herself to the amusements suited to her tender years. 'Swift as
Atalanta in the race,' she outran all her companions: often,
in playing Hide-and-seek, she bandaged those eyes which were
destined one day to fascinate every beholder. Her look, now
so expressive and penetrating, and which seems to indicate
mysteries of which she herself is unconscious, then shone only
with the animated and playful gaiety of childhood. Her beautiful
hair, which could not be undone without causing emotion, fell
in natural curls on her shoulders. A hearty and prolonged laugh
often burst from these infantine circles, but already you
could perceive in her that fine and rapid observation which
seizes the salient points of ridicule--that sportive raillery
which diverted itself without injuring any one: above all,
that exquisite sense of elegance and propriety, of purity and
taste, that true nobility of mind, which are given only to a few
privileged beings.
"Nevertheless Madame Recamier emerged occasionally from her
retreat, to go to the theatre or to the public promenades; and
in those places of general resort her rare appearance was quite
an event. Every other object in those immense assemblages was
forgotten: every one precipitated himself upon her steps. The
fortunate cavalier who attended her could scarcely make his way
through the crowds which she collected: her steps were at every
instant impeded by the spectators who crowded around her. She
enjoyed that success with the gaiety of an infant combined with
the timidity of a young woman; but the gracious dignity which
at home restrained the overflowing gaiety of her companions,
inspired respect in public in the admiring crowd with which she
was constantly environed. You would say that her air imposed
restraint equally on her companions and on the public. Thus
passed the first years of the married life of Madame Recamier,
between poetical occupation, infantine amusements, and the
triumph of beauty in the world.
"But her expanding mind and capacious genius soon required other
aliment. The instinctive love of the beautiful with which she
was inspired from her earliest years, made her long for the
society of men distinguished for the reputation of their talents
or genius. M. de La Harpe was one of the first who appreciated
the young woman, around whom were one day to be grouped all
the celebrated characters of her age. The conversation of that
young woman of fifteen had a thousand attractions for a man of
his great acquirements, and whose excessive vanity, with the
habit of conversing with the ablest men in France, had rendered
exceedingly difficult to please. He delighted in being her
guide: he was astonished at the rapidity with which her talent
supplied the want of experience, and comprehended everything
which he revealed to her of the world and of men. This was at
the moment of his celebrated conversion to Christianity. The
Revolution having rendered infidelity all-powerful, scepticism
had lost the merit of being opposed to authority, and those whom
vanity alone had rendered such could in good faith, and without
compromising their reputation, avow their secret belief."--Vol.
ix. 118, 121.
Of the unbounded devotion which Madame Recamier in a few years came
to inspire in the breasts of the most distinguished men of her day,
abundant proof is furnished in Chateaubriand's Memoirs. To give only
a few examples, among a host of others which might be cited, Marshal
Massena--a roturier by birth, and certainly not inheriting by
descent any of the feelings of chivalry--yet even he asked a ribbon
from Madame Recamier before he set out for the army of Italy, to
take the command in Genoa, in the siege since so celebrated; and,
having obtained it, he wrote to her the following note some weeks
after:--
"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:--
"Louis Philippe, his Government, the whole of that impossible
and contradictory combination, _will perish in a time more
or less retarded by fortuitous events_, by complications of
interests interior and exterior, by the apathy or corruption of
individuals, by the levity of disposition, the indifference and
want of nerve in characters. But be its duration long or short,
the present dynasty will not exist long enough for the House of
Orleans to strike its roots in the soil of France."--Vol. ix.
333.[6]
[6] M. de Chateaubriand died in 1847, before the Revolution of 1848.
It is not in public documents and actions that the real opinions of
the actors on the stage of public events are to be discerned. It is
their private conversation or correspondence that reveals their real
sentiments; it is there that the mental struggles which preceded
the most decisive steps, and the secret views by which they were
actuated in adopting or rejecting them, are in truth disclosed. In
this view, the following conversation between Chateaubriand and the
Duchess of Orleans, immediately after the triumph of the Barricades,
is peculiarly interesting--
"M. Arago spoke to me in the warmest terms of the intellectual
superiority of Madame Adelaide; and the Count Analde de
Montesquieu, having met me one morning at Madame Recamier's,
informed me that the Duke and Duchess of Orleans would be
charmed to see me. I went, accordingly, to the Palais Royal with
the Chevalier d'Honneur of the future queen. I found the Duchess
of Orleans and Madame Adelaide in their private boudoirs. I had
previously had the honour of being presented to the duchess. She
made me sit down near her, and immediately said--
"'Ah! M. de Chateaubriand, we are very unfortunate. If all
parties would unite we might perhaps be saved, what think you of
that?'
