Book: Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14, No. 84, October, 1864

V >> Various >> Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14, No. 84, October, 1864




Madame Recamier left Rome for Naples when Napoleon's power was on the
decline. The sovereigns Murat and Caroline Bonaparte treated her with
marked distinction, especially the Queen, who was not only gracious, but
confidential. Madame Recamier was with Caroline the day that Murat
pledged himself to the allied cause. He returned to the palace in great
agitation, and, stating the case to her without telling her that he had
already made his decision, asked what course he ought to pursue. She
replied, "You are a Frenchman, Sire. It is to France that you owe
allegiance." Murat turned pale, and, throwing open the window, showed
her the English fleet entering the harbor, and exclaimed, "I am, then, a
traitor!" He threw himself on a couch, burst into tears, covering his
face with his hands. Madame Recamier's candor did not affect their
friendly relations. When the Queen acted as Regent in the absence of her
husband, she signed the pardon of a condemned criminal at her request,
and, upon her return to Rome, wrote, begging her to come back to Naples.
She did so, though her stay was necessarily short. Paris was again open
to her by the overthrow of Napoleon, and she hastened to rejoin her
friends. Still she was not unmindful of the princess who had shown her
such marks of friendship. She did many kind services for her in Paris,
and after the execution of Murat, when Caroline lived in obscurity as
the Countess of Lipona, she paid her a visit, which cheered the
neglected woman whose prosperity had been of such short duration.

The Restoration was the beginning of a new era in the life of Madame
Recamier, one even more brilliant and animated, if not so thoughtlessly
gay as that of her youth. Her husband had, in a measure, retrieved his
fallen fortunes. She was in possession of her mother's property, able to
have a box at the Opera, and to keep her carriage, which was a
necessity, as she never walked in the street. Her exile had made her
more famous, while her joy at being restored to Paris and her friends
lent another charm to the seduction of her manners. Her association with
the Montmorencys, who were in high favor with the new court, increased
her political influence. She held nightly receptions after the Opera,
and her _salon_ was neutral ground, the resort of persons of all
parties. Paris was full of foreigners of distinction, who were curious
to know a person of so much celebrity, and they swelled the ranks of her
admirers. Among them was the Duke of Wellington, who, if Madame
Recamier's vanity did not mislead her, was willing and anxious to wear
her chains. But she never forgave his boastful speech after the Battle
of Waterloo. Remembering her personal dislike of the Emperor, and
forgetting that she was a Frenchwoman, he said to her, on his return to
Paris, "_Je l'ai bien battu_." The next time he called he was not
admitted. The Duke complained to Madame de Stael, and when he next met
Madame Recamier in society treated her with coldness, and devoted
himself to a young English lady. They rarely met afterward, though the
Duke came once to the Abbaye-aux-Bois.

Madame Recamier had at this time a much more earnest admirer in Benjamin
Constant. As common friends of Madame de Stael, they had been acquainted
for years, and had played together in private theatricals at Coppet.
Still it was not until 1814, when Madame Recamier had an interview with
him in regard to the affairs of the King and Queen of Naples, that the
relations between them assumed a serious aspect. He left her at the end
of this interview violently enamored. According to Madame Lenormant,
Benjamin Constant had not the slightest encouragement to justify his
madness, but it is clear from other testimony that Madame Recamier was
not free from blame in respect to him. Sainte-Beuve hints that the
subject is unpleasant, and summarily dismisses it; and Madame Moehl, ever
ready to defend Madame Recamier, acknowledges that in this case she was
to blame, and that Madame Recamier thought so herself, and wished
Constant's letters to be published after her death, in order to justify
him. She adds, that it was a mistake not to publish them, as their
suppression has given occasion for surmises utterly false. There is
nothing in the "Souvenirs" to explain either the vague hints of
Sainte-Beuve or the obscure allusions of Madame Moehl; and the
biographical sketches of Constant throw no light upon the subject: they
are chiefly narratives of his political career.

If we except Chateaubriand, who was more loved than loving, Benjamin
Constant stands last on the list of Madame Recamier's conquests; for,
after the author of "Atala" and of the "Genius of Christianity" crossed
her path, we hear of no more flirtations, no more despairing lovers.
Chateaubriand and Madame Recamier first met, familiarly, at the
death-bed of Madame de Stael, whose loss they mutually deplored. It was
not, however, until the next year, 1818, when Madame Recamier had
retired to the Abbaye-aux-Bois, that the acquaintance ripened into
intimacy. A second reverse of fortune was the cause of this retirement,
to which we shall briefly refer before entering upon the more
complicated subject of this friendship.

