Taken from http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15786575-memoirs-of-an-armchair
Yes, an armchair. A quite exceptional armchair.
“A wax model described my proportions; the master had gone to the Port du Bois, facing the Ille Louviers, to find the choicest beech of the finest grain to fashion my fawn-like feet, my gondola back; the parts assembled and pegged I was sent to the celebrated Chaillon, who carved the wood. lacing delicate wreaths through the strolls, and then entrusted to the goldsmith, Mathon. This gentleman, after bestowing on me the traditional covering-coat of white lead, gave himself no less than seveteen operations before gilding me ‘au livre’ – adorning me, that is, with leaves of pure gold. When Tilliard considered me perfect, he applied his emblem to the rear of my seat with a red-hot iron. From the moment of that christening I became aware of my beauty and the high station that awaited me. A feather merchant came to pad my cushions and armrests with the finest down. Completed just before the Christmas holidays, I was ready to tempt the customers of the master joiner …”
Such an armchair was, of course, destined for a wonderful life, and she recalled the times she lived through, the places she saw, the people who sat upon her and nearby, exactly as you might expect her to. She was clear-sighted and objective, but she also held some very firm opinions on matters that affected her.
And her sister … she was one of twins.
Hard cover, 151 pages. First edition. In good preloved condition. No dust cover. Gift inscription inside.