Juliette Recamier

Front matter

JULIETTE RECAMIER

AND TIMES

^DELIA AUSTRIAN

Chapter II Her Early Loves

BOUT this time Lucien Bonaparte aspired to become Juliette Recamier's lover. Though he was married already his wife was delicate, and went little in society. This combination of circumstances gave Lucien freedom to flirt with all the handsome women he met.

He considered his intimacies with well known women to be important in the assistance of furthering his political importance and career. According to the historians of the day he was a handsome man but rather effeminate looking.

He had a well shaped head, and well-moulded features. Though much taller than his brother Napoleon, his physique was poor and he had a spinal irregularity that caused him to stoop slightly. His hands were unusually large as were his feet and he gesticulated a great deal while talking. With women he made every effort to be at his best and when he grew excited he became somewhat feline.

Lucien was devoted to Madame Recamier, so much so in fact that he was ever ready to dance attendance on her slightest whim. She is said to have dined with him several times at the more fashionable restaurants in Paris, and even welcomed him as she did many other famous men, to a spirit of social eclat and coquetry. At this time Lucien was but twentyfive years of age, and was Secretary of the Interior.

id The Life of Juliette Recamier

A short time afterwards, his wife died, and Lucien ceased his frequent visits to Madame Recamier for a time, but he wrote her many ardent letters which she regarded Hghtly, only later to realize how genuine his expressions of sentiment were.

While in Venice he wrote her more ardent epistles under the title, "First letters from Romeo to Juliet."

One of these read: "Romeo writes to you, Juliet. If you refuse to read my letter you will be more cruel than our people whose quarrels have just been appeased.

"Without doubt these dreadful quarrels will never come again. A few days ago I only knew you by reputation; I had seen you a few times at church and at fetes. I knew that you were the most beautiful woman — a thousand lips had sung your praises; but the friends who complimented were weak in praise indeed. Why has this time of peace delivered me to your Empire?

"Remember that day when I was introduced to you? We celebrated our country's reconciliation at a great banquet. I had just come from the senate where troubles about the Republic had produced a lively impression on me. My mind was filled with deep thoughts. I arrived, quite sad and lost in dreams in those Bellemare Gardens, where we were expected. Merriment is always there and it dissipated my grief. I gave myself up to that rest for which skillfulness and calculation are necessary to conquer it.

"How good was this rest in contrast to human life, where everything is battle, attack and pursuit.

"You came then — and they all followed and surrounded you. 'How beautiful she is!' was the general outcry.

"The room where I stood was soon empty. I hardly could keep back with my companion at play. I refused to follow him, to fly near you. I seemed to be afraid of my Fate and to be willing to make my liberty of heart last a few moments longer.

"Chance or love brought me near you. I heard your voice, I was your slave. I could not admire your features enough, your accent, your silence, your movements, and your expression, which is still embellished by indifference, for you know how to make your indifference attractive.

"Crowds of people in the evening filled the Gardens. Intruders, who were everywhere, came to me. This time I had no patience nor politeness for them — -they kept me away from you.

"When you appeared all eyes were on you. The men admired you and the women sought in you a subject of consolation. On the banks of a lake I observed your way of walking which is as simple as is your dress. In every movement and in every fold of your gown, flowers seemed to grow. I wanted to shake off the trouble that had taken hold of me. I found out that it was love and I wished to master it.

"I was taken away and left the Gardens of Bellemare at the same time you did. I saw you again since love smiled on me. One day sitting on the bank of a river quiet and dreaming, you played with a rose. I thought I heard a sigh. Vain illusion. As I saw my error I knew that indifference was seated between us. Passion overcame me and expressed itself in my speech, but yours bore only a cruel joke.

"My complaints accompanied my sighs. You doubted Romeo, you spoke of his art of pretending feelings which he has not. Oh, Juliette, life without love is a long, long sleep. The most beautiful woman should have feelings.

"Happy must be the mortal who becomes the friend of your heart. Without doubt Romeo is not the one whom love has chosen for you, since he could not inspire you with esteem, since you cannot accuse him of hypocrisy. Without doubt he will be a victim of your indifference.

"Juliette — Romeo gives himself up to his Fate, but do not despise him nor think him false. Answer his love with pity and by believing in him. I wish to see you every day as though there were not enough pain already in my heart.

"I can see you alone but seldom, and these Venetians who surround you with their gallantry are unsupportable to me. Can anyone speak to Juliette, as to another woman? I wished to write to you. You will know me, you will believe in me. My soul is restless, it is parched with desire. If my love has not touched yours, if Romeo is in your eyes but an ordinary man, I beg you by all the ties which you imposed through kindness, do not smile, do not speak.

