parte. The true ground of offence was, that a so- | one of Mme. de Genlis' novels, called Le Château ciety which did not derive all its éclat from him, de Coppet. which kept aloof from his sphere, gave him umbrage; and he showed his ill-humor, and even his serious displeasure, on every occasion. To frequent Mme. Récamier's house was far from being the way to obtain his favor; indeed, some courage was needed to carry individuals through such an ordeal, as the following anecdote will show: Three of his ministers met by chance in this society-the object of so anxious a surveillance. At the council subsequent to this accidental meeting, Napoleon said, in a tone of angry reproach, "Since when has the council of ministers been held at Mme. Récamier's house?" A financial crisis, caused by the unexpected renewal of hostilities, gave a fatal shock to public credit. The house of M. Récamier had no assistance to hope from the government, and, like many others, sank under it. Mme. Récamier bore her unlooked-for adversity in such a manner as to inspire universal respect and interest. Though in all the splendor of her youth, she gave up going into society; yet not only did she retain all her friends, she continued to be the centre of that very society which she had renounced. We must extract a note referring to this event from Corinna. It is not uninteresting to remark how the descriptien of Corinna's dancing suggests thoughts of so different a kind : It was (says Mme. de Staël) Mme. Récamier's dancing which gave me the idea of that which I have endeavored to depict. That charming woman, so celebrated for her grace and beauty, offers an example of so touching a resignation, so complete a forgetfulness of her personal interests, that her moral qualities seem to all who know her, no less eminent than her attractions. Although the blockade became stricter, and the surveillance more vigilant and unrelenting every day, Mme. Récamier determined once more to brave it. She did so, and this time was the last. She knew, indeed, to what she exposed herself, for the emperor and his servants made no secret of their intentions; a strong tyranny can afford at least to be open and sincere. Fouché went himself to tell Mme. Récamier that if she persisted in rejoining Mme. de Staël, she would be allowed neither to return to Paris nor to remain at Coppet. She replied, "What can it signify to the emperor, the master of the world, whether I am at Paris or at Coppet? Heroes have been known to yield to the weakness of love for women, but he would be the first who betrayed that of fearing them." 66 Mme. Récamier set out in spite of all these warnings. She had hardly reached the spot marked by the imperial ban when she received her letter of exile. Thus, then," said Mme. de Staël," the coalition of two women on the banks of the lake of Geneva frightened the master of the world." M. Matthieu de Montmorency had just shared the same fate. The Dix Années d'Exil contains an account of that cruel separation which was followed by so many fatal results. received a letter from Mme. Récamier, that lovely breaking up of her natural establishment very pain- Such is Shortly after, Mme. Récamier had the misfor-reverses of fortune she had suffered rendered the tune to lose her mother, (herself a very remarkable person,) whose prudence and forethought had secured to her beloved daughter a modest competency. Mme. de Staël was in exile. She had taken refuge in the retreat at Coppet which Napoleon watched with a jealous eye, and held in a sort of blockade by the terror of his name. Thither Mme. Récamier went to visit her, and for a considerable period divided her time between Paris and Coppet. It was during one of these visits that the intimacy between her and Prince Augustus of Prussia, brother of the late king, was formed. The prince, who was passionately enamored of Mme. Récamier, used every persuasion to induce her to obtain a divorce from M. Récamier and to marry him; but in vain.* This remarkable incident in the life of Mme. Récamier, which is related at some length in the Mémorial de St. Hélène, furnished the subject for *It must be confessed that the project was extremely Prussian. But the laxity of the marriage-tie in Protestant Germany was not likely to find acceptance with a devout Catholic like Mme. Récamier. Mme. de Staël soon began to find a residence in a place so completely proscribed, intolerable, and determined to quit it at any risk. If the independence of Mme. Récamier's salon was in the eyes of the emperor equivalent to opposition, Coppet he regarded as a storehouse of ideas the most diametrically hostile to his dictatorship. After remaining at Chalons or at Lyons two years, Mme. Récamier, determined not to take the least step to obtain the termination of her exile, formed the project of going into Italy, the climate of which would, she hoped, be favorable to her health, impaired by agitation and suffering. Her exile had. however, been more tolerable at Lyons than anywhere else. There she found Camille Jordan, who had retired from public life that he might preserve the purity of his sentiments Such are the outlines of Mme. Récamier's history. It only remains for one who saw her only at its close to say a few words as to the impression she produced when the season of her intoxicating triumphs was over. and opinions. It was also in that city that she quainted with a life which honors and adorns the became acquainted with M. Ballanche, who was history of our times. It were much to be desired then employed in writing his poem of Antigone, that she would put on record the thoughts of Mme. and who drew from her some of the features with Récamier, as she was in the habit of expressing which he invested his heroine. them. Her correspondence would be an invaluaMme. Récamier determined to set out for Italy ble treasure. It would