Madame Récamier.--Her Morning Parties.--Gérard's Picture of
Corinne.--Miniature of Madame de Staël.--M. de
Châteaubriand.--Conversation on the degree in which the
French Language is understood by Foreigners.--The necessity
of speaking French.
Of all the ladies with whom I have become acquainted in Paris, the one
who appears to me to be the most perfect specimen of an elegant
Frenchwoman is Madame Récamier,--the same Madame Récamier that, I will
not say how many years ago, I remember to have seen in London, the
admired of all eyes: and, wonderful to say, she is so still. Formerly
I knew her only from seeing her in public, where she was pointed out
to me as the most beautiful woman in Europe; but now that I have the
pleasure of her acquaintance, I can well understand, though you who
know her only by the reputation of her early beauty may not, how and
why it is that fascinations generally so evanescent are with her so
lasting. She is, in truth, the very model of all grace. In person,
manner, movement, dress, voice, and language, she seems universally
allowed to be quite perfect; and I really cannot imagine a better mode
of giving a last finish to a young lady's study of the graces, than by
affording her an opportunity of observing every movement and gesture
of Madame Récamier.
She is certainly a monopolist of talents and attractions which would
suffice, if divided in ordinary proportions, to furnish forth a host
of charming women. I never met with a Frenchman who did not allow,
that though his countrywomen were charming from _agrémens_ which seem
peculiarly their own, they have fewer faultless beauties among them
than may be found in England; but yet, as they say, "Quand une
Française se mêle d'être jolie, elle est furieusement jolie." This
_mot_ is as true in point of fact as piquant in expression;--a
beautiful Frenchwoman is, perhaps, the most beautiful woman in the
world.
The perfect loveliness of Madame Récamier has made her "a thing to
wonder at:" and now that she has passed the age when beauty is at its
height, she is perhaps to be wondered at still more; for I really
doubt if she ever excited more admiration than she does at present.
She is followed, sought, looked at, listened to, and, moreover,
beloved and esteemed, by a very large circle of the first society in
Paris, among whom are numbered some of the most illustrious literary
names in France.
That her circle, as well as herself, is delightful, is so generally
acknowledged, that by adding my voice to the universal judgment, I
perhaps show as much vanity, as gratitude for the privilege of being
admitted within it: but no one, I believe, so favoured could, when
speaking of the society of Paris, omit so striking a feature of it as
the _salon_ of Madame Récamier. She contrives to make even the
still-life around her partake of the charm for which she is herself so
remarkable, and there is a fine and finished elegance in everything
about her that is irresistibly attractive: I have often entered
drawing-rooms almost capable of containing her whole suite of
apartments, and found them infinitely less striking in their
magnificence than her beautiful little _salon_ in the Abbaye-aux-Bois.
The rich draperies of white silk, the delicate blue tint that mixes
with them throughout the apartment,--the mirrors, the flowers,--all
together give an air to the room that makes it accord marvellously
well with its fair inhabitant. One might fancy that Madame Récamier
herself was for ever _vouée au blanc_, for no drapery falls around her
that is not of snowy whiteness--and indeed the mixture of almost any
colour would seem like profanation to the exquisite delicacy of her
appearance.
Madame Récamier admits morning visits from a limited number of
persons, whose names are given to the servant attending in the
ante-room, every day from four till six. It was here I had the
pleasure of being introduced to M. de Châteaubriand, and had
afterwards the gratification of repeatedly meeting him; a
gratification that I shall assuredly never forget, and for which I
would have willingly sacrificed one-half of the fine things which
reward the trouble of a journey to Paris.
The circle thus received is never a large one, and the conversation is
always general. The first day that I and my daughters were there, we
found, I think, but two ladies, and about half a dozen gentlemen, of
whom M. de Châteaubriand was one. A magnificent picture by Gérard,
boldly and sublimely conceived, and executed in his very best manner,
occupies one side of the elegant little _salon_. The subject is
Corinne, in a moment of poetical excitement, a lyre in her hand, and a
laurel crown upon her head. Were it not for the modern costume of
those around her, the figure must be mistaken for that of Sappho: and
never was that impassioned being, the martyred saint of youthful
lovers, portrayed with more sublimity, more high poetic feeling, or
more exquisite feminine grace.
The contemplation of this _chef-d'oeuvre_ naturally led the
conversation to Madame de Staël. Her intimacy with Madame Récamier is
as well known as the biting reply of the former to an unfortunate man,
who having contrived to place himself between them, exclaimed,--"Me
voilà entre l'esprit et la beauté!"
To which bright sally he received for answer--"Sans posséder ni l'un
ni l'autre."
My knowledge of this intimacy induced me to take advantage of the
occasion, and I ventured to ask Madame Récamier if Madame de Staël had
in truth intended to draw her own character in that of Corinne.
"Assuredly ..." was the reply. "The soul of Madame de Staël is fully
developed in her portrait of that of Corinne." Then turning to the
picture, she added, "Those eyes are the eyes of Madame de Staël."
She put a miniature into my hand, representing her friend in all the
bloom of youth, at an age indeed when she could not have been known to
Madame Récamier. The eyes had certainly the same dark beauty, the same
inspired expression, as those given to Corinne by Gérard. But the
artist had too much taste or too little courage to venture upon any
farther resemblance; the thick lips and short fat chin of the real
sibyl being changed into all that is loveliest in female beauty on the
canvass.
The apparent age of the face represented in the miniature points out
its date with tolerable certainty; and it gives no very favourable
idea of the taste of the period; for the shock head of crisped Brutus
curls is placed on arms and bust as free from drapery, though better
clothed in plumpness, than those of the Medicean Venus.
As we looked first at one picture, then at the other, and conversed on
both, I was struck with the fine forehead and eyes, delightful voice,
and peculiarly graceful turn of expression, of a gentleman who sat
opposite to me, and who joined in this conversation.
I remarked to Madame Récamier that few romances had ever had the
honour of being illustrated by such a picture as this of Gérard, and
that, from many circumstances, her pleasure in possessing it must be
very great.
"It is indeed," she replied: "nor is it my only treasure of the
kind--I am so fortunate as to possess Girodet's original drawing from
Atala, the engraving from which you must often have seen. Let me show
you the original."
We followed her to the dining-room, where this very interesting
drawing is placed. "You do not know M. de Châteaubriand?" said she.