"Tell me to go away, and if I cannot accomplish this hard order remember that at least Romeo will love you always; that no one has ruled over him as has Juliette and that he cannot give up living for her — living in remembrance. Romeo."

But it did not take a Lucien Bonaparte to make Juliette Recamier's beauty famous both in Paris and in London. After the peace of Amiens the French flocked to London and the English to Paris.

Madame Recamier was one of the many who paid a long visit to England. While in London the papers gave a minute account of her social triumphs in the home of leading society women, at the theatres and at the opera. She could not walk through Kensington Gardens without attracting great crowds and having the fact recorded in all the papers.

The beautiful duchess of Devonshire entertained her royally and was pleased with her beauty and charming personality.

Sainte Beuve, speaking of Juliette in his Causerie du Lundi, says: *'At the debut of the Consulate one found her most brilliantly feted; applauded by everyone for her elegance, for her knack of giving tone to the world, and for inventing by her subtle art those things that stand for supreme beauty.

"Glancing back at her, though we do not wish to make of her a goddess, we can only think of her beauty, tender and nurtured with a delicacy which marked her individual charm."

In the life of Madame Recamier we notice two distinct epochs; her days of youth with her triumph and her beauty, her long day of sunshine lasting well into the evening. Later, in the twilight of her life, after the sun had begun to set, I hesitate to speak. I cannot speak of her old age.

In these two epochs so full of color that they were one at the foundation, though they seemed to be different.

In both periods she showed traits that were essentially the same, and to show how strong she remained in this upheaval, she always remained pure.

She always guarded her desire of conquest, and her gracious personality, her coquetry was pure, almost angelic.

Le Montey was another of her guests who was always epigrammatic and found great pleasure in going to Juliette's salon where he entered into long discussions on many subjects. A friend of the family from the time Juliette was in Lyons, he looked upon her as a loyal friend, ever ready to do him a favor as she was ready to serve so many of her friends.

The most persistent of these suitors was Benjamin Constant — the Inconstant. He was a mobile, changeable soul, but possessed a sort of sincerity which disarmed the doubts that many people held toward him.

"There are two personalities," he said, **in me, and one is after the other."

Constant mocked himself until it became second nature.

Madame de Stael had great influence in his political writings and did much to have him turn against Napoleon. He was named consul of state and played a part in framing Uact Additiom.!. This brilliant young writer was dominated by Germaine's ideas of politics and social life and he grew to love her, even going so far as to ask for her heart and hand.

Germaine, however, held him off, because at this time she was much interested in Prosper de Barante, who was then prefect of Leman. Madame de Stael was so taken with Barante's cleverness that she said: "No man of his age is so clever and so talented." Barante courted de Stael while Constant looked on and bided his time. Later on de Stael looked with favor on Constant's suit, but by this time the fickle Benjamin was head over heels in love with Juliette Recamier.

He wrote her some thirty or more passionate letters in which he poured out his soul no less ardently than Lucien Bonaparte had done.

Constant had a wonderful style both in speaking and in writing; he was celebrated for his clearness and had a charm that is rarely found in men of letters. It is said that he spoke abruptly like Voltaire and had not the sonorous rhetoric of Rousseau. His language was somber and rich, harmonious and simple without being sentimental.

His pronunciation was different from the usual conversationalist and was hard to follow, but once into his subject he spoke with great fluency. His face showed a peculiar combination of French vivacity and English stiffness. He had a great weakness for gambling, and was far from being a saint, but it is said that there was a raillery in his humor and wickedness that made him a delightful companion.

When not gambling he was absorbed in religion, especially religious liberty and philosophy, and was ever ready to give his time and money to anybody that wanted or needed them.

Speaking of religion he says: **Let us leave rehgion to itself; always progressive and proportional, it will advance with ideas and it will become purer with morality. God will beautify at each epoch that which is best. Let us always ask for religious liberty in every speech, surround religion with an invincible force and guarantee its perfection."

This thin and pale, blonde man gave much time and thought to serious observations. Just as he had gone to Madame de Stael for intellectual inspiration in his early days he went to Juliette Recamier for spiritual consolation.

When he failed to receive it, he went to Madame Kriidener and prayed with her that Juliette would give him spiritual sympathy. She was always willing to give him that, as she had given it to many others, but she refused to give him love.

