"The charming ribbon given by Madame Recamier has been borne by General Massena in the battles and the blockades of Genoa: it has never left him, and been, in every instance, the harbinger of victory."—Vol. viii. 167.
"There," as Chateaubriand justly observes "the ancient manners reappeared athwart the modern manners of which they formed the base. The gallantry of the noble chevalier shone forth in the plebeian soldier; the memory of the tournaments and of the crusades was concealed amidst the blaze of glory with which modern France has crowned its old victories."
Lucien Buonaparte, one of her first adorers, addressed her early in life in these terms:—
"Till within these few days, I knew you only by renown. I had seen you sometimes at church and in the theatres. I knew you were the most beautiful: a thousand voices repeated it; and your charms had struck without dazzling me. Why has the peace rendered me captive? it reigns in our families, but sorrow is in my heart.
"I have seen you since: Jove seemed to smile on your steps. Seated on the edge of a fountain, motionless and dreamy, you gathered a rose. I addressed you alone: I thought I heard a sigh. Vain illusion! I soon saw the tranquil front of indifference seated between us. The passion which devoured me expressed itself in my words; while yours bore the cruel yet amiable stamp of infancy and sport.
"Be severe, I implore you, for pity's sake. Banish me from your presence. Desire me to withdraw from your enchanting society: and if I can obey the order, remember only that my heart is for ever your own; that no one ever reigned over it as Juliette; and that he will ever live with her, at least in memory."—Vol. viii. 130.
"For a man of sangfroid," says Chateaubriand, "all that is a little ridiculous." He is right: it is gallantry without passion which always appears fade and contemptible. It is vehemence and sincerity which makes sentiment interesting. The Buonapartes had nothing chivalrous in their breasts: Lucien's letter is very different from Massena wearing Madame Recamier's ribbon next his heart amidst the fire of the Austrian cannon. But Chateaubriand himself had the true spirit of chivalry in his bosom. He thus recounts one of the last moments which he spent in 1832, late in life, with Madame Recamier on the banks of the Lake of Constance:—
"We wandered as chance guided our steps, and sat down beside the lake. From a pavilion in the woods arose a concert of the harp and the German horns, which ceased as we began to listen to them. It was a scene in a fairy tale. As the music did not recommence, I read to Madame Recamier my description of the St Gothard. She asked me to write something in her pocket-book. Immediately below the last words of Rousseau, which were there inscribed, 'Open the windows, that I may again see the light of the sun,' I wrote, 'What I felt the want of on the Lake of Lucerne I have found on the Lake of Constance—the charm and the intelligence of beauty. I no longer wish to die like Rousseau; I wish, on the contrary, to live long, and behold the sun, if it is near you that I am to finish my life. May my days expire at your feet, as the waves of which you hear the murmur.' The azure light of the setting sun coloured the lake; on the horizon, to the south, the snowy alps of the Grisons reflected the ruddy glow; the breeze which swept the waves harmonised with their ceaseless murmur. We knew not where we were."—Vol. x. 246, 247.
With the accession of a more Liberal Administration under M. de Martignac, Chateaubriand was taken into power. In 1822 he was sent as ambassador to London; in 1823 he was made minister of foreign affairs, and directed the expedition into Spain in that year, which had so successful a result; and in 1824 he represented France at the Congress of Verona. He was again, however, chased from the helm by the jealousy of the Royalists, whose imbecility was rebuked by his genius; and it was not till 1828 that he was again taken into power, and appointed to the embassy at Rome. He was there when the Polignac Administration was appointed.
We must hasten to the most brilliant and honourable period of Chateaubriand's life, that in which he stood almost alone amidst a nation's defection, and singly opposed the revolutionary torrent by which nearly all others had been swept away. The spectacle is at once animating and mournful: animating as evincing of what high resolves, of what heroic constancy, noble minds are capable even in the extremity of disaster: mournful, as exhibiting so bright a contrast to the tergiversation of later times, and suggesting the mournful reflection that, in these days of economists and material enjoyment, the days of chivalry are gone for ever.
It is well known that Chateaubriand was esteemed not only a Liberal, but an ultra-Liberal, by the extreme Royalist party whom Charles X. summoned to his councils on his accession to the throne; and that, in consequence of his disagreement with Polignac and the leaders of that party, he retired from the ministry, and resigned his appointment as ambassador at Rome. His consternation was great on perceiving the extreme measures which the Polignac party were preparing to carry into execution, and the feeble preparations made for supporting them by military force, in the midst of a warlike and excited people. Of his first intelligence of the appointment of the Polignac Administration by the sovereign whom they were destined so soon to overthrow, he gives the following account:—
"Rumours of a change of Administration had already reached us at Rome. Well-informed persons had even gone so far as to speak of Prince Polignac, but I could not credit the reports. At length the journals arrive; I open them, and my eyes rest on the official ordinance calling him to the head of the ministry. I had experienced many vicissitudes of fortune in my journey through life, but never had I fallen from such an elevation. My evil destiny had again blown over my chimeras: that breath of fate had not only destroyed my illusions, but it had swept away the monarchy. The blow was fearful: for a moment I was in despair, but my part was soon taken. I felt that I must retire from power. The post brought me a multitude of letters; all recommended me to send in my resignation. Even persons to whom I was almost a stranger thought themselves obliged to counsel me to retire. I was in secret mortified at the officious interest thus evinced in my reputation. Thank God, I have never needed nor waited for counsels when the paths of honour and of interest lay before me. Falls from station have ever been to me ruin, for I possessed through life nothing but debts; so that when I resigned my appointments, I was reduced to live by my wits. In a word, I resigned a situation of 200,000 francs (£8000) a-year, and was reduced to nothing; but my choice was not doubtful. Cast to the winds, said I to myself, 200,000 francs (£8000) a-year of income, an appointment entirely suited to your taste, a high and magnificent office, the empire of the fine arts at Rome, the felicity, in fine, of having at length received the recompense for your long and laborious struggles. Honour is to be won, esteem preserved, at no other price."—Vol. ix. 141, 142.
On arriving at Paris after he had resigned his appointment as ambassador at Rome, Chateaubriand found that many of the kind and officious friends who had so strongly urged him to resign, had themselves quietly accepted appointments under the Polignac Administration! He withdrew, however, in pursuance of his resolution, into private life; and in order to avoid the expenses of Paris, which exceeded what his reduced income could bear, he retired to Dieppe in June 1830. When there he received the stunning intelligence of the Ordinances of July. His part was immediately taken. He returned with the utmost expedition to Paris, resolved to share the fate of his country whatever it might be, and to exert himself to the utmost to mitigate the calamities which he foresaw awaited it. His first step on arriving in the capital was to write a letter to the King, making a tender of his services to negotiate with the popular leaders who had got the command in the capital. The only answer he received was a verbal one, that M. de Montemart had been appointed to the head of the Ministry, and a reference to him. But M. de Montemart could not be found; and even if he had been, affairs had gone too far to admit of any remedy by individual efforts, how powerful soever. The nation would have a Revolution with its consequences, and it was doomed to have a Revolution with its consequences. But although Louis Philippe was successful, Chateaubriand foresaw that his throne was established on a rotten foundation: that the juste milieu, resting neither on the attachment of a loyal, nor the passions of a conquering people, could not be of lasting endurance; and that, in default of all principles of honour whereon to rest a Government, those of interest alone remained. He has left the following memorable prophecy of the fate awaiting a monarchy cradled in treason and fostered by selfishness:—