"'Madame,' I replied, 'nothing is so easy. Charles X. and the
Dauphin have both abdicated; Henry V. is now king; the Duke
of Orleans is now Lieutenant-general of the kingdom; let him
be Regent during the whole minority of Henry V., and all is
accomplished.'
"'But, M. de Chateaubriand, the people are extremely agitated;
we should fall into anarchy.'
"'Madame, may I venture to ask you what is the intention of the
Duke of Orleans? will he accept the throne if it is offered to
him?'
"The two princesses hesitated to answer. After a short pause the
Duchess of Orleans replied,--
"'Consider, M. de Chateaubriand, the disasters which may
ensue--you and all other men of honour require to unite to save
us from a republic. At Rome, M. de Chateaubriand, you might
render us essential service--or even here, if you did not wish
to quit France.'
"'Madame is not ignorant of my devotion to the young king and to
his mother.'
"'Ah! M. de Chateaubriand, how well they have rewarded your
fidelity.'
"'Your Royal Highness would not wish me to give the lie to my
whole life.'
"'M. de Chateaubriand, you do not know my niece; she is so
inconsiderate, poor Caroline. I will send for the Duke of
Orleans; I hope he may succeed in persuading you better than me.'
"The princess gave her orders, and in a quarter of an hour
Louis Philippe arrived. He was dressed in disorder, and
looked extremely fatigued. I rose as he entered, and the
Lieutenant-general of the kingdom said,--
"'The duchess has doubtless informed you how unfortunate we
are.' And upon that he began a speech on the felicity which
he enjoyed in the country, and the life, in the midst of his
children, which was entirely according to his taste. I seized
the opportunity of a momentary pause to repeat what I had said
to the princess.
"'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'that is just what I desire. How happy
should I be to become the tutor and support of that infant! I
think exactly as you do, M. de Chateaubriand: to take the Duke
of Bordeaux would unquestionably be the wisest course that could
be adopted. I only fear events are too strong for us.'
"'Stronger than us, my Lord Duke! Are you not invested with all
powers? Let us hasten to join Henry V. Summon the Chambers and
the army to meet you out of Paris. At the first intelligence of
your departure all that effervescence will subside, and all the
world will seek shelter under your enlightened and protecting
government.'
"While I yet spoke, I kept my eyes fixed on Louis Philippe. I
saw that my counsels gave him annoyance: I saw written on his
forehead the desire to be king. 'M. de Chateaubriand,' said he,
_without looking me in the face_, 'the thing is not so easy as
you imagine: things do not go as you imagine. A furious mob may
assail the Chambers, and we have, as yet, no military force on
which we can rely for its defence.'
"The last expression gave me pleasure, because it enabled me
to bring forward a decisive reply. 'I feel the difficulty you
mention, my Lord Duke; but there is a sure mode of obviating
it. If you cannot rejoin Henry V., as I have just proposed,
you may embrace another course. The session is about to open:
on the first proposition made by the deputies, declare that
the Chamber of Deputies has not the power to determine the
form of government for France; that the _whole nation must be
consulted_. Your Royal Highness will thus place yourself at the
head of the popular party: the Republicans, who now constitute
your danger, will laud you to the skies. In the two months which
must elapse before the new legislature can assemble, you can
organise a national guard; all your friends, and the friends
of the young king, will exert themselves in the provinces. Let
the deputies assemble, and let the cause I espouse be publicly
pleaded before them. That cause, favoured in heart by you,
supported by the great majority of the country electors, will
be certain of success. The moment of anarchy being past, you
will have nothing to fear from the violence of the Republicans.
I even think you might win over, by such a course, General
Lafayette and M. Lafitte to your side. What a part for you to
play, my Lord Duke! You will reign fifteen years in the name of
your young pupil; at the expiration of that time, repose will
be a blessing to us all. You will earn the glory, unique in
history, of having had the power to ascend the throne, and of
having left it to the lawful heir. At the same time, you will
have enjoyed the means of educating that heir abreast of the
ideas of his age: you will have rendered him capable of reigning
over France. One of your daughters may aid him to bear the
weight of the crown.'
"Louis Philippe looked around with a wandering eye and an absent
air. 'I beg your pardon, M. de Chateaubriand,' said he; 'I left
a deputation to converse with you, and I must return to it.'
With these words, he bowed and withdrew.