Constant was able to flatter her vanity as he had that of many another young person, but further than that he could not go. He poured out his love to her in letter after letter. In one he wrote: "I love you no less than the time you found me weeping at your feet. I suffer so much with the least sign of indifference, and they are many.

"I am restless every moment of my life. I hold but one thought. You hold my being in one hand, as God does his creatures. A glance, a word, a gesture would change my very existence, and yet I submit myself to everything, and I do not complain. I suffer when you show your indifference at seeing me, because I cannot live without seeing you.

"And I often suffer and sacrifice much to win a smile from you. Oh, I would give my life for an hour of real joy with you. For this prize I would pierce my heart with my sword and spill my blood for you.

"But this is not to be wondered at, since you are an angel from heaven. Nature could not have created a being more beautiful, more attractive, more enchanting in every glance, in every word than are you.

"Was there ever a woman who had so many charms, a mind so fine, a manner so naive and piquant, such worthy instincts for everything that is noble and pure?

"You dominate over everything you touch. You are a model of grace and delicacy and of reason which astonishes by its justice and which captivates by its goodness which sweetens it.

"Why does this goodness not reach me and me alone? I have never loved as I love you. I have told you tonight that if you must torture me you must console me by telling me of some sacrifice I may make for you. Farewell. You will excuse me for having written to you. I have hesitated before sending this letter for fear of annoying you. Benjamin Constant."

Another of his ardent letters is as follows:

"My heart goes out to you. I must tell you how much I love you. My feeling is qualified by many characteristics which it once lacked. I find in you a thousand new charms; your mind is the only one which is suited to mine. Your happiness is so genuine, your soul is so pure and noble; every word from you indicates delicacy in showing goodness.

"I love you in everything that is beautiful and adorable on this earth. Oh, let me love you. I shall feel better for so doing. I shall respect myself the more. I am thankful to feel with so much strength all you are and all you are worth. My love is my only thought. It becomes almost a happiness because it is so sweet to admire and to love you. I cannot help telling you although my poor letters remain unanswered. But I love you as I love God to whom we pray and whose good influence we feel is in His heart in spite of His silence.

"Do not forget that you gave me permission to see you at two o'clock. You are Heaven, you are God to and for me.

"When Heaven closes itself, when God pushes me aside I feel that hell is about me. Everything that is good and sweet in me is killed when you draw back from me. Take me in pity and save me. You can do it, and you are the only one who can do it.

*T shall not trouble your life; I shall not go any further than you wish me to. I will retire humbly as soon as I feel that I am annoying you. But a quarter of an hour tete a tete with you, a word and an assurance of kindness is water in the desert. I often suffer and sacrifice much to win a smile from you.

"Good-bye and pardon my writing to you. I have commenced twenty letters during ten days and the idea that they hadlittlemeaning for you keptmefrom sending them.

"How much I love you; how much you mean to me; how much I adore you and your smile makes me joyous. What happiness could be mine with your friendship. Good-bye, Juliette. Allow me to speak your name for the last time. I have suffered much but I hope that I never did you any harm. God is witness to the truth of this. Forget all that you wish to forget. I have been sincere, devoted and I have never had any feeling of egotism in my love. As ever, Benjamin Constant."

One of the writers of her day speaking of Madame Recamier, without using her name, wrote: "Eve is the extreme moment of innocence, when people play with danger." This moment of indecision which did not last with Eve, began in the youth of Juliette Recamier, but it was always continued, and was dominated by a feeling stronger because of some secret virtue.

This young woman was imprudent, confident and curious as a child or a school-girl would be. She went to peril with security, with charity, smiling like those Christian kings of ancient days who healed the sick during Holy week.

She never doubted her power or her virtue.

She liked to wound hearts that she might be able to heal them afterwards.

Most of her friends had begun by faUing in love with her; she had many lovers and she retained them all as friends. She could not conceive any happiness beyond duty and placed her ideals where she found so little, especially in marriage.

More than once during the days of her greatest beauty in the midst of a grand fete of which she was the queen she would weep bitterly.

She had what Shakespere calls "the milk of human kindness."

Sainte Beuve in his Causerie du Lundi says: "At the d^but of the Consulate one found her the most brilliantly applauded, feted and youngest of the queens. She was proclaimed by everyone for her elegance, giving tone to the world, inventing by her art those things which stand for supreme beauty."

Chapter III The Beginning of the Empire

'^TAPOLEON was elected consul for life on the second of August, 1802. He looked on this office as a stepping stone to being proclaimed Emperor.

He had a monstrous pride and an ever present affectation, which was so studied that it almost became second nature.

