*
Madame Récamier.
At Lyons, I have seen the Jardin des Plantes laid down on the ruins of the ancient amphitheatre and in the gardens of the old Abbaye de la Déserte, now pulled down; the Rhone and the Saône flow at its feet; far away rises the highest mountain in Europe, the first mile-post of Italy, with its white board above the clouds. Madame Récamier was placed in this abbey; she there passed her childhood behind a grill which opened upon the outer church only at the elevation of the Mass. Then one saw young girls bowing down in the inner chapel of the convent. The saint's-day of the abbess was the principal festival of the community; the prettiest boarder paid the customary compliment: her dress was arranged, her hair plaited, her head veiled and crowned by the hands of her playmates; and all this in silence, for the hour of rising was one of those which were called "grand silence" in the monasteries. It goes without saying that Juliette[339] had the honours of the day. Her father and mother, having settled in Paris, sent to fetch their child. From some rough drafts written by Madame Récamier, I gather this note:
"On the eve of the day on which my aunt was to come to fetch me, I was taken to the room of Madame the Abbess to receive her blessing. The next day, bathed in tears, I went out through the door, which I did not remember seeing opened to admit me, found myself in a carriage with my aunt, and we drove off for Paris.
"I leave with regret a time so calm and so pure to enter upon that of excitement. It often comes back to me as in a vague, sweet dream, with its clouds of incense, its numberless ceremonies, its processions in the gardens, its singing and its flowers."
*
Those hours which have left a pious desert now rest in another religious solitude, without having lost anything of their freshness and their harmony.
Benjamin Constant, the wittiest man after Voltaire, strives to give an idea of Madame Récamier's early youth: he has drawn from the model whose features he aimed at tracing a grace which was not natural to him.
"Among the women of our time," he says, "whom advantages of feature, mind, or character have rendered famous, there is one whom I wish to depict. Her beauty made her admired at first; her soul next made itself known, and her soul appeared even superior to her beauty. The habit of society supplied her mind with the means to display itself, and her mind remained below neither her beauty nor her soul.
"At the age of barely fifteen[340], married to a man[341] who, occupied by an immense amount of business, could not guide her extreme youthfulness, Madame Récamier found herself left almost entirely to herself in a country which was still in a state of chaos.
"Several women of the same period have filled Europe with their diverse fames. The majority have paid tribute to their century, some through indelicate loves, others by guilty condescensions towards the successive tyrannies.
"She whom I am describing emerged radiant and pure from that atmosphere which blighted all that it did not corrupt. Childhood was at first a safeguard for her, thanks to the Author of this beautiful work, who made everything turn to her advantage. Far removed from the world, in a solitude beautified by the arts, she formed for herself a gentle occupation out of all those attractive and poetic studies which remain the charm of another age.
"Often also, surrounded by young companions, she indulged with them in clamorous sports. Slender and light of foot, she outstripped them in the race; she covered with a bandage her eyes which were one day to penetrate every soul. Her glance, to-day so expressive and so profound, which seems to us to reveal mysteries unknown to herself, sparkled then only with a lively and playful gaiety. Her beautiful hair, which cannot become undone without filling us with perturbation, then fell, without danger to any, over her white shoulders. Laughter loud and long often interrupted her childish conversation; but already one could perceive in her that nice and quick observation which seizes upon the ridiculous, that gentle malice which is amused by it without ever wounding, and particularly that exquisite sentiment of eloquence, purity and good taste, a real inborn nobility, the titles to which are stamped upon privileged beings.
Madame Récamier.
Her girlhood.
"The great world of that time was too uncongenial to her nature that she should not prefer retirement. She was never seen in the houses open to all comers, the only meeting-places possible when every closed company was suspected; where all classes rushed, because there they could talk and say nothing, meet and not be compromised; where ill manners took the place of wit and disorder of gaiety. She was never seen at the Court of the Directory, where the power was at once terrible and familiar, inspiring dread without escaping contempt.
"However, Madame Récamier sometimes issued from her retreat to go to the play or to the public walks and, in those places frequented by all, her rare appearances were real events. Every other object of those vast assemblies was forgotten, and all flung themselves in her way. The man fortunate enough to escort her had to overcome admiration as it were an obstacle; his steps were at every moment delayed by the onlookers crowding around her; she delighted in this success with the gaiety of a child and the shyness of a young girl; but her graceful dignity, which in her home distinguished her from her young friends, abroad restrained the exuberant throng. It was as though she reigned by her mere presence over her companions and the public. Thus passed the first years of Madame Récamier's marriage, between poetical occupations, childish sports at home, and short and brilliant appearances in the world."