contain intimate and conin the month of March, 1813. She was accom-fidential letters from many of the most celebrated panied to the frontier by M. de Montmorency. persons who occupied the world's stage during When the time came to take leave of him, she felt that eventful period. more acutely the grief of quitting France, for she regarded this virtuous man as the representative of all the noble friendships which had formed the charm of her life. She arrived at Rome, alone and without letters of recommendation; but she soon became there, as everywhere else, the object of universal admiration and attention. The venerable M. d'Agincourt, now approaching the close of his long and laborious career, was then putting the last touch to his great work on the history of One of the latest objects on which his eyes rested was on that lovely face, whose gentle, elevated, and pious expression, Canova tried to perpetuate in marble. That graceful sculptor did not attempt to copy Mme. Récamier's features, so much as to embody the lineaments of her soul. The writer of the following slight tribute to Such is his bust of Beatrice. After satisfying her memory, standing midway between these two her passionate and refined love of art at Rome, classes, can, perhaps, speak in some degree both Mme. Récamier determined to visit Naples. She to the impression she made on a stranger, and to arrived there at the moment of Murat's defection the endearing charm she exercised over her friends. from France, and was an involuntary witness of Yet the task of saying anything about Mme. Réthe painful efforts it cost him and the queen to per-camier that will not wound my own sense of the severe in a course demanded of them by the inter- refined beauty and nameless grace that accomests of their people. It was from that once pow-panied her through every scene of her life is, howerful sister of Bonaparte that Mme. Récamier learned, amid tears and lamentations, the end of the greatest political drama the world ever beheld. art. She returned to Rome, where she witnessed the entry of the Pope, that he might resume possession of his States. She saw the passionate enthusiasm of the people, contrasted with the calm and solemn rapture of the august old man who was the object of it. Mme. Récamier's sentence of banishment was never formally revoked; it was terminated by the general movement of the world. She reentered France at the same time with the Bourbons; and passing through Lyons to Paris, was present at the first fêtes given in their honor. Her illustrious friend returned at the same time from the other extremity of Europe; but they met again only to part forever. In the hearts of those who had the honor and the happiness of living in constant intercourse with her, (says M. Lemoine, in a notice which recently appeared in the Journal des Débats,) Madame Récamier will forever remain the object of a sort of adoration which we should find it impossible to express; and on the recollection of those who have dust of the every-day history of our times will not ever seen her, she has left an impression which the cover or efface. ever, so difficult, that I should have resisted my desire to join my humble voice to the chorus of lamentation over her grave, had it not appeared to me that out of that grave her sovereign beauty might yet read a great lesson to those similarly, if not equally, gifted with herself. My first impression and my latest conviction with regard to Mme. Récamier were the same; they furnished me with one invariable answer to all the questions I have been asked about her. It was the atmosphere of benignity which seemed to exhale like a delicate perfume from her whole person, that prolonged the fascination of her beauty. It was her heart, rather than her head, that inspired her with the faculty of animating, guiding, harmonizing the society over which she presided, with a quiet yet resistless power, the secret of which was with herself. Mme. Récamier was by no means a talker, nor was I ever struck by her Soon after Mme. de Staël's death, Mme. Ré- talents or acquirements. She seldom said much; camier took up her residence at the Abbaye aux and it was only on an attentive study that one Bois. This step, which seemed to sever her from perceived how much of the charm and the value the world, only proved more clearly the irresisti- of the conversation was due to her gentle influble attraction of her society and conversation.ence, never asserted yet always felt. It would be The powerful friendships which she had made and retained, enabled her to be useful to many victims of faction and party, and even to save some from destruction. But the biography of a contemporary can never be more than a bare outline. We must trust to Mme. Récamier's friend to make posterity ac a mistake, nay, a disparagement, to imagine that she attracted round her such a circle of distinguished men by the brilliancy of her conversation. It was the ineffable charm of the sweetest and kindliest of tempers; the strongest desire to give pleasure, to avert pain, to avoid offence, to render her society agreeable and soothing to all its mem bers, to enable everybody to present himself in the most favorable light;-it was the suavity, the refined humanity of her nature, that gave grace to all her acts and gestures; that rendered her beauty irresistible in youth, and the charm of her manner scarcely less powerful in age. It is not, therefore, the sermon so often preached over the grave of beauty-that it is transient and perishable-that we would fain pour into fair and youthful ears. Those who cannot see that most obvious and salient of truths, and upon whom the sight does not force some serious reflections, are far beyond the reach of words. Neither are we at all inclined to assert the well-worn falsehood, so often told by the very men whose whole life belies