He used the chariot of war to gain the reign of peace. His Italian blood explained his quick sudden passions and complex nature. Having sprung from an unknown family he could only copy himself. His heavy face with its clean cut strong features was noticeably large for his body. The "grandmere" written by Beranger says: "He was egotism personified. He was dry and his coldness was an antidote for his imagination.

"He refused to tolerate the slightest independence.

"That his victories helped the relations existing between kings and their subjects is positive and they brought people out of their social enlargement in no small measure.

"He worked knowingly for the pohtical and civil deliverance of nations while he established a most exacting kind of despotism trying to give Europe — and France more especially — the freest of constitutions. Napoleon was a tyrant disguised as a tribune."

Meanwhile the Empire was proclaimed on the fourth of May, 1804. The coronation was to take place the second of December. Without waiting for any ceremony the Emperor started to form his household: he made all his sisters princesses. One day Fouche approached Madame Recamier and offered her a place as lady in waiting. He reminded her of how Bonaparte had saved her father. But she recalled to the chief of police how Napoleon had caused the execution of the Duke of Enghien and the exile of Germaine de Stael for her book *'Dix Annees d'Exile."

Fouche explained that she was causing danger for herself by taking this hostile attitude.

A few days later Juliette Recamier took breakfast with Princess Caroline, the sister of the Emperor. The minister of police, who was there, asked her for a decision, but all he received by way of reply was she could not accept this flattering offer.

Fouche never forgot this answer nor did Napoleon, and when, later on, Madame Recamier appealed to Napoleon to help save Monsieur Recamier's banking house she was given a curt, **No," with the additional comment, "Why should I be interested in her? She is not my mistress."

Juliette felt her husband's failure keenly, especially as she felt that Napoleon could have advanced to the bank enough money to tide over her husband's difficulty.

Shortly after this, she lost her mother. This double loss brought her to great sorrow. She sold her beautiful home with many of its rich furnishings and moved into a very modest apartment.

At about this time Juliette met R.ene Chateaubriand; she met him one morning in the rooms of Madame de Stael.

When Chateaubriand met her he was thirty-two years of age. He was in the flower of his strength and he was famed for his sHght figure and for his high, narrow shoulders.

But his spare figure and high shoulders were forgotten because of his beautifully shaped head. It was superb; especially fascinating was the high forehead, his dark wavy hair and his eyes, which had that drab color of the sea on a stormy day.

He was at his best when his thin sensitive lips were brightened by a smile; then his charm was irresistible, for as Count Mole said: "There are only three men who can smile in this manner: Bonaparte, Chateaubriand and myself."

It was in his silent room, so intimate and still, so mysterious in its lighting with a single lamp or two at best, that Chateaubriand received the best people of Paris, as though he were entertaining in the fashion of the Hotel de Montmorin. As a tribute to his hospitality he usually offered his guests a glass of sugar water or orangeade. It was Monsieur de Fontanes in the spring of 1800 who made him acquainted with the social and intellectual elite of Paris.

Without waiting to finish his first work, Chateaubriand, impatient to start the struggle for fame and success, set out to break his first lance. He hoped to become the literary rival of Germaine de Stael, who was admired for her clever brilliancy. His method of becoming her rival was to visit her a great many times — both at her salons and when she was alone.

One morning he was seated in her boudoir, engrossed in discussing his new book, Attala, and gazing in her brilliant eyes. Glancing up he noticed a small fair face and a timid smile of a friendly looking young woman, with a very white skin and soft chestnut curls that fell softly over her low brow.

"This is my lovely friend Juliette Recamier, of whom Paris speaks so much and so kindly, these days," said Madame de Stael.

Chateaubriand accepted the introduction, that was all. Edouard Herriot describes the meeting of this man and woman, who were to have so much influence on each other's lives, thus: "Chateaubriand says, *I was at Madame de Stael's one morning when she received me in her private apartment. Her maid was dressing her hair and during the time she talked brilliantly, rolling about in her fingers a little branch of green. All at once Madame Recamier, wearing a simple white dress, entered. She sat on a blue sofa. Madame de Stael who was standing continued her conversation which was extremely animated. She spoke with eloquence, but I scarcely made reply, as my eyes were fixed on Madame Recamier. In short I had not heard one word that Germaine had said after the fair Juliette entered the room. Madame Recamier went away shortly and I never saw her until twelve years later." This was when they met at the deathbed of Mme. de Stael.

