asked
him, in a voice which I tried in vain to steady, if I might see Mme.
Récamier. From the way in which he began to ‘take stock’ of me, I
imagined that he was in the habit of seeing many needy creatures steer
for this haven, and that, naturally, he classed me among the crowd of
the wretched which each day solicited the inexhaustible charity of his
mistress. ‘I’ll see if madame is at home,’ he said; ‘but what name
shall I say?’ I gave him mine, and, apparently satisfied on that point,
he bade me take a seat. A few moments passed, and Joseph--that was the
name of the domestic--did not return. Devoured with anxiety, I rose
from the seat, which offered no rest, and strode up and down the large
hall, paved with marble and hung with sombre portraits, paintings of
another age, worn out like the past, forgotten like the past, and on
the faces of which I tried in vain to catch a favourable smile.
Every one knows with what minute attention a man coming to ask a favour
scans the spot where he awaits his fate. At last Joseph came back;
but it was no longer the semi-benevolent face that welcomed me on my
entrance.
‘Madame is very sorry not to be able to see you to-day, monsieur. Not
having the honour of your acquaintance, she would ask you to write to
her about the motive of your visit.’
‘Not know me!’ my lips painfully murmured, stupefied. I felt like
one suddenly blinded. Everything in this world seemed to fail me at
once--the present, the future, friendship, and my courage withal.
Tears, but badly hidden by the brim of my hat, coursed down my cheeks.
At sixteen one does still shed tears. One has not acquired the courage
which is only learned in the school of adversity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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