"l^^f^^^
Sts
.^
_a.
-^
MADAME
RECAMIER
AND HER
FR1END5
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
AT LOS ANGELES
MADAM K RECAMIER
from the original /mini in f; by J . I.. David in the Louvre
DC
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
TT 7HEN an English translation of Madame Rd-
camier's " Memoirs " was given to the
American public, in 1866, it occasioned the same
feeling of disappointment as the original work had
previously created in France upon its first publica-
tion, in 1859. The cause of this dissatisfaction was
obvious, for, though the book was in the highest
degree interesting, it failed to give a life-like and
satisfactory image of Madame Recamier herself.
This was the more disappointing, as few lives
have excited a more lively curiosity. If it be
true, as Carlyle somewhere says, that were it pos-
sible to obtain a faithful record of even the most
humble and commonplace life, with all its thoughts
and emotions, hopes and fears, it would be more
thiilling than the most startling romance, how
much greater the interest such a life as Mme. Re-
camier's would excite, if we could get at the whole
truth concerning so strange and eventful a career,
know the true story of the men who loved her,
IV TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
the women who suffered by her ; how she really
felt toward Prince Augustus, and what were her
own pangs and heart-trials ; if we could penetrate
beneath the surface of that most courteous and
polished of salons, where friend and foe met on
neutral ground, and antipathies were carefully con-
cealed or ignored ! Did Chateaubriand and Bal-
lanche really like each other ? And Ampere, did
he do more than simply tolerate the egotistical
author of the " Genius of Christianity ? " How
was it that Madame de Stael, who could not
even bear to hear of the marriage of any of her
male friends, cordially welcomed to her heart and
home so formidable a rival ? Did she never feel a
jealous pang at seeing her whilom admirers at the
feet of this lovely Juliette ? And Monsieur R^-
camier, was he always content to be known as the
merely nominal husband of the most beautiful
woman in Europe ?
Such questions inevitably suggest themselves ; and
though, doubtless, many of them are vain and unrea-
sonable, — out of the power even of a very Boswell
to answer satisfactorily, — still, as Madame R^camier
was strictly a social celebrity, it is reasonable to
desire fuller information concerning her than these
" Memoirs " furnished ; to read her letters, to see
her in the freedom and intimacy of her own fire-
side, at hours when the famous salon was silent
TRANSLATORS PREFACE. V
and empty ; to be able, in fine, to understand, if
not the secrets of her life, at least her personal
character and her ends and aims.
This knowledge the present volume, of twelve
years later date, in a measure supplies. If it does
not explain the mysteries of Madame Recamier's
life, it helps us to understand better her character ;
and from the new material it furnishes, including
over forty of her own notes and letters, it is a
valuable supplement to the more voluminous " Me-
moirs."
Though not so rich in anecdote and incident as
its predecessor, it is better planned and executed.
It has also the merit of presenting its author as
well as her subject in a more just as it is certainly
a more favorable light. This is the more note-
worthy, as in the " Memoirs," unfortunately, Ma-
dame Lenormant failed to inspire that confidence
in herself which it is so essential that all writers
of biography should inspire in their readers.
Burdened with her great mass of material, and
hampered, moreover, by an earnest desire to keep
her own personality entirely out of sight, Madame
Lenormant was led to do injustice to herself as
well as to her subject. Experience and the criti-
cisms her first book called forth have evidentlv
taught her much. Overcoming her natural reluc-
tance to speak of herself, she, in a modest and
VI TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
circumstantial narrative, tells the story of her own
relations with Madame Rdcamier, — a story which
not only induces a higher esteem for the famous
woman whose virtues it illustrates, but reflects
most favorably upon the narrator herself.
Madame Recamier's letters to her niece confirm
the narrative of the latter. Insignificant in other
respects, they are valuable as indications of char-
acter. We are struck with the little their writer
exacts from the woman whose mind she had
moulded, and whose happiness she had taken such
pains to secure. Unlike too many benefactors, she
claims nothing on the score of gratitude.
And yet the burden that Madame Recamier im-
posed upon herself when she undertook the care
of her husband's little niece was no light one.
That this " spoiled child of fortune," as Camille
Jordan calls her, should, at the age of forty, when
habits are generally fixed, keep so closely to her
side and rear thus carefully a daughter by adoption,
is certainly not a little remarkable. It is pleasant
to find that she had her reward in the life-long love
and gratitude of one in whose arms she died, and
by whom she has evidently been most sincerely
lamented.
But while these personal details respecting the
family life of Madame Recamier are undoubtedly
the most interesting and important part of the
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. VU
book, they are by no means the only ones which
throw light upon her character. By a judicious
arrangement we are enabled to trace the develop-
ment and growth of her intrinsically fine and unique
nature. We see her successively surrounded by
the friends of her early life and of her riper years.
We read her letters, we note how the coquetry of
her youth gives place to nobler aims and more
serious occupations. It is no longer simply as the
great beauty, the queen of society, that we learn
to regard her, but as a lovely and gracious woman
who rose superior to the temptations of her strange
lot, and who, with every excuse for being vain,
frivolous, and selfish, was, in an eminent degree,
unaffected, serious, and disinterested.
The grace and tact which gave Madame Re-
camier her social influence amounted almost to
genius, while she seems to have been by no means
deficient in literary taste and ability. At fifty-two
she writes, '• I have been looking up historical facts
for M. de Chateaubriand, which has given me quite
a taste for history. I have read Thiers and Mig-
net, and I am now reading Tacitus ; " and when
she had reached the age of seventy she assisted
Ampdre to prepare a volume of extracts from the
works of Ballanche. " Give me," writes Camille
Jordan, early in the reign of Louis XVIII., " your
impression of this new regime^ and your estimate
vm TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
of public opinion, for you know the value I attach
to it, and how I delight to hear you, with youi
pure and discriminating mind, talk on all subjects
even the most serious."
This tribute has the more weight as Camille
Jordan was not a man to indulge in unmeaning
compliments. Among the group of distinguished
men who surround Madame Recamier, he stands
pre-eminent for his manliness of character and thor-
ough independence. Unlike most of her friends,
it does not appear that he at any time assumed the
role of a lover ; and while his letters testify to his
great admiration and respect for her, they also un-
mistakably show that his wife and children always
held the first place in his heart.
Still stronger evidence, if possible, of Madame
Kecamier's power of inspiring and retaining affec-
tion is to be found in the amusing letters from Ma-
dame de Boigne. A few words in regard to this
brilliant woman will not be amiss here.
Madame de Boigne was the daughter of the Mar-
quis d' Osmond, who with his famil}'' was driven
from France by the Revolution of 1789. She was
married in England to General de Boigne, who
had acquired distinction and wealth in India. He
was much older than his wife, and as they were,
in other respects, uncongenial, they soon agreed to
live apart. There was no public rupture and no
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. IX
scandal. Madame de Boigne continued to reside
with her parents, though paying her husband a
short annual visit in Savoy. Brilliant as well as
beautiful, she became, upon the return of the family
from exile, a power in society. In Paris she pre-
sided over her father's house with grace and ele-
gance ; and when he was appointed successively
ambassador to Turin and to London, she accom-
panied him, and by her tact and address contrib-
uted largely to the success of his missions.
An old and warm friend of Marie-Amelie, Ma-
dame de Boigne was among the first of the old
aristocracy to render allegiance to Louis Philippe,
and as she was very intimate with Pasquier, her
salon, under the new regime, became a political
. centre. According to Sainte-Beuve, no reproach
was ever attached to her name. This eminent
critic and sly gossip, who knew so well how to in-
sinuate blame, while seeming intent on praising,
has no qualifying words in his eulogy of Madame
de Boigne. He writes : —
"If she had been a man, the Countess de Boigne
would have been one of the most eminent and useful
politicians of her day, and the government would have
had the services of one minister the more. Nor did the
possession of these solid qualities obscure in her the
womanly graces ; she was elegance itself. Praise from
her had a high value, because she was not prodigal in
X TRANSLATORS PREFACE.
bestowing it. A word of approbation from her was a
revvard. She talked extremely well, — to perfection, in
fact, — using terms at once elegant and precise. There
was no vagueness in her style. I fancy that the highly
extolled Marechale de Luxembourg must have expressed
herself in much the same fashion. The last few years,
so full of change for her, the late revolutions, of which
she had seen so many, found her calm, tranquil, not
surprised, and always just. In spite of her impaired
health, she still retained her love of society, her interest
in the drama of politics, the integrity and firmness of her
intellect. She had the good sense to perceive that some
concessions must be made to the times. She still kept
her old friends, her private j^references, but little by
little she renewed her salon. New-comers found
it pleasant to be there, and learned to appreciate
her." . . .
Madame de Boigne died on the 10th of May,
1866, at the age of eighty-six. Three years younger
than Madame Recamier, she survived her eighteen.
The friendship between them was formed in early
youth, and apparently never suffered any eclipse.
This is, perhaps, the more remarkable, as their
respective careers offer many points of resem-
blance. Both were beauties and belles, with a
number of acquaintances in common. Both sought
and obtained social distinction, and both, through
their friends, exercised political influence. But
Madame Recamier's interest and influence in poli-
tics ended with M. de Chateaubriand's retirement
TRANSLATORS PREFACE. xi
from political life upon the fall of Charles X. ;
whereas it was during the reign of Louis Philippe
that Madame de Boigne's salon became a centre of
influence.
But though both Madame de Boigne and Ca-
mille Jordan occupy a prominent place in the fol-
lowing pages, neither the one nor the other is the
friend par excellence. This honor belongs to J. -J.
Ampere. He is the central figure of Madame
Lenormant's second volume of reminisC\ nces, as
Chateaubriand is of the first. The two mtn are in
striking contrast. The one, vain and sentimental,
egotistical and selfish, is always demanding sacri-
fices and making none ; the other, frank and
natural, affectionate and disinterested, is ever serv-
ing others and forgetting himself. Ampere's de-
votion for thirty years to Madame Recamier is
even more exceptional than that of Ballanche, who,
philosopher and good man as he was, had no social
graces, and few temptations to lure him away from
his snug corner at Madame Recamier's fireside ;
whereas Ampere, young, witty, and in every way at-
tractive, was universally courted, — a favorite with
men as well as with women. Alexis de Tocque-
ville, for example, whose letters are an interesting
feature of this volume, had a peculiarly strong
friendship for Ampere.
Strong and life-long friendships, however, are
xii TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
very chaTacteristic of the French, and in this re-
spect Ampere is a typical Frenchman. One secret
of these enduring attachments it is not difficult to
discover ; it lies partly in the inborn courtesy of
the nation which makes them shrink from saying
disagreeable things, and partly in their habit of say-
ing kind and gracious ones. They are not afraid
of being demonstrative. Of this, the letters pub-
lished by Madame Lenormant offer a striking illus-
tration. No one can read them without being
impressed with their uniformly kind and affection-
ate tone. An Englishman or an American would,
perhaps, hesitate to write such loving letters to
one of his own sex, as De Tocqueville writes to
Ampere ; and yet there is little doubt that such
frank and hearty expressions of interest and affec-
tion bound the two more closely together and
cemented their friendship.
Another fine national trait which the character
of Ampere strikingly illustrates is filial respect and
devotion. The loyalty, the beauty of this relation-
ship is the one thing, above all others, which sweet-
ens and sanctifies French homes. So far is this
allegiance of the child to the parent and the parent
to the child carried, and so highly is it estimated,
that one might almost be justified in styling it the
national religion. As a sentiment, it pervades all
their literature ; sometimes, perhaps, in their novels
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. xui
and plays degenerating into a morbid sentimen-
tality.
But it is neither to their fictitious literature, and
still less to the metropolitan life of Paris, that we
must look for a correct idea of the best phases of
French life and character. If we are to appreciate
more justly the domestic virtues of this enigmatical
people, — a people of genius, and heir, therefore,
to all the follies as well as great capabilities of
genius, — we must know more of the lives of the
nobles in the provinces, of the homes of the bour-
geoisie ; we must go to such books as the me-
moirs of Madame de Montague and Madame de
Lafayette ; such journals as those of Eugenie de
Guerin, of Andre-Marie Ampere. And among
works of this class, few are more suggestive than
the present volume.
I. M. W.
May, 1876.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
TT /"HEN in publishing, twelve years ago, the
" Memoirs and Correspondence of Mme.
Recamier," I attempted to draw a faithful portrait
of that noble and incomparable person, I was well
aware that the picture would have been more
striking, more life-like, if, instead of printing the
letters which w^ere addressed to her, I had given
those she herself wrote.
The letters of her friends were only the mirror
in which her soul and features were reflected,
whilst her own letters would have set before us
the woman herself. But I had then at my dis-
posal only my own correspondence with Mme.
Recamier ; these letters, few in number, — for
we were rarely separated, — were of too private
a nature for me not to feel reluctant to publish
them.
Twenty-two years, alas ! have run their course
since she passed away, — that finished type of
grace and purity, whose seductiveness was due as
XVI AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
much to goodness of heart, strength and sincerity
of character, as to dazzling beauty.
Of the brilliant circle of devoted friends who
composed her train — we may say her court — very
few survive ; death has cut down almost all who
once frequented the salon of the Abbaye-aux-Bois,
and it is to this sad circumstance that I owe the
letters of Mme. Recamier which have since come
into my hands.
Their publication to-day, together with many
other letters also hitherto unpublished, will make
better known and more and more appreciated that
vanished world, that charming circle, of which
nothing in the society of to-day can give any idea,
and where noble thoughts, refined tastes, and en-
tire independence of character, found expression
in a language full of elegance and courtesy.
In publishing these letters, some definite plan
was necessary ; I have chosen that which seemed
to me the most natural, and have disposed in chro-
nological order the several intimacies of Mme. Re-
camier, so as to exhibit her surrounded in turn by
the friends of her youth and those of her riper
years.
Unless a reason were given for the omission, my
readers might properly be surprised at finding no
letters nor any personal details in this volume, other
than those already pubUshed, of the man who, so
AUTHOR'S PREFACE. XVU
long as his life lasted, was bound to Mme. Recamier
by the deepest attachment, and a devotion as ex-
alted as it was disinterested ; namely, the phi-
losopher Ballanche. Certain it is, that his entire
self-abnegation made him the wilHng slave of her
who was to him the personification of all that is
beautiful and noble upon earth, and humanity alone
was the rival of Mme. Recamier in the heart of
Ballanche. In return, she accorded him a confi-
dence without limit ; and the place he occupied in
her life was a large one. M. Victor de Laprade,
the friend and disciple of Ballanche, is preparing
a complete edition of the works of the Lyonese
philosopher, which will contain, besides his unpub-
lished writings, a volume of correspondence. I
have gladly furnished him with all the letters in
my possession.
Witli regard to the correspondence carried on
under the first Empire, the reader will doubtless
be struck by the degree of repression the vexatious
tyranny of the Imperial police succeeded in exerting
upon even the boldest spirits. The certainty that
every word would be read and commented upon
with a jealous and paltry suspicion, caused every
one to be extremely reserved even with their most
intimate friends. The word exile is rarely pro-
nounced by those who had braved the peril and
were paying the penalty ; they seldom, if ever,
b
xvm AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
speak of political events. M. de Montmorency, ac-
tively and ardently devoted as he was to the cause
of the imprisoned Sovereign Pontiff, makes not a
single allusion to the situation of Pius VII.
Such facts as these make it easier to understand
Mme. de Stael's passionate longing to escape be-
yond the reach of this pneumatical administrative
machine, under which a hand of iron reduced all
to silence.
CONTENTS.
PART I.
Madame R]£cami£r and the Friends of her Yocth.
Paqk
Camille Jordan and Pierre Edouard Lemontey. — Notes from Mrae.
Eecamier to Camille Jordan. — Letter from Mme. de Stael. —
Mme. Recamier to Mme. de Stael. — Letters from Camille Jor-
dan. — His marriage. — Letters from M. de Montmorency and
Mme. de Stael to Mme. Recamier. — Letters from Camille Jordan
and Lemontey. — Mme. Recamier to Camille Jordan. — Letter
from Camille Jordan. — Death of Mme. Recamier's mother. —
Mme. Recamier's journey to Switzerland. — Accident on the
road. — Letters from M. de Montmorency and Lemontey. — Let-
ters from Camille Jordan to Mme. Recamier and Mme. de Stael. —
Letters from the Baron de Vogt. — Countess de Boigne to Mme.
Recamier. — Exile of Mme. Recamier. — Letters from M. de
Montmorency, M. Recamier, and Mme. de Stael. — Letters to
Mme. Recamier at Chalons from Lemontey, M. de Montmorency,
Mme. de Boigne, Camille Jordan, and Adrieu de Montmorency. —
Mme. Recamier's change of residence to Lyons. — Letters from
Camille Jordan and M. de Montmorency. — Her trip to Italy. —
Letters from Milan and Rome to Camille Jordan and Mme. Delphin.
— Return to Paris. — Letters from Camille Jordan. — His death . 113
PART II.
Letters of Mme. Recamier to her Niece.
Her niece's account of her parents. — Adoption by Mme. Recamier. —
Arrival in Paris. — Visit to Coppet. — Mme. Recamier's exile. —
Letter from M. Recamier. — Education of Mme. Recamier's niece.
— Anecdote of Lemontey and Mme. de Genlis. — Notes from
Mme. Recamier to her niece. — Trip to Italy. — Mme. Recamier
to Mme. Delphin. — Marriage of her niece to M. Lenormant. —
Letters from Mme. Recamier and Ballanche to Mme. Lenormant . 155
XX CONTENTS.
PART III.
Jean-Jacques AairfeKE a^d tue Abbaye-aux-Bois.
Pagk
Childhood of J. -J. Ampere. — Sketch of his father. — Andi-e-Marie
Ampere. — Education and youth of J.-J. Ampere. — The de .lus-
sieus. — Ampere's presentation to Mme. Recamier. — J.-J. Ampere
to Mme. liecamier. — Journey to Italy. — Queen Horteuse and
the Bonaparte family. — Ampiire's return to Paris. — Letters from
Mme. Kecamier to J.-J. Ampere. — M. de Chateaubriand. — Mile.
Ouvier. — Ampere at the University of Bonn. — Correspondence
of Amp6re and Ch. Lenormant. — Letters from Mme. Kecamier. —
Goethe. — Ampere's trip to Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. —
lieturn to Paris. — Mamage of his sister. — Letters from Mme. Ke-
camier at Dieppe to J.-J. Ampere. — M. Merim6e. — Letters of M.
Merimee to Mme. Recamier. — Mme. Kecamier to J.-J. Ampfere. —
Ampere at Marseilles. — Ch. Lenormant to J.-J. Ampere. — Mme.
Recamier to J.-J. Amp6re. — Ampere and the Normal School. —
Professorship at the College de France. — Sainte-Beuve. — J.-J.
Ampere to Mme. Lenormant. — M. Guizot. — Letters from Mme.
Recamier to J.-J. Ampere. — Death of Andre-Mai-ie Ampfere. —
Travels of Ampere. — "Voyage Dantesque." — Journey in Greece
and Asia Minor. — Ampere elected member of the Academic des
Inscriptions. — Alexis de Tocqueville. — Lafayette. — La Grange.
— Letters from De Tocqueville. — Frederic Ozanam. — Literary
labors of Ampere. -^ Journey to Egypt. — ]\Iehemet-Ali. — J.-J.
Ampere at Cairo to Mme. Recamier. — Illness of Ampere. — His
return to France. — Letters from Mme. Recamier and Ballanche
to Ampere. — His convalescence. — M. Mohl. — Viscountess de
Noailles. — M. de Lomdnie. — Election of Ampfere to the French
Academy. — Blindness of Mme. Recamier. — Death of Ballanche.
— Death of M. de Chateaubriand. — His funeral obsequies. — Mme
de Boigne to Mme. R6camier. — Death of Mme. Recamier. — Am-
pere's journey to Spain. — Stay at Sorrento. — Journey to Amer-
ica. — "Promenade en Ameriquc." — Death of the Viscountess
de Noailles. — Letters from J.-J. Ampere to the Duchess de Mouchj-.
— Ampere and the Cheuvrcux family. — Letters of Ampire to the
Duchess de Mouchj'. — "Histoire Romaine a Rome." — Alexis de
Tocqueville to J.-J. Ampere. — J. J. Ampere to the Duchess de
Mouchy. — Alexis de Tocqueville to J.-J. Ampere. — Death of
Alexis de Tocqueville. — Death of JIme. Guillemin. — Death of
Ch. Lenormant. — Religious faith of Amp6re. — J. -J. Ampere to
Mme. Lenormant. — Death of Ampere 281
PART I.
MADAME RECAMIER AND THE FRIENDS OF
HER YOUTH.
■pROMINENT among Mme. Recamier's early friends
-^ were two natives of Lyons, — Camille Jordan
and Pierre Edouard Lemontey. Both were men of
distinguished ability, though totally unlike in char-
acter. Both, also, were members of the Council of
Five Hundred when, in 1797, they were admitted to
the house of M. Recamier, whose eminently hospitable
doors opened with eager cordiality to his fellow-towns-
men of Lyons. Camille Jordan probably owed his in-
troduction to Degerando ; the two had been like broth-
ers from childhood, and their life-long friendship neither
time nor absence, nor marked divergencies of opinion
and conduct, had ever power to chill.
Lemontey had many fine qualities. He was a stead-
fast friend, and pei-fectly trustworthy in all the relations
of life ; but, though a man of superior mind and incon-
testable talent, he was imbued with a scepticism little in
harmony with the confiding and enthusiastic temper of
the young and beautiful girl now four years married to
1 ▲
2 MADAME RECAMIER
M. R^camier. Political convictions he had none, nor
any religious belief; men and events he judged with a
mocking irony, which, while it gave great piquancy to
his words, did not prevent him from being always very
ready to serve his friends. His avarice had passed into
a proverb, and he had no elegance either of manner or
appearance. In conversation his language often offended
against good taste, sometimes even degenerating into
coarseness ; but his judgment in regard to literary mat-
ters was keen and correct, and his advice on such subjects
always sound. Mme. de Stael welcomed him gladly to
her house, and was fond of consulting him ; and in several
of her letters to Mme. Recamier it will be observed that
she begs the latter to urge him to visit her both at
Coppet and AuxeiTe. During all my childhood I used
to see Lemontey every Saturday, as he came regularly
to dine with my uncle, M. Recamier. This habit, to
which he faithfully adhered until his death in 1826, dates
back to the remote period when he came to Paris to
take his seat in the Council of the Five Hundred.
Mme. Recamier had a sincere regard for Lemontey,
but the affection she felt for Camille Jordan was much
stronger. I do not purpose to relate here the life
of the eloquent and intreisid patriot, whom the history
of our social and parliamentary struggles " will never
find in the ranks of the victors." I would rather re-
fer the reader to Ballanche's noble eulogy ; also to the
brilliant article which M. Sainte-Beuve devoted to
him in the " Revue des Deux Mondes," still vividly
remembered by the public. In this article the able
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 3
critic not only appreciates, with his usual acuteness,
the charming originality of the translator of Klopstock,
and the talent of the political orator; but — what we
had, perhaps, less right to expect — he also does full
justice to the independence and patriotism of this
champion of liberty.
Barely escaping arrest, through the devotion of his
friends, at the coiq:) cVetat of Fructidor, Caraille Jordan
succeeded in reaching Switzerland in company with M.
Degerando, with whom he afterward visited Germany.
It was during this forced emigration that he formed
a friendship with Matthieu de Montmorency. Re-
turning to France in 1800, after a sojourn in England,
he met again in Paris Mme. Recamier, with whom he
had been greatly charmed three years before, and who
was now more brilliant and more sought after than
ever. Henceforth a close intimacy was established be-
tween Mme. de Stael, Matthieu and Adrien de Mont-
morency, and Camille Jordan, who, with M. and Mme.
Degerando, formed part of the intimate circle of friends
that gathered daily around Mme. Recamier, whether
at Clichy, Saint-Brice, or Paris. It was now, too, that
letters and notes began to be exchanged between her
and Camille Jordan, of which a few only have escaped
destruction.
Mme. Recamier felt a very deep friendship for
Camille Jordan ; he inspired her with both esteem and
confidence. Like Matthieu de Montmorency, though
in a less degree, he acted toward her the part of a
Mentor ; striving to counteract the influence of the
4 MADAiME R^CAMIER
intoxicating homage paid her in society, and to cure
her of that imperious desire to please which she had
from her birth, together with all the natural gifts
which made pleasing so easy to her.
Few men with the great qualities and rigid virtues
of Camille Jordan have been so charming and en-
gaging in the ordinary intercourse of life. His original
turn of mind, his enthusiasm, his energy, the shrewd-
ness of his remarks, a certain simplicity and candor, —
in short, every thing about him was attractive, even to
the somewhat provincial awkwardness which he never
quite overcame. M. Sainte-Beuve has very justly no-
ticed a peculiarity common to all the natives of Lyons,
— a flavor of the soil, so to say, — which we find in all
Camille Jordan's contemporaries, however unlike in
other respects. M. Sainte-Beuve defines it thus : "A
certain stock of beliefs, of sentiments, of moral habits,
of local patriotism, of religiosity and affectuosity, which
holds its own amid the general dwindling away and
shrivelling up of men's souls."
In inserting here two notes from Mme. Recamier to
Camille Jordan, written in the early days of their inti-
macy, it seems proper to forestall the surprise which,
doubtless, some readers will experience, on seeing a
very young woman address by his Christian name
one who is not a relative, while he replies in the same
style. This use of the Christian name was adopted by
the whole circle, and occurs in conjunction with forms
implying the most profound deference and respect.
Mme. de Stael never speaks of M. de Montmorency nor
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 6
addresses him except by the name of Matthieu. Mme.
de Boigne does the same in the case of Adrien de
Montmorency, who, in his turn, calls her Adele. All
the guests at Coppet speak of and to Mme. R^camier as
Juliette. So with Camille Jordan, whom they all call
Camille ; it is the same with Benjamin Constant and
Prosper de Barante, and yet assuredly, in spite of this
custom, now out of fashion, the language of this select
circle was neither familiar nor trivial.-^
HUE. BtCAMIER TO CAMILLE JORDAN.
"1801.
"Deak Camille, — I very much regret not seeing
you to-day. I am obliged to accompany mamma to
Cambacer^s's, and afterward I go into the country.
" If I do not see you in a day or two, I shall go to
look for you at Meudon.^ A thousand affectionate re-
membrances and regards to you and your friends."
" 1801,
" Dear Camille, — I send you the invitations,
which I did not know how to address. I fear it may
be too late : do the best you can. I shall see you this
evening, but I shall see you in the midst of a crowd.
1 In this connection it is well to call attention to the fact
(necessarily lost sight of in an English translation) that though
this circle of friends call each other by their Christian names, they
never employ the aifectionate and familiar " tu," but always
" vous." Among Mme. Ee'camier's correspondents, the only one
who uses the " tu " in addressing her is M. Recamier. — Tk.
^ At the Deg^randos'.
6 MADAME R^CAMIER
I liked much better my little room at Meudon, and the
rambles among the ruins."
Allusion is here made, as we see, to one of those
fetes which Mme. Recamier was in the habit of giving,
and to which the fashionable world, now just re-
organized, and with a thirst for pleasure unquenched
by the saturnalias of the Directory, came in eager
crowds. The peace of Luneville, followed by that of
Amiens, had reopened France to foreigners, multitudes
of whom flocked thither during the winters of 1801 and
1802.
A proof of this we find in the following note from
Camille Jordan to his brilliant friend : —
" A certain Baron von Arnim, a Prussian, has been
recommended to me, whom I should like to have go to
the Demidoff ball to-morrow. You, who reign over all
the Russias, can you manage to get him in?
" Deg^rando and Annette charge me with most lov-
ing messages, and beg you to send your orphan boy to
the school.
" I hoped to see you and waited for you day before
yesterday at Lady Foster's.^ ^^ ^ „
Mme. de Stael passed the whole winter of 1801 in
Paris ; and from this time her relations with Mme. Re-
camier took the character of a close intimacy. Return-
1 Lady Elizabeth Foster, sister of the Earl of Bristol. Her
second liusband was the Duke of Devonshire.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 7
ing to Coppet in the spring, she wrote to her friend on
the 9th of September : —
" Do you ever think, beautiful Juliette, of a person
whom you loaded with marks of interest last winter, and
who hopes to make you renew them next winter ? How
do you sway the empire of beauty ? We accord you this
empire with pleasure, because you are eminently good ;
and it seems only natural that so sweet a soul should
be expressed by so charming a face. Of all your
adorers, you know I prefer Adrien de Montmorency.
I have received letters fi-om Mm remarkable for wit and
grace, and I believe in the steadfastness of his affec-
tions, in spite of the charm of his manners. And,
besides, this word 'steadfastness' is more becoming
for me, who pretend only to a very secondary place in
his heart. But you, who inspire all the sentiments,
you are exposed to the grand events out of which w^e
make tragedies and romances. Mine ^ is making prog-
ress here at the foot of the Alps. I hope you will read
it with interest. I rather like this occupation. In
speaking of your adorers, I did not mean to include
M. de Narbonne ; ^ it seems to me he has ranged him-
self in the ranks of the friends ; if it were not so, I could
not have said that I preferred any one to him.
" Amid all these successes, you are, and you will ever
remain, an angel of purity and goodness, worshipped
1 Her romance of " Delphine," wliich appeared in 1802.
''' Formerly minister of Louis XVI., aide-de-camp of the Emperor
Napoleon.
8 MADAME R^CAMIER
by the devout as well as by worldlings. What do your
devout ones say concerning the new treaty with the
Pope?^ Is it quite orthodox? We outside heretics
find it hard to understand all this. Throw some liffht
on this rather singular medley. Have you again seen
the author of ' Atala ' ? Are you still at Clichy ? I ask,
in short, for all pai'ticulars respecting yourself; I like to
know what you are doing, to make a picture to myself
of the places you inhabit; must not all memories of
you resolve themselves into pictures? I join to this
very natural enthusiasm for your rare personal ad-
vantages a great fondness for your society. Kindly
accept, I beg of you, all I offer, and promise me that
we shall see each other often next winter."
To the year 1803, and evidently after the first order
of exile, must be assigned these few lines of Mme. Re-
camier to Mme. de Stael, which M. Sainte-Beuve dis-
covered among the papers of Camille Jordan, and which
are here inserted as given by him : —
"Just as I received the note announcing your de-
parture, another was handed me from Junot, who
writes : ' I have this morning seen the Consul ; he said
that he consented to her staying in France ; he was
even willing that she should reside at Dijon, if that be
agreeable to her ; he even said to me, in a low voice,
" that if nothing new should occur hereafter." ... I
1 The Concordat signed July 17th, 1800, between Pius VH.
and the French Government.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 9
trust that, through her own prudence and our earnest
solicitations, the sentence will be completed.'
" You, doubtless, know all this. As for me, the hope
of soon seeing you again is very necessary to console me
a little for your absence. Do, as a favor, let me know
your plans. I will not forget the affair of M, . . .
" It is very hard to get accustomed to not seeing you,
after having had the pleasure of passing a few days
with you. I am waiting to hear from you with anxious
impatience.
" Sunday evening." " ^JJlARITl^ R."
camille jordan to mme. recamiee,
" Saint-Ouen, 1803.
" Dear Juliette, — I left you ill, and I am anxious
about your health ; send me word, I beg of you, by re-
turn of messenger. I should have called to inquire
yesterday, but I returned home at too late an hour ; I
shall come to-morrow the first moment I am at liberty ;
provided, indeed, that my visit do not bore you, for the
doubt you felt of the pleasure your last letter would
give me fills me with a better-founded distrust. Oh,
that doubt ! it went to my heart. It will be long Vie-
fore I forgive you. But, no, I am sure of interesting
you, for I shall speak to you of Adrien,^ of the visit that
I made him ; I will describe my dinner with Fox, where
mention was made of you. I enclose the hospital
* Adrien de Montmorency.
1*
10 MADAME RJ^CAMIER
papers, Avhich I carried off through inadvertence ; I
hope you will not forget the little girls, and the charm-
ing project so worthy of your good heart.
" What has become of the beautiful Aline, and the
Portuguese Yom?inQQ'i Please say something pleasant
to her from me. Tell her that we beg her to prepare
her sweet voice for singing a romaunt of the sixteenth
century, quite unknown, and with which we are de-
lighted. Annette and Degerando be<T to be remem-
bered to you. Adieu, dear Juliette ; I love you still,
but not as much as I did before our last conversa-
tion. " C."
Camilla Jordan had returned to Lyons when Bona-
parte held there the Cisalpine Council, and the First
Consul tried to attach huu to his new government,
but, as Ballanche tells us, " he could not overcome the
repugnance of this man, whose chief characteristic was
his perfect uprightness, and who, by the purity of his
patriotism, was rendered distrustful."
So long as Bonaparte was in power, whether as Con-
sul or as Emperor, Camille Jordan preferred to remain
in the obscurity of a life of study. Of a nature fitted
for the family affections, he married, and announced
his intention to Mrae. R^camier in the following
terms : —
" 25 Ventose, year xii.
" (March 15, 1804.)
"Dkar Juliette, — What will be your astonish-
ment! The irresolute is resolved, the fickle one is
chained ! I am about to marry. I wed a young lady
CAMILLE JORDAN
from a painting by Mile. Godefroi, engraved by MiMer
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 11
of Lyons. I make one of those marriages recommended
by relatives, but which the heart approves, — reason-
able, but, at the same time, attractive. Unfortunately,
in a romantic point of view, there is money, and the
match is a suitable one. But, on the other hand, the
lady is young, sensible, virtuous, charming. She seems
to be very fond of me, and, unimpressionable as I am,
I let myself be touched by it. Your inquisitive friend-
ship would like, no doubt, farther details. You shall not
have them ; you must come yourself and get them. I
sigh more ardently than ever for your coming. I have
the greatest desire that you should know and love her.
As for her, I am very sure that she will love you ; that
our hearts, which accord so well, will agree about
Juliette, — will cherish together such ineffable good-
ness and grace. Please announce my marriage for me
to your husband ; for I feel very sure of the friendly
interest his kind heart will take in it. Tell him that it
is Mile. Magnieunin, of Lyons ; but probably he does
not know her.
" I beg of you also to inform your mother, father,
and all your family, at the same time remembering me
kindly to them all. Write to me soon. „ y-, y »
The marriage of Camille Jordan, and the domestic
happiness it brought him, did not prevent his coming
occasionally to Paiis. He was there in 1806, during
the summer which Mme. de Stael passed chiefly at the
chateau of Vincelles, near Auxerre. All the friends
of the noble exile made a pilgrimage to Vincelles.
12 MADAME R^CAMIER
Matthieu de Montmorency, who was among the first
comers, wrote to hasten the arrival of Madame R(S-
camier, who was impatiently expected.
"ViNCELLES, NEAR AuXERRE,
" Saturday evening, May 10.
"There must be few persons less accustomed than
the amiable Juliette to see the letters they write re-
main for days unanswered. Pardon me if I have not
immediately replied to yours, which was very kind,
though very hasty. Pardon, not me, who truly am not
to blame, but the singular and very disagreeable habit of
the post of delaying all our letters for Auxerre by one
mail. It is to be desired, at least, that the bureau for the
examination and reading of letters should be a little
more prompt in the performance of their functions ; and
if they read this I hope they will profit by the advice.
Yours did not reach me until this very day at four
o'clock. Though you have been kind enough to forget
the date, — an omission which might sometimes upset
the calculations of poor country folk, — yet, according
to mine, judging by what they told me of your letter,
you must have written it on Wednesday ; and here we
are already at the very end of that week whicli you
proposed to spend in the peaceable and lonely retreat
of Vincelles. The inhabitants would be too sorry if
any thing should happen to frustrate your good inten-
tions. There is a little Albertine here whose face lights
up with joy at the thought of seeing you. The lady of
the house counts greatly upon it, and would tell you to
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 13
come at any time when most convenient to yourself
rather than not come at all. But, on account of a visit
which I purpose making the first of the week to a
family in the neighborhood, — an invalid relation in
whom you are interested, as in all unhappy ones, — and
a little business errand in the direction of Briare which
she has in view, we would propose to you to arrive on
Saturday morning at the latest, in company with the
young Albert,^ who so well remembered all your kind-
nesses, and was most eager to go and claim them when
he went to Paris, and who will be equally proud to
escort you here, and inconsolable to lose any of your
visit. His Mentor,^ who will have the honor of seeing
you, is a very intellectual and distinguished German,
who will also be at your service. I see that you also
ask me to reply to your question respecting another
gentleman of my acquaintance.® I am very much em-
barrassed ; for nothing would give me greater pleasure
than to see him, and be with him here among such
agreeable and intimate friends. Our friend wishes it
very much. She has already tried to bring me over to
her views ; and maintains that the company of the young
man and his Mentor renders the visit more easy and
more proper. But I still fear that it cannot be. My
better judgment prevails over my own inclination, and,
in spite of myself, I conscientiously find there are objec-
' Albert, second son of Mme. de Stael.
^ Schlegel.
' Adrien de Montmorency, who asked leave to come to Vin/
celles.
14 MADAME R^CAMIER
tions, between which and his own inclinations I leave
Adrien's own delicacy to be the judge. I fear, above
all, the small gossip of the public, and especially of the
Hotel de Luynes. Pardon, aimable Juliette, this frank
severity, which, so it seems to me, is obligatory upon a
friend of whom one asks advice. I fear that Adrien
will take it very ill of me. Tell him I do not dare to
write him for this reason ; that we often speak of him ;
and that I love him with all my heart.
" I perceive that I hare not yet spoken of the first
piece of news in your letter. It was not new to us ;
we had it directly through the prefect. But what
concern you show in announcing it ! You will indeed
be concerned when you see with your own eyes what
grief this persistence in ill-will causes our friend. Ah !
no one is so worthy as you to be the friend of misfort-
une ! Adieu ! I am doubly and most sincerely gratified
to hear of madame your mother's improvement, smce
it allows us to look forward to such happy moments.
Let me count upon them as certain ; and therefore
insist upon your leaving Paris on Friday, so as to
arrive here as early as possible on Saturday. Why
not bring Camille with you ? All at Vincelles tender
you their loving homage. Can you not let us know
something about the answer, whatever it was, to the
demand for liquidation ? " ^
Mme. de Stael, wishing to join her entreaties to those
1 This refers to the claim of Mme. de Stael for the two millions
advanced to the government by M. Necker.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 15
of Matthieu de Montmorency, added to his letter this
little note: —
" AuxEERE, May 10, 1806.
"Deak Juliette, — Your kindness to me is inex-
haustible ; but will you not give me the unspeakable
pleasure of seeing you ? I send you my youngest son,
who is quite in love with you, like the rest of his
family. I rely upon you to treat M. Schlegel well, who
is much more my friend than the tutor of my children.
I have permission to stay here, but I cannot stay long,
for it is the saddest life imaginable. There ai"e no
advantages here whatsoever for the education of the
children ; not a musician ; nothing in the world but
the river and the plain ; and I have too melancholy an
imagination to endure it. Get me out of it if you can.
Is not Murat still in Paris ? Cannot you interest him
in my behalf? I know your powei'S of intercession. I
prefer the indirect through you than the direct by
myself Adieu ! beautiful Juliette ; I finish as I be-
gan, — let me see you."
Mme. Recamier arrived at Vincelles at the time ap-
pointed, and Camille Jordan some weeks later, on his
way to Lyons, and after M. de Montmorency had
returned to Paris. He announced his coming in the
following note : —
" Thursday.