it, that beauty is of no value. Beauty, like any other power, is one of the great gifts of God, who has so constituted man that he is, and ever must be, its subject, often its slave. It is the highest and the most intoxicating of all powers, for it is at its zenith when the reason is yet unripe; it is attained without toil or sacrifice, and held with out responsibility. It is, then, not by decrying or depreciating so mighty a gift that any good can be done. The consciousness of her triumphs (unknown, perhaps, to any but herself) will speak louder to the possessor of beauty, than any attempts of ours to depreciate their value. But what may perhaps be done, at least where beauty is combined with tolerable understanding, is, to show its high vocation, and its sweet influences on social life; to point to the withered, heartless, and spiteful coquette, whose beauty survives only in her own memory, and to her own torment, and then to Mme. Récamier, old and blind, surrounded with such respectful admiration, such affectionate and almost enthusiastic devotion, as few indeed of the young and brilliant can command. Such then as hers, we would say, fair creatures, is the sceptre which He who made you fair has placed within your reach. Would you obtain it? He, too, has taught you the means-first, by the law of your woman's nature, which He has written on your hearts; secondly, by that other divine law which He has given you in His word. You are, if you are true-born women, gentle, kind, and loving, anxious to please, and fearful to of fend. If you are Christian women, you are meek and lowly of heart, full of pity and charity, of good-will manifested in kindly words and benevolent works. Let these things be added to your beauty, and see, in the example before us, how enduring is its empire! It is true that Mme. Récamier was gifted with a corporeal grace which is not to be acquired, and which admirably seconded the grace of soul that inspired her lovely person. This was striking to the last. Even when bowed by age, and moving about with the uncertain step and gait of the blind, this did not forsake her. There was a gentleness and suavity in all her movements that excited admiration, even in the midst of the tender pity she excited. It is probable that the impres sion she made on me was stronger and more beautiful in her age and darkness, than it would have been had I seen her in the pride of her beauty and the triumphs of her charms. It is certain that those who had known her in the plenitude of her power never forsook her, and that the attachments she inspired ended only with life. It must be remembered, however, that Mme. Récamier was a French woman, and that Paris, and not London, was the scene of her dominion. I question if a woman with all her gifts and graces (and as many more as imagination can add to them) could ever obtain an equal influence in this country. I have no intention either of depreciating or of exalting France in a comparison with England. I am an English woman, and I not only love my own country, but I prefer it; and I esteem the subordinate position which women occupy in society here as one source of its strength, its constancy, and its thoroughly virile character. It is also, doubtless, the source of some of its most striking and obvious defects; but in the actual state of the world, and weighing the evils arising from either side, I should rather accept those resulting from the complete predominance of the manly character. We must make our election. Social life can attain to its highest culture and perfection only at the expense of domestic life; and vice versû. They are two conditions of existence which, to a considerable extent, exclude each other; and they involve or suppose relations of the sexes totally different and incompatible. The English idea of those relations is very nearly the Roman, and will probably be that of every nation in which the character of citizen is strongly developed, and is the object of great respect and ardent aspiration. The general diffusion of political interests, duties, and occupations among the men of a community, harmonizes perfectly with the complete and exclusive development of domestic life. The man who is, above all, civis, and to whom belong all contests for power and influence, will desire to return home to find his house swept and garnished; the mistress of it, the honored matrona, awaiting his return, contented to share the quiet evening which is the only tolerable close to the o'erlabored day of a servant (often a voluntary servant) of the public. It seems questionable whether the duties and labors of the active citizen of a free nation can be pursued with equal ardor and constancy, where the pleasures, successes, and obligations of society are very engrossing; and, accordingly, up to the present moment we see (spite of repeated and violent convulsions to obtain liberty) no trace in France of any desire for really popular government; that is to say, for a general participation in the labors, duties, and responsibilities of public life. We are far enough from dreaming that the type we have spoken of above is commonly, or even frequently, realized amongst us, in the calm grandeur of its submissive and self-denying wifehood. Still we assert that this is the type present to the imagination and the wishes of the nation; that the preva 66 lent taste and opinion of the country is, that the that "parties" are society? or that the true social house (home) is a place to which the man is to re- taste and spirit could content itself with a breathtire, in full security that he is to find there nothing less, fatiguing course of crowds for three months? to disturb his tranquillity, interrupt his pursuits, or In London almost every party" is resorted to derange his habits; and that this security is af- with some arrière pensée. People dance, or