From Memory's Shrine: The Reminscences of Carmen SylvaSylva, Carmen
History
From Memory's Shrine: The Reminscences of Carmen Sylva
Sylva, Carmen
Queens -- Romania -- Biography; Sylva, Carmen, 1843-1916
The French Protestants gave me the impression at the time of being
rather stiff and formal people, austere and almost morose in their
religious views, though I really hardly know what it was made me think
so, as we never heard them discuss religious matters at all. We simply
came there to play, and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, and if the gloomy
appearance of the parents was sometimes in striking contrast to the high
spirits of our little companions, that may of course have been due to
quite other causes than a depressing creed, and I have often thought
since that with the large family and very small means, there were
probably material cares whose existence we did not even suspect. Of
cares of that nature we knew nothing; we had others, in our own home
life, of which of course we never spoke to our little friends, and they
very likely used equal discretion concerning their family troubles
towards us. Children who have never been encouraged to chatter, nor had
the evil example of gossip before their eyes, are naturally discreet,
and very great reserve was always impressed on us by our parents.
The good custom of the weekly half-holiday, with which we became
acquainted in Paris, was found to be so beneficial, sending us back
refreshed and invigorated to our lessons next day, that, once
introduced, it was not given up on our return to Neuwied, but became
firmly established with us. The afternoon then was, however, no longer
entirely devoted to play, but a part of it employed for those delightful
lessons in book-binding--only another form of recreation, and perhaps,
of more lasting enjoyment than the running wild, good as that was at the
time.
Every Saturday I attended a class in the rue des Saints Pères, _le cours
de l’Abbé Gaultier_, it was called, and to this also I walked,
accompanied by Fräulein Josse. The professor, the Abbé Gaultier, sat at
a green table, round which all the young girls were ranged, behind each
one her mother or governess sitting, and then we were questioned on the
lessons done during the week and our written work was examined, and
fresh subjects given to prepare for the following week. It was rather an
ordeal for me, with my invincible shyness, and accustomed as I had
always been to learning alone, to have to speak out before all these
strangers, and in a language that after all was not my mother-tongue.
And some of the other little girls were so bright and clever, they
always had something to say and turned their answers so prettily, the
poor little German envied them their readiness and brilliancy, and felt
quite dull and awkward in their midst. Only once did I bear off the
honours, but that was not in the least by my cleverness or presence of
mind, but simply by sheer honest stupidity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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