There was a fête at Court,çoisRené and with that commenced for me honours of which I was very unworthy. Jean Bart[79], to go to Versailles, put on a coat of cloth-of-gold lined with cloth-of-silver, which made him very uncomfortable. The Grand-duchess, now Empress of Russia, and the Duchess of Cumberland chose my arm in a polonaise: my worldly romances were beginning. The air of the march was a kind of medley, composed of various pieces, among which, to my great satisfaction, I recognised the song of King Dagobert[80]: that encouraged me and came to the rescue of my timidity. These fêtes were repeated; one of them in particular took place in the King's Great Palace. Not caring to undertake the description on my own account, I give it as chronicled in the Berlin _Morgenblatt_ by the Baroness von Hohenhausen[81]:
BERLIN, 22 _March_ 1821 (_Morgenblatt_ No. 70).
"One of the notable persons present at this entertainment was the Vicomte de Chateaubriand, the French Minister, and however great the splendour of the spectacle that unfolded before their eyes, the fair Berlinese still kept a glance for the author of _Atala_, that superb and melancholy novel, in which the most ardent love succumbs in the fight against religion. The death of Atala and Chactas' hour of happiness, during a storm in the ancient forests of America, depicted in Miltonian colours, will remain ever engraved in the memory of all the readers of the novel. M. de Chateaubriand wrote _Atala_ in his youth, painfully tried by his exile from his country: hence the profound melancholy and the burning passion which breathe throughout the work. At present this consummate statesman has devoted his pen solely to politics. His last work, the _Vie et la mort du duc de Berry_, is written quite in the tone employed by the panegyrists of Louis XIV.
"M. de Chateaubriand is of a somewhat short, yet slender, stature. His oval countenance has an expression of reverence and melancholy. He has black hair and eyes: the latter glow with the fire of his mind, which is pronounced in his features."
But I have white hair: so forgive the Baroness von Hohenhausen for having sketched me in my good days, although already she grants me years. The portrait, besides, is very handsome; but I owe it to my sincerity to say that it is not like.