Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 11, No. 24, March, 1873Various
History
Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 11, No. 24, March, 1873
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- Periodicals
Pilorge was Chateaubriand's secretary, and the place was no sinecure.
Besides manuscripts and letters which his master signed, Pilorge copied
everything. The illustrious author, attentive to the demands of
posterity, preserved with religious care copies of his most trifling
notes. The tragedy which Chateaubriand read from with pomp and emphasis
did not immensely impress Hugo, and the scene was interrupted by the
entrance of a servant with an enormous vessel full of water for the
bath. Chateaubriand proceeded to take off his head handkerchief and
green slippers, and seeing Hugo about to retire, motioned to him to
remain. He then continued to disrobe without ceremony, took off his gray
pantaloons, shirt and flannel undershirt, and went into the bath, where
his servant washed and rubbed him. He then resumed his clothes, brushed
his teeth, which were beautiful, and of which he evidently took great
care; and during this process talked with animation.
This morning seems to have been a fortunate exception, as Hugo declares
that he found Chateaubriand on other occasions a man of freezing
politeness, stiff, arousing rather respect than sympathy--a genius
rather than a man. The royal carelessness of his character was shown in
his financial affairs. He kept always on his mantelpiece piles of
five-franc pieces, and when his servant brought him begging letters--a
thing which took place constantly--he took a piece from the pile,
wrapped it in the letter and sent it out by the servant. Money ran
through his fingers. When he went to see Charles X. at Prague, and the
king questioned him in reference to his affairs, his response was, "I am
as poor as a rat."
"That will not do," said the king. "Come, Chateaubriand, how much would
make you rich?"
"Sire," was the reply, "you are throwing away your time. If you gave me
four millions this morning, I should not have a penny this evening."
It must be conceded that there was something imposing in this refusal of
royal generosity; but the poet seems to have passed through life thus,
with his head carried superbly aloft, and his "grand air" ready on all
occasions.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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