At this time Chateaubriand was absorbed in his work on Attala. This story of primitive American life interested the French people greatly, for they had played a part in the American revolution and were glad to get vivid descriptions of the new country such as Chateaubriand wrote after his visit there.

The following words give the tone of the book:

'^Sitting in the shades of the American forests I will sing those airs of solitude, never before heard by mortal ears. I will sing of your misfortunes at Natchez, of Louisiana, of which only remembrance remains.

"Have the misfortunes of obscure inhabitants of the woods, less right to our tears than those of other men?

"And are the mausoleums of kings in our temples more touching than the tombs of the Indian resting under the oaks of his country? And your flame of meditation, stars of the night be to me as a star of Pindus.

"March before my steps across the unknown regions of a new world, so that I may discover by your light the hidden secrets of these deserts."

Chateaubriand, accompanied by his guide, had gone up the course of the Meshaube, his bark floating at the feet of three hills which hid from view the beauty of the country that belongs to the children of the sun.

He disembarks, climbs the side of the embankment and reaches the highest of the three summits.

The great village of Natchez can be seen in the distance on a plain filled with sassafras. Here and there wandered the squaws, as light as the deer with which they play. On their left arms they carry baskets suspended by long strips of bark. They gather wild strawberries, the juice of which stains their fingers and the grass at their feet. Rene descended from the hill and went towards a village.

The women stopped at a distance to watch this unknown white man. Then they fled toward the woods just like to doves that look at the hunter from a high rock and then flee at his nearer approach.

The travelers arrive at the first huts of the great village. They present themselves at the entrance of one of the wigwams. There a family is seated on straw mats; the men are smoking the calumets, the women are weaving.

Watermelons, pumpkins and May apples are drying on leaves and vines. The hollow of a bamboo serves as a drinking cup.

The travelers stopped at the doorway and Chateaubriand said: "We have come," and the chief of the tribe answered: "You have come. It is well." After which the visitors seated themselves on the mats and partook of the cooked meat without speaking. When this was done, one of the interpreters raised his voice and said: "Where is the sun?"

The chief answers, "Absent," and the silence falls once more. A young girl appears at the entrance of the wigwam. Her form is fine and graceful, resembling both the elegance of a palm and the imagination of a lovely dream. Her graceful movements are free and almost divine.

The Indians, to show the sadness and beauty of Celusta, said that she had the look of night and the smile of Aurora.

She was not yet an unfortunate woman, but destined to be one in the near future. One might have held this beautiful creature in one's arms, if one did not fear the heartbeat of one already consecrated to the sufferings of life.

Celusta comes from the wigwam, blushing, passes before the strangers and whispers something in the ear of an old woman.

Then she retires.

Her white robe, made of the bark of a mulberry tree, floats gracefully and her bare rosy feet are seen at every step she takes.

The atmosphere was perfumed with the scent of the magnolia she left behind her. She looked much like Hero at the feast of Abydos. Such as Venus presented herself in the forest of Carthage by her walk and her ambrosial perfume that was given off from her tresses.

In the meanwhile the guides had finished their feast, and had risen saying: **Now let us go," and the chief made answer: "Go where your spirit directs." And they left, the chief not questioning the guides as to who this person was that heaven had entrusted to their keeping.

This story of early American life appeared in 1801 and met with surprise and enthusiasm. The French found much that was new and original in the romance of America. Everybody read Rene's book, and most of the opinions expressed were most flattering.

Occasionally there was a bit of adverse criticism that took the form of epigrams and witticisms.

Before Chateaubriand realized what was taking place he was being presented to Madame Bacchiocci, then to the other sisters, and Lucien, their brother, introduced him to the consul Napoleon.

Then, followed his work on the Genius of Christianity and perhaps the best known of these chapters is the Nature of Mystery.

He says there Is nothing beautiful, sweet and great in life, except those things that are mysterious. The most marvelous sentiments are those that agitate and confuse us a little — and shame true love. Sincere friendships are full of hidden secrets.

You might say that hearts that love, understand without being obliged to reveal themselves to each other.

Innocence In its turn which is only a holy Ignorance Is the most charming of mysteries.

A child Is happy because he knows nothing. An old man is miserable because he knows everything, very fortunately for him, when the mysteries of life and those of death commence.

If it Is thus with the feelings, It is thus with the virtues. The most holy are those which come directly from God, such as charity, and shrink from being looked at.

Germalne de Stael was antagonistic to the kind of writing Rene de Chateaubriand was doing and she went out of her way to ridicule his chapter ''Examen de la virglnlte sous ses rapports poetiques."