New and unfortunate speculations on the part of Monsieur Recamier had
not only left him penniless, but had to some extent involved his wife's
fortune, which she had confided to him. In this emergency, Madame
Recamier acted with her usual promptitude and decision. She had two
objects in view in her plans for the future,--economy, and a separation
from her husband. An asylum in the Abbaye-aux-Bois secured to her both
advantages. She established her husband and father in the vicinity of
the Convent, and they with Ballanche dined with her every day. From
Monsieur Recamier she exacted a promise to engage in no more
speculations, while she supplied his wants. "She anticipated his needs
with a filial affection, and until the last studied to make his life
mild and pleasant,--a singularly easy task on account of his optimism."
Monsieur Recamier had need to be a philosopher. The nominal husband of a
beautiful woman, with whom he had shared his prosperity, he had not only
to bear her indifference, but to see her form friendships and make plans
from which he was excluded. When his misfortunes left him a dependent
upon her bounty, he was a mere cipher in her household,--kindly treated,
but with a kindness that savored more of toleration than affection.
Monsieur Recamier died at the advanced age of eighty. Shortly before his
death, his wife obtained permission from the Convent to remove him to
the Abbaye, where he was tenderly cared for by her in his last moments.

The retirement forced upon Madame Recamier by her husband's reverses was
far from being seclusion. "_La petite cellule_" as Chateaubriand called
her retreat, was as much frequented as her brilliant _salons_ in Paris
had been, and she was even more highly considered. Chateaubriand visited
her regularly at three o'clock; they passed an hour alone, when other
persons favored by him were admitted. In the evening her door was open
to all. She no longer mingled in society, people came to her, and
nothing could be more delightful than her receptions. All parties and
all ranks met there, and her _salon_ gradually became a literary centre
and focus. Delphine Gay (Madame Emile de Girardin) recited her first
verses there, Rachel declaimed there, and Lamartine's "Meditations" were
read and applauded there before publication. Among distinguished
strangers who sought admittance to the Abbaye, we notice the names of
Humboldt, Sir Humphry Davy, and Maria Edgeworth. De Tocqueville,
Monsieur Ampere, and Sainte-Beuve were frequent visitors. Peace and
serenity reigned there, for Madame Recamier softened asperities and
healed dissensions by the mere magnetism of her presence. "It was
Eurydice," said Sainte-Beuve, "playing the part of Orpheus." But while
she was the presiding genius of this varied and brilliant society,
Chateaubriand was the controlling spirit. Everybody deferred to him, if
not for his sake, then for the sake of her whose greatest happiness was
to see him pleased and amused.

Madame Recamier has frequently been called cold and heartless. English
reviewers have doubted whether she was capable of any warm, deep
attachment. Sainte-Beuve even, with all his insight, believed that the
desire to be loved had satisfied her heart, and that she herself had
never loved. But he formed this opinion before the publication of Madame
Recamier's memoirs. Chateaubriand's letters, together with other
corroborating facts, warrant a totally different conclusion. It is very
evident that Madame Recamier loved Chateaubriand with all the strength
of a reticent and constant nature. That he was the only man she did
love, we think is also clear. Prince Augustus captivated her for a time,
but her conduct toward him, in contrast with that toward Chateaubriand,
proves that her heart had not then been touched. The one she treated
with caprice and coldness, the other with unvarying consideration and
tenderness. There is no reason to conclude that the Prince ever made her
unhappy, while it is certain that Chateaubriand made her miserable, and
a mere friendship, however deep, does not render a woman wretched. This
attachment not only shaped and colored the remainder of Madame
Recamier's life, but it threatened at one time to completely subvert all
other interests. She who was so equable, such a perfect mistress of
herself, so careful to give every one due meed of attention, became
fitful and indifferent. Her friends saw the change with alarm, and
Montmorency remonstrated bitterly with her. "I was extremely troubled
and ashamed," he writes, "at the sudden change in your manner toward
others and myself. Ah, Madame, the evil that your best friends have been
dreading has made rapid progress in a few weeks! Does not this thought
make you tremble? Ah, turn, while yet there is time, to Him who gives
strength to them who pray for it! He can cure all, repair all. God and a
generous heart are all-sufficient. I implore Him, from the bottom of my
heart, to sustain and enlighten you."