"Dear Juliette, — I have just seen Matthieu, and
have been much interested in hearing of you and Ma-
dame de Stael ; but he confounds me by saying that
you think of leaving on Monday. You must certainly
16 AfADAME R^CAMIER
Btay another day, unless you wish to give me the great-
est pain, for this is ray itinerary. I cannot leave on
Saturday, as I had hoped to do, but I shall start on
Sunday morninc^, and shall reach Auxerre at one
o'clock. I shall be at your house by five, remain there
the rest of the day, and leave again on Tuesday. You
can imagine how hard it would be not to see you there
at least for one evening. I ask for this little delay
with the more confidence as I know your mother is
better. I know it through Mme. Michel, who sent her
physician to her, and only an hour since had a good
account of her.
" If Mme. de Stael has a cabriolet disengaged, she
will do me a favor if she will send it to meet me at two
o'clock at the ' Leopard ' inn. If not, I have no doubt
that I shall be able easily to get a carriage. Mme. de
Stael will certainly be grateful to me for endeavoring
to prolong the very sweet consolation she finds in your
society. I should also be glad if my visit could be of
any interest to her. At all events, she will meet again
one of those who most deeply feel her sufierings.
Adieu, dear Juliette ! grant my request ; add this mark
of afiection to the many others I have received from
you."
A few lines from Matthieu de Montmorency to their
common friend seconded the entreaties of Camille
Jordan : —
" Thursday, five o'clock.
" Permit me, aimahle Juliette, to write a few hasty
lines which will at least prove to you how much pleas-
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 17
ure I have taken in executing your commissions, and
how much satisfoction it would give me to be able to
procure for you a little tranquillity in so touching a
sentiment. I went this very day, at three o'clock, with
Adrien to see madame your mother, who was able to
receive us. She had two or three ladies with her. She
is better to-day, and had taken quite a long airing in a
sedan chair. She is feeble and very pale, but surely
no worse than when you left. She will be delighted to
see you again, but she is glad of your journey, as she
thinks it is doing you good. Consequently, I did not
give her any reason to expect you before the middle
of next week. You can, therefore, grant the humble
petition of Camille, who cannot arrive before Monday
to dinner, and who entreats you to wait for him. You
will not say him nay ; and by doing him this kindness
you will be able to lavish a few more attentions upon
your unhnppy friend; I fully appreciate how charming
and kind you have been to her. I have much to tell
and to ask upon your return. Your little notes have
been delivered according to your orders. I am yours,
with the most affectionate respect."
Lemontey also made the journey to Auxerre, and
announced his coming by a note, bearing no date ex-
cept the day of the week : — -
" Saturday.
" So it does not suffice you, aimahle heroine, to em-
bellish the places where you are, you must needs sadden
those where you are not.
18 MADAME R^CAMIER
" I set out on Monday by dawn and by diligence,
and on Tuesday, at eight o'clock in the morning, I shall
be at Auxerre. I shall go to-morrow to say good-by
to your mother, so that I may bring you the freshest
news of her.
" Do me the favor to lay my respects at the feet of
the illustrious exile. It is sweet to inspire so general
an interest ; it is a treasure-house of consolation upon
which Mme. de Stael can draw largely without fear of
seeing it exhausted. I will say the same of the senti-
ments I have vowed to you for life. ^^ j „
The failure of the banking-house of M. R^camier,
which took place this same year, could not be a matter
of indifference to Camille Jordan. He hastened to ex-
press his sympathy to the brave woman who bore
without flinching this first stroke of misfortune : —
" Lyons, Oct. 28, 1806.
"Deab Juliette, — I have no words to tell you
how deeply I am affected by your misfortunes and
those of your husband. When they who least know
you are moved by them, judge how he must feel who
is bound to you by so many ties. I heard the news
only two days ago, and have not yet recovered from
the shock. My thoughts never leave you ; I wander in
spirit through that house ; I go from your husband to
yourself; I mingle my tears with yours. Ah ! in spite of
the distance and my new ties, I should certainly have
hastened to you at once had I thought my presence ol
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 19
use ; had I not known that you were surrounded with
sympathizing friends. But I hear that every consola-
tion that friendship and respect can offer is Lavished
upon you to the utmost. And just it is, that they who
were always doing good, who were so generous in pros-
perity, so compassionate toward every species of mis-
fortune, should excite an interest so universal and so
profound. I am told especially that you, Juliette, are
a model of courage, resignation, and disinterestedness ;
that it is you who console and sustain your husband.
I admire, but I am not surprised. I recognize her
whose elevation and nobility of character, under a
light-hearted exterior, have always impressed me, and
upon whom it was reserved for misfortune to set the
final seal of perfection. Degerando writes to me about
it with deep feeling. You will no doubt see a great
deal of my other self Let him be my interpreter with
you ; let his attentions shadow forth those I would fain
pay you ; let his friendship make you think of mine.
"I venture to add that you would afford me, so far
away from you at this time, a much-needed consolation
by informing me yourself how you are, and assuring
me that I am one of the friends upon whom your heart
reposes with some little comfort, and with perfect con-
fidence.
" Remember me to your excellent husband. Do not fail
to tell him how deeply I feel for him in this misfortune.
Assure him from me of the high estimation (I know it
well) in which he stands in Lyons. No one could be
more beloved, more respected, more pitied than he is :
20 MADAME RJ^CAMIER
it is one unanimous concert of praise and regret ; and
every one is convinced tliat, wliatevcr may be the
situation of his affairs, if he does not allow himself to
be cast down, but resumes himself their management,
he will, with his activity, serenity, and accustomed skill,
very soon restore them to a flourishing condition.
Adieu ! I do not cease to think of you, and compass
you about with the best wishes the tenderest fxiend-
ship can bestow."
Mme. Recamier was not long in replying to this
affectionate letter : —
" Dear Camille," she writes, " in the midst of all
my troubles your letter has been a very great comfort
to me. I read it to M. Recamier, who is very much
touched by your interest. The attachment of my
fiiends sustains my courage. However unexpected my
misfortunes, I have been able to bear them with resig-
nation, and I have had the satisfaction of consoling
and alleviating the sufferings of my husband and family.
And should I not also, dear Camille, return thanks to
Heaven, who, in reserving for me such bitter trials,
has given me friends to aid me in bearing them ? I
am very sure that you have regretted not being near
me during this unhappy time. But must we give up
all hope of seeing you this winter? Think what a con-
solation for me it would be to see you here. ^^ -r t> „
Misfortune seemed bent upon pursuing the brilliant
woman whose lot had been so often the object of envy.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 21
After her husband's failure, Mme. R^camier had a far
deeper grief to bear in the death of a mother whom she
adored. Mme. Bernard, still young and still beautiful,
had struggled for moi'e than a year with a very painful
malady, to which, in spite of every care and the tender
love of her daughter, she succumbed at the end of
January, 1807.
"Dear Juliette," wrote Camille Jordan to Mme. Re-
camier, on the third of February, " I have heard with
much pain of the loss you have sustained. Though
so long anticipated, and softened in a measure by the
thought of what cruel suffering a beloved being has
escaped, I fully understand what a blow this is to you,
and how such a trial, added to other misfortunes, leaves
a sad and dreary void in your heart. May the deep
interest of all those about you give you at least some
consolation! Very true friends remain to you, and
your sorrows seem to give new strength to the affec-
tion which binds them to you. I dare trust that you
still count mine among that small number of tried
hearts upon which you repose with perfect confidence
and with some satisfaction. I beg you to remember
me to M. Recamier, also to your cousin and Mme. de
Catellan. You have not answered a letter of mine
written some months ago, which seemed to call for a
reply. I expect nothing from you at present; but, at
least, let me hear of you through Mme. de Catellan,
that I may learn that you are not too unhappy, and
that you remember one of your most faithful friends."
22 MADAME R£CAMIER
The new and deep grief which her mother's death
caused to Mme. Rdcamier greatly impaired her health,
and at midsummer her family and physician united in
recommending a change of air. Her strong desire to
see Mme. de Stael moved her to depart. She jiro-
posed to make the tour of Switzerland, and set out for
Cojipet in July, in company with Count Elzear de Sa-
bran, also an intimate and very devoted friend of the
illustrious exile. They travelled post, in the carriage
and with the servants of Mme. Recamier.
They had nearly reached their destination without
accident when, near Moret, where the road winds along
the edge of a high precipice, the carriage, through the
carelessness of the postilion, was overturned, and, with
its occupants, precipitated over the brink.
Out of four horses two were killed; the postilion
was injured ; while the servant, who was seated on
the box, had just time to jump off into the road,
shouting at the top of his voice. As for the travel-
lers shut up inside, — Mme. Recamier, her maid, and
the Count de Sabran, — all were more or less bruised
by the terrible fall, but none seriously hurt, though
Mme. Recamier spi'ained her foot. This accident
caused great excitement in Paris as well as at
Coppet.
M. de Montmorency wrote from Paris, the 19th of
July : " I thank God with all my heart for having
pi'eserved you, belle and aimahle Juliette, from that
fi'ightful dansjer which made us all shudder. For the
cross that, with very proper feeling, you Avish to
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 23
erect in that terrible spot, I shall have great respect ; I
think I shall make a pilgrimage to it some day. It
was some noble sentiment like this, which God never
allows to pass unnoticed, that obtained for you His pro-
tection in that moment of peril. Your impatience to
provide holy consolation for the interesting invalid ^ at
Pau has already been rewarded. The Abb^ Fousset
has just sent to me from Orleans the copy of a letter
which he had written to him, in which he gives an ac-
count of his general confession, of his resignation, and
of all the consolations religion has given him. The
good abbe desires that you should be informed of this
letter.
"Alphonse had suffered much, but in that respect
was a little better, — one dares say no more, but let
us pray earnestly for him. His brother has gone at
last.
"Adrien will have heard with concern, at Aix-la-
Chapelle, this news from Moret. I have not yet heard
of his arrival.
" You can judge whether my wishes and regrets do
not follow you to that kindly and hospitable abode of
friendship where it would have been so pleasant to go
this summer. For a moment I thought it possible, but
I no longer indulge the flattering hope. A thousand
affectionate regards, ray compliments to your fellow-
J Prince Alphonse Pignatelli, who, young and handsome, was
dying of consumption ; through Mrae. Re'camier's influence he had
been brought to a state of religious resignation which assuaged hia
last moments.
24 MADAME RI^CAMIER
traveller, whose opportunity of serving you we must
all envy."
Lemontey also wrote as follows : —
" July 13, 1807.
" M. Recamier has just left me, after reading to me
your letter ; never did reading seem longer and more
terrible. M. Recamier exhibited an emotion with which
I deeply sympathized, and that it pleased me to see
him show. One will never love you feebly ; it is a
common law which all the world takes pleasure in
obeying.
" But stay ; are you not endeavoring to allay our ap-
prehensions? Is it really true that a simple sprain is
the only result of so frightful an accident ? If your
letter had not been so explicit, and, above all, if M. de
SabranJs had not announced so positively your depart-
ure for Geneva, I should have directly proposed to M.
Recamier to go to you myself, and take with me the
skilful Richerand ; but as there seems to be no doubt
that you are now within reach of every succor that
friendship and skill can afford, we must be contented
to await with impatience the confirmation of your en-
tire recovery. I dare no longer encourage you to
make the tour of Switzerland, as you proposed. The
very idea of your carriage among the mountains makes
me shudder. I take pleasure, however, in imagining
that this terrible accident will be the end of that ill-
fortune which has pursued yoii for two years. It
seems to me that your first life is ended, and that
Providence, in miraculously preserving you, has given
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 25
you a new one which will console you for past mis-
fortunes.
'•'■ Adiiexx, aimahle Juliette; dispose of me as though
I belonged to you. Pray assure Mme. de Stael of my
deep interest. I cannot commiserate M. de Sabran for
his share in an accident which I envy him, but please
offer him my congratulations upon its result. Give us
news of the faithful Joseph.^ I shall write this very
moment to your cousin,- I trust that you have had
reassuring reports from the Pyrenees." ^
It is not necessary to recapitulate here all the enter-
tainments, all the social successes which awaited at
Coppet her who was there styled la belle amie. They
have been sufficiently detailed already in the " Memoirs
and Correspondence." The summer of 1807, owing to
the presence of Mme. Recamier, was a particularly gay
one at this chateau, where the influence of Mme. de
Stael's genius diffused around her an atmosphere which
her guests found delightful to both mind and heart.
Mme. Recamier was unwilling to quit the shores of
Lake Geneva without seeing Camille Jordan, whose
arrival had been expected in vain. She wrote to
him, therefore, announcing her project of stopping at
Lyons on her way to Paris. We have only Camille'a
reply : —
1 The domestic who accompanied Madame Recamier.
2 Madame de Dalmassy.
3 i.e., from Prince Alphonse Pignatelli.
2
26 MADAME RJ^CAMIER
" Lyons, Sept. 7, 1807.
" Dear Juliette, — Upon returning from a trip to
Grenoble, I find your letter of the 27th of August. I
regret that ray reply has been unavoidably retarded for
a few days, and I lose not a moment to say to you how
much I am touched by your persistent determination
to return by way of Lyons, and the kind motives which
have actuated you. It is very lucky that you have
advised me of it, for I was on the point of starting for
our country place at Bresse, which is ten leagues from
Lyons. If necessary, I can postpone my departure for
a week, when I must absolutely pass a fortnight there
on urgent business. So try to come immediately, or
else defer your coming for three weeks. My Julie,
who fully responds to the liking you seem to have for
her, shares my eagerness to see you ; and if to love you
very much, to suiTound you with every affectionate at-
tention, be a welcome that will suffice and please you,
you will surely be content with ours. Besides, you
must know how much pleasure you will give to all
your family, and how charmed they were and still are
with the young and ingenuous boarding-school girl, not-
withstanding some rather suspicious intimacies, which
made grave relatives shake their heads. As for me,
your accomplice, I congratulate you upon being at
Coppet, and envy you, too. I would certainly have
got away from Grenoble if I could. How was it that
when you were at the Grande-Chartreuse you did not
go down into the town, where an entire tribe of my
family would have welcomed you, worshipped you, and
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 27
perhaps have made you pass a few pleasant moments?
You say nothing now about your health, but I have
had a report from the Baron de Vogt on the subject,
which pleases me much.
" Please say to the dear Baron that I shall send him
to-morrow the ribbon he asked me for; to Matthieu,
if he is still with you, that I received his letter at
Grenoble, and am very sorry he does not return by
way of Lyons ; to Mme. de Stael, that I will write to
her soon, and that I think of her often ; to all those
who are with her, and especially to my dear Augustus,
kind regards."
Some days later, Camille Jordan, writing now to
Mme. de Stael, explains the causes of his failure to ap-
pear at Coppet : —
" Lyons, Sept. 10, 1807.
"You would never think, in the midst of your whirl of
excitement, of inquiring why I have not seen you this
Autumn ; but I feel I must tell you why. Just as I was
ready to start on this pleasant trip to Paris, Grenoble,
and Geneva, on which I had counted for refreshment for
both mind and heart, a new obstacle presented itself: 1
had to take the place of a sick brother, and go South
beyond Montpelier on business. I hurried home only a
few days before the expected confinement of ray wife.
Shortly after, the agreeable lawsuit, of which I have
spoken to you, began again, and thus the days go by.
" But will you not come here, as you have led us to
hope ? Will you not, at least, accompany Juliette upon
28 MADAME R^CAMIER
her return ? Has Coppet, which you have made
others love so much, at last won your affections ? We
hear of nothing but the enchantments you have con-
trived to transport thither. But all that will not, I
fear, satisfy the cravings of the heart which created
Corinne.
'■^ A2yropos of Corinne, I think you will be inter-
ested if I send you this extract from a letter I have
just received from Mme. de Sharclt.-^ It will tell you
of her admiration, and also of a criticism by Wieland.
Goethe, however, appears to criticise nothing; and in
another part of her letter she simply says that he is
enthusiastic. Pray impress upon the lovely Juliette
how much we desire to see her at Lyons. Say to her
that I doubt not that she very cordially recommended
me to her relative the judge ; that I thank her heartily
for her good intentions, but that never were intentions
followed by less effect ; that, far from finding favor in
his eyes, my family have not even obtained justice at
his hands ; that, in the discharge of functions where it
was his duty to confine himself to weighing impartially
the evidence, he manifested toward us an amount of
prejudice and ill-will which was the scandal of all who
witnessed it.
" What has become of your proposed essay on con-
versation, and of Benjamin's work on religions, and
Schleo;el's dissertation on Phedre ?
" Do not fail, I beg of you, to remember me to your
1 Lady of honor to the Grand-Duchess of Saxe-Weimar.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 29
children and cousin. Believe in my attachment, all
the more true for its reticence of expression."
Mme. Rdcamier did, in fact, return home by way of
Lyons, whence — owing to her man-servant meeting
with an accident — she continued her route to Paris,
accompanied only by her maid. Camille Jordan, a
little apprehensive, wrote to her as follows : —
"Lyons, Oct. 4, 1807.
"With what impatience, dear Juliette, I await the
letter you promised me ; I already begin to wonder
why I do not receive it! How is it possible not to
have some anxiety about this journey, rashly under-
taken, without a man-servant, in your delicate health,
and in such unfovorable weather ?
" All your friends here are very uneasy ; I confess,
however, that 1 am a little less so than others, for I
know that the three Graces who always accompany you
are not, in travelling, a useless cortege ; they will win for
you, wherever you appear, the most attentive service.
From post to post, in my mind's eye I see you the idol
of the postilions, the dearest friend of the landladies ;
and it is, I am very sure, the undefined consciousness
you have of your universal empire which gives you in
travelling so much boldness in spite of your timidity,
and that made you set at defiance all our prudent coun-
sels.
" I would tell you again of my pleasure in seeing
you, of how my heart ached in parting from you, of my
tender afiection. But, as I have said before, I feel it ia
30 MADAME Rl^CAMIER
almost useless to express such feelings to you, when 1
think what a spoiled child of love and friendship you
are, and how tame my simple and affectionate ex-
pressions must seem after the deep sighs of the Baron,^
the sobs of the Baroness,^ and the transports of Milady.^
It is true, nevertheless, that if you laid less stress upon
this outside worship, you would find few of your friends
that vie with me in constant and real affection ; and in
these two flying visits I have learnt, if that were pos-
sible, to love you even better. You were so perfect in
your behavior to me ; you revealed dispositions of soul
which touched me so deeply ; I have been so delighted
to see you leaving off, day by day, something of your
coquetry, and attaching yourself more and more to
serious and sacred things ! It was an old wish of mine,
your growth in perfection and your well-being ; and it
is very gratifying to me to see my wish so near accom-
plishment. But why did we talk so little of this in-
teresting reformation ? Why was it that importunate
people were always disturbing our private conversa-
tions ? Why was I myself so sadly and cruelly pre-
occupied? But, apropos of this preoccupation, I make
haste to tell you that your short visit, like a good
angel's, seems to have brought me a blessing : my child
is rapidly getting better, requiring now only care,
and causing no further anxiety. We have also news
i De Vogt. ^ Baroness de Staijl.
' Lady Webb, a beautiful Englishwoman, sentimental and
rather frivolous, whom the continental blockade had detained in
France.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 31
of Deg^rando, who is improving, though slowly. So 1
breathe again ; and you will find me, I trust, in the
spring looking less sad, and wholly given up to the
pleasure of seeing you, waiting upon you, and inflexible
in dragging you to our museums and our valleys, and
making you, by main force, admire every foot of your
birthplace. You ought to do so, at all events, out of sheer
gratitude, — for it is marvellous how, in those few days,
and without apparent effort on your part, you have
added new conquests to the old. I hear that the Del-
phins ^ chant in chorus your praises ; I am witness to
two vanquished mothers-in-law confessing that their
daughters' husbands were right. I see that you have
completely fascinated my Julie ; and even my little
daughter, afiectionately asking to see again the beauti-
ful lady, proves how it runs in my blood to love you.
There is only Milady of whom I cannot give you late
news. I called upon her once, but did not find her
at home.
" I hope you will not forget the letter for the De-
gerandos, and the message for Antoinette.
" I wrote to the Baroness the very day you left, and,
— forgive me, — having caught the infection of tattling,
I could not help telling her of your mad freak in set-
ting out alone with your maid.
" Remember me, I beg of you, to your husband, and
to all our common friends. Above all, tell Matthieu
how much I am rejoiced at the renewal of your afiec-
1 Brother-in-law and sister of M. Recamier.
32 MADAME R^CAMIER
tiou, and how kindly we have spoken of him here.
Adieu, dear, very dear Juliette ! My Julie asks to be
remembered, and shares all my sentiments towards
you."
Camille Jordan wrote at the same time to Mrae. de
Stael, relating to her this incident in the jouniey of her
beautiful friend ; and Mme. de Stael, in her turn, sent
the letter to Mme. Recamier.
" How much," she writes to her, " has this solitary
journey distressed me ! How I bewailed the fate which
severed me from the pleasant Hfe which I should now
enjoy had we never parted ! I send you a letter of
Camille Jordan, because I wish to give you the pleasure
of seeing yourself as others see you."
CAMILLE JORDAN TO MME. DE STAEL.
" Lyons, Oct. 6, 1807.
" I now proceed to render an account to you of my
precious charge. She left yesterday at one o'clock,
and I accompanied her a short distance. You had a
share in all our last words. She made me promise not
to tell you of a piece of rashness on her part ; but how
shall I keep it from you ? We had, with much trouble,
finally persuaded her to take a man-servant. I had found
an excellent one for her, when she arranged to take a
young cousin with her in her carriage. This appeared
to me even better ; but what happens ? At the very last
moment this absurd cousin changes his plans. I wish to
postpone her departure in order to fall back upon the
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 33
man-servant; she will not consent, being madly bent
upon going alone, and lo ! there she is on the great high-
ways. I was in despair ; but, however, I confess I am
not as anxious as you would have been, when I con-
sider that she does not travel at all by night, that she
stops half-way, that the roads are safe and frequented,
and how, at the sight of that sweet face, everybody is
ready to oblige and eager to serve her.
" We kept her, as you perceive, only three days.
She found me in the saddest state of mind, for I had a
child very ill, and had just heard that Degerando had
had a relapse. But she came like an angel of consolation.
I scarcely quitted her, but, in fact, saw little of her in
any satisfactory way, so taken up was she by family
duties, the attentions of strangers, and a sort of passion
that Lady Webb has conceived for her. In all this
whirl we could scarcely secure a few moments alone
together for private conversation. I perceived with
joy how much your common friendship has been re-
vived and ennobled ; how her mind has become more
serious, more religious, more loving, and a new charm,
indefinable, but most touching, been added to all her
old fascinations. I condole with you upon losing her,
but I congratulate you upon having won and inspired
such an affection. I am relieved also in regard to her
health ; every thing shows that it is better ; and it was
a pleasant sight to see her, after a very fatiguing day
in the country, dancing a gavotte in the evening at
Lady Webb's with all her old lightness and grace. Un-
fortunately she made a visit the next day to the
2*
34 MADAME RlSCAMIER
hospitals, which excited her feelings too acutely ; she
slept very little the night before her departure, and
■was therefore ill prepared for travelling, and I long to
have tidings of the journey.
"The Baron ^ was an object of pity when he said
good-by to her. How he loves her ! It is making him
more worthv of being loved. Tell him that we regret
having seen so little of him. My child is better, but
my friend's health and situation still give me anxiety.
" Remember me to my dear Augustus, to Messieurs
Schlegel, de Sabran, and Sismondi."
CAMIILE JORDAN TO MME. RECAMIEB.
" Lyons, Jan. 8, 1808.
" I do not write you so regularly, but I think of you
very often. I recall our last conversations; I form a
thousand wishes for the fulfilment of all good pur-
poses ; I see with emotion the time of journeys and
delicious interviews approaching. Matthieu has, doubt-
less, during ray silence served as an intermediary
between us. He must often have assured you of my
affection. You have had to console him lately in bitter
anxieties,'' and I envy you the attentions you have
been able to pay to this excellent friend.
" I have also heard of you several times, indirectly.
1 The Baron de Vogt, who had accompanied the fair traveller
from Geneva to Lyons.
2 Matthieu de Montmorency was threatened with the loss of liis
lather.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 35
I was for a little while alarmed about your health, but
was speedily reassured. I long, however, to hear of you
at last from yourself.
" Upon my return from the country I was myself in-
disposed for some time, but now I am better. I have
again been anxious about the health of our friends the
travellers,^ and of their child, but we get at last ex-
cellent accounts of them. They talk more than ever
of their return, which I earnestly desire.
" I have been for six weeks expecting another flying
visit from another friend,^ and I am surprised, and even
begin to be anxious, at the delay, fearing it may be
owing to some serious obstacle. I have written to ask
an explanation. It may, however, be nothing but her
natural irresolution, increased by her recent mental
sufierings, which, I am told, have been extreme, and
which I pity profoundly. The latest news I have of
her was given me by the Baron.^ He had much to say
of you, and with his usual affection ; he remarked, how-
ever, upon your long silence, and muttered somethiug
about your being, perhaps, occupied with some new
flirtation. Can this be really possible ? And that re-
generated heart, which was dreaming of the ideal and
the infinite, could it again stoop to such childish sports ?
I repel such a suspicion.
" Everybody here remembers you faithfully and affec-
tionately. Even Milady's violent fancy for you does
1 The Degerandos, who were in Italy ; M. Degerando was com-
missary for the French government.
2 Mme. de Stael. 3 Baron de Vogt.
36 MADAME RJ^CAMIER
not seem extinguished by absence. We met the other
clay at last for the first time since you left us. She was
most interesting to me when she talked about the great
fiincy she had taken to you. But no one remembers
you with more affection than my angel of love and
goodness, my Julie ; she also often asks when you are
cominff asjain.
" I have no need to tell you that my little Caroline
continues to delight me by a prettiness and sensibility
beyond her years."
CAMILLE JORDAN TO MME. RECAMIER AT AIX, IN SAVOY.
" Lyons, June 6, 1810.
" Dear Juliette, — I have received your kind note,
and delivered immediately those enclosed in it. The
news of your safe arrival has been joyfully received,
but you have been well scolded for forgetting that let-
ter of Matthieu, who was in great distress about it. It
seemed a strange piece of thoughtlessness. However,
the same day came other letters from him, and very
sad ones, announcing that he was detained by the
serious illness of his father. You may well imagine
how much we regret this delay and its cause. Our
friend more especially had great need of his consoling
presence, for since your departure she has relapsed into
deep dejection. Schlegel arrived yesterday ; Talma
continues to occupy all our time ; we either go to see
him or we talk about him. I am obliged to quit them
for four days to go to Bresse on business, but I shall
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 37
still have two or three days to pass with them on my
return ; then they go to Aix. I fear I shall miss Adrien ;
but he will find your letter. I have strongly repre-
sented to our friend, in accordance with what you say
in your letter, that this journey would give you the
greatest pleasure ; that you are not deterred from it by
any selfish considerations, but by a painful deference to
another's objections; but I must frankly tell you — I
know not if it be owing to the power of her eloquence
— that she has convinced me that if there were any
thing objectionable in your former journey, or, rather,
in the circumstances connected with it, there are no
objections to the excursion at present contemplated, as
your journey has evidently a difierent object; and this
mere detour would not be noticed.
" But I especially insist that you make us a long
visit on your return, as a compensation for that hasty
one, though that sufficed to make my Julie feel all your
charm ; henceforth she shares all my eagerness to see
you again ; and I think that even my mother-in-law
herself would be almost cured of her migraine by the
sight of you.
"About that visit you say to me things which are
both kind and cruel. No doubt you then learnt some-
thing of the state of my heart toward you ; but what !
Did you not know it until then ? and is not loving you
an old and dear habit of mine ? I hope that you have
begun at last to take the waters, and conscientiously.
Say to the Baron that my regard for him would, if that
were possible, be increased by the perfect care he takes
#^«~<h i
38 MADAME Rl^CAMIER
of you. I beg of him not to forget a notice he promised
me, and the two leaves of a note-book.
" He must have understood how pleased I have been
at seeing the painful question which divided us decided
by authority.
" Excuse my hasty scrawl, written just as I am about
to start. Let it convey to you at least the assurance
of my tender regard."
As we see by the preceding letter, Mme. Recamier
was at the baths of Aix, where, in the summer of 1810,
a very brilliant company was assembled. Besides Mme.
Recamier, there were among the guests Mme. de
Boigne, Adrien de Montmorency, Monsieur Sosth^ne
de Larochefoucauld and his wife, who was the daughter
of Matthieu de Montmorency ; and also the Baron de
Vogt, whose name has already occurred several times
in the corresj^ondence of Camille Jordan, and about
whom it may not be useless to say a few words. He
was an intelligent German, whom a common philan-
thropy had brought into close and friendly relations
with Degerando and Camille Jordan ; and who owned
ill the environs of Hamburg a large estate, where he
devoted his time and intelligence to the moral im-
provement of the peasants and to the advancement of
agriculture. He had been presented by Mme. Recamier
to Mme. de Stael, and, being naturally very enthusi-
astic and a worshipper of celebrities, was very much
flattered by the kind reception accorded him at Coppet.
But if the Baron paid court to those whose eminent talent
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 39
gave them a wide reputation, be Avas no less disposed
to side always with those in power. The enthusiasm
which marked several of his letters to Mme. Recaraier
was sensibly cooled when, toward the end of the year
1810, the Emperor Napoleon adopted harsher measures
against Mme. de Stael, — suppressing her book, " De
I'Allemagne," and exiling in turn Matthieu de Mont-
morency and Mme. Recamier in 1811.
The Baron's letters from Geneva furnish some in-
teresting details of Mme. de Stael's salon, and on that
account a few extracts from them are here inserted : —
THK BAEON DE VOGT TO MME. KECAMIEK.
" Sechekons, Sept. 23, 1810.
" It is to you I owe the very gracious reception which
has been accorded me at Coppet. It is, without doubt,
to the recommendation of being your friend that I
owe my intimate acquaintance with that remarkable
woman. Without you I would probably have met
her; some indifferent acquaintance might, perhaps,
have introduced lue at her house, but with my habit,
which you know, of avoiding celebrities, I never should
have penetrated the inmost recesses of that beautiful
and sublime soul. I should never have known how
much superior she is even to her great reputation. She
is an angel senijft'om heaven to be a revelation oj^ good-
ness upon earth. To make her irresistible, a pure ray
of celestial light adorns her mind, rendering her in
every respect charming.
"Both profound and light, whether she be search-
40 MADAME R^CAMIER
ing out some mysterious secret of the soul, or seizing
the subtlest shade of sentiment, her wit sparkles but
does not dazzle, and when the moment of greatest
etfulgence is passed, leaves a mild radiance behind it.
It is once more the pure daylight which illumines good-
ness. Doubtless some errors, some weaknesses veil at
times the celestial vision: the initiated themselves
must, perhaps, grieve over those eclipses which the
astronomers of Geneva take so much pains to calculate
and predict.
"My travels since I last wrote have been confined
to journeys to Lausanne and Coppet, where I often
pass three or four days. The life there suits me per-
fectly, — the society still better. I delight in the wit
of Constant, the erudition of Schlegel, the amiability of
Sabran, the talent and character of Sismondi, the nat-
uralness and truth, the good judgment of Augustus, the
sweet and spirituelle loveliness of Albertine. I was
forgetting the good, the excellent Bonstetten, full of
varied learning, affable in mind and disposition, every
way calculated to inspire esteem and confidence.
" Your sublime friend oversees, animates, vivifies the
whole. She puts mind into every one about her. In
every corner there is somebody engaged in composing
something. Corinne is writing her delightful letters on
Germany, which will be, without doubt, her finest work.
" ' La Veuve de Sunam,' an oriental melodrama which
she has just finished, will be played in October ; it is
very effective. Coppet will be flooded with tears.
Constant and Augustus are each writing a tragedy j
BENJAMIN CONSTANT
from a painting by Philippoteaux, engraved by Wolff
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 41
Sabran is composing his opera-comique ; Sismondi, his
history ; Schlegel, his translation ; Bonstetten, his phi-
losophy ; and I, my letter to Juliette."
" Secheeons, Oct. 18, 1810.
"Since my last letter, Mme. de Stael has read to
us several chapters of her work. It bears throughout
the stamp of her talent. I wish I could induce her to
strike out every thing relating to politics, and every
metaphor which may impair the perspicuity, simplicity,
and correctness of its style. I would give to the work
a harmless character, as it were, that should disarm
criticism and disappoint malevolence. She has no
need to give proof of republicanism and imagination,
but of prudence and moderation. Upon my return to
Coppet I found there Mme. de V , who passed
several days with us, and who loves Mme. de Stael with
the enthusiasm she cannot fliil to inspire in all who are
capable of appreciating her.
" Mile, de Jenner took part in a tragedy of Werner,^
which was played last Friday before an audience of
twenty persons. The three actors, including Werner
and Schlegel, played to perfection.
" The plot of the piece is excessively tragic. An ob-
scure family, made criminal by the same fatality which
was so disastrous to the Atridae, furnishes an Orestes in
humble life, or, as Mme. de Stael said, a rustic CEdipus.
1 Werner's sinister drama, entitled " The 24th of February."
42 MADAME R^CAMIER
A jjrofound knowledge of the human heart, all the gloom
with which religion can invest itself in the heart of a
mystic who, though guilty, is without sin, joined to ele-
gant versification, renders this beautiful horror deeply
and painfully effective. I was overpowered by it.
"You will probably not be curious to know more
about a play in which, with only three actors, there
are three murders and an assassination. We breathed
again during the performance of some proverbs of M.
de Chateauvieux,^ in which M. de Sabran and Augustus
distinguished themselves."
" October 28.
" The arrival of M. Cuvier in Switzerland has been a
happy diversion for Mme. de Stael ; she saw him for
two days in Geneva, and they were very well i^leased
with each other. Upon her return to Coppet, she found
Middleton there ; and in listening to his troubles she,
in a measure, forgot her own ; since yesterday she has
resumed her work.
"The poet whose mystical and gloomy genius has
caused us such profound emotions leaves in a few days
for Italy.
" M. de Sabran, Middleton, and Augustus go to
Paris in December, to enlarge the interesting circle
which gathers around you."
1 LuUin de Chateauvieux, a man of eminent abilities, author
of the " Manuscrit de I'lle d'Elbe," which made so great a sensa-
tion in 1814.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 4S
" CoppET, Nov. 12.
" Werner left us at the beginning of the month ; he
is going to Rome, if the fear he has of everi/ thing will
allow him to get there. There is a singular kind of
folly and inaptitude in these imaginative people. It is
paying even for genius more than it is worth,
" I accompanied Corinne to Massot's.^ To make the
sitting less tiresome, they managed to give us some
pleasant music. A young lady by the name of Romilly
played very agreeably on the harp ; the studio was the
temple of the Muses. The portrait will be a likeness
without that exaggerated air of inspiration which,
among other things, mars the portrait by Mme. Lebrun.
" Bonstetten has mxen us two readino-s from a me-
morial upon the Alps of the North ; part of it was vei-y
good, and then came ennui.
• • • • • • •
" Mme. de Stael has resumed her readings ; there is no
longer now any ennui. It is prodigious what she must
have read, and thoroughly, too, to master the ideas
about which she says such charming things. It is very
easy not to be of her opinion, but it is impossible not to
admire her talent."
" Geneva, Dec. 22.
" Here we all are at Geneva ; Les Balances has be-
come another Coppet. I have a delightful lodging
overlooking trellised vineyards, and a broad view of the
1 A portrait-painter.
44 MADAME RECAMIER
valleys of Savoy between the Alps and the Jura. I
see from my windows the mountains we cross at Lea
Echelles. Last evening the resemblance to Coppet
was perfect. I had been with Mme. de Stael to call
upon Mme. RUliet, who is so attractive in her home ;
upon our return, I played chess with Sismondi, while
Mme. de Stael, Mile. Randall, and Mile. Jenner sat on
the sofa and talked with Bonstetten and the young
Barante. It was our old daily life over again, — that
by-gone time that I shall never cease to regret. The
young Rocca has something very amiable about him.
In him, a gentle disposition and a delicate constitution
are united to valor and courage. He is so small that
one cannot conceive how he finds room for all his
wounds ; he loves his profession, and his father's tears
will not keep him here."
The foresroinar extracts are the last from the letters
of Baron de Vogt which relate to Coppet, as in 1811 he
ceased visiting Mme. de Stael, and quitted Switzerland.
This somewhat sudden rupture surprised the friends
of Mme. Recamier, who, at her recommendation, had
received the Baron with great kindness. She asked an
explanation. His reply does not show him in a very
heroic light, and is another instance of the demoralizing
effect of despotism upon character : —
" Friends who were alarmed for themselves and for
me," he writes, "persons in authority, who implored
me not to compromise myself and those who are inter-
ested in me, and not to injure ihe person who, through
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 45
me, might seem to be guilty of a new offence, bave
forced me to quit tbe place wbicb I bad hoped to make
a second home ; and have, with still more reason, for-
bidden me to see the person who has rendered this
sacrifice necessary. My only remaining hope was to
obtain that person's own approval of my determination.
I intrusted this commission to two of my friends ; their
efforts have met with as much success as I could hope
for.
"This is the explanation you have requested, and
which you had the right to expect from me."
Once more, in 1810, Mme. de Stael and Mnie. Re-
camier met on the banks of the Iioire, at the chateau of
Chaumont, where they enjoyed for some time the pleas-
ure of being together.
During this sojourn in Tonraine the book on Ger-
many, to which Mme. de Stael had devoted two
years of assiduous labor, was seized and suppressed.
"We have spoken elsewhere of the despair Napoleon's
renewed severity caused to the noble woman who,
almost alone, Avithstood the imperial despotism. Upon
her return to Coppet, she had thenceforth but one idea,
— to quit France, to escape from a government which
fettered both heart and mind. Her letters, growing
more and more sad, portrayed the state of her mind,
and confirmed Mme. Recamier in her determination to
see again the friend rendered more dear to her by mis-
fortune. But before doing so, she wished to pay a visit
in the environs of Paris to Mme. de Boigne, a person
46 MADAME RlSCAMlER
whose society was extremely agreeable to her, aud
who alone of all the friends of Mme. Recamier's youth
survived her. But she found at the chateau Beauregard
only her friend's parents, the Marquis and Marchioness
d'Osmont, their daughter being in Savoy with General
de Boigne. The following letter expresses Mme. de
Boigne's rcfrret at not seeinsr her : —
THE COUNTESS DE BOIGNE TO MME. RECAMIER.
" BuissoNROND, June 24, 1811.
" You have been to Beauregard, where you were
amiable and charming. — You have spoken of me with
interest and friendship. They have told me all about
it ; and I cannot resist the desire to thank you for this
obliging visit, which I take to myself a little. Alas !
how I wish I were not so far away ! I will not speak
of the life I lead here; you know it by heart, and I do
not think you will forget it very soon. Everybody
talks to me of you, regrets your absence, and longs for
your return.
" I went the other day on what was called a pleasure
excursion to a certain chateau de la Batie, to which
you have to be drawn by oxen. There were fifty of us ;
we had a detestable and, moreover, interminable dinner,
healths, cannons, brass bands, monograms formed of
tricolored cockades (the fete was for the prefect) ; sur-
prises that everybody was fully prepared for, — every
thing, in fact, that is comprised in as strong a dose of
ennui as one could swallow in eight hours' time, — for
the festivities lasted until night. The next day, Rain-
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 47
ulphe ^ yawning, I said to him, ' What is the matter ? '
— ' I am bored.' — ' With what ? ' — ' With yesterday.'
This nonsense made us laugh.
