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)
takes a few steps in front of him, and says a couple of words in German
to Frederick-William, then he comes back to the young sailor, and takes
him by the hand. “Here’s an excellent opportunity of presenting you
to the King of Prussia,” he remarks. “Sire, an officer of my fleet,
whom I have the honour to present to your Majesty.” “We are getting
on rapidly,” says the young fellow. “This gentleman is the King of
Prussia, you are the Emperor of Russia, and I am the Emperor of China.
Three sovereigns. After all, why not, seeing that my captain says that
after God he is king on board his ship? Oh, by the by, how are things
in Prussia? Everybody all right in Berlin? In truth that _was_ a hero,
and no mistake, your predecessor, the great Frederick. Just like your
ancestor, Peter the First, of glorious memory,” he said, bowing to
Alexander. “But great though they may have been, I doubt whether they
would have imitated my grandfather, who at the battle of Tchesmè blew
up his vessel and himself rather than surrender to the Turks.”
‘Although the talk savoured somewhat of insolence, it was delivered by
the sailor with that frankness and gaiety which seem almost inseparable
from his profession. Not only were the two sovereigns unoffended, but
their laughter showed that they were highly amused at it.
‘Meanwhile, they had arrived at a little drinking-shop. The officer
most politely invited his companions to sit down and to continue the
conversation glass in hand. Yielding to the fascination of the moment,
the two sovereigns accepted. Refreshments were served. They sat down,
and clinked glasses familiarly, continuing their conversation without
the slightest restraint, and absolutely with the _abandon_ of a royal
freak, in such a place. “To your health, brother,” says Wilhelm of
Prussia to Alexander of Russia. “‘Pon my word,” is the latter’s answer,
“it only wants the usual salute from the batteries of our capitals
to complete the ceremony of that toast.” “So be it, then,” says the
sailor, taking hold of his pistol, and preparing to load it. He was
going to fire, and thus draw a crowd, which would have transformed a
comic adventure into a scandal. They had a great deal of trouble to
prevent the danger of such a noisy demonstration. Finally, they leave
the place, but the sailor obstinately insists on paying the expenses,
and they are bound to give in. At last they get outside the tavern.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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