Ballanche, equally concerned and jealous, strove to interest her in
literature, and urged her to translate Petrarch. Madame Recamier
speedily recovered herself. She listened graciously to the admonitions
of Montmorency, and she consented to undertake Petrarch, but made little
progress in the work. Still, as far as her feelings for Chateaubriand
were concerned, the efforts of her friends were in vain. He occupied the
first place in her affections, and she regulated her time and pursuits
to please and accommodate him, though for a long time he but poorly
repaid her devotion. He admired and perhaps loved her, as well as he was
capable of loving anybody but himself, but it was not until
disappointments had sobered him that he fully appreciated her worth. At
the time their intimacy commenced he was the pet and favorite of the
whole French nation. "The Genius of Christianity" had been received with
acclamations by a people just recovering from the wild skepticism of the
Revolution. The reaction had taken place, the Goddess of Reason was
dethroned, and the burning words and vivid eloquence of Chateaubriand
appealed at once to the heart and the imagination of his countrymen.
They did not criticise, they only admired. Politically he was also a
rising man. The world, or at least the French world, expected great
things from the writer of the pamphlet, "De Buonaparte et des Bourbons."
His manners were courtly and distinguished, and women especially
flattered and courted him. Their attentions fostered his natural vanity,
and his fancy, if not his heart, wandered from Madame Recamier, and she
knew it. The tables were turned: she who had been so passionately
beloved was now to feel some of the pangs she had all her life been
unconsciously inflicting. Wounded and jealous, she stooped to
reproaches. The following extracts from letters addressed to her by
Chateaubriand while he was ambassador at London clearly betray the state
of her mind.

"I will not ask you again for an explanation, since you will not
give it. I have written you by the last courier a letter which
ought to content you, if you still love me."

* * * * *

"Do not delude yourself with the idea that you can fly from me. I
will seek you everywhere. But if I go to the Congress, it will be
an occasion to put you to the proof. I shall see then if you keep
your promises."

* * * * *

"_Allons_,--I much prefer to understand your folly than to read
mysterious and angry notes. I comprehend now, or at least I think
I do. It is apparently that woman of whom the friend of the Queen
of Sweden has spoken to you. But, tell me, have I the means to
prevent Vernet, Mademoiselle Levert, who writes me declarations,
and thirty _artistes_, men and women, from coming to England in
order to get money? And if I have been culpable, do you think that
such fancies can do you the least injury, or take from you
anything which I have given you? You have been told a thousand
falsehoods. Herein I recognize my friends. But tranquillize
yourself: the lady leaves, and will never return to England. But
perhaps you would like me to remain here on that account: a very
useless precaution; for, whatever happens, Congress or no
Congress, I cannot live so long separated from you, and am
determined to see you at any cost."

The letters from which we quote are very characteristic of their author.
While protesting eternal fidelity, and declaring his intention to
renounce the world and live but for Madame Recamier, he begs her at the
same time to use all her influence to get him sent to the approaching
Congress at Vienna as one of the French representatives,--an appointment
which would necessarily separate him still longer from her. "_Songez au
Congres_" is the refrain to all his poetical expressions of attachment.

It is to be hoped that Madame Recamier did not perceive the
inconsistency of which he was totally unconscious. Though Chateaubriand
was perpetually analyzing himself and his emotions, no man had less
self-knowledge. He was too much absorbed by his "self-study,
self-wonder, and self-worship," as one of his critics styles his
egotism, to be clear-sighted. He had generous impulses, but no uniform
generosity of heart; and while glorying in the few ostentatious
sacrifices he made to pet ideas, he had no perception of the nature of
self-sacrifice. Much, therefore, as he was gratified at the devotion of
a woman of Madame Recamier's position and influence, he did not value it
sufficiently to make any sacrifices to secure it, and consequently she
was continually annoyed and distressed. Her life was also embittered by
his political differences with Mathieu de Montmorency, to whom, by means
which can scarcely be deemed honorable, he had succeeded as Minister of
Foreign Affairs. The confidential friend of both parties, her position
was a very difficult one; but she was equal to the emergency. She
satisfied each, without being false to, or unmindful of, the interests
of either.