" Another day I went to Aix ; my fii'st visit was to
the maison Capellini ; after making that pilgrimage,
I called upon Mme. Perier, who talked a great deal
more about you than about M. and Mme. Sosth^ne ; I
thought her very ungrateful. I have engaged the house
where we saw Mme. Hainguerlot ; it is at present occu-
pied by Mme. de Talleyrand ; but I am told that she is to
leave immediately, and I expect to be settled at Aix in
a fortnight. I shall take my cook with me. The estab-
lishment at Mme. Perier's is endurable only when one
is there in force, as we were two years ago ; and I
know nobody who is going to Aix this year. They say
that Mme. Doumerc will be there ; I shall be happy to
meet her ; we can talk together about you.
" So the marriage of Mile, de Catellan is settled ; I
am very glad of it ; it seems to me every way wise and
free from objections, which is all that can be attained
in a marriage de convenance.
" I have received a very kind letter from M. de Balk,
and have sent him an answer, to which he has replied ;
but as I do not wish to draw him into a correspond-
ence which in the end he would tire of, and which I
think him too polite to be the first to break off, I beg
you, Madame, to put on your most gracious manner, and
say to him that I have received his letter, that I thank
1 The Count Rainulphe d'Osmont, her brother.
48 MADAME Rl^CAMIER
him for it, and that discretion alone prevents my re-
plying. I saw the place of your fall in the Jura. I
shuddered to think of the danger you ran ; I think it
is the only place between Moret and Les Rousscs where
one can be overturned without being dashed to pieces.
I have seen Mme. de Stael ; she was delightfully kind
to me. I have seen Bretigny, who alarmed me very
much about Mme. de Chevreuse ; he thinks her lungs
are affected ; she is summoning all her courage to
meet death ; it seems easier for her to give up life than
Paris. If she has no other chagrin than that of exile, I
cannot understand her. To me it is only heart-sorrows
which can make one so weary of life. Good-by, dear
Madame ; I did not mean to write you until I was at
Aix, but I wanted to thank you for your kind remem-
brance of my poor Beauregard."
Able at last to carry out the project which she had
been nourishing for six months, Mme. Recamier left
Paris on the 23d of August, 1811, with a passport vise
for Aix in Savoy, fully resolved, indeed, to go thither
to take the waters, but still more fully resolved to stop
first at Coppet. She counted upon meeting at Mme.
de Stael's Matthieu and Adrien de Montmorency, for
the two cousins had gone in company to Switzerlind.
When she left Paris, Mme. Recamier was not aware
that Matthieu do Montmorency had already been
ordered into exile. The following letter from him,
which miscarried, and was not received until long after-
ward, announces the painful event in terms so ambigu-
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH 49
ous that she perhaps would have had difficulty in
understanding it : —
" August 28, 1811.
" I need not tell you, aimahle amie, what our feel-
ings are at this moment ; the worst of all is the state
our poor friend is in ; through excessive sensitiveness
she blames herself for it all, and that makes this petty
persecution, which otherwise I might easily endure,
really very hard to bear. Nevei'theless, I will confess
that I must avoid thinking of you at this moment if I
would be strong. Still, good and generous as you are,
shall we not find some means of seeing each other be-
fore very long? But at jjresent, if you follow the
dictates of your heart and come here, I verily think
that vou will do harm to our friend. Choose between
a short and secret journey or a stay at Fribourg, where
we could go to see you."
It was not, therefore, until Mme. Recamier arrived at
Coppet that she heard of the persecution of which her
noble friend was the object. Some hours later, a letter
from M. Recamier acquainted her with the fate she
had brought upon herself by her self-sacrificing friend-
ship.
"Paris, September 3, 1811.
" To-day, ma bonne amie^ is the tenth since your de-
parture : I have received neither letter nor news from
you, direct or indirect. All the family and our many
friends share my surprise, which amounts almost to
anxiety, at so speedy a negligence on your part, and one
8 s
60 MADAME R^CAMIER
so much at variance with all the promises you made to
us in parting.
" As for me, I have written to you very punctually ;
first, last Thursday a long letter, and since then I
have forwarded all which has come to me for you, un-
der cover of Messrs. Mentsch & Co. I shall continue
to do so until you yourself give me new directions in
regard to our correspondence, which ought hencefor-
ward to be conducted with system and regularity,
owing to the delicate and critical situation in which we
find ourselves, and which I will now explain to you.
" You know that I am not always possessed of that
firmness of character which I admire in certain men,
but which, unfortunately, one cannot bestow upon one's
self I had so little of it as to be very much alarmed
last Sunday morning at ten o'clock, at receiving a sum-
mons from the Councillor of State Prefect of Police, to
present myself at noon the next day at his ofiice, upon
urgent business which concerned myself. Though the
letter was couched in the most polite terms, it annoyed
me infinitely all day and night ; and the next day I
was there precisely at the hour. I was immediately
ushered into the private ofiice of the prefect, who ad-
vanced toward me, and said, ' I am very sorry that I
have a disaijreeable commission to dischar£?e relating to
Mme. Recamier. I have an order from the Emperor ' —
he was holding it in his hand — ' to notify her to with-
draw to forty leagues from Paris. I thought it right to
beg you to call upon me that I might acquaint you
with this order privately, rather than have the notifica-
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 51
tion pass through my office. Tt will be necessary for
you to acknowledge my letter, and notify me that you
have communicated the order without delay to Mme.
Recamier. Where is she at the present time?' I
expressed my great surprise at such an order, and re-
marked that doubtless the Emperor was not aware of
your estimable qualities in the first place, or of your
admiration for his person. I told him that you left ten
days ago to go to Aix, and since then I had not heard
from you either directly or indirectly, but that I should
the next day take means to inform you of the intentions
of the government. I begged him to let me know the
reason of the order, which he was still holding in his
hand. He replied that such orders contained neither
reasons nor explanations ; he read to me simply: ' Mme.
Recamier, nee Juliette Bernard, will withdraw to forty
leagues from Paris.' At this enumeration of your
names, I recognized at once that they must have been
taken at the prefecture of police from the minutes of
your passport, which was applied for in the same
terms. I asked him if it had any thing to do with your
relations with Mme. de Stael. He replied that you must
be aware how unfavorably every thing connected with
her was judged by the government. 'But,' I said,
* what course must I take to avert such a calamity ? '
' It will be best,' he said, ' to let some little time pass
without making any protest, which would be without
effect. The Emperor has now left Paris ; upon his
return we can determine what will be best to do. If
Mme. Recamier is with Mme. de Stael, she can stay
52 MADAME RlSCAMIER
there for the present ; but, wherever she is, let her be
cai-eful of her conduct and movements, so as not to in-
crease the unfavorable impressions the government must
have had in issuing the order of exile.' I give you, ma
bonne amie, almost word for word the conversation I
had with the prefect, so that you may understand per-
fectly your position, and govern yourself accordingly.
To the same end, I also subjoin a copy of the letter
which I addressed to him this morning, in compliance
with his request.
" There is not an individual of the family or house-
hold, or any of the few friends whom I have taken into
confidence, who has not exclaimed, ' I foresaw and fore-
told what has happened ; if I had had any authority
over Mme. Recamier, I should have strongly opposed
this fatal journey.*
*' For my part, I make no observations, for we have
already talked over the subject together, and I have
always made it the rule and happiness of my life to
respect your wishes, tastes, affections, and supposed
religious obligations to friendship. Besides, the thing
is done. It would be useless to dwell upon regrets
which, under the circumstances, are gratuitous and
superfluous. The only question now is, how to allevi-
ate your situation, and, above all, not to aggravate it
by any new imprudence, that might have the most
disastrous consequences, — for myself, in the first place,
since, in my position, I am in need of good-will, and
ought to try to inspire a f ivorable opinion rather than
the reverse ; and, in the second place, it would be fatal
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 53
to the prospects of every member of the family, sup-
posing it were to happen that the Emperor should take
a dislike to our name and your father's. Accordingly,
I think I need not prescribe to you any course of con-
duct for the present, nor for the future, in case this
exile, contrary to my expectations, should be prolonged.
Only I conjure you to take no counsel but of your own
prudence and sagacity. I know you have so much of
both that I can wholly trust to what you think you
ought to do at this critical moment. Especially be on
Your cfuard aijainst the attraction and the influence of
those about you ; and if you wish to consult me as to
your future residence, I will try to select one which
will satisfy all requirements, — your own, of course, in-
cluded, — and where I shall have the satisfaction of
being able to join you as often as possible; for the idea
of a protracted separation, a divided household, the loss
of that completeness in our home-life in which you
took some pleasure, has already given rise in my mind
to very sad and sombre thoughts which I cannot resist.
" Upon coming away from my interview with the
police, I went directly to the Droits Heiinis,^ to see
your father, in order to relieve his anxiety in regard
to the injunction of the previous day, as I had prom-
ised, and also that he might inform M. Simonai'd, who
had gone to Lyons that morning in company with his
1 Droits R^anis. This was the name given under the first Em-
pire to the imposts which are now called contributions indirectes, —
the excise ofBce. — Tr.
54 MADAME R^CAMIER
daughter-in-law, with this weight on his mind. Thence
I went to call upon the Duke d'Abranti^s ; he had just
left to pay his court at CompiSgne. Then I thought I
would try to find M. de Catellan ; he had gone the
day before to Contrexeville. I shall write to Madame,
at Angervilliers, and to M. Dalmassy, at Richecourt ;
but I do not speak of this event to any one else unless
it be to very dear friends. I am going, with this view,
to M. Degerando and Leraontey. My brother and
sister-in-law are in great distress."
In this conversation between M. Recaraier and the
prefect of police, it will be remarked how the latter,
who was a person of unvarying moderation of char-
acter, strove to soften the odium of the duty he was
obliged to discharge by the most perfect politeness of
manner; no less striking is the reply to the inquiry —
certainly a very modest one — respecting the grounds
upon which the order of exile was based. " Orders of
this kind," was the answer, " never contain any state-
ment of reasons, or any explanations." In our turn,
we ask, " Is it not paying too dear for glory if it be
purchased at the price of submission to such a govern-
ment of mutes?"
The thunder-stricken guests at the chateau of Coppet
scattered in all directions. Matthicu de Montmorency
turned his steps towai'd Lyons; Adrien accompanied
him thither, and then proceeded northward ; while
Mme. Recamier, yielding to the entreaties of Mme.
de Stael, — who still flattered herself that the order
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 55
of exile would be revoked, — returned in haste to
Paris. She wished to embrace her aged father, to con-
sult with M. Recamier concerning the business arrange-
ments rendered necessary by the painful position in
which she was placed, and to choose, with his assist-
ance, the city — forty leagues from Paris — in which
she should take up her residence. She saw no" one
outside of her family, and maintained the strictest
incognito^ but the police watched too narrowly the
persons they considered objects of suspicion not to be
aware of the exile's presence in Paris. Forty-eight
hours after her arrival, a few lines from the prefect
of police signified to her plainly that no time was to
be lost in obeying the order already received. The
note was addressed to M. Recamier, and was in these
terms: —
" 1st Division.
" 1st Bureau. Paris, Septem'ber 17, 1811.
"I beg you, Sir, to have the kindness to let me know,
<?« receipt of this, and to the end that the order with
which I made you acquainted on the 2d of this month
may be carried into execution, where Mme. Recamier
is at this moment.
" I have the honor to salute you,
*' Councillor of State, Prefect of Police,
" Baron of the Empire,
" Pasquier."
The next day, accompanied only by M. Recamier's
great-niece, — a child of six years, — and by her maid,
56 MADAME Rl^CAMIER
the poor exile sorrowfully set out for Ohiilons-sur-Marne,
without uttering a comi^laint, without allowing any of
her friends to take the slightest step, or say the least
word, to obtain a mitigation of her lot.^
Mme. Recamier passed ten months in the town of
Chalons, where she found very few resources, in spite
of the attentions, as delicate as they were polite, paid
to her by the prefect, M. de Jessaint, and his wife.
Under a despotic government, persons in disgrace are
1 After having laid before our readers all the documents relat-
ing to the exile of Mme. llccamier, it will not be without interest
to see what the Duke de Rovigo says on the subject in his " Me-
moirs." It is a fine specimen of the lies he retails in that work : —
" A great outcry was also raised against the exile of Mme.
Recamier. People generally talk at random about every thing,
without well knowing what they say. All the world knew of the
business misfortunes of the house of Recamier, in consequence of
which Mme. Re'camier went to live in the provinces ; that was
very honorable, but she should not have passed herself off for a
victim of tyranny, nor written nonsense of that sort to everybody.
It would have been more honest to say simply that she had lost
her fortune through unlucky speculations, rather than accuse the
Emperor. Mme. Recamier remained in the provinces from pru-
dential motives, and used to say to her admirers, when they en-
treated her to return to Paris, that it did not depend upon her,
thereby wishing it to be imderstood that it was the Emperor who
prevented her, while, in fact, he never thought of her. It was on
this account that he gave orders if she did return to Paris she should
no longer be allowed to collect around her that circle of grumblers
to whom she was in the habit of pouring out her imaginary griefs.
And, to speak frankly, I wrote to her that I desired that she should
not think of coming to Paris immediately. She had no intention
of returning, but was very well satisfied to be an exile ; it made
it easy for lier to answer a crowd of importunate people, and gave
her a position in their eyes."
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 57
shunned as one shuns the plague ; and Mme. Recaraier,
whose steps had always been followed by an admiring
crowd, had more than once occasion to bear witness to
the terror that may be caused by the presence of an
exile. A note from Mme. de Stael, written after Mme.
Recamier's departure from Coppet, — a departure which
she had herself absolutely insisted upon, — shows how
intense was the grief she felt at the persecution to
which her friends were subjected, and which she ac-
cused herself of bringing upon them : —
" I cannot speak to you ; I throw myself at your feet ;
I conjure you not to hate me. In the name of Heaven,
show some zeal for yourself if you would have me live.
Extricate yourself from this. Oh, if I could only know
that you were happy, — that your admirable generosity
had not ruined you ! Ah, mon JDieu ! I am out of my
head, but I adore you. Believe it, and show me that
you feel it by thinking of yourself, for I shall have no
peace until you are released from this exile. Adieu,
adieu. When shall I see you again? Not in this
world."
We take pleasure in inserting here a letter of Le-
montey, which shows his fidelity to his friends in mis-
fortune : —
" I learn with much pleasure that you have given up
your intention of travelling. Aside from some other
objections connected with present circumstances, this
moving about seems to be an indication of restlessness
3*
68 MADAME Rl^CAMIER
and weakness. You should leave such excitements to
your scatter-brain acquaintance. With your pure heart
and cultivated mind, you will be astonished at the re-
sources you will find within yourself, and how much
solitude will quicken your imagination. I should like
very much to see your retreat for one moment, that the
memory of it might always be present with me, and
my thoughts know always where to find you, for since
your departure you have never been absent from my
mind. I love every thing which recalls you; I am
touched even to tears by the friendship of Mme. de
Catellan, and by the frank and tender interest of M.
Kecamier. I am enraged with all those imbeciles by
profession — the book-makers — for not having brought
out a single work that I can send you with the cer-
tainty that it will interest you.
" Most to be pitied is the poor cousin ; ^ she as well
as I is exiled from you ; and I thoroughly sympa-
thize with her in a grief which I share. You cannot
doubt the impatience with which I shall constantly
look forward to hearing from you, and the gratitude 1
shall feel for all the good that Providence or man be-
stows upon you. Love ever you?
« Edguaed."
M. de Montmorency had shared the hopes, or rather
the illusions, of Mme. de Stael on the subject of their
common friend. By a letter from his daughter, Mme.
de Larochefoucauld, he learnt at Lyons that he could
* Mme. Dalmassy. ^ Written in English. — Tb.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 59
no longer flatter himself that there would be any miti-
gation of her sentence. It was with very strong
emotion, therefore, he wrote to her on the tenth of
September : —
"I have not yet thanked you for your kind little
word at parting. I was waiting to send by Adrien,
who urges me to make haste. It. is very sad to part
from him ; but a great deal more so is what my daugh-
ter tells me, but which I hear from her alone, of an
accident to your health similar to my own.^ I will not
yet believe it. I am not so selfish as not to be very
much affected by it. Is it that Providence would bring
us still nearer together by this little martyrdom that
we suffer in common for friendship's sake ? I fear the
consequences for our friend. Let me know promptly
the truth, and let me know what your plans are
Let us sometimes pray together, though far off, and
keep for me my precious place in your friendship. Let
M. Recamier forward your letter with his own corre-
spondence, under cover of Camille, who is thinking a
great deal about you."
In these painful circumstances, Mme. Recamier also
received expressions of sympathy from another friend,
Mme. de Boigne, who, as soon as the news reached her,
wrote from Paris : —
1 With what precaution it was customary to speak of the harsh
measures of the Imperial rule, is shown by the circumlocutions
employed by M. de Montmorency to avoid using the word
"exUe."
60 MADAME Rl^CAMIER
"October 15, 1811.
" I hope to have, through Mme. tie Cutellan,^ an oppor-
tunity of writing to you by private hand. I profit by
it with the more eagerness as I have long desired one,
and the fear only of displeasing you has prevented me
writing simply by the post, not to tell you what I
think, but to ask about yourself. I expect to see Mme.
de Catellan to-day ; she will give mc news of you, and
will tell me, I hope, what your plans are, and, above
all, your hopes. I would talk to you of my regrets and
my tender interest if they were any thing remarkable,
but I see my sentiments shared by all the world ; there
seems to be no difference of opinion in regard to you ;
even the people who know you least are distressed at
your absence. You are receiving now the fruit of
that kind benevolence, that gift of Heaven of which
I have often spoken to you, which accompanies you
everywhere, — everywhere making partisans for you. ad-
mirers and faithful friends. I saw Adrien last evening ;
I overwhelmed him with questions ; but you know how
very unsatisfactory his replies are, how absent-minded
he is, even with regard to things which interest him
most. I shall know more about your situation after
talking ten minutes with Mme. de Catellan than
1 The Marchioness de Catellan, whose name occurs often in this
correspondence, liad torn lierself away from the luxurious life
which her large fortune enabled her to lead, to share with Mme.
Rdcamier, for several weeks, the solitude and ennui of Chalons ;
upon her return to Paris she became the medium of communica-
tion with her exiled friend.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 61
Adrien told me in two hours. I like Mrae. de Catellan
for her devotion to you ; to know so well how to ap-
preciate you is in itself a merit. The one whom I
should pity with all my heart is your friend,^ were it
not that the versatility of her imagination spares her
the pain of reflection. I will not tell you that I pre-
dicted the result ; you know it well, and you also fore-
saw it, but your angelic goodness led you on. I, who
am not so good, should not have been carried away.
Unfortunately one cannot alter what is past. But
among the many powerful friends whose influence you
have used for the sake of others, is there not one who
can say to the Emperor, what is very true, that you do
not deserve the distinction he accords you? I know
no one more faithful in friendship than you, or less
pertinacious in your opinions. It seems to me that this
is the way the matter should be represented, and it is
so true that I think all that is needed is an opportunity
to say it.
"I have also my little tribulations, but they are of
too domestic a nature to be worth mentioninsr. As a
compensation, I have the extreme satisfaction of find-
ing my mother much better than when I left her. She
charges me with a thousand kind messages. My father
and brother are your humble servants.
" Tell me frankly if you Avould like to hear from me
from time to time. I will not write to you of your sit-
uation, or about aflairs, but I will give you news of
1 Mme. de Stael.
62 MADAME RlSCAMIEB.
society which may divert you. If you see no objec-
tions to it, I shall be very happy to talk to you of my
tender friendship."
ADKIEN DE MONTMORENCY TO MME. EECAMIEB.
" Thursday, October 10, 1811.
" It is twice twenty-four hours since I wrote you, and
besjan a letter which Felicite^ finished. But as I had
taken her by surprise, and she did not expect me, she
had addressed to me here a letter for you to be for-
wai'ded immediately. She is much more occupied with
you than with herself. And I also, it is your woes
which weigh upon my heart. For hers I am hard-
hearted. I consider her on a bed of roses ; but you,
dear friend, poor innocent, and so inofiensive, driven
so far away, alone, without family, with no other con-
solation than your noble heart, — it is for you, and her
who is the innocent cause of all these woes, that I re-
serve and have compassionate tears. Do not say again
that you do not wish to see me ; it is a useless pro-
hibition ; I will not obey. Only I must know your
plans. If you pass all the month of November at
Chalons, I will choose some time in the middle of the
month for my visit on my way to Montmirail. I am
naturally, through my heart and through a sense of
honor^ a brother to those who suffer. But you, whose
1 Felicity was one of the baptismal names of Matthieu de Mont-
morency ; during his exile his cousin Adrien often thus designated
bim.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 63
friend I have been in the days of your prosperity, — all
through your most charming and intoxicating youth, —
shall I abandon you while I still retain my indepen-
dence ?
" Have you seen our good Sosth^ne ? •* I have re-
ceived a very kind but heart-rending letter from poor
Mme. Olive.^ A thousand and thousand tender hom-
ages, which spring from the bottom of my heart. I
beg you to write to me, and tell me how you employ
your time. Who is with you ? Are you not going to
Lyons ? Do you know that M. de Montrond, who was
at Antwerp, has been transferred to the fortress of
Ham?"
Camille Jordan could not be insensible to the situa-
tion of Mme. Recamier : he wrote to her from Lyons : —
"December 4, 1811.
" While I was feeling hurt and surprised to find that,
in your solitude, you remembered me only to use me
as a medium of communication with others, I learn from
the Baron de Vogt that you yourself are complaining
of me, and say that you have had no letters from me
since your exile. Well, there is nothing but mis-
understanding in this poor human life. So you have
not received a letter which I wrote you in the very
1 Sosthene de Larochefoucauld, son of the Duke de Doudeau-
ville, and son-in-law of Matthieu de Montmorency. From the
chateau de Montmirail, where he lived with his father, he paid
frequent visits to Chalons.
2 Mme. de Stael, designated under the name of her maid.
64 MADAME R£CAMIER
beghuung, under cover of Mme. de Catellan ! Can it
be possible that such inoffensive expressions of the most
legitimate interest have not been allowed to pass free ?
or must I accuse Mme. de Catellan of negligence ? In-
deed I am very much tempted to do so, for I have
written to her three times within a year without
receiving any sign of life from her. But, in default of
my letter, did you not know my heart, and could you
doubt of my sensibility to your troubles ? I, who loved
you when you were happy and surrounded by friends, —
what must I feel for you, now that you are solitary, and
sad, perhaj^s? I cannot, it is true, always rival the
German enthusiasm of the Baron, who sees in you not
the slightest fault, whose letters about you are hymns
of praise. But is my more clear-sighted friendship less
tender? and has not its very frankness been a con-
stant guarantee of its fidelity ? It was said that you
were coming to Lyons ; you would have seen whether
I would have cared for you! I have since learnt that
we must renounce this hope. I have heard several
times indirectly of you, and how you are living. I am
assured that you are a model for exiles in resignation,
patience, prudence, consideration toward friends, deli-
cacy in act and thought. In this I recognize that
nobility of nature I have always loved in you. It
would appear, moreover, that you will not for long be
required to set an example of these virtues, and that
the great heart of a great prince, who cannot have any
serious hostility to you, will ere long put an end to this
passing trial. Have you Mme. de Catellan still with
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 65
you? Has one of your companions in misfortune
passed your way? Do you sometimes receive news
from the stormy lake Leman ? It is centuries since I
have had any. You know, perhaps, what a long so-
journ the Baron has made here, and how much I have
enjoyed his society. I announced to you, I think, in
the letter you have not received, the approaching con-
finement of my wife ; you have heard probably that
she has given me a son. I have tasted for the third
time the joys of paternity. Mother and children are
at this moment as well as possible. Caroline, whom
you seemed to notice especially, is, indeed, it appears
to me, remarkably engaging and intelligent. My wife
charges me particularly to tell you how well she remem-
bers you, and how much she is interested in your fate.
" Regny, Milady, and a host of others remember you
faithfully and tenderly. Adieu, dear Juliette ; and do
not, you who were always so good and perfect to me
in your happy days, take advantage any longer of the
privilege of your troubles to neglect me, to maltreat
me, but let me hear once again, and very soon, that
you love me still."
ADRIEN DE MONTMORENCT TO MME. RECAMIER.
" November 10, 1811.
" Your very faithful friend and admirer ^ has brought
me a letter from you, full of lofty sentiments, of courage.
1 Sostli^ne de Larochefoucauld.
66 MADAME R:SCAMIER
and of friendship for me. But be has talked to me of
you — of your loneliness and your melancholy thoughts
— with an interest which has moved and distressed me.
Poor friend ! you are very sad, your days are very long
and empty, and the dreariest thing in the situation is
that one can see no end to it.
" I should like a letter from you, telling me of the
employment of your time, of your daily habits, of your
acquaintances, and your evening amusements ; some-
thing, in short, which will help me to find you when-
ever my thoughts turn in search of you. This is what
I would fain know ; for as to making me comprehend all
your nobility of character, your disinterestedness, your
resignation under misfortune, which you are resolved
never to sully by any false step, — these are noble
secrets of your heart, which I know as well and better
than you do yourself.
" I will deliver to Mme. de Boigne all your gracious
messages. She is still in the country with her brother.
Find for him a young wife with estimable qualities
and fortune, and all the family will thank and bless
you. But why should I foi'get to tell you of the legacy
loft me by M. de Robecq, — the reversion of a pretty
estate in Holland, much dej^reciated by the revolution,
but which, before that time, was a small sovereignty,
where I should have begged you to come and reign ?
To-day the income is reduced to twelve or fifteen thou-
sand francs, upon which I have heavy dues to pay, and
of which I do not come into possession until the death
of the princess. I have just been passing a week e7i
MATTHIEU UE MONTMORENCY
fyom a rare engraving
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 67
fmnille with Felicite, — one of the persons, I imagine,
whom you love and esteem most on earth. I am
jealous of your preferences."
MATTHIBU DB MONTMORENCT TO MME. EECAMIER.
" Beaxjne, Monday, November 16, 1811.
"Just as I am about quitting my good cousin's
hospitable chateau to repair to that where my daughter
is awaiting me so impatiently,^ but where you think I
ought not to go, I receive a letter from you, in which
you speak very kindly of these family aflairs. I am
equally touched by the interest you take in my ulterior
projects, and struck by the very simple and noble man-
ner in which you judge, from a high point of view, all
those little miserable calculations of timid prudence
which influence so many others. In truth, I must say
that in this last matter I have encountered less o23po-
sition than I anticipated, and those whose opinion ought
to influence me have very kindly begged me to adhere
to my first resolution. Being, moreover, reassured in
another quarter, I have neither wished nor thought it
necessary to subject myself as well as my daughter to
so severe a trial as a prolonged separation would be
during the very months we had arranged to pass to-
gether. I shall remain with her, therefore, until the
month of January ; and then I hope, though I say
1 He was going to the chateau de Montmirail, only seventeen
leagues distant from Chalons.
68 MADAME KI^CAMIER
nothing about it to any one, to give to friendship a
proof of my gratitude as well as of my faithful zeal in
doing all that is possible to bring us together. I say
nothing of a certain degree of courage being required ;
it seems impossible that you should be wanting in that,
and there is nothing in our common lot, common in ap-
pearance, at least, to make us blush. Do you not already
know why 1 have not been sooner to see you, and find
out for myself what I wish so much to know ? I have
particularly thought of it when I have imagined I saw
causes for anxiety. I was thinking of going by way
of Burgundy, and joining you from there, when my
mother proposed a rendezvous of a few days at Or-
leans : it is really a very kind offer, and one impossible
for me to refuse. I am slowly on my way thither,
following the course of the Loire. I intended to go
afterward, about the 15th, to see you at Chalons, but
they tell me you think of leaving that place and going
to Lyons, to be with some of your family. Of the
propriety of such a choice there is nothing to be said ;
[ have left there one man at least who will be greatly
pleased. But I should have liked it better if you were
not in such a hurry ; and I think it very hard that I
learn only through others your plans and arrangements.
" My journey condemns me to painful ignorance on
another subject, — the movements of our friend, and her
plans for the future. I hope her son will not leave me
uninformed. Adieu, airnable amie ; you will do very
wrong not to yield, not to believe in the purity and
sincerity of my wishes for your happiness."
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 69
MATTHIEO DE MONTMORENCY TO MME. RECAMIER.
" MoNTMiKAiL, Nov. 22, 1811 (eveniiig).
" I can no longer delay thanking you, aimahle amie,
for the letter brought me by Sosthene, which has in-
terested me deeply. Why do you speak of displeasing
me? How could such an expression, which has no
longer any meaning between us, be ever applicable
when you open to me your heart with a confidence
which touches me, honors me, and of which I accept
with gratitude the touching privilege ? Sosthene has
come away deeply penetrated with esteem, I should say
respect rather, for your interesting situation. I see
you always with your two little girls ^ either going to
church or making certain other visits to which your
good heart prompts you. Do not spoil this precious
beginning, but persevere in your generous disposition ;
give me from time to time these revelations of your
inner life due only to friendship. You are very good
to ask with so much interest for similar revelations
concerning the life I am leading here. It is almost the
same as last year ; and as I should be here at this time
of my own choice, I am able to delude myself into for-
getting that I have not as much freedom as ever.
" I enjoy greatly this family meeting, which would
be almost complete were my mother here, and Adrien,
who will join us the beginning of next month. We
have nothing to be compared to the animation, the
incredible vaxiety of our friend's conversation ; but is
1 Her niece, Amelie, and her cousin, Mile, de Dalmassy.
70 MADAME RJ^CAMIER
she not unique ? As you say, it is much better here
than at Dampierre ; one breathes a certain atmosphere
of virtue wliich does the soul good. M. de Doudeau-
ville is admirable in this quiet home-life, which would
be a trial to any other man ; and when I see him
offering up to God the prayers of all this family as-
sembled around an altar consecrated by their grief,^ I
am penetrated by a sentiment that cannot be without
fruit, and that you, more than any one else, would feel.
Why cannot we have you here for a while ? Let us
profit at least by our proximity to mingle unceasingly
our thoughts and feelings. Adieu! I have also been
working again a little, and am profiting by this fine
weather to take walks. I shall not cease to be anxious
about our friend until I have news of her from Geneva."
MATTHIEtr DE MONTMORENCY TO MME. RECAMIEE.
" MoNTMiRAiL, December 4, 1811.
" I intended to answer your interesting letter, aimoMe
awie, by the last post : I am glad I waited until now,
since I should have told you, unnecessarily, of the un-
easiness I could not help feeling at the non-arrival of
letters I was expecting. I received one this morning
which has relieved my anxiety. It was some time on
the way, being dated November 24, Our friend was
1 The chapel of a hospital founded by the Duke and Duchess
of Doudeauville after the death of their daugliter, Mme. de Ras-
tignac.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 71
beginning to be tired of waiting for answers which she
assuredly will not receive ; she talked of her return to
Geneva as a thing unalterable, inevitable, and of her
adieus to her peaceable retreat as a painful trial.
You know how troubled I am at our unhappy friend's
changes of residence; consequently, my thoughts dwell
more than ever upon her, and I shall be uneasy if I
remain long without hearing from her. She recom-
mends us to pray; you see what an excellent idea
your neuvaine is ! She accuses me of being a little
too severe, and especially in what concerns you. But
while deeply distressed at your situation, your isola-
tion, as seems doubly natural, since she reproaches
herself with being the cause, she pays a tribute of
esteem and respect to the noble temper you show;
and how could it be otherwise? It ought the more
to impress her from the fact that with all her great
qualities, and, one might add, with all her marvellous
gifts, she would be wholly incapable of courage of
this sort. For my part, I find myself inwardly ad-
miring it with the joy of a friend, if I may so express
myself, sympathizing with the effort it may cost you,
but, at the same time, filled with pride and satisfaction
at this noble victory. I am not disposed to quarrel
with the sentiments which have made you so strong.
As for those you express in your letter, one cannot but
respect them: and however exaggerated or inexact
they appear to me, it is not by letter I should try to
refute them; that should be reserved for long con-
versations, where speech is as rapid as thought, and
72 MADAME R^CAMIER
where you allow me to grow too excited for a time
only because the next moment is quick to bring its cor-
rective. If any exaggeration could ever be praise-
worthy, it would be in the case of trust in Divine
mercy. If the only inference we draw from it be one
of indulgence and of hope for others, nothing can be
better; but as to a personal application, I must tell
you, to cite my own experience, that I have never
examined thoroughly my own heart, never passed in
review my own life, without a deep sense of the justice
that should counterbalance mercy. It is in the union
of these two attributes — both infinite as the Being we
adore — that the complete solution of this moral mys-
tery is found. But see, aimahle amie, how I let myself
go on discussing grave matters in anticipation of the
time when we shall resume our debates by your fireside.
I wish I could have that pleasure oftener. There is a
young man here, more active than I, befoi-e whom I
play the prudent, but whom I really envy for being
able to talk of his excursions. Could not a pretext for
one be found in a certain comedy which I think I have
heard talked about, though you say nothing of it, any
more than you do of your family visits, with which I
am much pleased ? You are very kind to ask for details
of my life here, which passes very quietly. I begin to
perceive that it draws near its close. I read tragedies
to them, once or twice a week, in the salon, with great
success. I do not choose the most exciting. Yester-
day it was ' Mithridate,' in which you would have
rendered well the part of the pure and proud Monirae.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 73
Adieu ; a thousand tender homages. Adrien an-
nounces that he will be here on Monday, the 9th. I
have a great desire and need to talk with him ; he still
says nothing to me of his ulterior projects, which I shall
neither approve nor oppose."
Mme. Recamier's favorite cousin, the Baroness de
Dalmassy, was now her companion at Chalons, in place
of the Marchioness de Catellan. Mme. de Dalmassy
having heard that M. de Montmorency intended paying
a visit to her exiled relative, became alarmed, and,
without her cousin's knowledge, endeavored to dis-
suade him from it, supposing that it would be displeas-
ing to the government.
M. de Montmorency was much offended at her lettei-,
and paid no heed to its recommendations ; nor did he,
in his reply, conceal his sentiments : —
" MoNTMiRAiL, January 2, 1812.
" I shall answer, Madame, very plainly and frankly
the letter you have done me the honor to write me. I
will not disavow the pain you foresaw it would cause
me, not solely because of the sacrifice you ask of me ;
real as that sacrifice is, I think I would do even more,
if it were necessary, for the happiness of Madame, your
cousin. What grieves me more is to think that a
friend, whose ofiice it is to console, and one, too, so
well fitted for the task, should — thinking to be simply
prudent — create fresh annoyances both for herself
and for others whose position is already sufiiciently
painful without its being needlessly aggravated. I
4
74 MADAME Rl^CAMIER
have myself already more than once met with some-
thing similar, much to the sui-prise of your cousin's
noble nature. We thoroughly discussed the matter
together when I was last at Chalons ; it was diflScult
for us to conceive that the usual opportunities of per-
sonal intercourse should be denied to two persons,
known to have been friends previously, and against
whom the same measure has been meted out, and ap-
parently for the same cause. If the unfortunate, as
they are styled, cannot see each other like other people,
and are exposed to the risk of compromising them-
selves if they pay each other any attentions, I do not
well see what is left them. I shall always esteem
myself happy to have held these thoughts in common
with a person whom I had long known as a beautiful
and amiable woman, but whose courage and noble del-
icacy under recent circumstances inspire me equally
with esteem and the desire to imitate them. We have
promised, moreover, to trust each other in regard to mat-
ters of this kind, and to deal with them without the aid
of intermediaries. Consequently, when Madame, your
cousin, by the same post which brought.me your letter,
so kindly expresses a wish to see me, I am not tempted
to bec^in with her a course of excuses and dissimulation
by which she herself would never be deceived. Be-
sides, I really should not know how t© set about it.
It is very possible that your wishes may be gratified,
through no merit of mine, and that I may have to wait
a long time for permission to leave this place ; but if it
does come, as I cannot go any nearer to Pai-is, I have
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. lb
no other road open to me but that of Chalons, and I
cannot believe that you would have me pass through
that town without having the honor of seeing Madame,
your cousin, and yourself, Madame, however much I
may regret that your reasons have failed to convince
me. I shall think I have conciliated the interests of
friendship and prudence by restricting myself to a few
days' sojourn, I might beg you, moreover, to observe
that a similar visit, in the beginning of November, has
had none of those grave results you seem to fear, and
also that I have, indeed, imposed upon myself some
sacrifices, even in those things in which I thought
myself more free, since, being at a distance of fifteen
leagues only from Madame, your cousin, I have allowed
nearly two months to pass without making any of
those excursions such as I have envied my son-in-law.
" I beg you, Madame, to accept his humble respects
as well as my own."
MATTHIEU DE MONTMORENCY TO MME. E^CAMIER.
" MoNTMiEAiL, January 3, 1812.
"I have, aimable amie, an altogether exceptional
opportunity of sending this, and you will perhaps at
the same time receive a visit which is at least of such
a nature as not to alarm the most timid. My friend-
ship will be able to pour itself out with a little less re-
serve, and I shall anticipate by a few hours the reply
that I proposed to make to your last letter to-morrow
morning at the latest. That letter has made me truly
76 3fADAME RJ^CAMIER
happy! How glad I am to find myself mistaken in my
distrustful and presumptuous fears, — in my truly rash
judgments! How you reassure me; how sweetly and
modestly you bring forward your triumphant reasoning !
It gives me the most heartfelt satisfaction, and I thank
God for it. Your midnight mass also greatly interested
me. I am much edified by what you tell me of the one at
Chalons. I would have made you acquainted with similar
ones in Paris had you wushed it ; and, in fine, if you
would follow regularly the observances ordained by our
religion, I am inwardly convinced that you Avould enjoy
them greatly, and that after a time you would find that
you had more of that sentiment of faith which now
seems so strange to you. Good M. Duval,^ to whom I
mentioned the subject yesterday, is entirely of my
opinion. I thank you with all my heart for the feeling
you show in regard to my arrival. I should like very
much to be able to fix the day ; I at first proposed to
start about this time ; but since my chains have been
drawn still tighter, and I must now wait for permission
before I can stir, I am condemned to uncei-tainty. I, and,
worse still, those about me watch the arrival of every
mail ; but it is evident that there was no intention of
replying to the prefect's first application, othermse it
would have been done long ago. I only hope that his
own journey may not cause delay in sending the
answer, whatever it may be, which will undoubtedly
come by way of Chalons. If you have any means of
' The abbe Legris-Duval.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 77
ascertaining tliat fact from the person who opens the
packets in his absence, — naturally, and without eager-
ness or anxiety, — you will do me a favor if you will
make use of them. I have no need to request you, in
regard to this matter, to act, as in all the rest, with
the same simplicity and generosity that you show in
your personal affairs. Why do you talk of envying
other people any thing? It is you who have more
dignity than us all, and you seem to me to be the type,
the model of what one ought to be in our position.
Not only Madame, your cousin, — I beg her pardon, —
but nearly all women and all men, with a few excep-
tions, must fail to understand you or to agree with
you. In so far as it makes life more pleasant to you, 1
am delighted that she is with you. Perhaps I might
prefer to have it otherwise when I come to see you.
It would be very hard, however, for you to be deprived
of the pleasure of her society.
"It is simply, then, a small provisional establish-
ment that our friend has at Geneva. It seems impos-
sible that the great settlement,^ about which I was
anxiously expecting news, should not be put off until
the spring, with this suit going on, and the heavy
snow-storms and very severe weather. What a winter
is before her, and when will she come to a decision !
How do you stand this cold weather? Never leave
me long without hearing from you, until I come myself,
if I can. The chateau in general thinks of dispersing
1 The projected departure of Mme. de Stael for America.
78 MADAME R£CAMIER
next week. I renew the assurance of kind regards
from us all.