eat, forded him by the general understanding and tacit or hear music; or they hope to find themselves in contract that his wife shall rule his house to that the same room with the Duchess of — and the end and intent. Marchioness of ; or they go because they must; or anything, but the pleasure of interchanging thoughts, of hearing and talking, of being amused and amusing, of admiring clever things and saying them, which is the real attraction of society to a French man or woman. It is quite evident that society, in and for itself, has no attractions for English people in general, from the number of things deemed necessary to bribe them to endure it. In England a vast outlay, a vast quantity of "foreign aid and ornament," is deemed A man who adopts this scheme of life will naturally choose for such constant and exclusive companionship a woman who, he believes, will not be disagreeable to him, and who will love him well enough to endure the monotony and obscurity of domestic life; and hence marriages of inclination will predominate over those of convenience. In these things it is difficult to distinguish cause from effect. Has the absence of popular institutions in France, and the traditional custom of marriages assorted with a view to station and proper- indispensable to those who presume to invite. ty, driven men into society, and occasioned that Houses, servants, viands, all that money can proexquisite and complete development of the social cure, are pressed into the service. In France, talents, tastes, and qualities, which distinguishes though we heard there constant complaints of the the French? Or have those tastes, talents, and degeneracy of the age in this respect, it is still qualities, by rendering society the great scene of possible to have the best society without bribing success and of enjoyment, indisposed men for the or feeding. Good manners and good conversadrudgery of civic and political, and for the monot- tion are sufficient. Indeed, the best is to be obony of domestic life? tained by no other means. We remember asking the mistress of a most agreeable salon how she managed to keep out the bores. She laughed and said—"Oh, il n'y a pas de danger quand on n'a pas 200,000 francs de rente." It is certainly true that show and luxury attract those to whom show and luxury are the main objects; and what manner of men and women they are we all know. The most brilliant and fertile of all conversers, Sydney Smith, said of a very splendid party, The lights put out the conversation." Has the early development of popular institutions, by occupying the time and thoughts, and the custom of marriages of inclination, by engaging the affections, of Englishmen, indisposed them for the exertions and the constraint of society, and rendered them indifferent to its successes? Have these causes made them grave, reserved, unexpansive? Or have their natural gravity, reserve, and want of ready demonstrative sympathy, driven them from a field in which they were not" formed either to enjoy or to shine, or converted what is called society into another form of business? We are quite aware that the sort of society we speak of the society which was the pride and delight of old France-the compensation for her many political defects and evils-is regarded by those best qualified to compare and to judge it, as extinct. The fashion of showy crowds gains ground, and even the habitués of houses run from salon to salon with a rapidity which augurs ill for the attractive power of any. Mme. Récamier's salon was perhaps the last which kept alive the memory of the ancient order of things. People came to see the mistress of the house, and to meet those they liked and were accustomed to meet; they came to talk and to listen. These are the questions which dispassionate observers will ask themselves, instead of either depreciating what they do not possess and cannot attain to, or asserting their supremacy in irreconcilable qualities. Had Mme. Récamier been called to the performance of maternal duties, and had her influence been confined to the narrow, but, as we think, higher and more sacred circle of family, she would never have been what she was. If we do not envy France the possession and production of a person so exquisitely formed to be the charm and consolation of society, let us At the time I became a resident in Paris, I neither undervalue her mission, nor affect to be heard that Mme. Récamier had ceased to receive able to show anything comparable to her social strangers. Her sight, afterwards completely exgifts and graces. Suum cuique is the motto of tinguished, was already dimmed; her health was every enlightened judge of national character. extremely delicate, and, as she afterwards told me That each should prefer his own lot is desirable; with her gentle smile, she did not care to have —that he should despise, or seek to appropriate, people come only to look at the once beautiful that of others, is contemptible and absurd. Mme. Récamier. I had, therefore, not the smallPeople who know the sort of rage with which est hope of seeing a person concerning whom I "parties" are given and pursued during "the felt so much curiosity and interest, and it was season" in London, may wonder what we mean; with equal surprise and pleasure that I accepted but the very terms employed suffice to prove the the kind permission of her niece, Mme. Lenortruth of our assertion. Does anybody imagine mant, to accompany her one evening to the Ab baye aux Bois. From that time I became as fre- | hand, on one of my latest visits to the Abbaye quent a visitor as all the obstacles interposed by aux Bois, and said rapidly in her sweet low voice, great distance, health, weather, and occupation," Do not speak to him; talk across him!" At would allow me. that time he had sunk into almost unbroken silence, For a long time before her death (says Mme. Lenormant) she had ceased to make visits, but her salon was open every day before and after dinner. Before dinner (from three to six) was particularly devoted to M. de Chateaubriand. Every day, without fail, he came at three, and did not go till six. During the last two years, his valet de chambre and another servant brought him into the room in his arm-chair. but she never gave up the chance that conversation might afford him a momentary amusement. As if the chief It is characteristic of Mme. Récamier's unselfish nature, that after the operation for cataract had proved unsuccessful, and she had to resign herself to hopeless darkness, she remarked, that self was the one which she could the most easily an infirmity which was inconvenient only to hersubmit to. I remember on one occasion when I M. de Chateaubriand had entirely lost the use called on her, and she fancied that she had negof his legs. When I first saw him, his very ele-lected some act of courtesy, she said, with her gant head wore no appearance of illness; he was sweet smile, and as if excusing herself, " Il est still a singularly handsome old man, but it was si incommode d'être aveugle." evident that he suffered morally as well as physi- value of sight was the power it gives of ministercally from an infirmity which exhibited him in soing to the pleasure of others! helpless a state. Even then M. de Chateaubriand spoke little, and often appeared to take little part in the conversation. He spoke to me occasionally of England; and in a foreboding tone. He did not like the reform-bill; he augured no good from free-trade agitation, and seemed to fear that we were on a declivity.* Considering the state of his health and spirits, and the nature of his political opinions, this was to be expected. His appearance and manner were those of the most perfect breeding and courtesy. M. de Chateaubriand was the principal person in the group which formed itself round Mme. Récamier, and the object of the utmost respect and attention. There was something imposing in his silence and in his high-bred air, which well fitted him for the place he filled. Next on the list of those who daily assembled about Mme. Récamier was the venerable and amiable Ballanche-that incomparable friend, who from the moment he behold her devoted his life to her. Nobody who knew M. Ballanche can forget him, or can remember any one like him. He realized all one's conception of the simplicity, serenity, and benevolence of a Christian philosopher. Nothing could be more engaging, nothing more venerable, than his manner. Even his ugliness had something singularly attractive. He inspired love, confidence and respect, in a degree rare indeed when united. every moment of his life, down to that final one. when she came to take her seat by the deathbed of the faithful friend she so deeply lamented. Whilst he was engaged in the composition of of devoted friends, M. J. J. Ampère, in his Mehis Antigone (says another of the illustrious group moire of M. Ballanche,) poetry appeared to him Those (says Mme. Lenormant) who have seen under an enchanting form. He became acquainted them during the last two years, who have seen with her, of whom he said, that the charm of her Mme. Récamier, blind, but retaining the sweetness presence had laid his sorrows to sleep; who, after and brilliancy of her eyes, surrounding the illustri- being the soul of his most elevated and delicate inous friend whose age had extinguished his mem-spirations, became in later years the providence of ory, with cares so delicate, so tender, so watchful; have seen her joy when she helped him to snatch a momentary distraction from the conversation which passed around him, by leading it to subjects connected with that remoter past which still lingered in his memory-those persons will never forget the scene; for they could not help being deeply affected with pity and respect at the sight of that noble beauty, brilliancy and genius, bending beneath the weight of age, and sheltered with such ingenious tenderness by the sacred friendship of a woman who forgot her own infirmities in the endeavor to lighten his. M. Ampère quotes the following passage from a letter of M. Ballanche to Mme. Récamier : Yes, you are the Antigone of my dreams; her destiny is not like yours, but the elevated soul, the generous heart, the genius of devotedness, are the features of your character. I was only beginning Antigone when you appeared to me at Lyons, and God only knows how large a share you have in the portrait of that noble woman! Antiquity is far from having furnished me with all the materials for it; the ideal was revealed to me by you. I distinctly is she now before me, as she seized my the world to know that so perfect a creature was shall explain all these things one day; I choose Mme. Lenormant is right in saying that it is impossible to forget this touching scene. How Those who have read the third volume of the Mémoires d'Outre Tombe will not be much alarmed at these predictions. The judgments of a man who, after having spent years in England, affirms that at the end of last century but two classes were known in England-patrons and clients, united by a common interest and by amity; that the jealous class called bourgeoise did not exist; that there was nothing interposed between the rich landowners and men occupied with their respective trades, are not very formidable. Into such childish blunders do conceit and prejudice lead even men of genius. not created by me. And again, at a later age, he says,— If my name survives me, which appears more and more probable, I shall be called the philosopher of the Abbaye aux Bois, and my philosophy that it was only through Eurydice that Orpheus will be considered as inspired by you. Remember had any true mission to his brother men; and remember, too, that Eurydice was a marvellous |