The advice thus given at the decisive moment by Chateaubriand
was that of honour and loyalty; it dictated by the spirit of the
chevalier _sans peur et sans reproche_. But it was not that of
immediate or apparent interest; and therefore it was not adopted.
The event has now proved, however, that in this, as in so many
other instances in this world, the path of honour and duty would
have been that of expedience. What Chateaubriand recommended to
Louis Philippe was substantially what Louis Napoleon _did_; and
the result proved that the great majority of the nation, differing
widely from the revolutionary rabble of Paris, was not only
Conservative, but Royalist in its dispositions. Had Louis Philippe
followed this course, and taken only the regency till the majority
of the Duke of Bordeaux, the two branches of the house of Bourbon
would have been cordially united: no discord or jealousies would
have weakened the Royalist party; the national will would have
been decidedly pronounced for the monarchy before it had been
rendered an object of contempt; the Revolution of 1848, with all
its disastrous consequences, would probably have been prevented;
and as the Duke de Bordeaux has no family, the Orleans dynasty, as
the next heirs, would have ascended the throne in the natural order
of succession--and not only without the bar sinister of treason on
their escutcheon, but with a deed of unexampled magnanimity and
honour to illustrate their accession!
Louis Philippe, bent on the immediate possession of the throne, made
another attempt to gain M. de Chateaubriand; and for this purpose
the Duchess of Orleans and Madame Adelaide again sent for him.
"Madame Adelaide was present as on the former occasion; and
the duchess now described more specifically the favours with
which the Duke of Orleans proposed to honour me. She dwelt on
what she called my sway over public opinion; the sacrifices I
had made, and the aversion which Charles X. and his family had
always shown to me in spite of my services. She said to me, that
if I would accept the portfolio of foreign affairs, his Royal
Highness would be too happy to replace me in that situation; but
that possibly I would prefer returning to Rome, and that she
would greatly rejoice at that appointment, for the interests of
our holy religion.
"'Madam,' I answered with some degree of vivacity, 'I see that
his Royal Highness has taken his line; that he has weighed the
consequences; that he is prepared to meet the years of misery
and perils he will have to traverse. I have therefore nothing
to say on that head--I come not here to fail in respect to the
blood of the Bourbons; I owe besides nothing but gratitude
and respect to _Madame_. Leaving apart, then, those great
objections, founded on reason and principle, I pray her Royal
Highness to allow me to explain what personally concerns myself.
"'She has had the condescension to speak of what she calls
my power over general opinion. Well, if that power is well
founded, on what is it founded? Is it on anything else but the
public esteem: and should I not lose it the moment I changed my
colours? The Duke of Orleans supposes he would in me acquire a
support: instead of that he would gain only a miserable maker
of phrases, whose voice would no longer be listened to--a
renegade, on whom every one would have a right to throw dust
and to spit in his face. To the hesitating words which he could
pronounce in favour of Louis Philippe, they would oppose the
entire volumes he had written in favour of the fallen family. Is
it not I, Madam, who have written the pamphlet of _Buonaparte
and the Bourbons_; the articles on the arrival of Louis XVIII.
at Compiègne; the relation of the Royal Council at Ghent, and
the _History of the Life and Death of the Duke de Berri_? I
know not that I have written a single page where the name of
our ancient kings is not either mentioned or alluded to, and
where they are not environed by the protestations of my love and
fidelity--a thing which marks strength of principle the more
strongly, as _Madame_ knows that, as an individual, I put no
faith in princes. At the thought even of desertion, the colour
mounts to my cheeks. The day after my treachery, I should go to
throw myself into the Seine. I implore _Madame_ to forgive the
vehemence of my language: I am penetrated with her goodness: I
shall ever preserve a profound and grateful remembrance of it;
but she would not wish me to be dishonoured. Pity me, madam,
pity me.'"
"I was still standing; and bowing, I retired. Mademoiselle de
Orleans, (the Princess Adelaide,) had not yet said anything.
She rose up, and retiring said, '_I do not pity you, M. de
Chateaubriand; I do not pity you_.' I was forcibly struck
with the mournful accent with which she pronounced these
words."--Vol. ix. 361, 362.
"Pity not me," said the dying Chevalier Bayard to the traitor
Constable de Bourbon; "pity those who fight against their king,
their country, and their oath." The feelings of honour are the same
in all ages.
We shall close this long line of honourable acts with an extract
from Chateaubriand's noble speech in favour of Henry V., in the
Chamber of Peers, on July 7, 1830.