"It is possible that a letter for me from a neighbor-
ing town may be sent to your care ; will you be kind
enough to keep it for me, unless you have some very
safe means of sending it."
THE COUNTESS DE BOIONB TO MME. BtCAMIER.
" Paris, January 9, 1812.
" I owe myself an apology for not sooner replying to
your kind letter; by delaying so long to converse with
you I have deprived myself of a great pleasure. But
my poor brother has caused us such lively and well-
founded anxiety, that I have had no heart to think of
any thing else. He has not yet left his room ; but they
assure us that there is nothing more to fear. I have
punctually delivered all your gracious messages, and
they were received, I thought, with the thanks they
deserved.
'* I believe your fears are ill-founded ; you are the last
person to be forgotten ; and it is not because you are
amiable, lovely, charming, and that every one remembers
you with pleasure, in a way that flatters his self-esteem,
and his heart, too, — if he happen to have one, — but
because your gentle, natural, and captivating kindness
of heart has discovered the secret of making every one
believe that his fate is not a matter of indifference to
you. You know that 1 am in love with this goodness
of heart, — a charm which I have found in no other
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 79
woman. I have told you a hundred times, and thought
it a thousand, that what makes you so seductive is your
kind-heartedness. Perhaps I am the only one who has
ever dared to tell you so ; it seems so absurd to praise
the good heart of the most beautiful woman in Europe !
Well ! I am convinced — if it were possible to define the
influence you exert — that this same goodness of heart
has greater power than all your other more brilliant
advantages, and gives them an additional force. So,
Madame, it is because you are good that you have
turned so many heads, and reduced to despair so many
poor wretches ; they do not suspect it, but it is true,
nevertheless.
" Ah ! how right you are when you say that this is a
forgetful world, and especially of the dead. I pass my
life with people who for years were the most intimate
friends of poor Mme. du Clusel, held the first place in
her afiections, and yet nothing, either in their manner
or their looks, shows that the day they parted from
her for ever was to them in any way difierent from
other days, either past or to come. To see such things
is better than a sermon ; and, were there any need of
it, would thoroughly disgust one with such fi-iend-
ships !
" Then there is that poor Mme. d'Avaux, who died
yesterday ; she had a great many so-called friends ;
perhaps they will think of her for two days, and talk
about her for three. But I perceive that I am sending
you an extract from the register of deaths ; and while
I am in the humor, I may as well tell you that Mme.
80 MADAME RlSCAMIER
r
de Catellan assured me that she was very easy to live
with since she was dead ! I did not exactly understand
what that meant ; be kind enough to explain it to me.
You know that, in spite of this poor pleasantry, I
appreciate and admire the true worth of your friend.
She says that you ask her for marriages and love-affairs,
but that people do not fall in love with one another
this year. Alas! yes, Madame, they do fall in love,
and very palpably, too ; but you know all about it ;
the dead who write to you daily have not kept you
in ignorance.
" I made Adrien tell me every thing about you, and
you do not know with what interest I listened. I must
tell you that I have been very much touched at the
friendship he has shown us during my brother's illness.
" I wish that you would send me a kind word for
Mrae. de S^gur ; she is always talking about you, and
not because she wants to find a subject of conversation
which would be agreeable to me, but because she is
really interested in you. I should be very glad if you
would entrust me with some friendly message for her,
without allowing it to appear that I suggested it. She
is still suffering, but sweet and resigned. As I am not
in her confidence, I know only what I see, and I do
not think that she has any new cause of grief.
" M. Hochet comes sometimes to see me ; he has ren-
dered great service to my father in that affair of the
mine, which is not settled yet. It has been a pleasure
to remember that it is to you we owe his friendship.
There is another friend of yours, less disposed in our
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 81
favor, M. Deg^rando. He appears determined to op-
pose my father in the department of the Interior.
" Confess that I have indemnified myself pretty well
for my silence : I am almost ashamed of this idle talk
and the nonsense of which it is made up. Do you know
that the return of M. de Nesselrode is announced?
M. de Tchernicheflf ^ told me of it, assui'ing me, at the
same time, that he was at liberty to mention it because
he did not know it officially : this, I hope, is sufficiently
ministerial. I have heard from Tuffiakin,^ at Moscow ;
in replying to him I said a great deal about you.
Good-day, dear Madame ; you will have to beat me to
make me stop talking. All my family cherish and re-
gret you, and I first and foremost."
MATTHIEU DE MONTMOBENCT TO MME. KfeCAMIBE.
" MoNTMiEAiL, January 18, 1812.
" It is kind of you to reproach me ; it is I who have
been tempted to do the same to you, and to think that
you were neglecting me very much in your correspond-
ence. The reason you give makes amends for all. I
have been counting also on taking you by surprise this
1 M. de TchernichefE was then Russian ambassador at Paris ;
tliere was some talk of replacing him by M. de Nesselrode.
'^ Prince Tuffiakin, a great Russian lord, brother, I think, of the
Princess Dolgorouki ; he was passionately fond of Paris, lived
there a long time, and died there. He used to go often to Mme.
Recamier's.
4* F
82 MADAME R^CAMIER
evening, at about six or seven o'clock. My trunks were
nearly packed ; all my late letters made me feel sure
that I should receive by yesterday's post the necessary
permission ; nothing came. In all probability it will
arrive to-morrow, and I shall leave on Monday. How-
ever, do not be anxious if you do not see me on that
day. I postpone until that moment, always so pleas-
ant to look forward to, a great many things I have to
say to you.
" Permit me, aimahle amie, to ask of you a little
favor. Will you inquire, simply and naturally, at my
inn at Chalons, on Sunday or Monday morning, for one
or two gentlemen of Rheims, who were to be there, and
with whom I have business. I would like you to beg
them with many apologies to wait for me until Tues-
day. Adieu; a thousand, thousand tender respects.
Sosth^ne, who is in Paris, has left his wife with me
until my departure, which is another inducement to
leave as soon as I can, that they may not be sepa-
rated too long. I am very confident that I shall hear
from Chalons without delay. Adieu, until Monday, I
hope."
M. de Montmorency received at last the permission
he had asked for; he j^assed three days at Chalons, and
then continued his journey toward the South of France,
whence he wrote : —
" Beziers, February 6, 1812.
"I, too, have been to see the fountain ofVaucluse.
I do not send you a description of it ; I know too well,
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 88
aimable amie, — without reproach be it said, — how
you read descriptions ; and besides it is not necessary
to repeat what others have already said. Nevertheless,
though I have had the privilege, almost unique, on ac-
count of my time being circumscribed, of visiting this
picturesque and truly memorable spot during a fright-
ful rain-storm, it inspired me with much interest.
You, aimable amie, could not be forgotten there, as
you never can be ; I had already spoken of you with
our Lyonnese friend,^ who took me to see Madame, your
sister-in-law. I anticipated the pleasure of renewing
the same subject of conversation with our Baron ^ at
Avignon, but he did not wait for me, having gone in
search of a milder climate at Marseilles, where he will
remain for a time. I have found traces of him ; he was,
however, not much in the way of being known and ap-
preciated by the people to whom one of my cousins
has introduced me, and who have treated me with
the kindest hospitality ; finally, I have travelled with
your souvenir as with that of friends truly intimate.
These thoughts and my books have kept me sweet
company ; I have had almost constantly a fine tempera-
ture, and to-day admirable weather, so that I could see
the Mediterranean from the road as well as from the
lofty platform of Montpelier. You gave me permission
to send you from that town some slight token of re-
membrance. I have sent to my wife, asking her to
transmit them to you, some small bottles of rose-
1 Camille Jordan. ^ xhe Baron de Vogt.
84 MADAME R^CAMIER
water and some of the best sachets. These perfumea
may be carried an immense distance without losing any
of their strength ; I might find in them an emblem of
my faithful friendship, but I do not wish to be too
poetic, even on returning from Vaucluse. I am only
telling the truth when I say that the distance and long
separation from you are the principal and almost only
inconveniences of my new situation. I feel the same
in regard to another friend, to whom, passing within
forty leagues of her, I wrote. My heart was sore at
not being able to profit by this proximity. I await im-
patiently for news of her establishment in the country.
I hope that you have heard from her yourself, but are
still as admirably discreet as ever in writing to me. I
trust that you still maintain that union of dignity and
good sense to which I have paid such sincere homage ;
give me some direct proof of it ; do not let me remain
ignorant of any thing which concerns you, or of the
least change that may occur. My most constant, most
sincere prayers are for you ; we are approaching a
period especially consecrated to prayer ; true friends are
no losers by it ; try to employ it well, and, above all,
to end it well. As for me, I shall rest from my journey
among some very quiet people. I hope to arrive the
day after to-morrow, and hear from you then. Receive
once more my affectionate regards."
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 85
THE COUNTESS DE BOIGNE TO MME. EECAMIEK.
" Saturday, March 28, 1812.
" Youl' friend is so good as to take charge of a few
lines from me ; I am conscious that they will lose much
in being brought by her ; but, nevertheless, I wish to
take advantage of this opportunity to assure you of my
tender fi-iendship. Adrien is always telling me that
you send him charming messages for me ; I ask to see
your letters, he promises, and then pretends that he
cannot show them, and I tell him it is a device of his
vanity to excuse his forgetfulness. We quarrel, and
then we make up in talking of you, in whom, vanity
apart, he takes a very lively and tender interest. We
have had a long discussion in regard to what was best
to do in your position, and this is the plan which ap-
pears to me to have the least inconveniences for you.
But it is for you, for you alone, that we must make our
calculations ; and you have unfortunately but too well
proved that the lovely Juliette, in whom so many people
are interested, is very little considered in your projects.
To return to my plan ; I will tell you that if I were
in your place, I would go to Vienna, and take up my
residence there.
"You would be welcomed with transport, and you
would find yourself from the first among people that
you know. The rate of exchange would augment your
slender income sufficiently to afibrd you every comfort
requisite for a foreigner ; that is to say, a small establish-
ment and a carriage. At first you would have to go
86 MADAME R^CAMIER
into society more than suits your tastes ; but as sov)n as
you had shown that you were something better than a
pretty woman, when you had made a circle for your-
self, you would be able to resume your old habits,
well assured that, when once you had become known,
your fireside would never be deserted. Such is the ad-
vice the most genuine interest impels me to offer. As
to your plan of travelling in Italy, I think it wholly pre-
posterous. You must not deceive yourself; the true
need of your life is society and conversation. In Italy
the one and the other are null, especially now when
there are very few strangers there, for they alone sup-
plied what life there was. You love the arts; yes,
as a diversion, and because you have a correct and
delicate taste which you wish to cultivate. But I ask
you do the arts, and even a beautiful country, sufiice to
interest your heart and imagination ? No, certainly
not. Very well! you will find nothing else in Italy;
besides, you will very soon be tired of wandering from
city to city without aim or object. Travelling may be
an agreeable fancy when we are looking forward to a
speedy return to a beloved country, to tender hopes,
and the ties that a short absence only draw the closer ;
but be sure that to travel only to kill time is the worst
thing one can do. The movement of the body increases
the uneasiness of the mind ; we imagine that we are
worse off, because we persuade ourselves that we shall
be better with change of place, and the spot where we
are is ever that which displeases us the most. Witness
that poor Duchess de Chevreuse, who, by the way, is
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 87
very ill indeed. But Mme. de Catellan will tell you
all this. I say nothing to you of ourselves, for I am
sure you will question her in a kindly spirit, and that
she will reply in the same strain; but I have not been
willing to leave it to another to speak to you of your-
self and of my unchangeable friendship."
CAMirLE JORDAN TO MME. RECAMIEK.
" Lyons, February 15, 1812.
" Dear Juliette, — First came your letter, which
rejoiced my heart, and then the friend who had seen you,
and with whom I had a long conversation about you.
Every day I have been meaning to reply to your letter,
but one trouble after another has completely absorbed
me. — Cruel disgrace of a prefect whose wife I dearly
loved ; a report of a new and laborious mission which
will long banish the friend ^ whom I was expecting to
see in Pai'is this spring ; finally, the scene of desolation
which for several days past has been constantly before
our eyes. The Rhone has overflowed its banks, and
swept furiously over Les Brotteaux,^ overturning houses,
and causing numerous deaths and losses of every kind.
It is imjDossible at present to estimate the extent of the
damage ; but it is immense. There has not been for a
hundred years so great and disastrous a rise of the
1 Degerando.
2 Les Brotteaux, a suburb of Lyons, now one of the finest quar-
ters of the city. — Tk.
88 • MADAME RlSCAMIER
river. So you see I have been very sad, and am so
still. But for the moment I shall try to console myself
by fixing my thoughts upon your sweet image. Our
friend the traveller seemed to be wholly under the
spell of those balmy influences we all feel in your pres-
ence; he was delighted to see there, as elsewhere, all
hearts rendering you homage.
" You gave him not a word for me ; you were re-
posing upon your five pages. It was, in fact, a charm-
ing letter ; but it recalled a very j^ainful remembrance.
Is it possible that because no letter came, you really
doubted me? Does your confidence in my afiection,
after so many years, depend upon the faithfulness or
unfaithfulness of the post ? Oh ! sad progress of the
scepticism of the age !
" You speak too flatteringly of some slight works of
mine. I do not know whether, at another time, they
might not be worth publishing ; but I am quite sure that
obscurity best befits them in this age of other successes,
and of a very different sort of fame. It is enough for
me if they serve sometimes to interest my friends, use-
fully employ my leisure hours, and prepare me to edu-
cate my children, which is the great and agreeable task
of my domestic life.
" What do you say of our friend ^ in public life ? of
this terrible distance ? I am quite dismayed at it. It
grievously upsets my plan of a journey with my wife ;
still I do not quite give it up yet. If, failing them, I
1 Evidently M. Degerando.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 89
should meet you, what a consolation it would be ! It
seems to me that it cannot be long delayed, that your
ostracism must soon come to an end. Certainly I
write occasionally to the friend of whom you speak.
I pity her profoundly, for she suffers more than you do,
and has not your patience. I presume that the worthy
Baron continues to direct toward you the stream of
his sensibility ; as for me, he entertains me chiefly with
his observations upon philanthropic enterprises, which
afford me much pleasure ; I find much to leara at his
school.
" We have just been through a very gay carnival,
but in which I have taken little part. I seldom go
beyond our family circles. I could never, I think, be
fond of society unless it were animated and embellished
by your presence. I have, nevertheless, met in the
whirl the dissipated Lady whose face always lights up
at the recollection of you. We talk of you with Regny.
I also had a conversation the other day, of which you
were the object, with your kind family, with your
sister-in-law, so steeped in good works. My Julie is at
this present moment doing penance for a few dancing
parties, by a severe cold and painful inflammation.
But in the midst of her suffering, she charges me with
affectionate messages to you. My three children are
well. Everybody tells me that Caroline is very charm-
ing, and I allow myself to be convinced. I wholly ap-
prove of you for having with you an adopted child, —
an image of maternity. I presume, also, that you have
always with you for company some of your excellent
90 MADAME RlSCAMIER
relatives. Happy are those who can thus see you,
minister to you, and enjoy the deliglitful intercourse
that I found so pleasant, and that I often look back
upon sorrowfully ; for I love you, always will love you.
Oh ! ungrateful one, sceptic, atheist, that you are, to
have a moment's doubt of holy friendship ! "
ABBIEN DE MONTMORENCY TO MME. RECAMIEB.
" March 28, 1812.
" I write you, dear friend, with a lighter heart and a
little more freely, by your fiithful friend.^ I am going
to dine with her, carry her my letter, ray best wishes
for you, and my envy at her happiness and indepen-
dence in being able to go to see you. Alas! I see
nothing but ill-fortune ; I anticipate nothing good, no
indulgence for my poor exiled friends, not even for her
who is incontestably the most unhappy of all, poor
Hermessinde.^ I have positive knowledge that in her
case they will ever be inexorable. I am going to con-
fide a secret to you, which will explain why I have
been silent for several days. I would have liked to
reply to your very sweet letter, which deeply touched
and interested me. You shall judge whether I did well
to be silent.
" I received a letter from the minister of police,^ in-
i Mme. de Catellan. '^ The Duchess de Chevreuse.
' The Duke de Rovigo.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 91
viting me to present myself at his house. I had never
been there before. For the first time he spoke plainly,
and in the severest manner. He reproached me for
language which I had not held, but without quoting
the words. He especially blamed me for the interest
I took in the exiles^ for my lamentations over them, and
my intimate relations with them : all this, I think, was
merely an exordium before coming to what he calls my
neutrality.
" Taking this for his text, he went on to tell me, in
the most violent manner, that I had every thing to fear
from his severity, &c. I cannot now go into further
details ; what I have said will make it clear to you that
I am on the brink of the abyss. It was not in my heart
or ray nature to say any thing in my own defence, but
rather to take up that of ray poor little cousin,^ dying
at Caen. There is no hope for her ; she will die, there
or elsewhere, and very soon; but she will not go to
Orleans ; she will not be allowed to come twenty leagues
nearer, as her unhappy mother-in-law hoped, who sees
her dying before her eyes. ' Lasciate ogni sperama^
These are the infernal words that must be spoken to
her.
" As to Felicite, I doubt whether his change of resi-
dence will be an easy thing. Nevertheless, the attempt
will be made, and permission asked for him to live at
Orleans, with leave to go to his estates, which are not
far oif. From all this melancholy information, which I
i Duchess de Chevreuse.
92 MADAME R^CAMIER
have obt-ained in regard to our situation, I have come
to the conclusion that we must adapt ourselves as
cheerfully as we can to the restrictions as first imposed.
We must not flatter ourselves that there will be any
change for the better, but see the wound as deep as it
is, and not count on the generosity of hearts which
never soften. As for you, dear, it would, perhaps, be
well, when you no longer have the friends with you
who have made life supportable, to choose some place
where the waters might be beneficial to you. Watering-
places have the advantage of sometimes bringing one
into I'clations with influential persons who may become
useful.
"As for me, I intend in a month from now to go
into the country with my son, and get myself forgotten,
if it be not too late. I shall go to Touraine to visit my
cousin Amedee, of whom you have often heard me
speak ; and then I shall wait for the return of Felicite,
and of my brother and sister-in-law, who will be turn-
ing their stejDS northward at about the same time ; that
is to say, toward the end of the month of May.
" Continue to write me under cover of M. Recamier.
It is more than ever necessary to employ indirect means.
I have had a very kind but despaii'ing letter from our
friend Albertine's mother.^ She has more elevation of
soul than courage, and less resolution than elevation.
I shall charge your friend with a little remembrance
which 1 beg you to keep. Say nothing to her of what
1 Mme. de StaeL
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 93
I have told you in confidence, or of the visit I have
made. We must suffer, be silent, and content ourselves
with our own self-respect. Many, many affectionate
wishes and everlasting attachment."
Mme. Recamier did not follow the advice which the
friendship and prudence of the Countess de Boigne had
suggested to her, and which, from a purely social and
worldly point of view, offered many advantages. But
so long as Mme. de Stael remained in France, the lovely
exile never relinquished the desire and the hope of
rejoining the friend for whose sake she had braved all.
Nevertheless, she was consumed with melancholy and
ennui at Chalons ; she resolved to change her residence,
and chose Lyons, which brought her much nearer to
Coppet, and where she was sure of finding support for
her youth and loneliness in the family of M. Re-
camier.
On arriving there she sent word to Camille Jordan
that she was at the Hotel de I'Europe, and awaiting a
visit from him.
" In how sad a position do you find me, dear friend ! "
he replied to her the 13th of June, 1812; "my wife
scarcely recovered fi-om a severe illness, and plunged
in deep grief by the death of her mother, who was
buried yesterday; my daughter scarcely convalescent
fi'om an illness which put her life in danger; all the
rest of our household ill and in mourning ; I, still keep-
ing up physically, but with a heart made sore and
94 MADAME RlSCAMIER
weary by troubles of all kinds during the last three
months.
" Your arrival will shed a ray of consolation over this
niurht of sorrow. But I lament beforehand that I shall
have so little leisure to see you, that I can bring you
only a sad countenance, and shall probably not be able
to give you pleasure or be of any use ; however, others
who love you, of whom there are many here, will be
eager to supply my place. I promise myself much con-
solation in the haj^piness of seeing you again, and re-
minding you how tenderly I am attached to you.
" Camille."
The sadness which had weighed upon Camille Jordan
was, in fact, soon dissijiated ; reassured in regard to the
health of those most dear to him, he quickly regained
his usual spirits, and became himself again in convers-
ing with one who sympathized with him in every lofty
sentiment and every noble enthusiasm.
The Hotel de I'Europe counted then among its in-
mates the beautiful and eccentric Duchess de Chev-
reuse. Exiled four years previously, this elegant and
haughty lady of rank was still expiating the crime of
resisting a command of Napoleon. As for Mme. R&-
camier, whenever she recalled the painful memories of
this period of proscription, she was almost ready to
bless, she said, the hard times which had given her
good Ballanche. It was, in fact, during the summer
of 1812 that he was introduced to her by Camille
Jordan.
AND TEE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 9^
We insert here in its proper place a note from
Camille Jordan, written while Talma was making a
short visit at Lyons: —
" I had hoped to meet you to-day in Mme. de Chev-
reuse's box, but our ladies, to whom I spoke of it, seemed
to wish me to postpone attending the theatre out of
regard to the recent death in the family ; and I yield
to a sci'uple which is perhaps exaggerated, but should
be respected. I shall therefore wait until the very last
performance. My regret at being able to hear so little
of Talma at the theatre makes me desire more than
ever to attend the prose-reading. Manage this for me
if you can. — I shall be in town to-morrow, and trust at
least that I shall be more fortunate than I was yester-
day, when I neither found you at home nor at Mme.
Delphin's.
" I go to dine with a benevolent society at two
o'clock ; receive me, therefore, before that hour, if it will
not inconvenience you too much. I should not mind
your writing letters, nor the lessons. You might give
me to read something interesting out of your immense
collection of letters from the Prince of Prussia, or from
Mme. de Stael ; and I would talk to you again of the
idea I have thought of often, and which pleases me
more and more, that you should write memoirs; a most
precious means, added to others, for diverting your
mind, and beguiling you from the fatal need of stormy
emotions. How I wish, above all things, that tender
friendship did not seem to you so pale a thing, and
that mine were something to you."
96 MADAME Rl^CAMIER
Sbortly after, the news of Mme. de Staiil's departure
for Sweden deprived Mme. Recamier of all hopes of
rejoining her friend, and completed her discouragement.
A prey to the deepest dejection, she had no longer
even the courage to seek in the faithful and warm
friendship of Matthieu de Montmorency the consola-
tions his piety knew so well how to afford to suffering
souls. She wrote to him no more. This silence made
him very uneasy, and he resolved to go to Lyons and
seek an interview with the very dear friend whom he
had not seen for a year.
" So, then, it is absolutely necessary for me, airnahle
arrde^^ he wrote, the 22d of January, 1813, " either to
stop at or stay in the city where you live in order to have
the comfort of conversing a few moments with you. It
is useless to hope for the compensation, insufficient
though it be, of occasional letters, written with some
degree of frankness. What do I say ? You no longer
write to me at all ; such silence is really unheard of.
Were it not for the trust you have authorized me to
repose in you, might I not even conclude that you
have taken very little pains to persuade me to come
to gee you ? But I prefer rather to say to myself
that you have feared the annoyance of a little con-
cealment from one^ whom you see frequently. It is
under cover of her that I am writing to you, informing
her at the same time of my coming. Between our-
^ The Duchess de Chevieuse, his sister-in-law.
MADAME DE STAEL
from an engraving by Miiller
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 97
selves, if it should happen not to be very agreeable to
her, I should think that you, vvitli your usual kindly in-
fluence, might make all things easy. Finally, I think I
have removed the obstacles whicli, in certain circum-
stances of position or of family, I feared. I hope to see
you Saturday of next week at the latest. It is a de-
lightful prospect, and I have need to fortify myself
with it in parting from those very dear to me whom I
leave here. I shall postpone until that long-hoped-for
time all that interests us and our common friends.
Will you ask the good Camille — as I do not wish to
give you that trouble — if he will be kind enough to de-
vote a few moments to securing an apartment for me,
simple, and especially not too large, on account of the
season. This approaching meeting enchants me. Provi-
dence, after all, is very kind in all situations! We
shall often return to this subject in our conversations.
" I hope that Camille has kept for me an instructive
paper on hospitals which he was to send to Paris.
Adieu ; a thousand tender respects and anticipations.
Do you know that to persevere I have had need to re-
call the noble simplicity of your character, and what we
said to each other last year at this very season which
always brings us together."
The presence of M. de Montmorency raised the
drooping spirits of the poor exile. He strenuously in-
sisted, and Camille Jordan seconded him, that she
should carry out the project so often made, but always
postponed, of a journey in Italy. He was confident
5 a
98 MADAME R^CAMIER
that she would find then, as, in fact, she did find, an
efiectuid means of diverting her mind in the arts, food
for her i:»iety in a sojouin at Rome, and a notable im-
provement in her health, which her repeated trials had
impaired. At the beginning of Lent, in the year 1813,
Mme. Recamier started for Turin with her little com-
panion. M. de Montmorency accompanied the travel-
lers as far as Chambery.
Here occurs a somewhat unaccountable gap in the
correspondence of M, de Montmorency, as also in that
of Camille Jordan. I have in my possession none of
the letters which they must have written to one who
was very dear to them, and whose steps they anxiously
followed from afar during this Italian journey.
I have made many and fruitless efibrts to recover
the letters which, during the space of thirty years,
Mme. Recamier addressed to the man whom she al-
ways regarded as a brother and reverenced as her good
angel. The Duchess Matthieu de Montmorency, while
she still lived, kindly aided me in my researches ;
but it was impossible to find any traces of this cori'e-
spondence, which must have been voluminous, and
which I cannot believe that M. de Montmorency de-
stroyed.
I am, however, able to give here, in the order of
their dates, two of Mme. Recamier's letters to Camille
Jordan ; letters already published by M. Sainte-Beuve,
who, like myself, owed them to the kindness of M.
Arthur de Gravillon, grandson of the famous ora-
tor : —
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 99
MME. RilCAMIER TO CAMILLE JORDAN.
" Tdrin, March 26, 1813.
"It is impossible, dear Caraille, to write a more
charming letter than that I have just received from
you ; it has stirred the very depths of my heart. You
can have no idea of the sadness which seized me on
arriving at the summit of Mont-Cenis. I seemed to
be putting an eternal barrier between me and all I
loved ; and I was so miserable on arriving at Turin
that I thought I was going to be ill. For the last two
days I have begun to revive, take up my plans again,
look forward to the future, and emerge from that
round of sad thoughts which I have fully determined
to banish as far as possible. I begin to observe things
around me, and to see a few people. The influence of
Italy begins to make itself apparent here, not by the
climate, but the customs. The women have cicisbei
for society, and abbes for intendants. The Prince
Borghese, who is never called any thing here but the
Prince, has, I have been told, the most solemn little
court in Europe. The anecdotes, the toilets, and the
love afikirs of this little court seem to me to occupy all
minds, and form the staple of all conversation. Our
friend, Count Alfieri, has a prodigious success as master
of ceremonies. The ancient nobility of Piedmont, and
the French subjects holding places under government,
are constantly meeting at the court, and do not love
each other any the more on that account. The vanities
of rank and power recall the great world of Paris, but
100 MADAME RiSCAMIER
are flir more ridiculous because they operate in a
smaller circle, and have no political interests attached
to them. I do not believe there is any country where
more regard is paid to appearances; the houses are
palaces, where the old luxury of having a great number
of domestics is kept up ; but if one arrives unexpect-
edly, he is very much surprised, after having passed
through antechambers, salons, galleries, to find the
mistress of the mansion in an out-of-the-way little
room, lighted by a single candle. In short, it seems to
be the custom here to indulge in superfluities at the
expense of the necessaries of life. The Prince leads
the most retired existence, except at reception hours.
He passes all his time shut up in his palace alone. This
seclusion has lasted two years. It has been noticed
that during this time the blinds of the rooms at the
back of his apartment have remained constantly closed.
One valet-de-chamhre only is allowed to enter this
last room, which is garnished daily with fresh flowers
and" . . .
The rest of the letter is wanting.
MMB. RECAMIER TO CAMILLE JORDAN.
" Rome, April 21, 1813.
"You are right: I am a little difiicult to live with,
but I do not bear malice; I speak out when 1 am
ofiended, and then I think no more about it. I have
been in Rome twelve days. I have passed five or six of
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 101
them ill in bed : I am better now, and shall begin to go
about a little. I have already seen some very beautiful
things, and regret that I have not the descriptive talent
of the Bai'on de Vogt, so that I might talk to you
about them. He has left behind him here pleasant
memories ; and your friend Degerando,^ who was in a
far more difficult position, has also left only flattering
impressions. If he were unable to satisfy everybody,
at least he displeased no one; and all render justice
to his character and intentions. You are very good
to think of asking him for letters for me ; they would
be useless. Upon arriving, I received invitations from
all the authorities, — the governor, prefect, and ad-
ministrator of police. I did not accept them, because
I was still unwell, but I am on visiting tei-ms with
everybody. Werner, whom I believe you know (author
of 'Attila' and of 'Luther,' two tragedies which have
made much noise in Germany), is now in Rome. He
has turned Catholic, and appears to me to be in the
highest state of religious excitement. I have also seen
M. de Chabot, Matthieu's friend, an amiable and good
young man, who also spends all his time in the churches.
These are the happy ones of the age ! M. Millin, the
antiquarian, has just arrived: he has talked to me of
M. Artaud, M. Richard, M. Revoil; but the only
charm I have found in his conversation are his rem-
iniscences of my native Lyons ; though he is an intel-
1 He was commissioner for the French government at the time
of the abduction of the pope.
102 MADAME RlSCAMlER
ligent man, fond of society and familiar with its usages,
he, I know not why, does not please me. He has just
sent me his last works; if I think they would interest
yoii, I will send them to you. The director of police,
M, de Norvins, has talked with me of you ; he knows
several of your friends and mine, and speaks of you as
all the Avorld speaks. It is a rare thing in these times
to have passed through so many storms without making
one enemy, and to be followed in retirement by the
affection of one's friends and the high esteem of the rest
of the world. M. de Norvins is certainly a man of in-
tellect. He has let me into the secret of some writings
of his which prove talent; but there is about him a mixt-
ure of the old and the new regime Avhich is a constant
sui-prise to me. Sometimes he reminds me of M. de
Narbonne, and the moment after of Regnaud de Saint-
Jean-d'Angely. Moreover, he is perfectly attentive
and kind toward me. — General Miollis seems the best
man in the world : he is much liked. I talked to him of
Corinne ; he did not know what I meant. He thought
it was a city of Italy which he had never heard of
" Why do you oppose the departure of M. Ballanche ?
This is really something to quarrel about. Do you not
know that M. Ballanche is, next to you, the person
above all others I should like to travel with ? But I
confess it is next to you. He appeals to whatever is
good in my nature, you please my bad side as well.
Take that for an epigram if you will, and pity yourself
for being amiable enough to please my frivolous tastes,
while at the same time you take my soul captive by all
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 103
that is noble and pure in your own. Julie will not be
made jealous by this declaration ; amiable and lovable
Julie, I bear her with you in my heart. Why do you not
give me news of Mme. de Luynes and Mrae. de Chev-
reuse ? I am anxious about the latter, and I beg you will
go and inquire about her in my name. Be good enough
to remember me to Monsieur and Madame "...
This letter, like the preceding one, is incomplete : the
fragment preserved ends here.
MME. RECAMIER TO HER SISTER-IN-LAW, MME. DBLPHIN, AT LYONS.
" Rome, April 3, 1813.
" I thank you, my good sister, for your kind letter,
which I received at Rome. I was ill for several days
upon my arrival, but I am better now, and intend to
make some excursions in the city and its environs.
" Your angelic goodness is again shown in the pains
you took to visit that poor English invalid ; I learned
with real pleasure the care Lady Webb has taken of her.
If, after the latter's departure, the Englishwoman should
be in want, give her from me what you think proper, and
be ffood enou2fh also to continue to look after our little
Marianne.^ If a writing-master could be found who
was not dear, ought she not to take lessons for a few
1 Marianne was a little English girl who had fallen into the
hands of a troop of mountehanks. It must be remembered that
the ruptm-e of the treaty of Amiens caused the detention in France
of English people of every condition. Mme. Recamier saw this
101 MADAME RECAMIER
months, making her, at the same time, keep up her
English? But you know better than I how to do
good, and I put this poor child under your protection.
" I am distressed at what you tell me of the state of
Mme. de Chevreuse. How was she pleased with M.
Suquet? I am surprised and grieved at receiving no
letters from Mme. de Luynes since the one she was
kind enough to write to me at Turin. She has been
so good and kind that I truly hope she has not yet for-
gotten me. Be kind enough to see her before you
write again, and give me news of her and Mme. de
Chevreuse. I send a letter from Amelie to Mme. della
Torre. I am very well satisfied with her disposition
and her sentiments, but less so with her application;
she is heedless, and on that account Mme. della Torre
was just the teacher she needed. I shall certainly put
her under her care again when I return to Lyons.
" I thank you for having sent me the trunk. It was
an inconceivable piece of thoughtlessness on my part
not to remember that it was to be sent to the diligence.
It was another consequence of the wretched state of
mind I was in before ray departure ; it seems to me I
am a great deal better now, but I am in constant fear
of again becoming a prey to melancholy. Please post-
pone the payment of the dressmaker's bill until my
child in the Place Bellecour, and was interested by her unhappy
air and pretty face. She was rescued from the clutches of the
vagabonds who were making use of her for their own purposes.
Mme. R^camier placed her at school and afterward at a trade.
She became a nun, and died young.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 105
return, for it seems to me exorbitant for what she did
for me. Adieu, dear and kind sister, and number me
among those who most tenderly love you. Remember
me to M. Delphin, Mme. Amelie, M. and Mme. Pay en.
Say also to Mme. Legendre that I much regret not
having been able to say good-by to her as I intended
to do. She was then a little unwell ; tell me how she
is. Is her son with her? She is so good and kind that
one likes to know she is happy.
"Adieu, my good, excellent sistei*. I embrace you
and love you with all my heart. Remember me to all
those who take an interest in me. I have selected straw
bonnets for your daughters, and will bring them on my
return. I should like very much to find something
which you would like, but I have not yet seen any
thing to please me.
" Please address my letters henceforward to M.
Torlonia, Rome."
The fall of the Empire reopened the gates of France
to Mme. Recamier, and she seized the first opportunity
to return to Paris to the bosom of her family. She
stopped, however, two days at Lyons to see her sister-
in-law and Camille Jordan.
The return of Mme. Recamier to Pai-isian society was
a veritable triumph, an era of renewed and increased
success. To the fame of a beauty which years had not
robbed of any of its charm, was now added another
prestige, — the firmness she had shown during her three
years of exile. But under such circumstances there
106 MADAME RECAMIER
was little time to devote to correspondents '. thus we
see Camille Jordan comjDlaining of a silence which
made him fear he was forgotten, while at the same time
he accuses himself of indolence. He writes from Lyons
the 16th of August, 1814 : —
"Dear Jin.iETTE, — What a disgrace to our friend-
ship, what mutual delinquency! What, after having
met again with so much pleasure, though for so short a
time, no longer one word ! I am reduced to hearing of
you through your relations, and you to my compliments
by Matthieu ! You are in reality much more culpable
than I; for what have I to write about except the
continued happiness of a united household, and my
affection for you, so true and faithful, though I fear it
seems more insipid than ever to yuu in comparison with
Parisian adorations. But you, what could you not tell
me of your triumphant return ; of your reunion with so
many friends ; of the reorganization of the most delight-
ful society ; of the relations so delicate with the daugh-
ter and the mother ; of the impression this new regime
makes upon you ; of your estimate of public opinion, for
you know the value I attach to it, and how I delight to
hear you, with your pure and discriminating mind, talk
on all subjects, even the most serious. So do try to
find a favorable moment and write me a long letter, or
a few lines at least, upon the most urgent points, — your
health, the state of your heart, and if you are happy.
"Name to me the people whom you see most fre-
quently. Doubtless no one more indemnifies herself for
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 107
your long absence than Mme. cle Catellan; and Mat-
thieu, anotlier one who knows how to love, does he, in
his threefold busy life, succeed in finding the time which
he without doubt wishes to devote to you? and the
ambassador^ and prince, have they not spoiled Adrien
the friend? How do you stand with the household
Degerando as regards both friendship and business ?
You may imagine how my heart rejoiced to see their
fate at last honorably and happily fixed. You have
lost in Mme. de Stael one of your greatest sources of
interest and excitement, but now you will have the
pleasant society of the Duchess of Devonshire. You
will meet again with mutual pleasure. Not knowing
her address, permit me to enclose and give in your care
this note for her. My wife knows that I am writing,
and desires to be affectionately remembered to you.
Our three children, Caroline especially, continue to do
well, and are the delight of our hearts. We are living in
town, as it has rarely offered more objects of interest.
I was wrong in supposing a moment ago that there
was nothing to tell you. If I were addicted to the
descri]3tive style, if I did not go to sleep in the middle
of the finest narrations, I might describe to you the
visit of the Duchess d'Angouleme, the magnificent /eies
we gave her for three days, the sincere and universal
enthusiasm, which was the most beautiful part of all,
and the profound gratification that she manifested.
1 Adrien de Montmorency, Prince de Laval, had been made
ambassador to Madrid.
108 MADAME R^CAMIER
Paris itself did not ofier her any thing like it. Thus
you see that Lyons, which has been so much calum-
niated, has quite retrieved her reputation. But I refer
you for all these particulars to the journal of our
descriptive friend Ballanche, which I have told him
to send to you. I found my usiud phlegm desert me
in the midst of these festivities ; I could not see with-
out profound emotion this most blameless triumph of
the Orphan of the Temple. She had the goodness to
ask after me, to permit me to be presented to her, to
address to me a few kind words. We also presented
Ballanche to her, that he might offer to the French
Antigone the dedication of the Greek Antigone. It
was the Revoils and the Artauds who had the most to
do with the direction of the fetes, and who brought to
the task no less taste than zeal. We thought of you in
this excitement, and regretted you much. The coming
of the Count d'Artois is announced ; but as for me, 1 •
have had enough ; I shall escape to the groves of Ecully,
then to Bresse ; and probably from Lyons I shall go to
see you. What new charm for me your presence will
give to Paris! But shall I find you the same as in
exile? Will you not make me regret, as some one has
said, the good time lohen we loere imhappy, ^ you will be
• A saying of Sophie Arnould, put into verse by Rulhi^ie : —
" Un jour, une actrice fanoeuse
Me contait les fureurs do son premier amant;
Moitie revant, moitie rieuse,
Eile ajouta ce mot cliarmant:
'Oh ! c'dtait le bon temps, j'^tais bien mallieureuse.' "
Tr.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 109
so surrounded and preoccupied ? As for rao, I sliall
bring back to you, you may be very sure, the same
faithful friendship, the same desire to see you happy
and perfect, of which I have so often assured you.
Adieu, sweet and charming friend ; do not fail to re-
member me to those of your circle for whom you know
me to have either affection or liking. Particular regards
to Mme. de Catellan. "Camille."
" Lyons, July 31, 1815.
"Dear Juliette, — What mortal silence between
us ! If we only wrote to each other at least every time
the Emj)ire was overturned, there might be some hope
of our correspondence. M. Dolphin has indeed prom-
ised that he would assure you of my lasting and tender
regard ; but, however, I must for once speak for myself.
These late troubles have made me think of you often.