But her relations to Chateaubriand were fast becoming intolerable, and
she resolved to break her chains and leave Paris. He regarded this
resolution as a mere threat. "No," he wrote, "you have not bid farewell
to all earthly joys. If you go, you will return." She did go, however,
taking with her Ballanche and her adopted daughter, whose delicate
health was the ostensible cause of her departure. What it cost her to
leave Paris may well be conjectured, and nothing is more indicative of
her power of self-control than this voluntary withdrawal from a
companionship which fascinated while it tortured her. Chateaubriand sent
letters after her full of protestations and upbraidings; but after a
while he wrote less frequently, and for a year they ceased to
correspond. To a friend who urged her to return Madame Recamier
wrote,--"If I return at present to Paris, I shall again meet with the
agitations that induced me to leave it. If Monsieur Chateaubriand were
unhappy on my account, I should be grieved; if he were not, I should
have another trouble, which I am determined henceforth to avoid. I find
here diversion in art, and a support in religion which shall shelter me
from all these storms. It is painful to me to remain absent six months
longer from my friends; but it is better to make this sacrifice, and I
confess to you that I feel it to be necessary."

There was much to make a stay in Italy attractive to Madame Recamier, if
she could have forgotten Chateaubriand, Her old admirer, the Duc de
Laval, was ambassador at Rome, and put his horses and servants at her
disposal. She renewed her acquaintance with the celebrated Duchess of
Devonshire, (Lady Elizabeth Foster,) whose career was quite as singular
as her own, while it was more open to reproach. The Duchess was a
liberal patron of the fine arts, and the devoted friend of Cardinal
Gonsalvi, from the shock of whose death she never recovered. Madame
Recamier also found at Rome the Duchess of Saint-Leu, whom she had
slightly known when she was Queen of Holland. For political reasons it
was unwise for them to visit openly, so they contrived private and
romantic interviews. Their friendship seems to have been close and
sincere. Subsequently, Madame Recamier was able, through her political
influence, to serve Hortense in many ways. She also took an interest in
her son Louis Napoleon, and visited him in prison after his
unsuccessful attempt at Strasbourg, which kindness he afterwards
acknowledged in several notes preserved by Madame Lenormant.

But while accepting all the diversions offered her by the pleasant
society at, Rome, Madame Recamier was not unmindful of Chateaubriand.
She ordered from the artist Tenerani a bas-relief, the subject to be
taken from Chateaubriand's poem of "The Martyrs." She wrote constantly
to her friends in Paris for intelligence respecting him, and watched his
course from afar with interest and anxiety. It was not one to
tranquillize her. He had quarrelled with the President of the Council,
Villele; and being also personally disliked by the King, he was
peremptorily dismissed, and he bore this disgrace with neither dignity
nor composure. Turning his pen against the government, he did as much by
his persistent savage opposition, clothed as it was in the language of
superb invective, to bring about the final overthrow of the elder
Bourbon dynasty, as either the stupid arrogance of Charles X. or the
dogged tyranny of Polignac. Yet no man was more concerned and disgusted
than he was at the result of the Revolution of 1830. So far true to his
convictions, he refused office under Louis Philippe, priding himself
greatly on his allegiance to the exiled princes, when neither his
loyalty nor his services could be of any use. The truth is, that, though
Chateaubriand was fond of meddling and making a noise, he had none of
the fundamental qualities of a statesman. By the inspiration of his
genius, he could seize the right moment for making a telling speech, or
he could promulgate in a pamphlet a striking truth, calculated to
electrify and convince. But he could not be calmly deliberate. Always
enthusiastic, he was never temperate. He was the slave of his
partialities and prejudices. Harriet Martineau, who for keen analysis
and nice discrimination of character has few equals among historians,
characterizes him as "the wordy Chateaubriand," and Guizot says of him,
"It was his illusion to think himself the equal of the most consummate
statesmen, and his soul was filled with bitterness because men would not
admit him to be the rival of Napoleon as well as of Milton." It was this
bitterness with which Madame Recamier had to contend, for his literary
successes did not console him for his political disappointments, and his
temper, never very equable, was now more variable and uncertain.