I judged of your anxieties by our own. I am persuaded
that we have many opinions as well as feelings in
common ; for, without boasting overmuch of ourselves,
we have generally been found together on the side of
truth and justice. I came near flying to you from the
tumults that raged in Lyons, with all my brood, for
whom I was painfully anxious, but the difficulties in
the way of so great a move deterred me, and, by the
help of God, all has turned out much better than we
dared to hope. Perhaps I shall soon come alone, if
my health, which is somewhat feeble, permit.
" How glad I shall be to see you again, and how much
110 MADAME R:^CAMIER
I shall have to tell you! Do not fail, niean while, to
reply ; and after telling me of yourself, your pleasures
and your pains, one word, if you please, of public opin-
ion in Paris, which you ought to know better than any
one else, you who see the best people of all parties.
Is there any hope of saving our poor country ? any
chance of reconciling so many divided hearts and
minds? One Avord also about your several friends.
Some of them must be lifted up and others cast down;
and, according to your custom, it is not the latter who
interest you the least. What do you think will be the
fate of Degerando ? I am much concerned about him.
Have you seen lately our dear Matthieu ; and the severe
warning against all exaggeration, whether j^ious or pro-
fane, has he profited by it? What are your relations
with the stormy family on the lake shore ? One of
theu' friends, who is an intimate acquaintance of yours,
has, with all his senses about liim, been dreaming a
strange dream ;^ his awakening from it must have
been bitter. Do you see Mme. de Kriidnei-, that
amiable queen of the realm of the vague ? My wife
has suffered greatly from so much excitement ; she is
beginning to recover, and charges me with affectionate
remembrances for you. As to my children, thanks
to the happy thoughtlessness of their age, they have
continued well. Do not forget, I beg of you, to re-
member me to your husband, whose passing troubles,
wherein you showed as usual such perfect delicacy, I
1 Allusion to the conduct of Benjamin Constant during the
Hundred Days.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. Ill
nave heard of and deplored. Particular respects to
Mme. de Catellan ; but, above all, affectionate regards
to the good Ballanche, who, intoxicated as he is by
your charming society, is not, I hope, ungrateful enough
to forget him who was the firet cause of this crowning
felicity of his life.
"Adieu, dear Juliette; I love and shall love you
always. " Camille."
These letters are the last from Camille Jordan found
among Mme. Recaraier's papers, and are, very prob-
ably, also the last which he addressed to her. Chosen
deputy by the department de I'Ain, in 1815, he occu-
pied his seat in the Chamber with great regularity ; and
from that time until his death lived almost constantly in
Paris. These two letters, written with an interval of
a year between them, present points of very peculiar
interest, for they foreshadow, and indeed already ex-
press, the sti-uggle which was beginning in the mind of
the great orator. In 1814, the joy of the lover of
freedom in seeing France delivered from a despotic
government heightened the joy of the royalist in wit-
nessing the return of the Bourbons. This double feel-
ing inspires the account he gives of the reception of
Madame, the Duchess d'Angouleme. In 1815, the
aspect of things had changed. A Royalist, but, above
all, an ardent friend of liberty, the violent proceedings
of the Chamhre introuvahle ^ greatly shook the con-
1 Chavihre introuvahle, — literally, not to be found, hence incom-
parable, — a name given to the Chamber of Deputies of the year
112 MADAME RSCAMIER
fidence of the patriot in the liberalism of the restored
monarchy. Nevertheless, Camille Jordan, during the
three sessions of 1816, 1817, and 1818, unhesitatingly
supported the ministry. In 1819, we find him in the
ranks of an active opposition. It was not that he had
changed his opinions ; but he thought he saw liberty
in peril, and, with the energy of a grand political faith,
he fought against doctrines which in his eyes were in-
compatible with the needs of modern society. Never
was the eloquence of Camille Jordan more brilliant,
never were his words more thrilling, than during this
last period of his political career. Sometimes, it must
be confessed, his glowing utterances were tinged with
a deep bitterness, such as follows the disappointment
of cherished hopes.
What added in no small deo-ree to the effect of his
speeches was the fact that Camille Jordan was dying.
When he left his seat, where he was obliged to lie at
full length, and mounted to the tribune, it seemed as
though the little life he had left would exhale in the
midst of his impassioned oratory.
The reader will doubtless have noticed in the letters
of the eloquent orator to Mme. Recamier some expres-
sions of anxiety with regard to the opinions of Matthieu
1815, distinguished fbr its exaggerated royalism. " Certainly four
months beforehand no one would have believed that the electoral
colleges of the Empire could give birth to such a Chamber ; and
Louis XVIII., who, ten months later, was to pronounce its dissolu-
tion, was right in calling it, in the first effusion of his joy, ' Chambre
introuvable.'" (Duvergier de Ilauranne, "History of Parlia-
mentary Government in France.") — Tk.
AND THE FRIENDS OF HER YOUTH. 113
de Montmorency which seemed to him too reactionary.
The divergence of their political views more than once
led to discussions between these two men so long
united in the bonds of closest intimacy, — discussions all
the more animated because both had strong convic-
tions. But if the intolerance of party-spirit embarrassed
and disturbed their intercourse, it could not weaken in
these two noble hearts the deep esteem they felt for
each other; whilst Mme. Recamier, moreover, con-
tinued to be between them a bond of concord and
affection.
Camille Jordan died the 19th of May, 1821.
BUT) OF PAST I.
PART II.
LETTEKS OF MADAME RECAMIER TO
HER NIECE.
TT is with inexpressible emotion that I make public
-■- these letters, proofs of the strong affection with
which I was honored by her who held to me the place
of mother. I hesitated long; but I was told that I
bad no right to keep concealed the treasures of lov-
ing-kindness hidden in that heart, — a heart so well
fitted for all the sensibilities, all the ardor, all the self-
denial of maternal love, but to which fate had denied
the crowning joys of home.
A few words of explanation will doubtless not be
out of place here. I am aware how difficult it is to
escape ridicule in speaking of one's self; I shall endeavor,
therefore, in regard to matters purely personal to me, to
say only so much as may be necessary to portray what
is, perhaps, the innermost side of the life and affections
of Mme. Recamier. To exhibit the brilliant woman
who so long wielded the sceptre of fashion and received
the homage of all Europe, — performing the duties of
governess and mother, duties which she had volun-
116 LETTERS OF MADAME RECAMIER
tarily assumed, and which she fulfilled with so much
perseverance, good sense, indulgence, and firmness ; —
will not this, indeed, be a revelation to the majority of
readers ?
I was nearly six years old when I lost my mother,
and my unole, M. Jacques Recamier, my grandmother's
brother, renewed the offer he had formerly made to
take charge of his little orphan niece. My father no
longer refused this affectionate proposal, and I was sent
to Paris, where I arrived in the course of July, 1811,
only a few weeks before that departure of Mme. Re-
camier for Coppet, which was the cause, or pretext,
rather, of her exile.
My beautiful Paris aunt was not wholly a stranger
to me. During a short visit which she made at Bugey
in 1810 to her husband's family, I, young as I was, had
already been dazzled and delighted by the brilliancy,
grace, and rare elegance of the wonderful stranger.
She, herself, won by my baby ways, proposed to take
me away with her. I would have willingly gone even
then with the enchantress, but she returned to Aix,
where she was then taking the waters, and her lovely
face faded a little fi'om my memory. Upon her return
to Paris, Mme. Recamier sent a message to my parents,
asking for the little one. My mother, who was still
living, could not resolve to part with me, and it was
not until after her death, as I have said, that I was
sent to Paris. Upon arriving there, the lady who had
charge of me took me to the street Basse-du-Rempart,
No. 48, where my uncle had his counting-room. It
TO HER NIECE. 117
must have been about four o'clock, for he had ah-eady
despatched his letters for the mail. After a few
moments my uncle took me by the hand and led me to
the house No. 32, in the same street, where he lived
with his wife after the hotel in the Rue du Mont-Blanc
was sold to M. de Mosselmann.
A child's memory is capricious ; some things leave
upon it no trace, while others — the aspect of certain
localities, the image of certain persons — make an in-
delible impression. I vividly remember my introduc-
tion to my aunt : she was in white, with lier hair dressed
in the fashion of the day, without any additional orna-
ment,-' and was reclining on a sofa placed opposite
the fireplace, directly under her portrait by Gerard.
General Junot stood talking with her. My uncle opened
the door, and, pushing me forward, said, " Here is the
little girl."
I recognized immediately the beautiful being who
had formerly fascinated me. I felt neither fear nor shy-
ness ; her kindness put me directly at case ; our ac-
quaintance was at once renewed, and an intimacy
established between us. I sang a little song, half
patois, half French, with an emphasis which greatly
amused her. A bed was made up for me in a small
room adjoining hers; and in so bewildering a situation,
with so many strange faces constantly passing before
me, it is easy to understand how ardently I attached
myself to the kind and sympathetic protectress who
^ Coiffee en cheveux.
118 LETTERS OF MADAME RECAMIER
watched tenderly over the poor homesick child. — Some
days after my arrival my aunt asked me if I knew bow
to read. I replied yes; as I had, in fact, been for more
than a year at a school in Belley, where an old nun
taught the little girls in the town their letters, and I
was supposed to have learned to read. My aunt put a
book in my hand and said, " Well, then, read me this."
I took the book, and without hesitating began to recite
a dedicatory epistle to the dauphin, the only printed
thing I had ever seen, and which I had got by heart
from having heard it often repeated by my little com-
panions. My aunt laughed heartily at my dedicatory
epistle, and it was agreed that I must be taught to
read.
Meanwhile, busy preparations were making for the
departure of Mme. Recamier, which I watched without
either understanding their significance or imagining
that I was not to be of the party. I came very near
not being of it, however, for it was only at the last mo-
ment that my uncle said, " Why do you not take little
Amelie?" and so I was taken. My poor dear aunt,
when she mournfully recalled years afterward the inci-
dents of a life so envied by the world, but so sad and
empty in reality, liked to attribute to Providence the
chance arrival of the little orphan to supply her heart
with a new interest just at the moment when her exile
was to expose her to solitude and neglect, which were
to her very severe trials.
Before reaching Geneva, while we were stopping at
the last post-house to change horses, Augustus de
TO HER NIECE. 119
Stael, who bad ridden to meet Mme. Recamier, opened
so suddenly the carriage door upon which I was lean-
ing, that I fell out between the wheels, but without
doing myself any injury. My aunt left the carriage and
went up into one of the rooms of the inn, where she
was informed by M. de Statl of Matthieu de Montmo-
rency's sentence of exile, which had just been made
known to him at Coppet. Augustus was the bearer of
a message from his despairing mother, beseeching Mme.
Recamier not to expose herself to the same danger in
the same place. But she was unwilling to retrace her
steps without seeing her friend, and we pursued our
journey. We arrived at Coppet after dark. I entered
the salon behind my aunt. A woman in tears, whose
gestures and aetion appeared to me very vehement,
threw herself into her arms ; then the maid carried me
off and put me to bed. The next day at breakfast I
was seated between Mile. Albertine de Stael and Mile.
Randall ; the conversation was very animated, and in-
definitely prolonged. Sitting so long among strange
people presently became insupportable to me : motion-
less on my chair, which I did not dare to leave, I sought
a means of amusing myself, and tying two knots in
opposite corners of my napkin to represent two dolls,
I made them repeat, in a low voice at first and after-
ward aloud, a dialogue, not in very good taste, between
sister Jacqueline and her confessor. I was so deeply
engaged with my play that I did not notice the signs
my aunt made me to be silent and go away. Mme. de
Stael interposed with gracious and indulgent kindness :
120 LETTERS OF MADAME R^CAMIER
*' Do not scold the little one," she said ; " she will cer-
tainly make an excellent actress."
Mine. R6camier's order of exile was not long in fol-
lowing that of M. de Montmorency. Mme. de Staiil had
foreseen it too well when she had besought her not to
come again to Coppet. A letter from M. Recamier
brought the sad news. Mme. de Stael's despair at this
persecution, which seemed to be contagious, cannot be
described. She has portrayed it herself in moving terms
in her "Dix Annees d'Exil." Nevertheless, she still
tried to persuade herself that if her noble and lovely
friend would return immediately to Paris, it might not
be impossible to get the cruel order revoked. By her
grief and her tears she finally succeeded in inducing
Mme. Recamier to take this course, and at the end of
three days we left Coppet for Paris.
It was not very easy for me at my age to under-
stand the meaning of the fits of fainting and crying, and
the general excitement going on around me ; but I had
made out that exile was a danger that threatened the
only being whom I loved and who cared for me. I con-
sidered myself exiled also ; and while we were at Cha-
lons, hearing in a sermon far beyond my comprehension
the words, " an exile upon earth," I seized my aunt's
hand and whispered, "Is he talking about us?" One
night, hearing a loud knocking at the door of the house
where we lived. Rue du Cloitre, Mme. Recamier started
up out of her sleep and cried, " Ah, mon Dieu ! what
do they want now ? " to which I, who was sleeping in
the same room, to her surprise replied, " What are you
TO HER NIECE. 121
afraid of, dear aunt ; are we not at our forty leagues ? "
Thus, young as I was, the misfortune of my charming
protectress served to bring her still nearer to me, her
inseparable little companion.
In these days of liberty and publicity, we can hardly
imagine how completely the master's displeasure re-
duced the exiles to the condition of pariahs. I find a
singular proof of this in a letter from my uncle Jacques
Recamier to his wife, dated July 15, 1812. My aunt
had been authorized to leave Chalons, and for a month
we had been established at the Hotel de I'Europe, at
Lyons.
" I was very confident," writes M. Recamier, " that
you would have a most cordial reception fi-om my
family and friends ; I was only anxious to know if you
had responded to it properly ; that is to say, in a way
to please the tastes of one and all, which, very possibly,
may not be in harmony with yours. I see that in this
respect all has passed off very well : you have got on
the right side of my sister Delphin, and seem to be on
very good terms with her, which gives me great pleas-
ure ; only be on your guard against any excess in alms-
giving and acts of generosity, to which she will be
likely to incite you by the pictures of poverty she will
daily set before your eyes, for I already do a great
deal myself here, and one ought never in any thing to
go beyond the bounds of reason.
" Be also careful with whom you associate, for, though
it does not appear, you are always under the secret
6
122 LETTERS OF MADAME R^CAMIER
surveillance of the police. Your change or transfer
from Chalons to Lyons has put you in another division
of the general police. I chance to have a friend in this
new division, whom I met the otlier day on the boule-
vard ; he told me that two reports from Lyons con-
cerning you had already been received, — the first, to
announce your arrival, and the second, to say that you
were behaving very well, that you saw few peoj^le and
lived very quietly. This friend promises to keep me
regularly advised of all that happens in regard to you.
He added that there would finally be a general report
handed in, which one day or other would be sent to the
Emperor, who would then definitively decide."
Is not this the way that criminals released on pro-
bation are treated ?
During the three years of Mme. Recamier's exile, —
whether at Chalons, Lyons, Rome, or Naples, — she
never separated from the child she had adopted as her
daughter. I never had any other sleeping room than
hers. My education went on in the travelling carriage
which bore from place to place the beautiful exile, as
well as in the cities where we stayed ; and when we
returned to Paris, in 1814, 1 spoke Italian as fluently
as I did my own tongue. My aunt delighted to teach
me music, which she passionately loved ; and I no
longer imagined that I was reading when I repeated
by heart the dedicatory epistle to the dauphin.
Amid all the excitements of the social success which
welcomed Mme. R^camier back to Parisian society, her
TO HER NIECE. 123
habits with regard to her whom she called her child
suffered no change in any respect. My little desk was
placed in the recess of one of the windows of the gi'eat
salon, where, under her eye, I took all my lessons.
How often lias it happened that some one of my aunt's
most intimate friends, seeing me perplexed to find a
date, or vainly looking for a word in the dictionary,
would come to my aid ! This recalls to me a little
anecdote illustrative of the literary tact of Mme. de
Genlis, and in which Lemontey appears in an amiable
light. He used to dine with us every Saturday, and
took the greatest interest in my studies. It was in
1817, and Mme. de Genlis, who was always forming
enthusiastic attachments, had that year conceived a
sort of passion, certainly with good reason, for Mme.
Recamier. Wishing to make herself agreeable, she
proposed to give me weekly a subject for a composi-
tion which she was to correct. One Saturday, on com-
ing as usual to dinner, M. Lemontey found me in
despair, and crying bitterly over a sentence which I
had begun and could not finish. He inquired the cause
of my grief, took my copy-book and dictated to me a
sentence which freed me from my difficulty, and set me
going again. The next week, when my composition
was returned corrected, we found in the margin op-
posite the sentence dictated by Lemontey these words:
" This sentence is wanting in youthfulness."
What might I not add were I to allow myself to
describe in detail the watchful care, the far-seeing love
which presided over my education ! When, motlier of
124 LETTERS OF MADAME RI^CAMTER
a family myself, I had to fulfil toward my daughters
the duty of vigilance which the most brilliant woman
of her day imposed upon herself; I had only to re-
member my own childhood to be penetrated with
admiration and gratitude for the solicitude with which
Mme. Recamier, in a salon full of people, heard and
watched over all that was said to me.
She had early given me permission to pass the eveu-
ing in the salon, warning me, at the same time, never
to permit any man, whether young or old, to talk to
me in a low voice, and, to prevent this, always to reply
so as to be heard by everybody.
Straightforward and sincere under all circumstances,
she held dissimulation in horror. I cannot describe the
pains she took to acquaint me with household duties, to
cultivate in me habits of order and economy. Although
very methodical in the management of her ])roperty,
Mme. Recamier had no taste, and declared she had no
talent, for domestic details. Her constant aim, as she
often expressed to me, was this : " I wish," she would
say, " that you should have all that has been wanting
in me, and that you may be more happy than I have
been." This affectionate desire Mme. Recamier ac-
complished so far as it was in her power. She could
not give me the rare and charming qualities, the lofty
virtues which Heaven had been pleased to lavish upon
her, but she gave me the domestic happiness which
was not accorded to her ; and in uniting me to the man
whom I loved, and by whom I was ly;loved, she realized
lor the child of her adoption that supreme felicity of
TO HER NIECE. 125
love in mamasre which had been the dream and the
regret of her life.
" Dieppe, July 2, I8I8.1
" I shall not return to Paris, my dear child, until the
17th of this month. If, as I hope, Mrae. de Gramont
is satisfied with you, I shall ask her to allow you to
come out the day of my arrival. I am pleased with
your intention of fully occupying your time. I find
your last letter more reasonable ; I was grieved at the
idea you gave me of yourself by your want of resigna-
tion, but I hope that you will efface this impression. I
take two baths a day ; this fatigues me, and obliges me
to lie down in the intervals.
" I think of you often ; I talk of you often with M.
Ballanche. You will either be a great grief or a great
happiness to me ; and that will depend upon yourself.
I embrace you, and look forward impatiently to the
17th of July.
" I beg Mme. de Gramont to accept my affectionate
regards."
1 From the day I was brought to Paris I had never quitted my
aunt ; but when the time of my first communion drew near, Mme.
Recamier, desiring that tliis important act should be performed in
strict retirement, and far from all worldly distractions, placed me
at the Convent of the Sacred Heart, under the particular charge
of Mme. Eugenie de Gramont, with whom she was very intimate,
and whose brother had married the daughter of her friend, the
Marchioness de Catellan.
I passed a year at the Sacred Heart, and it is there that these
letters were addressed to me.
126 LETTERS OF MADAME RJ^CAMIER
" Aix-la-Chapelle, Aug. 9, 1818.
"I have received youv letters, my dear little girl, and
I have heard of you through M. Ballanche and Paul.
Tliey tell me you are more contented and in good
health. I recommend you to employ well the time of
our separation, that I may have all the more pleasure
in our meeting again. I am still ill, and in a state of
mind which would make you say again, ' I have truly
the saddest of aunts.' I hope that the waters, in quiet-
ing my nerves, will give me more strength and courage.
Adieu, dear child ; I embrace you. Pray for me.
" Present my respects to Mme. de Graraont."
" Aix-LA-CnAPELLB, Aug. 26, 1818.
"I write very seldom to you, my poor dear little
girl, because I am still an invalid ; but I think of you
a great deal, and with lively affection. I have not a
grief, not a vexation, that I do not say to myself that I
will do all that is in my power to prevent your being
exposed to the same trials. In your happiness I hope
to find my consolation ; prove your gratitude by striv-
ing to perform all your duties. I have been deeply
touched by your praying for me after receiving abso-
lution. Poor dear little one, may Heaven bless you,
and may you be happier than II"
TO HER NIECE. 127
MMB. R^CAMIEK TO HER SISTER-IN-LAW, MMB. DELPHIN, AT
LYONS.'
" August 17, 1825.
"It is a very long time, ray dear and good sister,
since I have had the pleasure of communicating with
you. I know that you complain of not having seen
me upon my return from Italy. I dare say that if you
had known my motives you would approve of them,
and you are too well aware of my aifection to suppose
I did not regret it. You know, my good sister, that we
are occupied with the marriage of our dear Amelie. M.
Lenormant, whom we think of for her, is a young man
of twenty-four, of an honorable family, perfectly pure
character, and of distinguished ability. I am trying to
get the place of auditor to the council of state for him,
and it will depend upon my success whether the mar-
riage takes place. You can imagine, my good sister,
how interested I am, and I know too well how much
affectionate interest you take in us all to be afraid of
wearying you with these particulars. You know that
1 Mme. Recamier made a second tour of Italy in 1823, while
the Duke de Laval was ambassador at Rome, and M. de Chateau-
briand minister of foreign aflairs. She was accompanied by the
good and faithful Ballanche, her niece Ame'lie, and J. J. Ampere.
It was at Naples that M. Charles Lenormant was presented to her.
She returned to France in June, 1825, by way of the Simplon and
Geneva. Mme. Delphin, her sister-in-law, had expressed much
regret that she had not stopped to see her. Mme. Recamier ex-
plains to her in this letter the motives which hastened her return
to Paris.
The marriage of Mme. Lenormant took place February 1, 1826.
128 LETTERS OF MADAME RlSCAMIER
M. Recaniier 1ms met with new losses ; this renders our
situation still harder, and makes me all the more de-
sirous for the establishment of Amelie. After having
experienced all the ills of this life, I wish, as far as it
dei)ends upon me, to secure the peace of mind of those
I love ; and you, too, my good sister, you have had
many trials, but you have the best and sweetest of con-
solations, a life wholly devoted to God and the relief
of the unfortunate ; you have made your name blessed,
and you are loved and venerated as you deserve.
" I counted upon sending this letter to you by Mme.
Derbel, but she was not certain of seeing you in passing
through, as she will only stop a {e\v hours. She has
been cruelly tried, and bears her grief with as much
couraere as feelinsr. Her first interview with her mother-
in-law will be very painful, but there is some comfort
in sharing with another our regrets. Adieu, dear and
good sister ; pray remember me to your son, his wife,
and all your family."
" From the Vallee-aux-Loups, Easter Sunday.^
" I desire, my poor child, to reassure you on the sub-
ject of my loneliness. I was so heart-broken on enter-
ing this house, the first moments were so sad, that I
still think I did well in not letting you come with me.
1 Duke Matthieu de Montmorency died suddenly, from the
rupture of an aneurism, on Good Friday, 1826, while kneeling at
the tomb of St. Thomas Aquinas in his parish church.
TO HER NIECE. 129
M. Ballanche and Paul ^ are perfect, as you know. I
have heard mass, and written a long letter to Mrae. de
Montmorency. I expect you on Wednesday ; the first
bitterness will be over, and it will be a comfort to me
to see you.
" Adieu, dear child."
" 1826. — Angervillieks, Sunday .^
"M. de Guizard, who leaves immediately, will take
this note. Mme. de Catellan had been informed of the
sad news by letters she had received. She was very
much moved and touched at seeing us. She is alone
with Mme. de Gramont ; we cannot leave before
Tuesday ; we shall arrive for dinner between six and
seven o'clock ; we shall be tired. I desire to find only
you and Charles at the Abbaye. Adieu, dear children.
I embrace and love you. Send this letter to Mme. de
Montmorency, who is expecting me."
"Angervillieks, Tuesday evening.
" I am still here, detained by my headaches ; so, dear
child, I shall not be able to arrive on Tuesday as I
1 Paul David, nepliew of M. Recamier, a man of original mind
and devoted heart. His friendship was as delicate and faithful as
that of Ballanche. He survived Mme. Recamier, who made him
her executor. M. de Lomenie, in " I'Ami de la Religion " of the
25th of September, 1860, has devoted some charming pages to the
memory of this good man.
2 Estate of the Marchioness de Catellan.
6* I ,
130 LETTERS OF MADAME RJSCAMIER
hoped. Paul precedes me, that you may not be alarmed
by this delay. He will give you particulars. I am a
little cross with Mme. de Catellan, and I reproach
myself for it; she wishes to keep me at any rate; but,
dead or alive, I shall arrive on Wednesday, and I hope
to find you at the Abbaye. I am very much afraid
that M. Lenormant is making my absence only too easy
for you to bear ; but I am generous, and still sing his
praises while he is teaching you to forget me. Adieu,
then, until Wednesday. Is M. de Larochefoucauld
appointed ? How many things I shall have to learn
upon my arrival! I have received a letter from M.
Ampere which came by post ; inclosed is ray reply,
which Joseph must take as well as the letter for M.
de Chateaubriand.
" Word must be sent to Mme. de Montmorency that
I shall not arrive on Tuesday."
M. BALLANCHE TO MME. LENORMANT. ^
"July 23, 1828.
" Mon Dieu I How far away you are from us ! and
how much farther still you are going ! In taking my
1 It will perhaps be necessary to remind the reader that in
1828 the Duke de Laval-Montmorency was ambassador to Vienna,
while M. de Chateaubriand had rephiced liim at Rome, and M.
Lenormant was on the pohit of setting out witli tlie scientific ex-
pedition to Egypt, at tlie head of M'iiich was the famous Cham-
pollion. Mme. Lenormant accompanied her husband as far as
Toulon, wliere the frigate " I'Egle " was waiting to transport tlie
savans to Alexandria.
TO HER NIECE. lol
short moniing stroll, I ara reduced to merely look-
ing at your door, and in the evening we seek you in
vain, whether in the charming little room or in the
fine salon de Corinne. You arrived at Lyons very
much fatigued, no doubt, and we were not there to
know it, and to persuade you not to continue your
journey if your strength were not equal to your cour-
age. The weather is still execrable. I trust that you
will get into better as you proceed.
"On Monday evening, by way of being a little in
your company again, we read M. Lenormant's article,^
which both instructed and interested us. It is satis-
factory to see a special idea referred to a general idea :
unity of thought is the sole and true condition under
which any thing can be produced, whether in art,
poetry, or even in letters. Scattered ideas isolated
from each other, without a common centre, are fugitive
and barren.
" Yesterday morning I returned the proofs to the
printer ; they have given me very little trouble ; they
are to be submitted to M. Guizot's revision. Yester-
day, at three o'clock, we, that is, Mme. Recamier and I,
took a short turn in the Bois de Boulogne. It was not
very pleasant; however, we took advantage of a few
fine moments to walk a little. We talked of nothing
but the travellers. Your aunt had passed a more com-
fortable night, and she remarked that she was inclined
to reproach herself for feeling better when she thought
1 An article on Greek vases in the " Revue rran9aise."
132 LETTERS OF MADAME RECAMIER
of you, overcome with fatigue and perhaps even ill. In
the evening we had no one but Mile, de Martigny, and
after Paul and I had left your aunt was taken unwell
again. But, at all events, the day had been a good one,
and it is to be hoped that these tolerable days will
become more frequent, and her health be at last re-
established.
" The evening before, Messrs. de Catellan, Montbel,
Auguste Lefebvre, Jussieu, Mrae. d'lTautefeuille came.
We have good news of Ampere, Jun. M. de Catellan
is to leave. Mme. de Gramont has returned to see her
physician about her health, which is still poor. In the
way of news, I must tell you that several of the bishops
now in Paris, among others M. de Chdverus, think that
the civil authorities ha\e not exceeded their powers in
the famous Ordinances. At least that is what was said
night before last. My respectful remembrances to your
mother-in-law, Mme. Lenormant ; embrace for me, if
you please, the young antiquary. Send us news of
yourself regularly, and let it be somewhat in detail.
We are expecting impatiently M. Puy, who is to come
to Paris after seeing you all at Lyons. I hope also to
have news of you through Bredin and Revoil.
" M. Recamier was a little indisposed last evening ;
he is better this morning ; it amounts to nothing. My
^^^^1°^^- "Ballanche."
Mme. Recamier added a few lines to this letter : —
" Here is a kind letter, dear Amelie, from M. Bal-
lanche. I, too, desire to tell you how impatiently I
TO HER NIECE. 133
am waiting to hear from you. I hope to have a letter
to-day : everybody I see asks me for news of the young
travellers with the most affectionate interest. I saw yes-
terday M. de Larochefoucauld, who starts for the Pyre-
nees. The Duke de Laval, whom I also saw yesterday,
was very sorry tliat he arrived at your house a moment
too late to bid you good-by. I was better yesterday,
but to-day my illness and melancholy have returned.
Adieu, dear child. I love and embrace you. I am
very anxious to hear of your safe arrival : write me a
long letter the day of the departure. Poor dear little
one ! How I dread that moment ! "
" August 4, 1828.
" So you are all alone now, my poor Am^lie ! In
reading the words ' it is to-morrow^ my eyes filled with
teai's ; I felt all that you were feeling ; and had it not
been for the preparations necessary for so long a jour-
ney, my impulse would have been to start at once and
go to you, that you might not be alone with your sor-
row. M. Lenormant's letter went to my heart. I see
that at the moment of departure he was overcome with
grief at leaving you ; that he had need of all your
courage to sustain his own ; and you know, perhaps,
now that it is probable that this separation will be
much shorter than you expected, and that the trav-
ellers will find at Alexandria orders to return to
France.^
1 It was feared that the war in Greece as well as in Turkey
would be an obstacle to the peaceable labors of the scientific
134 LETTERS OF MADAME R^CAMIER
" The happiness of returning to you will, console M.
Lenormant for not continuing his journey ; and I con-
fess I could not help feeling a secret joy at hearing this
news which will abridge your sorrow. As to myself^ I
am again very unsettled. 1 will write you when all is
decided. M. de Chateaubriand has most kindly taken
charge of the note for M. Hyde de Neuville. He still
expects to leave on the 1st of September. I pass my
days in a painful uncertainty, from which 1 know not
how to extricate myself I must not talk to you of
happiness, my poor child, when your heart is torn ; but
your griefs are passing ones, and your lot seems so
sweet to me that I would willingly give the brightest
days of my life for your saddest ones. M. Ballanche,
Paul, and all my friends talk of nothing but you."
" August 21, 1828.
" I am distressed, my poor Amelie, at all the trouble
which Paul's letter has caused you. lie, as well as
M. Ballanche, is going to write to you. I have a letter
for you from Mme. de Turpin ; thinking that it might
commission. M. Drovetti, French consul-general at Alexandria,
thought it his duty to write to ChampoUion a letter wliich crossed
him upon the sea. By tlie advice of tlie viceroy himself, he begged
the illustrious French savant to postpone his voyage to another
year. M. Lenormant, in his letters from Egypt, relates this in-
cident, and adds : " Our coming caused, therefore, a moment's
embarrassment to M. Drovetti ; as for the Paslia, like a true prince,
he at once exclaimed, ' Let them be welcome,' and the affair was
settled in a trice."
TO HER NIECE. 135
give you pleasure, I lose not a moment in sending
it to you. M. de Chateaubriand has lately been ill.
His joui'ney is still fixed for the beginning of Sep-
tember.
" How sad are all these departures ! how hard a
thing is life! When shall Ave be all together again?
Adieu, my poor dear Amelie ; return as soon as you
can, and repose on my heart while waiting for some-
thing better, and try to quiet your poor imagination,
and take care of your health. M. Lenormant must find
you upon his return fresh ' as the queen of flowers' "
" April 21, 1829.1
" Here, dear child, are Mme. de Boigne's letters. I
have heard nothing sad of Sebastiane. You know all
our troubles. I stayed until midnight yesterday with
M. Recamier; meanwhile, all our friends came to the
Abbaye to inquire after you. M. Recamier is better
this morning. M. de Chateaubriand's conge has gone.
I received yesterday a letter of eight pages from him ;
1 M. Lenormant accompanied Champollion as far as the second
cataract, and then returned to Alexandria to reimbark for France.
But he found, on arriving at Alexandria, that he had been ap-
pointed assistant-director of the archasological section of the
scientific commission which the French government had sent to
the Morea. He therefore proceeded to Greece, studying the
monuments for four months. He had given his wife permission
to join him, and she was waiting at Toulon for him to meet her.
He intended to petition for a renewal of his commission, but on
account of M. de Polignac becoming minister, he declined to ask
any favors.
136 LETTERS OF MADAME R^CAMIER
he is very much excited. I have seen M. Delecluze.
Inclosed is a letter from him, also one from Canaris :
it pains me to have to send you all these things. I
especially recommend to you the letter for Zante ; you
know what you promised me. What a pity that we
are not together ! but that was not possible. I was
much overcome upon entering your deserted home.
M. Ballanche and Paul haA^e promised to give you all
details; you know that I do not write; they will tell
you all ; but no one can tell you how much I miss you.
I did not try to keep you, I understood you too well,
and I saw you were so happy ! Say to M. Lenorraant
how much I was touched by his letter. The moment
of your meeting will be a happy one in your life. I
have need to let my thoughts rest upon it, and I shall
have no peace until I know you are reunited. Direct
all your letters as we agreed upon. I am your charge
cV affaires^ tell me what you want me to do. I hope
that as much honor will accrue to M. Lenormant from
this expedition as from the one to Egyjjt, and that it
will prepare the way for a good situation on his return.
" Adieu, adieu ! I am going to write to M. de
Chateaubriand by a courier who leaves this morning;
then I shall go and stay with M. Recamier in your
little room until evening. I no longer know what I am
writing. Adieu, alas ! adieu. Take good care of your-
self; be prudent, and lose no opportunity of writing to
us."
TO HER NIECE. 137
" May 11, 1829.
" I hasten, poor dear child, to forward you this letter,
which has been sent here by accident, instead of to you.
The situation in which you are placed, this cruel un-
certainty, this isolation, — every thing distresses me. I
am also very anxious about matters in Rome. The
Duke de Laval has refused, but whom will they ap-
point ? M. de Chateaubriand is waiting. His wife will
arrive in a few days. M. Recamier is remarkably well.
I have been very ill ; I am a little better ; but I shall
not have a moment's peace while I know^ that you are
in this state of uncertainty. We talk of you constantly,
and we are going to try to arrange it so that you shall
have a letter every day. Take courage, dear child of
my heart, and think of the time when we shall all be
together again. I cannot advise you, since your fate
depends upon your husband's reply. I hope your very
sensible letter will convince him. It will then remain
to be seen whether you are to proceed to Zante or
return to us, and you can imagine with what anxiety
we await the decision."
" Paris, May 21, 1829.
" I wrote you a long letter, but I tore it up at the
last moment. I will tell you why some day, but I re-
proach, myself for having delayed a letter fi'om Paul.
He has probably written to you to-day. The idea of
your loneliness is always haunting us ; we talk of it
constantly. Meanwhile the days go by with me as with
138 LETTERS OF MADAME R^CAMIER
you ; I suffer much, and the pleasures of the world have
lost their charm for me.
"M. de Chateaubriand will soon be here. I am more
troubled at the situation in which he will find himself
than happy in the thought of seeing him again. I do
not know whether he will return to Italy or no. The
uncertainty attending your movements as well as his
plunges me also into a state of perplexity, and I can
form no plans. I saw your mother-in-law yesterday,
who is truly an excellent woman. I was so ill that I
was obliged to leave a room full of people and go to
bed. Everybody asks after you ; it is always the first
question addressed to me. It is impossible to inspire
more interest, or to have a better and more charming
reputation. I am very proud of my work, though I
recognize that I have had very little hand in it, and
that God has blessed my intentions rather than my
skill. We are all expecting with an anxious impatience
the letters that are to decide your future course. I
will write to you as soon as I have seen M. de Chateau-
briand. Adieu, dear child ; take courage, and think of
the bright future of happiness in store for you."
" May 26, 1829.
"Yes, dear child of my heart, I can well imagine
your great joy on learning that M. Lenormant would
soon arrive, and when I know that you have met, I
shall be tranquil. Tell him all our grief at parting
from you, but enjoy without any alloy the happiness of
M. DE CHATEAUBRIAND
from a rare engraving
TO HER NIECE. 139
this reunion. You have done what I should have done
in your phice. We have all suffered much, but we
shall all meet again, and you will have given to M.
Lenormant a pi'oof of affection the remembrance of
which will shed a charm the more over all your future
life. Tell him how much I am attached to him ; how
grateful I am to him for your happiness; but say to him
also that he ought to adore me for having given him
such a wife. Can you read me, dear child ? I write
with difficulty, being tormented by sharp rheumatic
pains in my head ; I have not closed my eyes all night.
It is nothing, however ; it will all pass off in a day or
two ; but for the moment the pain is unbearable. In-
closed is a letter from Lina, who has also written to me.
I had two letters yesterday by a special courier from
the Duke de Laval. They are dated a week apart. He
is far from suspecting the blow which is about to fall
on his head. He will arrive at the same time with M.
de Chateaubriand. Here is an opportunity for me to
exercise my great talents. I truly think that I can be
useful to them : this is a consolation in the midst of all
my sorrows. M. Recainier is much better ; our friends
are very good, and affectionately interested in you. We
are all waiting anxiously for news from Toulon. Adieu,
dear child ; I press you to my heart."
•' June 1, 1829.
" You know all the particulars respecting the Abbaye,
dear little one ; M. Ballanche, Paul, M. R^amier must
have written you long letters. M. de Chateaubriand
140 LETTERS OF MADAME Rl^CAMIER
urrived on Thursday ; I was very happy to see him
again, — happier even than I thought I should be. The
only thing wanting now to my full enjoyment is to
know that you are happy. Your solitude weighs on my
heart. I cannot give you any advice owing to the
uncertainty I am in myself. If M. de Chateaubriand
returns to Rome, it is probable that I shall pass the
winter there. Perhaps also my health may oblige me
to go this summer to Dieppe for the sea-bathing. But
by that time your fate will be decided. Mme. Auguste
Pasquier is very ill. I have not seen Paul for three
days. I am expecting M. de Chateaubriand, who is
having an audience of the king, and is coming to give
me an account of the interview. You know that our
unfortunate mortgage bank is going to break : it is dis-
astrous. I see a good deal of company, — M. Villemain,
whom I find very pleasant, M. de Sainte-Aulaire. But
it is M. de Chateaubriand's arrival that has renewed my
life, which seemed almost extinct. My own feelings are
still so youthful that I can the better understand yours :
this is another bond of sympathy between us, and I am
the one in whom your poor heart should wholly con-
fide."
M. BALLANCHE TO MME. LENORMANT.
"June 18, 1829.
" It seems to me that the end of your exile is near.
I trust that you are now profiting by the little time left
you, to take sea baths. I cannot tell you what impor-
tance I attach to health ; with it one enjoys more and
TO HER NIECE. 141
can endure more. That you will go to the Morea does
not now seem probable. M. Lenorinant cannot much
longer delay returning ; and as for you, it would not
be worth your while, for the short time you will have
to remain there, to undergo the different quarantines
to which you would doubtless be subjected. M. Lenor-
mant is making his circuit independently of the com-
mission. The important thing for him is that he has
done it; his future is assured. Doubtless I shall have
many questions to ask him, and I shall be delighted to
be able to give him a mass of information. I am grow-
ing old, I no longer have any hope of visiting places
which, nevertheless, it would be very useful to me to
visit, not for the work I am upon at present, but for
< Zenobia,' if ever I undertake an epic poem upon the
early days of Christianity. Well, well, we shall see.
" Yesterday there was a brilliant assembly at the
Abbaye-aux-Bois to hear ' Moses' read. Lafond ^ read
very badly, because the manuscript was bad ; but M.
de Chateaubriand took it and read it himself; so
what was lost in the reading was amply made up in the
interest. Your aunt, however, was upon thorns ; but
be assured that all went off very well, and every one
was delighted, as it was natural they should be. Among
the auditors I shall confine myself to mentioning Mes-
dames Appony, de Fontanes, and Gay; MM. Cousin,
Villemain, Le Brun, Lamartine, Latouche, Dubois,
Saint-Marc-Girardin, Valery, Merimee, Gerard, and the
Dukes de Doudeauville and de Broglie ; MM. de Sainte-
1 Of the Theatre Franfais.
142 LETTERS OF MADAME R^CAMIER
Aulaire, de Barante, and David ; Mme. de Boigne, Mine.
de Gramont, Baron Pasquier, Mme. and Mile, de Ba-
rante, and the Miles, de Sainte- Aulaire, Dugas-Montbel,
&c. I might as well have given you at once a complete
list, for it was very select. M. de Chateaubriand was
in his best mood. He manifested no annoyance when
his beautiful verses were mangled, and he was very
obliging in reading some passages, besides a whole act.
He received, as you may imagine, a great many well-
merited compliments.
" Ampere was to have been at the reading, but he
does not arrive till to-day. He, like a good son, has
been to see his father, whose health gives him some
anxiety. Mme. R^camier i-eceived this morning a let-
ter from him, in which he appears less uneasy. THs
young man is very attractive, and he will not be one of
those you will be the least pleased to meet again.
" You ask me for news of what they are pleased to
call my little ' church.' It is still progressing. The so-
called progressionists desire to put themselves under my
wing, and will not publish any thing except under my
direction. This is very well, but one has to begin by
establishing the enterprise upon a sure foundation, and
that is not an easy thing. I should like to talk to you
of ministerial matters, but, in truth, I know nothing of
them.
"I am writing at your aunt's, and cede the pen to
her. I will say no more, but only assure you of my
love and of the interest I take in your exile, for your
own sake and for the sake of us all."
TO HER NIECE. 143
FROM MME. RECAMIEK.
"M. de la Rochefoucauld, who has just come in, only
leaves me time to embrace you, and say to you how-
much I miss you, and how weary I am of the sort of
dissipation in which I find myself plunged. W hen shall
I resume our pleasant and peaceful habits ? When shall
I see you again, dear child of my heart ? "
TO MME. LENORMANT.
" Dieppe, August 10, 1829.
" So you are still alone, my poor child, but it is only
for a very short time. I have written to your husband,
inclosing him a letter that I have received from M. de
la Rochefoucauld ; he will surely be pleased with it, and
we must soon come to a decision of some sort. A new
ministry is talked about ; it is to be completely ultra :
in that case, M. de Chateaubriand, I think, would send
in his resignation ; and it is possible also that this event
may cause M. Lenormant's request to miscarry. So
you see what we have to fear, and that this unlucky
chance may bring us all together again in Paris. If I
did not apprehend danger, or at least an alarming
tendency for France in this movement, I could scarcely
help rejoicing at it. However, a few days more and
we shall know our fate.
"I am here in the midst o^ fetes, princesses, illumi-
nations, plays. Two of my windows face the ball-
room, and the other two the theatre. In the midst of
all this bustle I live in perfect solitude ; I sit and dream
144 LETTERS OF MADAME R^CAMIER
by the sea-shore ; I pass in review all the melancholy
events of my life. I trust that you will be happier
than I have been. I am deeply touched by the affec-
tion you still have for me, when it would be so natural
for you to be absorbed by quite another feeling. Your
image has a jjlace in 'all my dreams ; it is through you
that I have a future. If you make the journey, we will
resign ourselves to it by thinking of the influence it
may have on M. Lenormant's whole career; if we do
not succeed, resignation will be still more easy, and we
shall all meet again in a few weeks.
" I have met here Leonie de B, She was under the
impression that you had married an old savant.^ — a
pedant. Imagine my pleasure in telling her that this old
savant was a young man only twenty-five, with a most
elegant figure, a very handsome face, and brilliant con-
versational powers. Poor Leonie is not very agreeable ;
I think she is tired of remaining unmarried. Her
mother is veiy attentive to me. I also see Mme. An-
nisson ; she is particularly polite to me, and pleases me
on her brother's account as well as her own ; but I pass
almost all my time in reading and talking with M.
Ballanche, who adapts himself perfectly to our solitary
life. He is lodged in a sort of tower, where he has a
view of the sea ; he is working on his ' Palingenesie,'
and seems the most contented man in the world. Poor
Ampere has gone to Lyons ; he is very uneasy about
his father, who has been ordered to try his native air.
The son is to return at the end of this month. His
care for his father is very touching. He accompanied
TO HER NIECE. 145
me, when I left for Dieppe, as far as the first stopping-
place for the night. As I travelled alone, and by short
stages, we arrived very early, took a walk, had supper,
some reading, and then he left to rejoin his father ;
he travelled by night in a wretched conveyance, but he
was delighted with our little journey ; it was a pleasant
change for him in his troubles. How I have gone into
particulars, but I know that you have plenty of leisure.
If M. Lenormant were with you I should not write so
long a letter. I rely upon your skill to decipher my
scrawl. I hope, at all events, to see M. Lenormant be-
fore his departure. I embrace and love you."
FKOM BONNETABLE, THE RESIDENCE OF THE DUCHESS MATTHIEU
DE MONTMORENOT.
" Thursday, August 15, 1830.
" So you are alone, poor little one ! I shall think of
you more constantly than ever during these days of
your husband's absence. I have not been able to de-
cipher the day of return ; it is the fault of my eyes, or
the fine English handwriting. I hope to be in Paris be-
tween the 25th and 27th, but I do not dare yet to talk
of leaving. I find here all that I came to seek, and if my
heart did not draw me back to you I would willingly
prolong my sojourn in this solitude. Paul tells me that
you are perfectly Avell, but that does not prevent my
being anxious. I have received a letter from the Duke
de Laval, which seems to me to show such true feeling
that I desire to send it to you that you may share my
7 J
146 LETTERS OF MADAME R^CAMIER
impressions, and also know liis plans, which must affect
M. Lenormant's journey.
"Adieu, dear Amelie, dear child. Say to M. Bal
lanche that I will write to him to-morrow, and to Paul
the next day. The chapel of the chateau was formerly
M. de Montmorency's chamber. You can well imagine
how these reminiscences go to my heart.
" Send me back the Duke de Laval's letter. Send
Fran9ois immediately with the letter for M. de Cha-
teaubriand."
" Maintenon, August 10, 1835.
" You have heard, dear Amelie, by a letter from M.
Ampere, the particulars of our pilgrimage to Chapelle-
Saint-Eloi. We arrived yesterday at Maintenon. M.
and Mme. de Noailles ai-e perfectly charming in their
own house. It is impossible for hospitality to be more
noble, more elegant, more refined in every particulai-,
and at the same time more simple and easy. The Duke
de Laval arrived a quarter of an hour after us, and I
think we shall see M. de Chateaubriand to-day. I shall
arrange with him the precise time of my return, and
then I shall immediately notify Paul. I should like
very much to know your plans, and especially whether
it be possible for us to pass a few weeks together.
" M. de Chateaubriand has arrived.
" I have just been talking with M. de Chateaubriand.
He leaves on Thursday and I on Saturday; and so,
dear Amelie, good-by until Saturday night. I am
very happy at the thought of our meeting ; I certainlj'
TO HER NIECE. 147
hope to find you at the Abbaye. I shall anive, I think,
between seven and eight o'clock ; we sliall dine at Ver-
sailles."
" Paris, September 6, 1835.
" I am delighted, my dear Am^lie, to know that you
have all arrived safely at your journey's end. There is
no talk of the departure of M. de Chateaubriand, quite
the contrary. It is the first time I have seen him when
he did not repel the idea of a future in France ; judge
how I encourage in him this state of mind. He even
talks of refurnishing his house as soon as he has sold
his ' Memoires.' In that case, I shall take the large salo7i
of the Abbaye ; we will have a dinner every fortnight ;
and I shall pass two or three of the summer months
with you in the charming valley. M. de Chateaubriand
will establish himself in the little inn already known to
him. These projects, which will bring together all my
dearest interests, delight me, but I dare not rely upon
them. However, dear child, one thing is certain, that
I am very much pleased and touched that you and your
husband should have set your hearts so much upon this
reunion. I have pictured it to myself as so charming,
that it will be very hard to be obliged to renounce it.
Give my affectionate remembrances to your husband.
I am not anxious about his course of lectures, which
will assuredly meet with the approval of the educated,
and I hope also of the ignorant, who will like being
instructed in so pleasing a manner. I judge by myself,
as I find always so much to interest me in his conver-
148 LETTERS OF MADAME RJ^CAMIER
satioD. Adieu, my dear, kind Amelie. Embrace your
two little girls for me, and be assured that I have never
more earnestly desired that my life should not be
passed apart from yours."
" Paris, August 23, 1836.
" I wish to tell you myself, dear Amelie, all my re-
grets. I had made up my mind to start next Monday;
all my preparations were made; I had an excellent
carriage ; we would have had delightful drives all about
your neighborhood ; I was taking great pleasure in the
thought of this reunion in your poor little valley, which
I so often anathematize. My health, which is an obsta-
cle to every thing, again stands in the way ; my friends
think me so unwise to undertake a journey in my con-
dition, they are so uneasy about it, that they have at
last dissuaded me from it. I give up, therefore, for this
year, my visit, and look forward to the end of Septem-
ber. I shall take care in time toj^revent this happening
again next summer. I have been worried about the
health of your children, your anxieties, and your soli-
tude ; we must have no more of these long separations.
I have too short a time to live to be willing to submit
to them. I am thinking of a little house near Paris
where I could receive you without being separated
from my friends here, who would be left too solitary.
We will talk it over, and try to manage it. I am very
much touched by the joy my dear Juliette showed at
the prospect of my coming. I also shall be delighted
TO HER NIECE. 149
to see that lovable child. Your last letter has revived
all my regrets ; in truth, there was no need. M. Lenor-
mant will be with you in a few days ; you will no longer
be alone. My life goes on without change; Ampere
is away ; Ballanche is full of great schemes, and I am
very uneasy about him ; I fear his affaii's are in a sad
state. He is sacrificing the little fortune which is suffi-
cient to make him happy and independent to the
millions he hopes to gain. He said to M. de Chateau-
briand, who regrets having sold his ' Memoires,' ' I will
buy them back ; I can get them for three or four hun-
dred thousand francs.' It would be laughable, if it were
not distressing, to see so excellent a man plunging into
endless embaiTassments.
"Adieu, dear friend; I embrace you with all my
heart."
" September 3, 1838.
"I have counted upon M. Lenormant's giving you
news of the Abbaye, as somewhat better than the letters
of my dame de compagnie. In writing to you myself,
I can hardly be a substitute for him. He has doubtless
told you how much I miss you, how I dislike these
long separations, when we might be so happy together.
But I need repose first of all ; nevertheless, I went to
the rehearsal of the opera by Berlioz. The theatre was
quite full, the audience very cold, and I, like the audi-
ence, for I was so tired, and had such a bad seat, that
Dupr^ himself gave me no pleasure. I was with Mme.
Salvage, Eugene, and Ampere ; they are both going
150 LETTERS OF MADAME R^CAMIER
away in a few days. I trust you will come with your
husband before his departure for Italy. I dare not wish
to keep you during his absence, since the country is so
beneficial to your health and that of your children; and,
on the other hand, I should not like to leave M. de
Chateaubriand, who would be quite alone in Paris.
Were it not for him I should have gone with you, for
I am convinced that since it would have given me so
much pleasure, it could not have done me harm. My
letter will find you, I think, on your return from your
visit to M. Guizot ; you will give me an account of your
journey, you know how fond I am of details. I hope
you will bring Juliette as well as her sister ; they will
keep each other company ; you will dine with Paul or
with me, and we will try to make you pass as pleasantly
as we can the little time you will be able to give us.
Dupr^ is to sing for M. de Chateaubriand at Saint-
Gratien, at M. de Custines'; we shall go there to break-
fast; the house is charming. If the day did not depend
upon Dupr6, 1 should have appointed one when I could
take you with me ; that would be delightful. Perhaps
it will so happen naturally. Adieu, dear child; I
embrace you heartily, and am happy in the thought
that I shall see you in a few days. Do not let me be
forgotten by all the good people Avho live at Saint-
Eloi."
TO HER NIECE. 151
ON HEK KETUKN FROM EM8.
"Pakis, September 11, 1840.1
" It is very true, my dear child, that I have returned
in a sad state, and truly regret having taken such a
long, expensive, and useless journey. How very kind
M. Lenormant has been ; how much I thank him for
having thought of coming for me ; but the fact is, I am
so weary of myself that I dread, above all things,
making others weary of me ; not surely, that I do not
rely ujaon the attachment of my friends, but to cause
them only sorrow, to contribute in no respect to their
enjoyment of life, is for me the keenest pain that I
could possibly suffer. I have thought of you often and
very lovingly during this journey, thought of our chil-
dren, made a thousand plans that I shall never realize.
My ill-health interferes with every thing. Take care
of your health, you are not inclined to do so : do it for
the sake of others. I impatiently expect you. I had
day before yesterday so violent an attack that it was
followed by fever, and I was obliged to pass the whole
day in bed ; and, imagine my vexation, Mme. de Boigne
had invited me to dine with her in company with
M. de Chateaubriand that very day. The dinner had
to be given up, their plans deranged, and all this sud-
denly with little circumstances of detail that were most
1 The health of Mme. Re'camier was visibly declining. She
long concealed from her friends her constant state of suffering in
order not to alarm them, but her sight was becoming impaired,
and at the time she was ordered to Ems for the waters, it was
iMicertained that upon both eyes a cataract was forming.
152 LETTERS OF MADAME RECAMIER
annoying. In fine, my dear child, I cannot tell you
how tired I am of myself. I look forward to your
coming to give me a little courage. One happy moment
is still in store for me, — the one when I shall see you
again."
" September 28.
" "What pleasant memories I carried away from Saint-
Eloi ! How happy I was in the midst of you all ! With
what impatience I look forward to the 10th of October !
I have read the very pleasant article of the pilgrimage
to Combourg * to M. de Chateaubriand. Juliette's let-
ter was charming ; but I am provoked at the sixty francs
for the curtains; and is it true that they are horribly
mean? I hope she is mistaken. I have seen Mme.
Guizot and the young people, who are very impatiently
expecting you. M. Guizot, who was at his mother's,
was very aiFable. I took advantage of the opportunity
to ask him for a little contribution in aid of Mile. Ro-
bert : with the most gracious alacrity he sent me a
check for two hundred francs. M. Salvandy came to
see me the same day; he was still radiant from the
fortnight he had passed at Eu. I was very much
pleased with Mile. Godefroid. M. Ballanche is quite
well. Poor M. Brifaut suffers much, but his courage
never fails. What might seem frivolous in his charac-
1 By M. Lenormant. Combourg is the ancestral home of tlie
Chateaubriands. Chateaubriand the author passed part of liis
boyhood there. His chamber and study in the chateau remain the
eame as when he occupied tliem. — Tk.
TO HER NIECE. 153
ter becomes admirable now in his sad situation. Mme.
and Mile. Deifaudis come every evening ; they enter-
tain me with music. Camille's voice is charming.
" This is a very long letter for my poor eyes ; I am
writing as though with white ink, without seeing what
I write. Can you read me ? Adieu, my Amelie ; adieu,
my dear little Juliette ; I expect a letter from Paule.
I embrace you affectionately. I miss you and expect
you."
" " Chatenat, Wednesday, April 10, 1841.1
" I do not wish to influence your plans, and shorten
a stay very necessary, perhaps, to the health of your
children, but for myself, dear Amelie, what I most de-
sire in the world is that we may be together ; if you
return on the 16th, I will be in Paris on the 14th; if
you do not return until the 18th, I will be there on the
16th, to arrange our establishment. Reply to me by
return of mail at Mme. de Boigne's, at Chatenay, near
Antony. I find Mme. de Boigne charming; I am
always more and more pleased with her wit ; but noth-
ing can compare with the pleasure I anticipate in
meeting you again ; I feel that it will not be, perhaps,
as complete for you as for me, but we will talk of the
travellers; we shall hear from them directly and in-
directly. In fine, I hoj^e that with me by your side
you will pass these months of absence a little less sadly
1 M. Lenormant was about setting out for Greece and Constan-
tinople with Messrs. Prosper M^rimee, J.-J. Ampere, and de
Witte.
7*
154 LETTERS OF MADAME R:ECAMIER
than if we had not hit ui)on this plan of living together.
Adieu, dear Araelie ; I press you to my heart ; I em-
brace your dear little ones, and I am charmed, delighted
at our approaching meeting."
" Maintenon, August 13, 1842.
" You will receive these few lines at Lyons ; you will
again see that H6tel de I'Europe where ' you had^
indeed^ the saddest of aunts.'' I follow you to Belley,
to the very spot where I saw you for the first time. I
see again the meadow before your grandmother's house,
where I first conceived the idea of asking your parents
to give you up to me. My design in adopting you was
to provide a solace for your uncle in his old age ; what
I thought to do for him, I have done for myself; it was
he who gave you to me, and I shall always bless his
memory for it.
" As I can only write one word, I charge you, above
all things, to take care of your health, which you neglect
altogether too much. This is our old quarrel, and your
only fault. I beg M. Lenorraant to watch over you ;
my own health is wretched. The Duke and Duchess
de Noailles are so perfect in their attentions that I
scarcely perceive that I am not at home. M. de Cha-
teaubriand will arrive on the 20th of the month. I do
not think he will remain more than a day. We shall
return to Paris by Saint- Vrain, where we shall find
the philosopher Ballanche between ' Dragonneau ' and
* I'Ame Exilee.' I do not know what will become
TO HER NIECE. 155
of me afterward, or what I shall do with the month
of September. Write me often ; reply to all the ques-
tions I should like to ask you. Is there any chance
for you ? Will not the change of ministry be an
obstacle? I know nothing yet of M. Lenormant's re-
port to the Institute ; he has written me a very kind
letter, for which I thank him. M. Brifaut is always
kind and good; he will leave Maintenon with regret:
he is in his element here : the beauties of this royal
chateau, the memories of Louis XIV. and Mme. de
Maintenon, but, above all, the pleasure of seeing him-
self between the Duchess de Noailles and the Duchess
de Talleyrand are joys of which he never tires. I am
almost glad that he has a weakness which gives him so
much satisfaction. They would have been pleased to
have you here ; the Duke de Noailles hopes for it next
summer. Adieu, dear Am^lie ; do not let your children
forget me. I do not count for much in their lives;
they can only love me through you ; I hope that it will
not always be so. Once more, adieu ! I press you to
ray heart."
BND OP PART n.
PART III.
JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE AND THE ABBAYE-
AUX-BOIS.
TN order to portray completely Mrae. Recamier as
-*• she appeared in her most intimate relations of
affection and friendship, I must introduce to the notice
of the reader J.-J. Ampere, the young friend of her
riper years and of her old age, whom she treated as a
son or as a brother. Pardon me if I dwell with pleas-
ure upon the recollections of an epoch which evoke,
alas ! the phantom of my own youth. To recall the
past, is it not the sole comfort left to those whom
Providence dooms to outlive their friends ?
The numerous letters from Mme. Recamier inter-
spersed among these reminiscences of a time that is no
more will, I feel sure, impart to them a genuine in-
terest.
Jean-Jacques Ampere was the only cliild of Andr6-
Marie Ampere, the celebrated natural philosopher, a
man of learning and genius. He had from his eai-liest
youth a passionate admiration for his father, in whose
fame he took the most touching and legitimate pride.
158 JEAN-JACQUES AMP&RE
He never knew his motlier.^ She died when he waa
nearly three years old. His father, called to Paris in
1803,"^ took with him his son and sister. Mile. Ampere
was a pious and saintly maiden lady, who spent her
youth, strength, and little fortune in her brothei''s ser-
vice. He, it is true, loved her tenderly, but, notwith-
standing his goodness of heart, piety, and other rare
endowments, he never succeeded in diffusing around
him or finding for himself either peace or happiness.
Absorbed in the sublime combinations of science. Am-
pere, whose powerful intellect could discover the laws
of electro-dynamics, was ignorant, or at least unmindiul,
of the simplest affairs of every-day life ; consequently
his money was wasted, his house ill-kept, and when,
through some disagreeable accident, he became con-
scious of this want of order, he would fall into a state
of utter but unavailing despair. His nature was thor-
1 The "Journal et Correspondence d'Andre-Marie Ampere,"
published in Paris in 1873, supplies some interesting facts in re-
gard to Ampere's mother. She was Julie Carron, of Lyons, and
A lovely and attractive person. This journal, wiiich is a naive
and pathetic story of the courtship and brief married Life of
Andre Ampere, shows him, as well as his young wife, in a most
engaging light. Her early death was an irreparable loss to her
Kimily, as slie had the practical qualities that were wanting in her
fiusband, and which his sister also appears to have lacked, judging
from Mme. Lenormant's account of their household. Andre Am-
pere was married Aagust 6, 1799. His son was born August 12th,
1800, and his wife died July 14th, 1803. — Tr.
^ According to the "Journal," Ampere did not go to Paris
until November, 1804. He left liis child with his mother and
sister at Polemieux, near Lyons. — Tk.
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 159
oughly upright, kind, and affectionate, his intellect of
a Iiigh order; and he had, what are rarely seen together,
remarkable creative genius, and great aptitude for a
variety of pursuits. Weak in character, and easily
troubled tlirough the excitability of his imagination,
Ampere, awkward and absent-minded, displayed in his
intercourse with the world the simplicity of a child,
without, however, being destitute oi finesse. He was
interested in every thing, understood every thing, was
acquainted with all that was going on in the intellectual
world : he read with the same interest the most ab-
struse treatises on algebra and geometry and the finest
poetical compositions ; he devoured with equal avidity
technical works on physics, natural history, metaphysi-
cal speculations, or the novel that came in his way.
What was truly admirable in him was the disinterested
love of science, which made hira take almost as much
interest in the discoveries and labors of other men as
in his own. A devoted Christian, he fulfilled all his
religious obligations with fervor and simplicity, while
he was at the same time perfectly tolerant. The
European reputation of the illustrious savant and his
relations with all the eminent scientific men of his day,
attracted to his house celebrities of every sort. With
the most kind-hearted eagerness he would press upon
them his hospitality. But his guests had need to re-
member the respect due to his high position in order
to overlook the inelegance and carelessness of his
housekeeping. By a second marriage with a person
who very soon separated from hira, he had a daughter,
160 JEAN-JACQUES AMP£:RE
who was brought up at home under the care of hie
excellent sister.
It was in this brilliantly intellectual atmosphere, this
respectable but ill-ordered household, that J.-J. Ampere
grew up and developed.
Although naturally endowed with talents of a high
order, the young Ampere did not inherit any of his
father's tastes for mathematics and the physical sciences.
A delicate and nervous organization, a mobile and some-
what dreamy imagination, a restless temper, accom-
panied with great sensibility, a loving heart, and a keen
appreciation of the beauties of nature, were indications
rather of the poetic temperament, and, in fact, he was
visited by the Muses at a very early age. To be a
poet was not, however, his true vocation, though he
himself was long deceived upon this point. Though
his memory was very retentive, and his intelligence
remarkably quick, J.-J. Ampere was but a poor scholar ;
so at least all the masters say who directed his educa-
tion. It is evident, however, that his academic studies,
irregular and fir from brilliant as they seemed, were
not wholly without fruit, for on leaving college he ob-
tained the first prize for philosophy.
The happiest and most fondly remembered hours of
Ampere's childhood and youth were passed with the de
Jussieu family. The two households were very intimate,
and met constantly either in the beautiful library of the
Jardin des Plantes, where the de Jussieus' herbarium
was kept, or at the charming rural retreat of Vanteuil,
where three generations of illustrious savants furnished
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 161
an example of simple manners and those patriarchal
virtues which so well accord with vast erudition and
brilliant intellectual culture.
In this privileged circle was a number of gay and
intelligent young people. In their morning walks they
studied botany, and in the evening they acted come-
dies ; they also wrote verses, and J.-J. Ampere was the
liveliest of the company, to whom he communicated his
own high spirits. The following anecdote is one of
many heard from his own lips: During one of the
summer vacations, they noticed every morning that
the fine fruit in the garden that they had admired the
evening before, and expected to find ripe the next day,
had disappeared. As it had not been gathered by the
servants of the family, it was clear that the garden was
robbed at night. Adrien de Jussieu, the last botanist
of this noble line of scientific men, a man of exqui-
site wit, shrewd, yet most kind-hearted, was about to
return to Paris. But before starting he caused it to be
circulated throughout the neighborhood that he should
bring back with him to Vanteuil a watch-dog, from
the Jardin des Plantes, that had been reared in the
cage of a most ferocious lion. He returned in the
course of a few days with a fine large Pyrenees dog,
the mildest and most inofiensive of creatures, who was
thereupon installed in the barn-yard. The poor dog
would not have harmed or bitten any one : he had been
chosen, in fact, for the remarkable gentleness of his dis-
position ; but his reputation for ferocity, presumed to
have been acquired by association with lions, was so
162 JEAN-JACQUES AMP£:RE
thoroughly established, and inspired so salutary a ter«
ror, that never afterward did any thief attempt to scale
the walls or strip the espaliers ; and whenever the harm-
less creature barked, tlie peasants within hearing would
say with respect, " That's the lions' dog."
The young Ampere was presented by Ballanche to
JMme. Recamier on the first of January, 1820. Her last
reverse of fortune had occurred the year before, and she
had already been sometime settled at the convent of
the Abbaye-aux-Bois. I have already, in the " Memoirs
and Correspondence," explained the motives which in-
duced Mme. Recamier to seek this asylum. It was a
courageous and self-denying resolution, which sensible
peojile approved, and which the gay world, in spite of its
frivolity, could appreciate and respect. It was not long
before the little room in the attic of the Abbaye-aux-
Bois became one of the most fashionable centres of good
society.
The circle at the Abbaye was not large on the evening
when M. Ampere came there for the first time accom-
panied by his son. The only persons present besides
Mme. Recamier and her niece were Dugas-Montbel, the
translator of Homer, Lemontey, Matthieu de Montmo-
rency, M. de Genoude, and Ballanche. The wish to be
agreeable to the oldest and most intimate friend of
Ballanche ensured a most gracious welcome to the
great physicist and his son. The learned mathema-
tician was very well pleased with his evening ; but a
far deeper impression was made upon the young poet,
and before the expiration of many weeks, J.-.T. Ampere,
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 163
captivated and enthralled, had become a daily guest at
the cell in the Abbaye-aux-Bois. We were so accus-
tomed to see every one yielding to this sway, and
becoming devotees of the shrine at which we all wor-
shipped, that nothing seemed to us more natural.
Rarely did any resist the influence of that all-potent
charm which had its basis in the truest benevolence,
the most painstaking kindness, and which, exerted as
it was by a lofty and delicate soul, appealed to all that
was highest and best in each one's own nature.^
• M. Sainte-Beuve, with whom Ampere was connected by a
bond of intellectual sympathy rather than of friendship, and from
whom he had long been separated by his travels, lapse of time,
and, above all, difference of political opinion, has devoted a charm-
ing and brilliant article to the memory of his distinguished comrade
in literature. The following account of Ampere's first relations
with the Abbaye-aux-Bois is borrowed from this article : —
" The summer or autumn following this introduction was passed
by Mme. Ilecamier in the Vallee-aux-Loups, where Ampere also
spent a few weeks in company of his friend de Jussieu, who had
there a pied-a-terre. During this happy, rapturous time, his im-
agination yielded itself captive to all the charms of a refined
and choice companionship, made still more attractive by a set-
ting sun of divine beauty. Ampere returned to Paris about a fort-
night earlier than Mme. Recamier. As soon as he heard of her
return he presented himself at the Abbaye-aux-Bois and found her
alone. She talked to him with her usual grace of their charming
days, their drives and walks in the valley, of the cheerful inter-
course to which the young man's animated conversation had lent
an additional charm. Then, touching with her exquisite tact the
tender chord, she casually intiuiated that there had perhaps been
opportunities for warmer feelings, that had they stayed there much
longer she would have been afraid at least lest a heart inclined
to poetry might have begun to weave a romance, for her young
164 JEAN-JACQUES AMP ME
All Mme. Recamier's friends, also, were delighted
with the young Ampere. Born in August, 1800, he was
not then twenty years old; and his face, which long
remained beardless, was almost boyish in appearance.
The charm of his conversation was already very remark-
able, and his wonderful attainments, joined to his abso-
lute ignorance of the ways of the world, made him
appear very piquant and original. Extremely fond of
discussion, he engaged in it eagerly with everybody,
and on all subjects. But what rendered him particu-
larly dear to Mme. Recamier, and established such close
and deep sympathy between him and Ballanche, was
the exquisite — I might almost say, feminine — delicacy
of his soul, the generous enthusiasm of his aspirations,
the rectitude of all his instincts. As members of a
secret society recognize their brethren by certain signs,
so natures of a high moral order are prompt to under-
stand each other, and open their ranks to those who
resemble them. If Mme. Recamier was kind to every-
body, in her affections she was exclusive ; she confined
them to a narrow circle. She was fond of saying that
there was " a certain taste in perfect friendship to
niece was then with her. At these words Ampere could not re-
Btrain himself, but suddenly bursting out, a<^itated and sobbing,
'Ah! it is not for her,' he cried, and fell upon his knees. Ills
declaration was made, his confession had escaped him ; he had,
without intending it, uttered the sacred word, and lie would not
take it back. This is pure Petrarch or pure Dante, as you will.
From that moment his destiny was sealed. Mme. Kecamier had
only to go on fascinating him, calming him by degrees, but never
curing him."
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 165
which commonplace characters could not attain." But
the young Ampere had a superior nature, and, hence-
forward admitted to Mme. Recamier's fireside on the
footing of a son or a brother, he was for thirty years
one of her family.
Ten years from the day of his first presentation at
the Abbaye-aux-Bois, Ampere reminded Mme. Re-
camier of those early days of their friendship in a letter
written from Hyeres, whither he had accompanied his
father, who was already sufiering from chronic laryn-
gitis, which was finally the cause of his death.
" HTi;EES, December 27, 1829.
" I hope, madame, that this letter will reach you upon
the very first day of that year in the course of which I
shall see you again. I am not, you know, a great lover
of forms, but the first day of the year is an epoch for
me, the return of which I cannot see unmoved. It was
on New Year's day that I saw you for the first time.
That moment when you dawned upon me, dressed in
white, with a grace of which till then I had no con-
ception, will never be forgotten. It was just ten years
a^o. Between that time and this lies all my youth ;
and, at every joyous or painful epoch during that inter-
val, you reappear to me with all the charm of that first
day, and with even greater, for daily intercourse with
you has revealed to me other reasons for loving and
admiring you. I think fondly of this as I write you
from my little cell. I say to myself that, when you read
this letter, you will be moved a little as you think of
166 JEAN-JACQUES AMP£:RE
the placid and pure affection that has lasted ten years,
that nothing can alter, and upon which we can count
for all the future.
" But how sad it is to be writing you all this, two
hundred leagues away, and to think that I shall not,
like those who are near you, come to dine with you
to-morrow enfamille! I hope at least that, when you
are all met together, you will think of one who might
be there and so happy, but who is far away and
sad.
"I find myself continually counting the months, the
days, trying to realize what a month is, how the one
just gone has passed; then putting all together, and
endeavoring to get an idea of what the whole will
be. I am very impatient to be able to feel that this
year, which I must end away from you, is among the
things of the past : it seems to me that, when I have
reached the one that is to bring me back, I shall have
made a great advance. But how many days yet, how
many weeks ! Oh, how I wish it were spring ! They
say it begins here in the month of Februai'y : that will
be none too soon for me. Will you not send me for
my New Year's gift a few of those lines that you alone
know how to write ? It will take you only a moment,
and I, I live long on such moments. My father coughs
a little, and I see by that how much the slightest acci-
dent is to be feared; however, he is already better, and
if he will be prudent all will go well. My journey
ought to result in good to compensate me for being
obliged to undertake it. Adieu, adieu ; my best wishes
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOTS. 1G7
for your health and happiness, and may you remember
your friend."
This letter, revealing with so much grace and sim-
plicity one of those attachments which are unchange-
able because they are pure, has made rae anticipate a
little. Let us return, therefore, to the early youth of
Ampere. I have said that while still at college the
demon of poetry took possession of the young student,
in whom his fither would have preferred a passion for
mathematics. But the number of those who immedi-
ately, and without feeling their way, find their true
course, is small. At twenty, J.-J. Ampere, besides
some miscellaneous poems, had composed a tragedy,
"Rosemonde," taking his plot from an incident in the
history of the Lombards in Italy. The young poet had,
to a certain degree, faith in his ultimate success, and
only needed encouragement to persevere. " Rose-
monde " was a respectable production cast in the classic
mould. It was read before the committee of the
"Theatre Frangais," and was well received. But at
the Abbaye-aux-Bois it was thought that the great
talents of Ampere might be better employed than in
writing for the theatre. When his excellent father
anxiously said to Ballanche, "My good friend, do you
think that my son has. genius ? " the candid philoso-
pher, though confident that his friend's son, if he had
not the genius of Corneille or of Shakspeare, had talent
enough to insure him a brilliant future, was very care*
ful not to give an affirmative reply.
168 JEAN-,TACQUES AMPERE
Up to the year 1823, with the exception of a pedes-
trian tour in Switzerland, in company with his dear
friend Adrien de Jussieu, J.-J. Ampere had scarcely
quitted Paris except to go to Vanteuil, and, after he
ha 3 become one of the family at the Abbaye-aux-Bois,
to accompany Mme. Recamier either to the Vallee-aux-
Loups or to Saint-Germain. It is rather singular that
a very decided taste for the study of foreign languages
and literatures did not sooner arouse the instinct of
the tourist in the man whose passion for travelling was
one day to lead him to so many different points of the
globe, but, as I have before said, his true vocation was
not yet clear to him. Unforeseen circumstances led to
his first journey.
Although Mme. Recamier, both from taste and tem-
perament, kept aloof from all political intrigues, it so
happened that a change of ministry, which occurred
toward the end of the year 1822, disturbed the quiet
of her retreat. M. de Chateaubriand became minister
of foreign affairs in the place of Matthieu de Montmo-
rency. The divergence of their political views, and
the consequent antagonism between two friends who
held so large a place in the heart of Mme. R6camier,
caused her the greatest pain ; and, in spite of her efforts
to make the situation less difiicult, she suffered from it
cruelly.
In the summer of the same year, 1823, her niece,
whom she treated and loved as a daughter, fell danger-
ously ill ; when she became convalescent, it was decided
by the physicians that she ought not to pass the winter
AND THE ABBA YE- A UX-BOIS. 169
in Paris. This alone, no doubt, would have determined
Mme. Recamier to go to Italy, but there was still
another motive for departure : wounded in her feelings,
grieved and surprised to find how intoxicated by eleva-
tion to power the illustrious writer had become who
was the object of her deep admiration, she thought, and
rightly, that a temporary absence on her part, would
restore tranquillity to all hearts. Accordingly, Mme.
Recamier set out for Rome November 2d, 1823 ; the
faithful Ballanche unhesitatingly accompanied her, and
the young Ampere, having made his father understand
the help such a journey would be to him in his studies,
received permission to join the little party.
Mme. Recamier and her devoted friends gave a
month to the journey from Paris to Rome. After
reaching Turin they travelled by short stages with
hired horses, going from city to city ; making some stay
in Florence, exploring ancient monuments, churches,
museums, libraries. During the mid-day halt, as well
as in the evening, they talked of what they had seen,
they read aloud to each other, or Ballanche and his
young friend earnestly discussed questions of history and
philosophy. Mme. Recamier had the wonderful faculty
of instantly transforming the meanest chamber of a
wayside inn and giving it an air of elegance : a cloth
thrown over a table, books and flowers arranged upon
it, a muslin coverlet spread upon the bed, and her own
distinguished air and inimitable grace, transported you
as by enchantment into the realm of poetry. Ballanche
and Ampere projected a "Guide for the Traveller in
8
170 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
Italy," which was to meet every want and satisfy every
curiosity : the arts, history, politics, rural economy,
manners, — every thing was to be found in it, not
forgetting information respecting the best inns and
the price of provisions. One day, when they were
complacently talking over this comprehensive plan,
Ballanche, who was sitting by the fire, jumped up, ex-
claiming, "Yes, for that work, just as it is, I would not
take a hundred thousand crowns ! " A general burst
of laughter silenced Ballanche's magniloquence, and the
wonderful guide-book is yet to be written. But what
would the impatient generations of our day think of
such a mode of travelling? A month seems to them
more than sufficient to get a complete idea of Rome,
Florence, and Naples. Since the invention of steam
and of railways, people think they can acquire a knowl-
edge of different countries by merely passing through
them: they forget that to know a country we must
live in it.
It is easy to conceive what a series of delights a
sojourn in Rome oflfered to young Ampere. To apply
his mind to the study of objects so new to him and so
interesting; to enjoy, \vith the fresh heart of a youth
of twenty-three, the masterpieces of art, a beautiful
sky, fine scenery, and all this in company with an in-
comparable woman whom he idolized, to be admitted
through her to the most distinguished society of all
countries, to find at Rome as ambassador of France a
Montmorency, who received him with fatherly kind-
ness, was, indeed, an accumulation of delights. The
i^---
HORTENSE EUGENIE DE BKAUHARNAIS (QUEEN HORTENSE)
from an old portrait
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 171
impression made upon Ampere was lasting : the mag-
netic influence which so continually drew him back to
the Eternal City, and converted him almost into a
Koman, dates certainly from this happy epoch.
I must not forget to mention in this connection an
important episode of the sojourn at Rome. Queen
Hortense and her two sons passed the winter of 1824
in that city, once the asylum of all fallen greatness, and
where the Bonaparte family were gathered about the
mother of Napoleon. Mme. Recaraier met frequently
the Duchess de Saint-Leu; these two women — both
the sport of destiny, though in different ways — were
delighted to see each other again. They made appoint-
ments to meet, sometimes in the Coliseum, sometimes
on the Campagna, beyond the church of St. John
Lateran, and frequently at some villa. During these
promenades the two were wont to hold long conversa-
tions apart, and Ballanche and Ampere meanwhile
passed the time with Prince Napoleon, the Queen's
eldest son (her younger son. Prince Louis, who was
still a mere youth, rarely made one of the party).
The exiled heir of Napoleon was a man of very gen-
erous impulses ; chafing under the inaction to which he
was condemned by fate, he thought of taking part in
the struggle for Greek independence, and joining the
ranks of the Philhellenists. He talked of this project
with Mme. Recamier's friends, and questioned them
about France and the state of public opinion there,
choosing rather Ampere for his confidant as being
nearer his own age. He asked him if he knew M. Moc-
172 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
quartl.^ That name which has since acquired great noto-
riety was then wholly unknown, at least to these gen-
tlemen; and they were obliged to confess, to the great
astonishment of the Prince, that they had never heard
of him. To those who know the attitude of opposition
maintained by Ampere under the second Empire, there
is something very piquant in these transient relations
with the Imperial family.