After an absence of eighteen months she returned to Paris. She apprised
Chateaubriand of her arrival by a note. He came immediately to see her,
and was rapturous with delight. No word of reproach passed between them,
and he fell at once into his old habits. From this time his behavior was
respectful and devoted. Absence and his disappointments had taught him
the inestimable value of such a friend. She daily became more and more
necessary to him. After his resignation of the Roman embassy in 1829,
which had been secured to him through her instrumentality, he no longer
engaged actively in politics, and, deprived of the stimulus of ambition,
he looked to her for excitement. She encouraged his literary exertions,
drew him out from his fits of depression, and soothed his wounded
self-love. This was no light task; for Chateaubriand's self-complacency
was not of that imperturbable sort which, however intolerable to others,
has at least the merit of keeping its possessor content and tranquil.
With him it partook more of the nature of egotism than of self-conceit,
and it therefore made him always restless and continually dissatisfied.
But no effort was too great for Madame Recamier's devotion. Her friends
looked upon her sacrifices with feelings of mingled regret and
admiration, but she herself was unconscious of them. They were simply a
labor of love; and much as her tranquillity must have been disturbed at
times by the caprices and exactions of this moody, melancholy man, she
was probably happy in being allowed to sacrifice herself. Of the
success of her efforts Sainte-Beuve thus gracefully speaks:--"Madame de
Maintenon was never more ingenious in amusing Louis XIV. than Madame
Recamier in interesting Chateaubriand. 'I have always remarked,' said
Boileau, on returning from Versailles, 'that, when the conversation does
not turn on himself, the King directly gets tired, and is either ready
to yawn or to go away.' Every great poet, when he is growing old, is a
little like Louis XIV. in this respect. Madame Recamier had each day a
thousand pleasant contrivances to excite and flatter him. She assembled
from all quarters friends for him,--new admirers. She chained us all to
the feet of her idol with links of gold."

One of her most successful efforts in amusing him was the reading of
"Les Memoires d'Outre-Tombe" to a select and admiring audience at the
Abbaye. He first read them in private to Madame Recamier, who passed
judgment upon them, and they were then read aloud by M. Charles
Lenormant. This device worked like a charm; everybody applauded, and the
author was content. The personal interest attached to the chief parties
concerned, no doubt, made these readings very delightful. But it would
now be impossible for any reader to be enthusiastic about the Memoirs
themselves. Out of France it would be difficult to find a more
egotistical piece of self-portraiture. Chateaubriand is not quite so
ostentatious in his egotism as the Prince de Ligne, who headed the
chapters in his "Memoires et Melanges," "De moi pendant le jour," "De
moi pendant la nuit," "De moi encore," "Memoirs pour mon coeur"; still
he parades himself on every possible occasion, and not always to his own
advantage. His conduct in passing himself off as a single man in an
English family who were kind to him during his exile, thereby engaging
the daughter's affections, is entirely inexcusable. That a person of
Madame Recamier's good judgment did not perceive the discredit that must
attach to such revelations is only to be accounted for by supposing her
blind to Chateaubriand's follies. But with all her partiality, it is
still surprising that she should have given her sanction to his
deliberate and cold analysis of the character of his parents, and his
equally heartless and selfish reflections on his marriage.

Chateaubriand married simply to please his sisters, feeling that he "had
none of the qualifications of a husband," and for years he seemed
entirely oblivious of his wife's existence. After he gave up his
wandering life, and became distinguished, he treated her with more
consideration. Madame de Chateaubriand was a pretty, delicate woman, of
quick natural intelligence. M. Danielo, Chateaubriand's secretary, has
written an interesting sketch of her, which is affixed to her husband's
memoirs. She was a person of eccentric habits, but of a warm heart and
lively sensibilities, and was devoted to her religious duties and the
Infirmary of Maria Theresa. She professed a great contempt for
literature, and asserted that she had never read a line of her husband's
works; but this was regarded as an affectation. Madame de Chateaubriand
was not an amiable person, but very frank and sincere. She often
reproached herself for her faults and love of contradiction. Though she
appears to have loved her husband, she was not blind to his weaknesses,
and he was afraid of her sallies. So vain and sensitive a man could not
feel comfortable in the society of a woman of her keen penetration, and
her wit was not always tempered by discretion. Madame Recamier gained by
the contrast. She believed in him, and "there are few things so
pleasant," says a writer in Fraser, "as to have a woman at hand that
believes in you." Madame Recamier's insight never disturbed
Chateaubriand, for it was of the heart, not of the intellect. It was not
a critical analysis that probes and dissects, but a sympathy that
cheered and tranquillized. There could be but little in common between
two such women, though they were on friendly terms; and when
Chateaubriand left his wife in Paris, he always commended her to Madame
Recamier's care. On one occasion he writes,--"I must again request you
to go and see Madame de Chateaubriand, who complains that she has not
seen you. What would you have? Since you have become associated in my
life, it is necessary to share it fully."

Copyright (c) 2007. knowncrafts.net. All rights reserved.