After the festivities of Easter, the Holy Sacrament
and St. Peter, the little French colony, with Mme. R^-
camier for its centre, repaired to Naples, whence they
visited Paestum, Pompeii, and Ilerculaneum. Mme.
Recamier had detennined to pass a second winter in
Italy; meanwhile Ampere's letters from Paris were
growing more and more sad: his father found his
absence long and painful ; he did not recall his son,
whose tour he had sanctioned, but he was so unhappy
in his loneliness, that Mme. Recamier and Ballanche
decided that their young friend must return to France.
Accordingly, Ampere sadly tore himself away from his
studies and the society which had now become, as it
were, a necessity to him. He returned home by way
of Bologna, Padua, Venice, and Milan. At each of
these stopping-places he found words of comfort and
encouragement from his friends.
In reply to one of his letters, Mme. Recamier wrote
to him : —
1 Afterward private secretary of Napoleon III. — Tr.
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 173
"Naples, Thursday, Nov. 16, 1824.
" I have just received your second letter from Ter-
racina, which touches me to the bottom of my heart.
I think of you, I follow you on your lonely route ; I
see you, like the poor wandering pigeon : —
" ' Mon frere a-t-il tout ce qu'il veut,
Bon souper, bon gite et le reste 1 '
" I am obliged to think of your excellent father, in
order not to consider your departure absurd.
" I am delighted with what you are reading. Do
you not work at all during this long journey? You
promised me an ode upon Venice.
" I do not know when I shall be able to leave Naples.
They are not willing to let me go : I am easily per-
suaded ; all places are alike to me. I hope, however,
that I shall take pleasure in returning to Paris, but it
Avill be a mixed pleasure. I have just been walking in
the Margravine's villa ; ^ the weather was delightful, the
air soft and full of perftime. I was alone. I stayed there
a long time, my heart oppi-essed by many memories.
" Adieu, until Saturday."
TO J.-J. AMPi;RE.
"Naples, November 26.
" It was impossible for me to write you by the last
post. M. Ballanche undei'took that duty. Only the
1 A charming villa on Moimt Posilipo, now belonging, if I mis*
take not, to Mrs. Augustus Craven.
174 JEA N-JA CQ UES A MPS RE
fear lest you might be uneasy gives nie strength for it
to-day. I write you this little note in my bed. I have
just received a letter from M. Givre ^ and one from you.
I am impatient to reply to you, but I am so weak that
I have not the courage to attempt it. I have been five
days in bed with a sort of fever, and a strange uncom-
fortable feeling. M. Ballanche, fearing to alarm you,
did not probably tell you of this ; but I prefer that you
should be alarmed on the score of my health rather
than my friendship. All the details you give me of
your journey revive my regrets. IIow sad to think
that you are so solitary when it would have been so
pleasant for us all to travel the same road together !
« Adieu."
" Rome, December 3, 1824.
" You wrote me from Venice the most affecting, the
kindest, the wittiest letter possible.
"I do not know why I should go to Venice: you
give me so vivid and animated a description of it that
I have already seen it all. I have been there with you,
and I doubt whether the objects themselves would
please me as much as your description of them.
"You know now why I did not write: my health is
much better since my return to Rome, and hencefor-
ward you shall have a few lines by every post ; but the
mail goes only twice a week, Saturday and Thursday.
Why did you not send me the verses you wrote in
1 M. Desmousseaux de Givre, secretary of legation at Home.
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 175
Venice ? They are mine : I wish to put them with the
others you left with me. When I return I will bring
them with me, together with your letters, and we will
read them all over again in the little cell."
With a heart full of regrets Ampere arrived home
towai-d the end of November. Great was the joy over
the return of the child whose presence was so longed
for, and the thought of his father's happiness partly
compensated our traveller for the bitter sacrifice he had
made. However, as they were leaving the breakfast-
table one morning, shortly after his arrival. Ampere,
the father, who had not spoken a word during the
meal, suddenly exclaimed, as he looked at his son, " It
is strange, Jean-Jacques, I thought it would give me
more pleasure to see you again." — "Ah," murmured
the son, sadly, " tlien why did you not let me stay at
Naples ? "
While looking forward to a return to the pleasant
intercourse at the Abbaye-aux-Bois, Ampere kept up
with his friends an active correspondence. He was
engaged upon another tragedy, " La Juive," a Spanish
subject, whose plot he had thought out during his
journey. In his letters he describes his life, and talks
of his labors and his ennui ; in return they kept him
informed of the doings of the little company of friends
who had now returned to Rome to be present at the
opening of the Jubilee. It is Mme. Recamier again
who replies to him.
176 JEAN-JACQUES AMPME
" Rome, December 20, 1824.
" How kind you are to write with so much punctu-
ality ! Your letters are charming. It is like talking
with you ; but this momentary illusion makes me only
the more regret your absence. The ever-present chann,
the pleasant intimacy, the wit, so si^arkling and so
varied, which gave life to all our intercourse, — this is
what we daily miss, and I take comfort in seeing these
regrets shared by all who know you. The holy year
is not what I imagined it to be. About thirty male
and ten or twelve female pilgrims are all we have seen
so far. We went yesterday to see the female pilgrims
eat their supper; they were waited upon by the
Princess di Lucca, and all the great Roman ladies, and
the Princess Doria, beautiful as an angel. All these
ladies, in black gowns and white aprons, performed the
offices of servants ; they were washing the feet of the
poor pilgrims when we arrived. Would you believe it?
I was not the least affected by this scene, — I, whose
imagination is so easily moved by things of that sort.
These poor women seemed to me so embarrassed at
being made a spectacle of; the aid given them, which
is limited to a hospitality of three days, seemed so
pitiful after such pompous preparations, — that I found
myself almost acquiescing in M. Lemontey's philosophy;
and I saw, in the passing and theatrical self-abasement
of these great ladies, only a new means of self-glorifica-
tion, another occasion for pride, though doubtless they
were themselves not conscious of it. But, in spite of
the ease with which I enter into the impressions of
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 177
Others, I could not lend myself to this illusion. Adieu,
adieu. What are you doing? Are you working upon
" La Juive " ? Remember me to your father ; you know-
how much I am attached to him. Say to M. Delecluze
that I shall take good care not to write to him as long
as I can have you to speak for me. We look forward
with pleasure to seeing him in Paris."
In another note Mme. Recamier gently reproves
Ampere for allowing himself to become despondent: —
" Rome, January 17, 1825,
" Your last letter caused me much pain. I had to
say to myself that it was written under the influence
of some transient impression. I will not make your
blessings weai'isome to you by recounting all the rea-
sons you have for being satisfied with yourself and
your lot. But in truth you are an ingrate, and you
ought every day to thank God for all he has given you.
" I still expect to leave in March. I dream of a sum-
mer in France, and then a return to Italy. I pass my
life in forming projects; it is the malady of those who
are not content with their fate. You are included in
all my plans ; it cannot be otherwise. I hope to find on
my return some fine verses, and promise myself the
pleasure of listening to them in the little cell."
" Saturday, 14.
" The Duke de Laval sends me two letters from you
that aiTived at the same time. He says : ' Here are the
8* I.
178 JEAN-JA CQ UES AMPERE
billets-doux they write to you under cover of M. Bal-
lanche; he and I are in a pretty business.' — Your
letters fill me with remorse for not writing oftener, but
then we shall soon meet again. We leave in March.
M. Recamier, as I have confided to you, has met with
new losses. I shall have many vexations to encounter
upon my arrival, — jDrosaic troubles which are so hard
for me to bear. I need not tell you to keep this secret ;
I know your discretion, and M. Recamier is particularly
anxious to conceal his situation. Apart from its festivals,
the holy year is much like all other years ; all the stran-
gers have fled ; we are alone, which suits me exactly.
Guerin has been very ill, but is now out of danger; his
situation excited lively and general interest. Adieu.
Write to me always punctually; your letters interest
me greatly. What has become of Mile. Mars ? Remem-
ber us to M. Montbel and M. Delecluze. We often talk
of him. We have needed you both very much to put
life into our sad eveninsfs.
" I walk daily in the avenue Santa-Croce in Geru-
salemme, where we used to go together. Do you recol-
lect the bright sky, the ruins, the ground all covered
with flowers, our pleasant and confidential talks?
" M. Ballanche and all your friends in Rome desire
to be remembered to you. I have heard of you through
Duke Matthieu, who was delighted to see you. I have
received a very sad, desponding letter from M. de
Chateaubriand. So you have heard of my new passion
for Mme. Swetchine? She is to take the apartment
which I give up at the Abbaye-aux-Bois. She is very
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 179
kind and bright ; she likes you already, and you will bo
much pleased with her,"
Mme. Recamier left Rome April 20, 1825, and on her
way announced to M. Ampere the return of the little
colony so impatiently expected : —
" FoLiGNO, April 23d.
"It is three days since we set out on our journey
homeward, and each moment brings us nearer you. 1
intended to write you on leaving Rome, but I was so
interrupted I could not find a moment's opportunity.
Am^lie has been very ill; she is already better. I
am writing you these lines from Foligno ; the date, I
trust, will give you pleasure. In a few weeks we shall
be all together again in the little cell talking over our
travels. I have a secret ^ to tell you that will interest
you, and in which you will play an extremely pretty
part. Adieu, adieu ! I shall write to you from Bo-
logna and Venice. We shall not go to Florence ; but
I have sent for my letters which, will be forwarded to
Bolosrna."
'O*
At the time of Mme. Recamier's return to the Abbaye-
aux-Bois, political events had brought about great
changes in the respective situations of her friends. M.
de Chateaubriand, in his turn, had been dismissed from
the ministry, and was waging against M. de Villele
1 Her niece Amelie's engagement to M. Charles Lenormant.
It was Ampere who introduced tlie latter to Mme. Recamier in
Naples.
180 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
that formidable opposition which, without his intending
it, was to result in the overthrow of the elder branch
of the house of Bourbon. Matthieu de Montmorency,
who was now a member of the French Academy,
had been appointed governor to the Duke de Bor-
deaux.
In Mme. Recamier's family circle events of no less
importance took place. A few months after her return
she had the great pleasure of seeing her niece united in
marriage with Charles Lenormant. Nearly at the same
time M. de Montmorency, the dear and saintly friend
of her youth, was suddenly snatched away from her by
the rupture of an aneurism.
It was in 1825 that Mme. Recamier presented J.-J.
Ampere to M. de Chateaubriand, who directly con-
ceived a gi'eat liking for this young man, to Avhom he
became year by year more attached. He delighted in
Ampere's activity of mind, and admired in him an in-
dependence and elevation of character in symjDathy
with his own nature.^
About this period, and I have reason to believe for
the first and only time, a marriage was proposed for
Ampere. The lady was Mile. Cuvier, whose father, the
naturalist, had treated him with the greatest cordiality.
At that time all Europe was flocking to the Jardin du
J According to Sainte-Beuve, this liking was by no means re-
ciprocal. Ampere grew very tired of Chateaubriand ; and once,
during an absence of Mme. Kdcamier, had actually the temerity
to publish an article in tlie " Globe " reflecting sharply, though in-
directly, on the great man. — Ta.
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 181
Roi, and crowding the beautiful galleries where Cuvier's
collections were displayed. In the midst of the dis-
tinguished assembly, seated by her mother's side, could
be seen a young girl who, though not striking in ap-
pearance, had a most kindly and intelligent expression.
A modest reserve did not prevent her being very much
interested in the conversation, nor even from taking
part in it, and giving proof of as much wit as knowl-
edge. This was Clementine, Cuvier's only child, an
ansrelic creature, in whom the famous academician was
pleased to see the reflex of some of the rai-est of his
own intellectual gifts. She showed for young Ampere
a scarcely perceptible shade of preference, which be-
trayed itself only by her greater readiness to address
to him rather than to another a conversation which
turned exclusively upon literature and science. On his
part, he felt himself filled with tender respect for the
young girl ; and the feeling she awakened in him might
easily have ripened into love, had he not feared her
father's domineering spirit. He felt that no one could
become Cuvier's son-in-law without submitting his neck
to a yoke, — a condition thoroughly distasteful to a
man of Ampere's essentially independent character.
To his father, who was a friend of Cuvier, the match
seemed in every respect desirable ; he could not under-
stand his son's hesitation, and consequently this differ-
ence of opinion was a source of vexation and anxiety
to both.
To escape his father's importunities, and also to ex-
amine calmly his own feelings, J.-J. Ampere left Paria
182 JEAN-JACQUES AMP£:RE
for Vanteuil, whither Mine. Recamier, the confidant of
his perplexities, wrote to him : —
" Tuesday, 23d.
"I have received your little note: I am somewhat
better, but still very sad. Every evening we see JM.
Alexis de Jussieu. He is very agreeable, and is sin-
cerely attached to you. I still purpose leaving for the
poor little valley on the first of August. M. and Mme.
Lenormant will not go until a few days later. What
eflTect has solitude upon your feelings ? Do you see a
little more clearly into your heart ? Adieu ! Do not
distress yourself, and return."
Providence did not long permit the illustrious savant
to cherish this hope so dear to his heart. In less than
two years, Mile. Cuvier, cut oflf by death, bequeathed to
her friends and all who had ever met her the memory
of a truly angelic being.^
This matrimonial scheme, of which the Cuvier family
knew nothing, did not occupy the mind of the young
scholar to the exclusion of his favorite intellectual pui--
suits. Scandinavian poetry having excited his curiosity,
he resolved to devote himself wholly to the study of
German and the languages of the North. Accordingly,
he left Paris in the autumn of 1826 for Bonn, where
he intended to pass the winter.
1 Mile. Cuvier died of consumption, September 28, 1827. She
was, at the time of her death, engaged to be naarried, by her own
choice, to a M. Duparquet. — Tb.
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 183
At that time, Niebuhr had brought the university of
this city into great repute. The first volume of his
Roman history had ah-eady been published (it was not
translated into French), and our neighbors had been
stimulated to great activity in historical studies by the
noN'elty and happy audacity of its author's researches.
Other professors besides the famous historian of Rome
contributed to the fame of the Rhenish University.
William Schlegel, the purely literary and French form
of whose lectures offended pure Teutons and provoked
vehement attacks, was then establishing the first school
of instruction in the Sanscrit language and literature :
Welcker, now the sole survivor of the famous period
of the University of Bonn, was explaining the classic
writers of Greece. The latter was one of the first ex-
amples of that happy union of two orders of erudition,
the literary and the archaeological, which has been so
fertile in results. He infused new life, so to speak,
into philology by his method of comparing the writ-
inofs of the ancients with the monuments of ancient
art.
Some people were astonished to see J.-J. Ampere in
the latter part of his life abandoning the purely literary
questions which hitherto had chiefly occupied him, to
write a Roman history. But for him it was only a return
to the studies of his youth : he was plunging anew into
memories of that University of Bonn which had exer-
cised so great an influence upon his life. In the plan
of " L'Histoire Romaine a Rome," and in his manner of
explaining the gi-eat features in the annals of this
184 JEA N-JA CQ UES A MP&RE
sovereign people, we clearly recognize the pupil of Nie-
buhr ; wliile in that large portion of the work devoted
to monuments of antiquity we detect the influence of
the teachings of Welcker.
Two letters exchanged between Charles Lenormant
and Ampere about this time will give the best idea of
the interest felt by all the inmates of the Abbaye-aux-
Bois in the young student, and the nature of the
studies then claiming his time and attention: —
CH. LENORMANT TO J.-J. AMPilRE.
" Pakis, Shrove Sunday.
" I foresee that upon your return to Paris nobody
will be able to contend with you on any subject. I
confess that I consider it a great privilege to be able
to draw from original sources as you are doing. The
Germans, if they had ever so little foresight, would do
well to close them against you, for workers like you
are great rogues. We frequently talk over at the
Abbaye the great step you have taken, and we are all
enchanted at it. It seems to us all that no one is better
fitted than you to enlarge the field of literary criticism
which with us is so narrow. But is it really true that
you have wholly given up poetry ? That would be
monstrous ingratitude, — an evil sentiment of which I
did not suppose you capable. For my part, I should be
very sorry to lose those Souliotes ^ whose gallant bear-
ing so captivated me. It seems to me that in a mind
1 " Un Episode des giieiivs de Souli," published by Ampere in
the vohune called " Hemes de I'.jcdie.''
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 185
like yours there is room for every thing ; it is so rare
a thing with us to find the poetical faculty combined
with original thought.
" I do not know whether you ever think where you
are of our unhappy literature. I imagine that upon your
return you will find that it has come down a peg or
two. Every thing still combines to keep up an interest
in history ; we must cling to that as to an ark of safety.
"I am looking forward impatiently to discussing
Niebuhr with you. Shall we never have a good trans-
lation of his book ? Sautelet has told me most astonish-
ing things about it. I am all the more impatient as I
seem to be for ever debarred from giving ray attention
to the original sources of ancient history. I have been
devoting myself, amid the constant distractions of my
social and official life, to the Middle Ages. I shall con-
tinue to pursue my labors in that direction.^
" Oh that I could, like you, read High German ! Oh
that I could feast upon the Niebelungen, which, liow-
ever, I find a little too northern for my taste ! By the
way, would it not be possible for you to bring me home
some of the tales of the l'2th century troubadours who
wrote in German for the courts of Suabia and Bavaria?
It seems to me there must exist some voluminous work
on the subject, very complete, full of research, but
i It is interesting to notice liovv mistaken people sometimes are
respecting tlieir true vocation. Younger tlian Ampere, Charles
Lenormant was then only twenty-four years old, and seems to
have had no suspicion that his love of art would lead him to apply
himself with ardor to the study of antiquity, and make him one of
the most eminent arohasologists of the day.
186 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
which, as usual, has uoi been translated into French.
At all events, I should be much obliged to you if you
would give me all the information you can, at least as
far as books are concerned.
"Adieu, monsieur; go on heaping up treasures for
our poor France, who one day will, I hope, thank you
heartily for it. The Rhine is a terrible barrier. It
is for you and those like you, if there be many such,
to throw across that accursed river a bridge that will
endure. But, above all, make haste, that you may the
sooner return ; the Abbaye is dead since your depart-
ure ; the life has died out of our discussions : come
and reanimate them with the immense material you
will have gathered."
J.-J. AMPi:RE TO CHARLES LENORMANT.
" Bonn, March 4, 1827.
"I am ashamed of letting your kind and friendly
letter get the start of me. I will not, at any rate, make
you wait for my answer. I have for a long time in-
tended to write to you, but have put it off from day to
day, wishing to talk to you of Niebuhr at some length.
Now I think it will be better to postpone that until my
return. He is not a man that can be readily put into
aphorisms. I hardly know what success his book would
have in France ; he is forced into constant discussions
which lead him into a mass of details, and the more
he is obliged to explain, the more concise he makes his
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 187
style. One thing is certain : it is the work of a superior
man.
"You are very good to count upon my knowledge;
do not rely too much upon it, however : I am tempted
here by so many different objects of study, even with-
out quitting the round I have marked out for myself,
that I think I shall bring back to France more of meth-
ods and materials than of acquirements properly so
called. I am like a general of cavalry, who, with one
little squadron, should be obUged to hold in check a
dozen army coi'ps, and I make a charge now in one
direction, now in another, but the enemy seems to grow
more and more numerous. Still I hope that I shall have
learned at least one thing here ; that is, how to learn.
" Since you are still deep in the Middle Ages, it will
not be uninteresting to you to learn that they are mak-
ing a collection of the " Historici Rerum Germanico-
rum." Herr Pertz, who was for a long time in Sicily
with this object, is now in Paris. Perhaps it would be
well for you to try to see him; if I remember our con-
versations rightly, Germany and Sicily are just what
you want. Tliis Herr Pertz has discovered in Paris, so
it appears, some new laws of the Lombards and some
of Charlemagne's Capitularies which have escaped
Baluze. Just like those confounded Germans!
"One of the professors at Bonn has written an excel-
lent book on the troubadours, the poet Uhland on the
trouveres, and they have just published at Leipsic an
edition of Calderon in Spanish, very cheap, and infi-
nitely more correct than any published in Spain.
188 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
" As for the poets you speak of, I do not think that
any complete work upon them exists ; but many of
their works are published, and of some there are excel-
lent editions. I mean to bring home with me every
thing of that sort I can, for I have made up my mind
to ruin myself in books. My books and my German I
gladly put at your disposition. Moreover, if I do not
succeed in inspiring you with some little affection for
my beloved Niebelungen, you can at least admire the
Minnesingers, for they are half southern. It appears
that their epic poetry is derived from that of the trou-
badours, and our poets of the langue d^oil have cer-
tainly supplied them with the materials for their
chivalrous epics. Moreover, I promise you a history
of the House of Suabia, by Herr Raumer, which is
highly spoken of I am sure that yours will be infi-
nitely better. I doubt whether it be possible for a
German to have your strong and true feeling for the
South and for art.
Adieu, monsieur ; our correspondence shall not stop
here, but sliall continue until coiTespondence gives place
to what is far better, to conversation, to the delight-
ful discussions to which I look forward. While await-
ing the day of battle, allow nic, like a true Teutonic
knight, to press cordially the hand of my adversary.
Do as much for me to Messrs. Ballanche, Montbel, and
Paul David."
Never was there a mind more full of life and anima-
tion than that of Ampere : these two qualities, it might
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 189
be said, were superabundant in him. His absence,
therefore, could not fail to create a great void in the
flxmily circle at the Abbaye-aux-Bois : all felt it, but
Mme. Reeamier most of all. Nevertheless, she had
been the first to recognize the great benefit which
would accrue to him from a year's hard study at a
learned German university. She did her utmost, there-
fore, to encourage the project. It is pleasant to notice
the afiectionate solicitude expressed in her letters, and
how firmly as well as kindly she advises him.
A few of these letters I select at random : —
" Paris, September 2, 1826.
"I have been wishing to write you, and I do not
know why I have not done so before. I cannot disap-
prove of your plans, but I miss you. I have seen your
father several times, I love him on your account and
on his own; he is an excellent man. At present he
has only one idea, but as it is easy for me to share it,
we get on admirably, and talk only of you.
" Adieu ! Write to me, and ever rely upon my ten-
derest friendship."
" October 8, 1826.
" I am so touched at the pleasure you tell me my last
letter gave you, that I lose not a moment in order that
you may still receive these few lines of remembrance at
Berne. I repeat again, that I both miss you and ap-
prove of your plans. I shall see your father frequently.
I was charmed with the last conversation I had with
190 JEAN-JACQUES AMPJ^RE
him. lie is resigned to your absence, and hopes much
from the future : you know that he is going to pass a
few days at Vanteuil. I shall see him often this winter;
I intend to ask him to give me the verses you have
sent him : I am a little jealous of this preference ; it
seems to me that I have the first right to your poetical
confidences. Adieu ! This long absence is, however,
very sad, I miss our pleasant habits. Am^lie is ill;
they fear another miscarriage. The Duke de Laval
leaves in a few days : my life is made up of anxieties
and regrets. Write to me, give me a detailed account
of your occupations, and be well assured that you will
find us upon your return unchanged.
" I think I may ask you, as a sister might, to apply to
me if you have any temporary embarrassment in regard
to your finances. I lay claim to confidences of all sorts.
Once more, adieu; keep busy, and remember your
friends. I have a presentiment that you will work out
your destiny in accordance with your desires."
" December 13, 1826.
" I have been meaning every day to write to you,
and reproaching myself for a silence which leaves you
ignorant of the great pleasure your letters have given
me ; and I have just received a note from you so sad
and affecting that I cannot forgive myself for the pain
I have caused you. You must have received a long
letter from Alexis de Jussieu. You are the chief and
almost the only subject of our conversations. You
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 191
know I like M. de Jussieu, but I fear that the want of
stability in his character will be detrimental to his suc-
cess in life. Without determination and perseverance
we can do nothing truly great.
" This is why, though I feel your absence sensibly,
I have so strongly commended a resolution which gave
proof of a strong will. I have never doubted your
mental abilities, but I have sometimes feared that the
versatility of your character might prevent your em-
ploying them profitably ; reassured on this point, I am
at ease about all the rest.
" The account you give me of the employment of
your time causes me real satisfaction. This journey
will be of great service to you.
"Your first visit to M. Schlegel also very much
amused me: your letters are charming. Say to M.
Schlegel that I have not forgotten him, and let me
know how I can send him a lithograph of my portrait
by Gerard.
" I seldom see your father ; he is still constant in his
visits to M. Cuvier. When thinking of the future, do
your thoughts ever turn in that direction ? Is that all
forgotten ? Why is it you say nothing to me about it ?
I should also like to know when you purpose returning.
] can promise you that you will find your friends pre-
cisely as you left them, and that you will have lost
nothing by your absence."
102 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
" March 26, 1827.
" I have received two letters frcin you since I last
wrote. I have no need to tell you with what interest
I read your letters. I was especially charmed by the
article you were afraid would shock me.
" The impression left upon you by this course of
exegetical lectures seems to denote a progress upon
which I set the highest value. With superior mind
and faculties, it is impossible not to suffer from absence
of belief: since you cannot believe with the simple,
believe with the wise ; thus by different roads we shall
reach the same result. I am more and more convinced
every day of the nothingness of all which has not this
for its end, or at least for its hope. When shall we be
able to talk together ? How many things I shall have
to ask you! I see frequently your friend Alexis de
Jussieu ; he is very polite to me ; I lecture him, and
yet he is not vexed, which seems to me a real triumph.
M. and Mme. Lenormant and M. Ballanche always
think of you Avith kind interest, and we scarcely pass a
day without talking of the poor absentee whom we
miss and whom we all long for, but I most of all.
Adieu, adieu ! Did you think of me on the 24th ^ of
this month? I passed that sad anniversary in the
poor little valley, and read some admirable letters from
our saintly friend. You shall see them some day."
1 Anniversary of the death of Matthieu de Montmorency, which
took place March 24, 1826.
ANT) THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 193
When the lectures at the iinivei'sity were over,
Ampere left Bonn, and, before returning to France,
went to Berlin, Dresden, and Munich, not forgetting
Weimar, whither he was led by a passionate admira-
tion for Goethe. Received with the most friendly cor-
diality by the patriarch of German literature, Ampere,
in writing to Mme. Recamier, drew a very lively and
striking portrait of the man of genius whom he had
been permitted to see in the privacy of his home ; and
Mme. Recamier, who lost no oi^i^ortunity of showing
her friends to advantage, readily communicated these
piquant details. The result of a communication of this
sort made to Henri de Latouche was the publication
by the latter in the " Globe " of the sketch of Goethe's
home and the court of Weimar.
Written by an enthusiastic visitor, these details were
very interesting to the French public, but they only
half satisfied the pride of the Germans. On seeing
them published in the "Globe," Mme. Recamier was
doubtful of the eflfect they might produce, and ad-
dressed the following note to Ampere: —
" May 22, 1827.
"What will you say of this indiscretion? M. de
Latouche, whom I had not seen for three years, called
day before yesterday ; he asked me if I had heard from
you. I spoke of your last letter from Weimar. He
wanted to see it, thought it charming, and asked per-
mission to make a short extract from it for the "Globe ; "
and this morning the " Globe " arrives, and I inclose
9 M
194 JEAN-JACQUES AMP£RE
this extract to give you the pleasure of seeing how you
look in print. Tell me whether you are pleased or
annoyed. You will notice a few slight changes. Adieu.
I await impatiently your next letters, and with still
greater impatience the time when I shall receive no
more."
The traveller did not return to the fold until autumn.
He was persuaded that to be fully imbued with the
sentiment of any literature, it is necessary to know the
land and the places which have inspired it ; and, as he
somewhere says, a better knowledge can be obtained
of the poetry of a nation by journeying in the country
than by a multitude of dissertations and analyses. The
study of Scandinavian poetry, therefore, naturally in-
spired him with the desire to visit Denmark, Sweden,
and Norway. This extension of his absence seemed at
first somewhat hard to the father of our young friend ;
but interest in one's work, whether scientific or literary,
justified anything in the eyes of the illustrious savant/
and when relations or friends, less easily satisfied, would
ask him what motives had induced his son to go to
these northern regions, he would unhesitatingly reply :
" As it is a disputed question whether the Edda or the
Niebelungen is the more ancient, it was very necessary
that he should go there to verify the identity of Sigurd
and Siegfried." This identification was not the only
profit derived from this journey. Ampere's residence
in Germany, his travels in Scandinavia, and, above all,
his course of hard study in the University of Bonn, not
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 195
only furnished him with valuable materials, but revealed
to him his double vocation of traveller and critic. A
few lines from the Abbaye-aux-Bois welcomed him
upon his return : —
" Sunday, 27.
" j\I. Ballanche is writing to you, but it seems to me
that it is only I who can tell you how impatiently you
are expected. I have received charming letters from
you ; the last especially went to my heart. Hasten to
animate by your narrations our poor salo7i at the
Abbaye, which you have been pleased to call your
patrie. M. de Chateaubriand is looking forward to
your coming. M. Lenormant has arrived."
It was after the return of Ampere to Paris that his
young sister's marriage took place. Unfortunately this
event onl}^ brought more trouble and unhappiness into
the family of the illustrious mathematician. His son-
in-law lost his reason and died in a lunatic asylum,
while his daughter fell a victim to a dreadful disease.
It is almost impossible to give an adequate idea of the
devotion, patience, and self-forgetfulness displayed by
J.-J. Ampere in these trying circumstances. But when
we consider all the trials he had to encounter in his own
family circle, we can better understand what a refuge for
him was the Abbaye-aux-Bois, with its atmosphere of
peace and affection. When, cast down by prosaic vex-
ations or painful anxieties, he repaired to that salon
where his trials met with the ready sympathy of true
friends, little by little his mind regained its calm, his
1 96 JEA N-JA CQ UES A MP£RE
interest in all general questions drew him away from
painful thoughts, and he was himself again, full of
the life, ardor, and hope so natural to his age and char-
acter.
Ampere made Mme. Recamier acquainted with all
the young members of the de Jussieu family, — Adrien,
Laurent, and Alexis. He took pleasure in thus intro-
ducing into the circle which he called his patrie friends
of his own age. He also brought thither Sautelet and
Prosper Merimee.
The latter had just entered upon the profession of let-
ters, in which he directly took a high position by the
originality of his mind, the soberness, vigor, and purity
of his style. A romantic adventure, far from injuring his
reputation by the cruel publicity given to it, gave him,
on the contrary, additional importance in the eyes of
worldly people. Under a cold and sceptical exterior,
his friends declared he hid a faithful heart. They
maintained that his somewhat haughty and cynical
reserve was only put on to conceal his timidity; it
increased, at all events, the distinction of his appear-
ance and manners. In conversation he was solid, and,
at the same time, piquant ; he was highly appreciated
by all Mme. Recamier's circle, and became an intimate
friend of M. Lenormant.
Ampere and Gerard (the celebrated painter) con-
ceived the idea of giving a career to M. Merimee, and
inducing him to enter into diplomacy, for which he was.
in many respects eminently fitted. Mme. Recamier was
spoken to on the subject, and readily entered into the
PROSPER MERIMEE
from an etching by Lalauze
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 197
project. The Duke de Laval had just been appointed
ambassador to London ; he liked wit and men of wit,
and the idea of rallying to the Bourbon government a
young man whose literary reputation was already so
brilliant would have been attractive to him. He would
have been very willing to attach M. Merimee to the
embassy as secretary of legation, but before the nego-
tiation had made much progress, Ampere left Paris for
the south of France with his fathei", who had been for
some time suffering from an affection of the larynx, now
become alarming. Mrae. Recamier also left for Dieppe,
accompanied by Ballanche, while M. de Chateaubriand
was on his way to the Pyrenees, and Mme. Lenormant
was awaiting at Toulon the return of her husband, from
whom she had long been separated. The inmates of
the Abbaye-aux-Bois, being thus dispersed, the affair
of M. Merimee was temporarily postponed.
Mme. Recamier wrote from Dieppe to Ampere : —
" June 28, 1829.
"I arrived yesterday at Dieppe, and hastened directly
to the seaside to find something to remind me of
Naples. The weather was enchanting, the sun was
sinking into the sea, the air was sweet and fresh.
Hardly had I abandoned myself to these sweet in-
fluences, when I heard myself called by name by one
of the ugliest, heaviest, most tiresome of men ; one that
at any time it would be most disagreeable to meet, but
especially at such a moment. It was absolutely impos-
sible to get rid of him ; he felt himself obliged to give
198 JEAN-JACQUES AMPt:RE
me the pleasure of his society all the rest of the even-
ing. When I saw that there was no means of escape, I
set out with him to visit all the inns in pursuit of a lodg-
ing ; for in my enthusiasm I had gone to look at the sea
before thinking of settling myself. I found quite a
pretty room at the Hotel des Bains. I have been to
the post-office for my letters, and found a number;
but yours, and one from Amelie, which announces the
return of M. Lenormant, were the ones that went to
my heart. Adieu, adieu ! Shall I see you here ? shall
we have some pleasant walks together by the sea?
" Pray tell me all your plans, of your father's health,
of M. de Vatimesnil's audience, of Cousin, Yillemain,
and especially of yourself "
" Dieppe, August 1, 1829.
" This is the day you leave ; ^ I follow you with my
thoughts and good wishes. I wait impatiently for new8
of your journey. I was talking this morning with M.
Ballanche of your illustrious father, for whom he ha^?
the most tender affection ; I spoke of you, of the future ;
it was pleasant to discuss here beside the sea that d*>-
lightful project of our becoming but one family.
" We are living in the midst of a crowd in perfect
solitude. I go to bed at nine o'clock, I rise at six ; I
take sea-baths, which are to make me an entirely new
creature ; I read, I stroll by the sea-shore, I think and
1 For Hy feres.
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 199
dream of my friends, I make a few morning calls, and
pass the evening with M. Ballanche. He adapts him-
self perfectly to this solitude ; you are only wanting to
enliven it by your wit, and to save us by your versa-
tility from a little monotony. M. de Chateaubriand has
arrived at Cauterets ; I received yesterday a letter from
him, full of keen and tender sensibility ; the interest he
takes in you is another claim upon my affection ; noth-
ing is sweeter than to be able to bind together and
merse in one all the interests of our hearts.
Adieu ! Tell your father how much I am interested
in him ; think of me in your vexations ; let me hear
from you often. I dare not hope to see you here, but
I think of you so constantly that it is not a separation."
" September 24, 1829.
" M. Ballanche has had very encouraging news ; we
hope that you will bring your father back to us in good
health, and that you may long enjoy the reward of
your care and sacrifices. But this winter will be very sad
for everybody. I am as much discouraged as you are,
and look forward to the return of the warm season with
as much impatience. Write to me, tell me if you are
working; write often. "We are all very affectionately
interested in you, and I most of all. I miss you 38 I
should do a brother, a son. Do not complain of thews
names; I know none sweeter."
200 JEAN-JA CQ UES AMPi:RE
" October 11, 1829.
" How glad I am to find you taking heart again, and
how I share your joy ! You will have received the
letter in which I announce to you that we are living in
the new apartment. Mme. de Boigne, the Duke de
Laval, M. de Chateaubriand, — supreme judges in mat-
ters of taste, — find it charming and enchantingly ar-
ranged ; but I shall not fully enjoy my success until
spring. The political situation is still the same : the Duke
de Laval passed five days in Paris. Our conversations
were painful : he left yesterday for London, charged
with instructions favorable to the Greeks ; but though
he is generous, his aristocratic tendencies, I fear, render
him easily satisfied where the interests of the people
are concerned. I spoke to him of your friend Merimee ;
he does not know him personally, but being your friend
was a recommendation in his eyes ; and if he still has
the desire to enter upon the diplomatic career, he will
have with the Duke de Laval a very pleasant debut.
As it is not my jjlace to talk to him about his affairs,
you had better write to him. The Duke de Laval re-
turns in a month, and I shall, I think, be able to arrange
this matter easily. I have for M. Merimee that interest
which a noble character and real talent naturally in-
spire, still further increased by the interest that you
yourself take in him.
" M. de Chateaubriand is still engaged upon his his-
torical labors, and waiting very impatiently for the
time when he can take part in the making of history.
He is still talked of for the head of the ministry whiclj
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 201
is to succeed that now iu power ; this would seem a
natural thing, but what is probable never happens.
Meanwhile, I am making some historic researches for
him, which give me quite a taste for history. I have
read Thiers and Mignet, I am reading Tacitus. I
should like also to collect materials for your book, but
you are too learned to have need of me. We talk of
you every day of our lives ; I miss our conversations,
our disputes, and all our old life to which I have be-
come so pleasantly accustomed, and all who know you
share my regrets.
" Write to me."
The rejection of a career, opening under the most
favorable auspices, — a rejection based wholly on scru-
ples caused by political convictions, or, if you please,
political dislikes, — is so rare an occurrence that I may
be permitted to dwell upon it.
We have just seen, from Mme. Recamier's letter, that
the success of the negotiation which was to attach M.
Merimee to the embassy at London only depended
now upon his own consent. Ampere was charged to
obtain it. He accordingly wrote to his friend, and the
following is the reply, addressed directly to the kind-
hearted lady whose intervention had been requested : —
" Madame, — A letter from Ampere informs me tliat
you are kindly thinking of me to accompany the Duke
de Laval in his embassy to London, and that you are
disposed to solicit him in my favor. I came to the
9*
202 JEAN-JACQUES AMPi:RE
Abbaye-aux-Bois this morning to talk with you on this
subject, and I went away regretting that I had not
been able to present my thanks, and express to you
how much I was touched by this mark of interest on
your part. I beg permission, madame, to explain to
you the motives which impel me to-day to refuse a
favor which at any other time I would have accepted
with the greatest pleasure.
" I am the author of a few indiiferent works, and, as
such, my name has appeared in the newspapers. A
stranger all my life to politics, in my books I have ex-
pressed (and perhaps too crudely) my opinions. I have
thought that in accepting any employment, however un-
important, under the present administration, I should
not be acting consistently. Shall I confess to you, that
M.de Chateaubriand's example has confirmed me in this
resolution? This is the height of presumption, you will
say ; and indeed it ill becomes me to compare the post
of secretary or under-secretary with an important em-
bassy, or to mention myself in the same breath with
the first writer of our time. Nevertheless, madame, the
common soldier cannot do better than follow, as far as
he can, his general's example, and it seems to me that
M. de Chateaubriand has pointed out the duty of all
men of letters, great or small.
"And then the bad habit of writing! One is never
cured of it. I should be obliged either to cease writing,
which would, perhaps, be difficult for me, or put myself
under restraint, and my solitary merit so far has been
my frankness. Pride again, — but this time I do not
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 203
defend it, and this motive is of very little weight in
comparison with the first. Might I venture to beg you,
madauie, to reserve your kind interest in me for another
time. Meanwhile, pray beheve in my lively gratitude,
and accept my thanks and respectful homage.
"P. :MERIMiE."
A few days afterward came another note, confirming
this refusal.
"Madame," wrote M. Merimee, "M. Gerard has
talked to me like a friend and father. He said to me
(what was worth more than any other argument) that
were he in my place he would accept. Nevertheless,
madame, he has not overcome the scruples of which
you are aware, and I persist in my refusal. I perceive
that in acting thus 1 lay myself open to ridicule, and
have the air of extraordinarily exaggerating my own im-
portance. But that cannot be helped. Granted that it
be pride or false reasoning, I cannot bring myself to
accept. I have consulted no one, but I have debated
the question long in my mind, and it seems to me that
in persisting in my first determination I have yielded
to no consideration of indolence, &c. If my obstinacy
does not make you think too ill of me, I shall be ex-
tremely flattered to be presented by you to the Duke
de Laval. The acquaintance of a gallant gentleman
and a man of wit is always desirable. However, mad-
ame, I shall venture to beg you not to mention me to
him in the character of a diplomatic aspirant. That
would involve me in disagreeable explanations. It is
204 JEAN-JACQUES AMP ME
to you only, whose goodness is known to me, that I
dare exphun the motives of ray refusal, and speak with
open heart. Please accept, madarae, the assurance of
my gratitude and profound respect.
" P. Meriisiee."
M. M^rim^e did himself much honor by these scru-
ples, even in the eyes of the friends of the government
which he refused to serve. I have taken pleasure in
recalling these memories of a time when he belonged
entirely to letters ; and would to Heaven this admirable
Avriter had never been unfaithful to them !
Meanwhile, the mild climate of Provence, absolute
rest and filial care, had almost restored the health of
Andre Ampere. From Hyeres he, with his son, went
to Marseilles, where he was welcomed with the utmost
cordiality and respect. Yielding to pressing solicita-
tions, J.-J. Ampere consented to give at the AthensBum
of that city a course of lectures on literature. The sub-
ject of these lectures was the literatures of the North
of Europe, though he at the same time unfolded with
much brilliancy his ideas on the poetry of all nations.
In Paris, the friends of the young professor waited with
much anxiety to hear the result of this debut. Mme.
Recamier wrote to him : —
" March 14, 1830.
" It is ages since I wrote, and yet you have never
been more in my thoughts. I feel warmly grateful to
you for your care of your excellent father. I joyfully
treasure up in my heart of hearts everything that may
^li\^Z> THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 205
increase my good opinion of you, and give me new
reasons for loving you.
" I like to talk about you with your friends. I see
sometimes Sautelet and Merimee. Poor Sautelet is
very tired of his lawsuit, though he accepts the
situation not only with courage but with very good
grace.
" Your lectures will soon begin : it makes my heart
beat. No, certainly, I should not like to be there ; I
should be too anxious. You can imagine how impa-
tiently we await particulars.
"So you have been in society? So have I. I went
to a matinee at Mrae. de Sainte-Aulaire's, and to a
dinner at Mme. de Boigne's. I have also been at the
Duchess de Ragusa's ; I saw a multitude of people I
had not met for centuries. You cannot imagine how
kind and cordial everybody was; I was very much
astonished and charmed at it, for it seemed to me very
natural to be forgotten.
" The fine weather is fast approaching ; tlje lilacs and
roses will have bloomed before your return : it is very
sad."
The professor's success was great ; six hundred audi-
tors overwhelmed him with enthusiastic applause, and
he himself became conscious of the talent which he
was henceforth to display in expounding his ideas
and setting forth the result of his researches. If J.-J.
Ampere had not precisely a creative mind, he was, par
excellence, a promulgator. Few persons seized with
206 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
more rapidity and assimilated more completely con-
ceptions the most diverse, or knew so well how to pre-
sent them in a fashion as ingenious as it was effective.
He has thus disseminated by means of his lectures and
books a multitude of new ideas.
It is easy to conceive of the illustrious philosojsher's
pleasure in the triumph of his son ; great, too, was the
satisfaction at the Abbaye-aux-Bois : M. Lenormant
took it upon himself to congratulate the successful
young lecturer : —
" April 8, 1830.
" I should like to talk to you of your lecture, but you
must be tired of hearing it praised. The impulse is
now no longer from the centre to the circumference :
we get our light from Marseilles; you will be con-
demned for a Federalist, — beware I I am, moreover,
delighted that you are pleased with the people of Mar-
seilles. Yes, it is odd, after talking of Scandinavia to
come in sight of the blue sea of the South ; it is still
more strange that Scandinavia should be discussed only
at Marseilles. I take a personal pride, moreover, in
your success, for I am one of those who never doubted
of the good you would derive from thus trying your
hand at lecturing.
" Paris will now be wanting you ; your friends will
no longer be obliged to answer for you ; there is nothing
like type for making a man. Print all you can, — the
whole course, or, at least, the greater part. Your first
lecture is not only a model of sagacity and breadth of
view, but the style is excellent, — nervous, flexible,
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 207
varied, plastic. You will improve visibly iu this respect
iu correcting the proofs. Do you not think it strange
of Parisian folk to talk to a great man as I talk to
you ?
" It is, at all events, a good thing for you that your
first great success should have occurred at Marseilles.
It will make you more eclectic, and you will turn again
to my Southern Europe, which is every thing, or almost
every thing. There is eclecticism for you !
" You have seen the trial of the ' Globe ' and the
' National.' We think here that the ground taken by
the 'National' is disastrous, but it has editorial talent
of the highest order. Sautelet's bearing in court was
marked by perfect propriety. As for the ' Globe ' and
Dubois, it is the Peasant of the Danube over again ;
but I think his position much nearer the true one,
and politically more honest.
" You asked me a long while ago for a list of Egyp-
tian divinities. I have never sent you any thing, as I
have been all the time waiting for the final version
from Champollion. If you still have need of it I shall
now be able to send you something positive. M. Bal-
lanche has learned by a letter from your father that you
were to read at the Athenaeum ' La Mort de Virginie.'
I cannot tell you how happy it makes the poor man. I
hope your eloquence will get him some subscribers at
Marseilles. What do you think of 'Hernani?' Have
you spoken of it to your six hundred hearers ? It seems
to me that you ought to help on the new school a little
down there. Sainte-Beuve seems to me to have taken
208 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
a very high rank in his ' Consolations.' Adieu ; enjoy
your fame, and do not forget the obscure Parisians.
" Ch. Lenormajjt."
In a letter to Ampere, written during the following
June, Mme. Recamier alludes particularly to the im-
provement which was thought to be produced in his
poor father's health : —
"No, certainly not, I am not angry; it is you who
might be so. I have not written, I have not replied to
you ; an iiTesistible indolence, a dread of the act of
writing, which has become a sort of mania with me,
has made me confide to M. Ballanche the task of assur-
ing you of my constant and tender friendship ; but I
wish to tell you myself how much I regret that I shall
not be in Paris when you return. I leave for Dieppe
on the 25th of this month, and I shall not return until
the end of July. It is sad to add some weeks more to
a separation which I already think so long ; but, how-
ever, you have accomplished the end for which your
journey was undertaken, you have the reward of your
sacrifices, and you may almost say to yourself that it is
to your care that your excellent father owes his re-
stored health. You have, moreover, reaped by the way
a harvest of success, which you did not expect.
" Why must news -^ as painful as it is unexpected
come to sadden your heart ? I do not wish to dwell
upon these thoughts now ; we will talk of them here-
1 The death of Sautelet, who committed suicide, May 13th.
ANZ> THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 209
after. This poor young man made me his confidant;
his friendship for you attached me to him ; I well
knew how you would feel. Adieu, adieu ; how many
things we shall have to tell each other ! "
The political horizon was dark with clouds when
the two Amperes returned to Paris in the middle of
June, 1830. The struggle between the nation and the
crown was near its end, and in less than two months
the famous ordinances appeared which were the death-
warrant of the elder branch of the house of Bourbon.
Ampere's political convictions were strong and very
liberal, but he took no part in the controversy carried
on by the daily press, though he was on the most in-
timate terms with Armand Carrel, M. Bastide, M.
Magnin, and other editors of the " National " and the
"Globe;" nor would he accept any position which
would force him to engage in the strife of parties.
Though primarily of a speculative and literary turn of
mind, he was yet an ardent friend to religious and
political liberty ; calling himself a republican, he was
led by his temperament to take sides always with the
opposition, under whatever government, and he had a
sturdy hatred of arbitrary power. It was natural that
he should hail with ardent aspirations a revolution
which seemed to him a progress^
In the first ministry formed under the government
of Louis Philippe, the Duke de Broglie held the port-
folio of Public Instruction. Among the happy meas-
ures which marked his short administration was the
N
210 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
opening of the Noi'inal school, which had been closed
during the last years of the Restoration, and the estab-
lisliment in this school of a course of lectures on litera-
ture, which Avas confided to J.-J. Araj^ere. Our young
professor occupied this post three years, and at the same
time temporarily supplied the place of two members of
the faculty in succession : first of M. Fauriel, and the
subsequent year of M. Villeraaiu. In 1833, the death
of Andrieux left vacant the chair of French literature
at the College de France. Ampere, whose talent and
fitness had been attested by four years of successful
teaching, was, by vote of the professors, appointed to
succeed him.
Just at this time, M. Sainte-Beuve, a man of keenly
critical mind, poet and prose-writer, was anxious to
try his hand at teaching. He spoke to Ampdre on the
subject, expressing a desire to replace him at the Nor-
mal school. The latter, always ready to further the
wishes of his friends, cordially embraced the propo-
sition.
Before leaving for Italy, where he was to spend his
vacation. Ampere had an interview with M. Guizot,
who was then Minister of Public Instruction, and men-
tioned to him M. Sainte-Beuve's proposal. He then
took his departure, intrusting to a common friend of
all three the care of continuing the negotiation. There
was more than one difficulty in the way. M. Sainte-
Beuve belonged to the most advanced wing of the
republican party. lie had, moreover, just published
"Volupt^," a romance which, though showing much
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 211
talent, did not precisely entitle its author to university
honors.
M. Guizot made very light of the obstacle presented
by the political opinions of M. Sainte-Beuve, who had
himself no scruples on that score, and received with the
greatest favor the idea of intrusting to him a chair of
instruction in hterature, for which he thought him emi-
nently endowed. But he declined to make the ap-
pointment immediately, lest it might seem a reward
for writing a book which was certainly not very moral
in tone ; he asked that Ampere should retain the place
for the present, and thus give the clever critic time to
produce another work more in keeping with the dignity
of the professor's chair than " Volupte."
These conditions were generously accepted by Am-
pere, who wrote from Florence to Mme. Lenormant : —
" September 21, 1833.1
" What you tell me, madame, on the subject of our
friend Sainte-Beuve does not surprise me. M. Guizot,
who, in literary and scientific matters, has never been
influenced by political considerations, could not be
false to his principles of generous equity in the case of
so disting-uished a man as Sainte-Beuve. From what
you say, I infer that M. Guizot would like me to remain
another year at the Normal school, during which time
M. Sainte-Beuve is to write another book, and this
1 Evidently a wrong; date, as Sainte-Beuve did not publish
" Volupte " until 1834. See " Ma Biographie, Nouveaux Lundis,"
vol. xiii. — Tr.
212 JEAN-JACQUES AMPME
arrangement will insure the nomination of my friend,
which I so ardently desire, both for his sake and for
the Normal scliool. — However weighty the motives
which have made me wish to consecrate myself entirely
to the broad plan which I propose to follow out at the
College de France, and which I was not able to enter
upon last year, all personal considerations must cede
to the interests of such a friend as M. Sainte-Beuve,
and of an establishment like the Noi-mal school, — that
school to which I owe peculiar gratitude, and to which
my devotion to M. Cousin, that constant friend and
promoter of my university career, would of itself suffice
to attach me.
" It was only the feeling that it was impossible for
me to remain that made me think of withdrawincc from
it. I hope that this impossibility Avill be overcome by
the privileges which you say, madame, M. Guizot is
disposed to accord me. I am to give only two lectures
a week, and my vacation is to be a month longer. On
these conditions, and with the assurance that Sainte-
Beuve will certainly be appointed next year, I will
resume my duties between the 15th and 20th of No-
vember. It will be necessary to write to me at Rome,
if the matter is thus arranged."
M. Sainte-Beuve would accept of no postponement ;
the minister endeavored to make him understand his
reasons by explaining them himself.
"Will you, madame," he wrote, "ask M. Sainte-
Beuve to come to see me the day after to-morrow, be-
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 213
tween eleven and twelve o'clock. I will talk to him as
best I can ; and then if he will not accept my kindness,
I will accept his humor.
" Many affectionate respects. Guizot."
The irascible and spirituel critic preferred to give
up the professorship rather than consent to wait six
months. Ampere gave in his resignation, and devoted
himself with more ardor than ever to his pupils at
the College de France ; but, before his return, Mme.
Recamier, who was not willing that Ampere should
torment himself during his short journey with the ne-
gotiation that had been set on foot, wrote to him : —
" Paris, October 15.
" You have written me from Sienna so kind a letter
that it has overcome my indolence ; though I might,
however, complain of this prolongation of your absence.
You write charming letters, but you are not very eager
to return to your friends.
"M. Sainte-Beuve is in the country; M. Ballanche is
a candidate for a seat in the Academy; M. de Chateau-
briand is enchanted with the success of " Moses."
Monsieur and Madame Lenormant return to-day from
Clam art. I shall direct this note to Rome, where I
hope you will be reminded of our walks and talks. I
say nothing to you of the negotiation for M. Sainte-
Beuve ; I know how annoying explanations by letter
often are, and I limit myself to telling you that you
need have no uneasiness, and that every thing will be
214 JEAN-JACQUES AMP^JRE
arranged satisfactorily. Adieu; I am very impatient
to see you."
" December 1.
" I have just received your letter from Florence, and
it makes me anxious. I entreat you to take care of
yourself, and avoid every kind of fatigue. M. Lenor-
mant says that you are working too hard. Remember
that you are in Italy for your health ; let that be your
principal occupation. You must be earnest about this,
you are so little used to thinking of yourself; try to
care for yourself as you know how to care for others.
We talk of you constantly at our poor Abbaye. You
know that the readings -^ have begun again ; fancy how
they make us think of you ! We are to have one to-
morrow, and a somewhat larger audience.
" I have seen Lord Bristol again after an interval of
sixteen years. He was so overcome by the memories
which the Abbaye evoked, that for some moments he
could not speak. We talked of old times, of pleasant
hours passed in the little room in the third story with
his sister,- M. de Montmorency, and the Duke de Laval.
Sad as this conversation was, it was not without its
charm. All my reminiscences carry me back to that
period already so remote. It was in that little room
that I saw you for the first time. Give a thought to
me in the places we visited together, and let that
1 Of M. de Chateaubriand's "Me'moires."
2 Duchess of Devonshire, n^e Lady Ehzabeth Hervey j by her
first marriage, Lady Foster.
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 215
thought recall my counsels, for I finish as I have begun,
by begging you to take care of your health. Adieu ;
I am anxiously expecting to hear from you fi'om
Rome."
But while absorbed in the labor and siiccess of teach-
ing, our friend was threatened with a misfortune which
his filial love made him try to think impossible. In
vain for six years had he lavished upon his father the
most assiduous care; the chronic laryngitis with which
the illustrious savant was afflicted, though somewhat
checked, was not subdued. It had been arranged, it is
true, that the tours of inspection which he made for the
university should take him always toward the South
of France ; he passed a whole year in Provence with
his son, before the latter was retained in Paris by his
public duties, but the malady was gaining ground ;
long before he had attained his sixtieth year the illus-
trious academician bore the marks of decrepitude.
With his emaciated and stooj^ing form, dimmed eye, and
drooping lip, he looked eighty years old. In spite of
this physical decay, his mental vigor continued unim-
paired. Every question of general interest discussed
in his hearing still captivated and stimulated his pow-
erful mind. I remember listening to a conversation
in which Charles Lenormant, recently returned from
Egypt, explained to him the discovery of the method
of reading hieroglyphics, and how he had seen it ap-
plied by Champollion to all the monuments of the
Pharaohs. Transported with admiration, the dying old
216 JEAN-.TACQUES AMPJIJRE
man of an hour before recovered his life again as he
listened to these marvels accomplished by the genius
of another man. It was truly a beautiful and noble
spectacle. — Andre-Marie Ampdre died at Marseilles
June 10th, 1836.
His son's grief for his loss was deep and lasting.
He had had for his father while he lived an ardent
admiration, and now that he was dead he worshipped
his memory. The three volumes of " L'Histoire Lit-
teraire de la France," published in 1839, he dedicated
to him. In this affecting dedication, after enumerating
Andre Ampere's claims to imperishable fame, he ends
with these words : " A true Christian, he loved human-
ity. He was good, simple, and great."
Henceforward we are to see J.-J. Ampere giving
himself up much more unreservedly to his passion for
travel. In one of his prefaces he propounds the theory
which he calls la critique en voyage. We always
make a theory to justify our prevailing passion. " I am
far from thinking," he says, "that it is necessary to
visit a country in order to understand and enjoy the
literature that country has produced, or that it is im-
possible to appreciate Pindar and Isaiah without hav-
ing made the journey to Athens and Jerusalem. We
can, without leaving our library, study the masterpieces,
of poetry, but there will be always something wanting
to this study as long as we have not visited the coun-
ti'ics where the great writers lived, contemplated the
scenery which moulded them, and recognized their
soul, so to speak, in the regions still stamped with their
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 217
impress. How can we understand their coloring if we
have never seen their sun ? "
In Sejitember of 1838, Ampere, in company with Ch.
Lenormant and another eminent archaeologist, Jean de
Witte, made what they called their voyage Dantesque;
in other words. Ampere and his two companions, the
"Divina Commedia" in hand, traversed Tuscany and
L6mbardy, following from city to city, or indeed step by
step, the traces of the great Florentine poet. Shortly
after. Ampere made another and more complete excur-
sion of this sort, in company with the Marquis Capponi,
a noble and patriotic Tuscan, for whom he had the
greatest respect and friendship. The result of these re-
searches, as minute as they were enthusiastic, was a
work of the highest interest. A keen appreciation of
the poetical beauties of the poem, intermingled with
historical explanations, the study of manners and char-
acter, the description of places, gives to this commentary
on the great epic of Dante much variety and animation.
This voyage Dantesque, which Ampere afterward
included in what he very properly called " literary
studies from nature," was first published separately,
and met with a singular fate. Deservedly successful in
France, a German did it the honor to translate and
publish it under his own name, adding to the title, it is
true, as a salve to his conscience, " In the footprints of
M.. Ampere." An Italian, leaving out this addition,
which appeared to him of no importance, translated the
German translation ; and in the endeavor to penetrate
the p>ieudonyme which hid the writer, succeeded in
10
218 JEAN-JACQUES AMP£RE
proving conclusively that it was the work of Prince
John, afterward King of Saxony, author of several
highly esteemed works on Dante. To appropriate to
themselves provinces is the pastime of kings, to ap-
propriate a literary work is a rare exercise of the
royal prerogative ; and Ampere gaily exclaims, in the
preface to his third edition, " The opinion which at-
tributes my book to a royal personage is highly flatter-
ing to me, and is based upon excellent reasons; but,
strong in my own identity, I protest that I am not the
King of Saxony."
"We cannot with impunity dwell in those favored
climes where the sun reigns supreme. Ampere, whose
youthful imagination had been captivated by the sombre
poesy of the North, now felt the force of that attraction
which has ever drawn the northern races southward.
It will be remembered that in the letters Avhich passed
between him and Ch. Lenormant, the latter rallied him
upon his Germanic preferences, and preached to him
eclecticism. The conversion was thorough, and year
after year found the studious professor of the College
de France again in Italy.
In 1841, it was toward the Orient that he turned his
steps, in company with Prosper Merimee, de Witte,
and Ch. Lenormant. It may be doubted if ever there
were a party of friends whose companionship promised
to be more pleasant and profitable than that of these
four. All were deeply versed in ancient lore, all were
lovers of the beautiful, and consequently quick to ap-
preciate the masterpieces of Greek art, all were young
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 219
and fond of adventure. Ampere was never more agree-
able than while travelling; his inexhaustible spirits,
his good humor, seemed to rise higher with the thousand
accidents inseijarable from an excursion in a country
where civilization had scarcely begun to revive. Ch.
Leuormant was the only one of the four who had
already visited Greece. After accompanying Cham-
pollion to Egypt, he had taken part in an expedition to
the Morea; but at that time, 1829, Athens was still
under Turkish control. For him, therefore, as well as
for his companions, the beauties of the Parthenon were
a surprise and a revelation ; for no drawing, no de-
scription can prepare the beholder for the matchless
effect produced by the temple of Minerva, lighted up
by the magical splendor of the Eastern sunlight, and in
perfect harmony with all surrounding objects.
After a careful exploration of the monuments of
Greece proper. Ampere and Merimee left their com-
panions, whom they were shortly to join again at Con-
stantinople, and made a rapid journey through Asia-
Minor. Under the form of a letter to Sainte-Beuve,
Ampere published an interesting narrative of his jour-
ney.
It was in 1842, the year following his tour in the
East, that Ampere was elected a member of the Aca-
demie des Inscriptions, taking the place of M. De-
gerando. He had won this distinction by his works on
the sources of French literature and the formation of
the language.
The insatiable desire, inherited from his father, to
220 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
learn, know, and understand every thing, led Ampere,
as I have said, into the greatest diversity of studies ;
but this exei'cise of his prodigious activity did not in
the least impair the warmth of his affections. On the
contrary, he was easily influenced by his friends, and
gave himself, as it were, without reserve to those whom
he loved. One man more than all others exercised
over him the ascendancy of an earnest friendship. This
was Alexis de Tocqueville.
To give an account of the origin of this intimacy, I
must retrace my steps a little.
Alexis de Tocqueville was presented to Mme. Re-
camier by his relative, M. de Chateaubriand, during the
winter of 1836, a few months after the publication of
" Democracy in America." The sensation produced in
the literary and political world by this admirable work
is not yet forgotten. M. de Chateaubriand was de-
lighted with the unprecedented success achieved by
his young relative at the outset of his literary career,
and was furthermore gratified that a nobleman could
so well handle a pen. The aristocratic distinction of
De Tocqueville's manners, the elegance which tempered
their somewhat cold reserve; the breadth and eleva-
tion of his mind, in which great firmness was allied to
much finesse ; in short, every thing about him, even to
his very liberal and almost republican ojiinions, was
pleasing to M. de Chateaubriand.
Ampere met De Tocqueville for the first time at the
Abbaye, and immediately conceived for him one of his
enthusiastic and devoted attaciiments. The attraction
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 221
was reciprocal, and the "absolute conformity of their
opinions continually strengthened and increased this
mutual sympathy. Ampere, even before he knew De
Tocqueville, claimed some friends in common with
him. These friendships had for the most part been
contracted in the salon of General de Lafayette, about
the time the illustrious champion of liberty returned
from the visit he made to America in 1824. This visit,
as is well known, was a triumphal march. The grate-
ful Americans, in their welcome to the brother-in- arms
of Washington, exhausted every form of enthusiasm.
Am23ere had been deeply moved by the reports of this
uprising of a whole nation. Immediately on the gen-
eral's return to France he sought an introduction to
him; and in the autumn of 1826, profiting by the invita-
tion which had been kindly given him, he passed sev-
eral days at La Grange.
Singular and striking were the contrasts presented
by this old feudal chateau, inhabited by the only repub-
lican in France, the shrine to which every American
made a pious pilgrimage, and, too often also, the place
where the enemies of the house of Bourbon met to con-
trive their plots ; nor were the figures that animated
the scene less remarkable in themselves.
The family of M. de Lafayette, like the general him-
self, maintained all the traditions, all the elegant
habits of the old regime. A charming bevy of young
girls, granddaughters and grandnieces, gathered around
the staunch old veteran of the jDrinciples of 1789.
Among his sons, sons-in-law, grandsons, and grand-
222 JEAN-JACQUES AMP£:RE
nephews, were rare and brilliant minds. The heroic
soul of the prisoner of Olmtitz seemed still to hover
over her daughters and insj^ire their Christian virtues.
Crowds of strangers from all points of the globe, inces-
santly coming and going, and at times also the ignoble
apparition of some low-born conspirator, served to
complete the picture of this unique household.
To Ampere, who had a marvellous gift of descrip-
tion, all this was delightful. The cordial welcome he
received made him a frequent visitor at La Grange,
where he formed more than one enduring friendship.
It was there he became acquainted with Gustave de
Beaumont, who was to be the worthy and faithful
companion of.Alexis de Tocqueville in his American
travels, with Charles de Remusat, with M. de Corcelles,
whose name, dear to liberty, is not less dear to the
church, and with whom, as well as with Gustave de
Beaumont, he became more and more intimate through
the strong attachment all three bore to their common
friend.
While De Tocqueville was engaged on the second
part of his book, he took possession of the estate near
Cherbourg which bears his name. There, toward the
last of August, 1889, Ampere paid him a visit, and
found him in the midst of his double duties as author
and pi'oprietor. He had scarcely quitted him when De
Tocqueville wrote : —
" September 17, 1839.
" Your letter, my dear friend, has given us the great-
est pleasure. I say us, because my wife was quite aa
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 223
anxious as I that you should find yourself tolerably
comfortable in our dilapidated mansion, and she has
received with as much satisfaction as myself the kind
assurances you give us of the pleasure your visit afibrded
you. A man must needs be well off with people wdio
watch his coming with the greatest joy and feel at his
departure the liveliest regret. Good friends are rarer
than good lodgings. I trust this is what you some-
times said to yourself when the blows of the pickaxe
and hammer sounded in your ears. As for ourselves,
we retain most agreeable recollections of your short
visit, and all we ask is that you should come again
soon. What you tell me of my book makes me very
happy. You would not hide from me the truth; I
therefore believe you, and I shall read over what you say
whenever I have one of my attacks of spleen. In this
respect your presence here had already done me much
good. You appeared so pleased with what you read,
that it gave me courage. I have not forgotten your
promise to revise my manuscript. I cannot express to
you, my dear friend, how grateful I am for the trouble
you consent to take.
" I have been in great perplexity this morning ; in look-
ing over a very important chapter on the way in which
democracy modifies the relations of servant and master^
I fell upon a long section relating to the character of
domestic service in aristocratic ages. I think my ideas
are right on this point, the expression of them only
seems too theoretical; I ought to have two or three
examples drawn from authors of the period, but I have
224 JEA N-JA CQ UES A MPiJRE
none to give, — though I have an impression that I have
met "with a great number of them from Froissart to Mme.
de S^vigne. If your memory furnish you with any, point
them out to me, I beg of you. What I should like,
above all, to make understood is that which happened
often in the aristocratic periods, when servants merged,
so to speak, their own personality in that of their master,
and prided themselves more on his advantages than on
their own. Caleb, in ' The Bride of Lammermoor,' is
the ideal of this character, but I do not remember any
historical counterpart.
" Pardon me, my dear friend, for thus persecuting
you with my own affairs. I have no fear in so doing,
for I feel that I interest myself deeply in all that con-
cerns you, which emboldens me to think that you will
readily take part in every thing which occupies 'me.
Adieu ; I embrace you with all my heart."
In a letter of nearly two years' later date, written
after De Tocqueville's return from his fatiguing jour-
ney in Algeria, — a journey which seriously impaired
his already delicate health, — are several passages which
seem to portray admirably the affectionate relations
between the friends.
" TocQUEViLLE, July 5, 1841.
" Tou take so lively and so truly friendly an interest
in the state of my health, that it is only right that you
should be one of the fii'st to hear from me.
" I hasten, therefore, to tell you, my dear friend, that
^iND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 225
my journey did me not the slightest harm. Precisely
twenty-four hours after leaving Paris I sat down to
ray own table at Tocqueville. When you can com-
mand a few days, remember that there is one spot
where you will be sure of finding true friends who will
be honestly glad to see you, and do not hesitate to
come. Do not do hke those people who, always desir-
ous to do every thing too well, end by not doing any
thing at all. Do not reserve yourself wholly for that
time when you will be able to come and pass months
with us; give us meanwhile the weeks that fall in your
way. In this matter we shall accept every thing with
gratitude. That famous room you have heard so much
about, in which you are never to hear the sli^-htest
noise, is at last almost ready. It shall be ' Ampere's
room,' even when occupied by another, so that no one
else shall acquire a prescriptive right to it, as the law-
yers say.
•' I cannot tell you, my dear friend, what a charm
there is for me in my present mode of life. It is
owing, I think, to a general cause ; namely, my con-
stantly increasing experience of the conflicts of the
world, and also to an accidental one, — the agitated and
fatiguing life I have lately led. The contrast between
the tumult and bustle of those days and the silence
and repose of these, give to the latter a sense of vivid
delight which rightfully is not theirs. Such passionate
enjoyment of quiet denotes a mind still agitated; and
this is my case.
"Now, see the incredible absurdity of human nature.
10* o
226 JEAN-JA CQ UES A MP^RE
Ask this very contented man if he would always remain
in this state which so transports him, and he will
answer, no, certainly not ; and after sayiug such fine
things about the charms of solitude and tranquillity, lie
would consider himself much to be pitied could he never
plunge again into the thickest of the fight, mingle in
the tumult and the crowd, in political animosities, lit-
erary rivalries, legislative chambers, academies, — play
his part, in short, on the great stage of the world, which
he was so rejoiced to quit. But I am running into
philosophy. To escape that peril, I embrace you with
all my heart and bid you good-by. I need not ask you
to remember me particularly to M. de Chateaubriand
and our good friend Ballanche, an,d, above all, to Mme.
Recamier, to whom I was prevented by my last attack
of fever from saying good-by."
Among the young celebrities who, between 1838 and
1840, made their apj^earance at the Abbaye-aux-Bois,
Frederick Ozanam must not be forgotten. He had
already, seven years before, been j^resented by Ampere
to Mme. Recamier and M. de Chateaubriand, who had
both begged him to make his visits frequent. He then
declined the honor, but presented himself anew at the
expiration of the time he had himself fixed for achiev-
ing a reputation. Notwithstanding the disparity in
their ages, Ampere attached himself eagerly to Ozanam.
His affection for him was almost paternal in its char-
acter, and made up of both love and respect. He sur-
vived this young and saint-like friend, to whom he paid
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 227
a last tribute of regard wbicli is wortliy of riicntion.^
Among those who gave expression to the public regi-et
at the grave of Ozanam, — and they included the most
illustrious of his contemporaries, — no one spoke of him
more affectingly or with deeper feeling than Ampere.
The allusion to his celebrated father in the eulogy of
his friend is peculiarly touching. He thus expresses
himself: " Sent to Paris to study law, Ozanam had
the good fortune, which he always appreciated, and
loved to thank God for, to pass two years under my
father's roof From this time, 1831, dates the begin-
ning of our fraternal intercourse. I have ever watched
with the tenderest care over this young friend, advising
him as best I could, and striving to moderate his ex-
cessive love of study; loving him for his boyish warmth
of heart, and — I Avill spenk as I feel — inspired with
respect by his virtues."
But let us revert to the literary laboi's of Ampere.
After his return from his journey in Greece and Asia
Minor, and while occupying the chair of French litera-
ture, and publishing at the same time his studies of
Greek literature, he was seized by one of his irresistible
fancies. This time it was Chinese that was the object
of his scientific caprice. Ten years before he had
studied the language with Abel Remusat, and put into
verse a romance of the Celestial Empire ; now it was
the philosophy of Lao-Tse that he took upon himself
to explain, examining, in some clever articles published
1 Articles in tlie "Journal des Debats " of the 9th and 12tb
October, 1853
228 JEAN-,rACQUES AMPJbJRE
in the " Revue des Deux Mondes," Stanislas Julien's
translation of the works of the celebrated founder of
the sect of tlie Tao-Sse. The transition from Chinese
characters to Egyptian hieroglyphics is very natural ;
by studying the first of these systems of writing he
became interested in the other. However, as he was
already intimate with Klaproth, and imbued with his
prejudices, he ranged himself at first among the deti'act-
ors of Champollion. Where is the discoverer who has
not seen the truth it was his mission to reveal to the
world denied ? Through the generosity of Charles X.,
Champollion was able to visit the banks of the Nile,
and study on the spot the great monuments of the
Pharaohs; but even after the decisive proof of the
worth of his system furnished by the results of this
exploration, and even also after the publication of his
grammar and dictionary, there were learned men who
still contested the truth of his discovery. Charles
Lenormant, an early disciple of Cham2:)ollion, who ac-
companied him on his exjsedition, and afterward suc-
ceeded him as professor at the College de France,
vainly tried to make Ampere appreciate more justly
the labors of his master; the frequent and animated
discussions which occui-red between the two friends
failed to convince the sceptic. After exhausting every
argument, Lenormant finally said to him : " You are
talking of a matter you have never examined ex-
perimentally for yourself; lay aside theories that are
not your own ; here are the grammar and dictionary,
study them; I am confident of the result." Ampere
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 229
took the tools provided by the genius of Charapollion
for the help of learners, and, applying himself to the
study of them with his usual ardor and acuteness, was
soon able to read the hieroglyphic characters. This
anecdote is an illustration of his admirable sincerity in
matters pertaining to learning, as well as the impetu-
osity with which he pursued his literary investigations.
Once convinced of the truth of that which he had
doubted, Ampei-e thought only of applying his knowl-
edge.
Full of this idea, he resolved to set out for Egypt ;
" that country," he said, " which awakens all the grand
memories of the past, whose present and whose future
still interest us, and which deserves to engage the at-
tention of the world for ever. At the very beginning
of all tradition in Judea and Greece, we descry Egypt.
Moses came out thence, thither went Plato ; she drew
to herself the thought and the tomb of Alexander;
toward her tended the piety of Saint Louis, the fortunes
of Bonaparte."
From M. Villemain, then minister of Public Instruc-
tion, Ampere received most kind assistance in carrying
out his plans. He was able to secure as his fellow-
traveller the man of his choice, M. Paul Durand, a fine
scholar, who was, at the same time, physician, draughts-
man, and archaeologist. Ampere set out in the middle
of the summer of 1844. He expected to meet, and did
meet, on the banks of the Nile the great scientific ex-
pedition despatched by the King of Prussia, at the head
of which was an eminent Egyptian scholar, M. Lepsius.
230 JEAN-JACQUES AMPP.RE
Egypt was still under the government of Meliemet-
Ali, that most able adventurer, who exterminated the
Mamelukes, and conquered Syria, where he treated the
Christian population during his short administration
with equity, though governing his Egyptian subjects
with a rod of iron. Ampere was presented to the
viceroy by M. Benedetti, French consul at Cairo, to
whom he brousjht a letter from Reschid-Pacha. The
following is his account of his interview with the cele-
brated despot : —
" Mehemet-Ali is a very hale old man ; he was
standing when we entered, and seemed very firm on
his legs. He spri\ng lightly iipon the tolerably high
divan, where he squatted, and we took our places be-
side him. He did not strike me as very distingue in
appearance, but very intelligent, and he has not the
slightest expression of ferocity. Our interview was
marked by one incident only of any significance. The
pacha invited me to inspect his Polytechnic school ; I
replied that my father would have proved himself most
worthy of an honor that I did not merit, and begged
his highness to permit me to decline a task for which
my studies had not fitted me. His highness was un-
willing to give up the point. ' What the father could
do, the son should be able to do,' he said. Unfortu-
nately I knew too well the limit of my abilities. I
was obliged to oppose, with respectful firmness, the
well-meant persistence of the viceroy, in order to avoid
making myself ridiculous by examining, ou matters I
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 281
-"lo not understand, the pupils and professors of the
school under the du'ection of M. Lambert. But though
I did not yield to Mehemet-Ali, I had not the satisfaction
of convincius: him. I mention this little occurrence,
because it illustrates a characteristic common to all
oriental governments. They all, in fact, including even
the reformatory government of Egypt, are convinced
that every man, and especially every European, is fit to
do any thing. Mehemet-Ali understands Arabic very
imperfectly, and disdains to speak it. He is a Turk,
who speaks Turkish, and governs through the Turks."
Friends in France, and especially the guiding spirit
of the Abbaye-aux-Bois, were not forgotten on the bark
which bore our traveller towai'd the second cataract.
He wrote to Mme. Recamier : —
" Cairo, December 19, 1844.
" Behold me really in Egypt, madame ; yes, here I
am, in what is, perhaps, the most remarkable city of
the East; and I take pleasure in addressing a letter
from this place to you, who have been so often in my
thoughts in such widely diflferent places. Beneath the
palm-trees of the Nile, just the same as when I was
younger among the pines of Norway, do I love to bear
your image with me, and dedicate to you my first im-
jjressions of the extraordinary country I am now visit-
ing.^ Cairo ; the Pyramids, that I see from my window ;
1 It is interesting to recall the fact that at this time Mme. 11^-
camier was an old lady of sixty-seven. — Tb.
232 JEAN-JACQUES AMP£:RE
Heliopolis, where I went yesterday; visions of the
temples close at hand ; palra-trees, camels, minarets, —
all lighted nj) by the soft radiance of a sun like om's in
early June, compose a ravishing picture. And this is
only the portal of that Egypt where so many marvels
to be seen and deciphered await me.
" I have already worked hard among the collections
in Rome and Naples ; I merely passed through Alex-
andria, but here I have found already many things.
We shall start in a few days, so as to reach as soon
as possible Thebes and Upper Egypt. I earnestly trust
that I shall receive before my departure a letter from
M. David, which will give me news of you. You have
had a return of neuralgia, in consequence of staying
too long in a spot where I followed you in spirit.
You promised me not to expose yourself again in this
way. Consider the feelings of absent friends, and so
conduct yourself that they shall have good reports of
you ; they have great need of them, that they may not
feel even further off and more widely separated.
" Happily, thanks to the steamer, I am only a fort-
night from Paris. How glad I shall be to find my-
self there again in the spring ! That thought makes
me press on, for every step that I make forward brings
me the sooner back. We have been presented to
Mehemet-Ali, who was in a very good humor ; he
seems to be in excellent health. After we have visited
the Pyramids, and explored Cairo and its environs a
little, we shall proceed in our boat to Thebes and
Upper Egypt, where I hope to have more letters.
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 233
But I fear they will come a little irregularly, and that
the same will be the case with those I write ; this is the
cruel side of this journey. However, there is now a
chance of receiving and sending letters, which several
years ago there was not. I have already seen on the
Nile some of M. de Chateaubriand's birds, and I shall
write to him about them when I have seen them amonsr
the ruins. I have executed M. Lenorraant's commis-
sions. I feel assured that his course of lectures is
going on finely in every respect. Soliman-Pacha ^ has
been so kind to me that I am really touched by it. He
reminded me in the pleasantest way that he had been
a pupil of my father. He has been everywhere recalled
to me here. Adieu, madame; M. Ballanche has written
me a kind letter, for which I thank him. Adieu, again,
very affectionately."
Those beautiful Egyptian nights, so well described m
verse by Ampere, came near costing him his life, for
he neglected all precautions. After passing the whole
day, like a true savant^ copying inscriptions under a
burning sun, he liked nothing better than to spend the
night lying on the deck of his boat, enjoying the cool
air, either indulging in reverie or composing verses. In
an Eastern climate one pays dearly for such reckless
impi-udence. Our friend was seized with a most violent
attack of dysentery, and yet, nevertheless, he insisted
1 Soliman-Pacha (Selves), major-general in the Egyptian army,
was a native of Lyons, and had known Ampere, the mathema-
tician.
234 JEAN-JACQUE.-^ AMPJ^RE
upon continuing his journey, and ascended the Nile as
far as the second cataract.
His travelling companion, M. Durand, who had vainly
counselled him to be prudent, succeeded too late in
inducing him to submit to his care, both as friend and
physician. He brought the sick man, not without diffi-
culty, back to Marseilles, where his illness and Aveak
condition obliged him to remain several weeks. All
the letters addressed to Ampere by his friends at the
Abbaye-aux-Bois are full of the deepest anxiety. Mme.
Recamier wrote to him June 1, 1845 : —
" 3fo?i Dieu / how your last letter to M. Ballanche
alarms me ! How sad to feel that you are thus de-
tained far from your friends at the very time they were
so joyfully expecting you ! I unite with M. Ballanche
in recommending the greatest prudence and greatest
care of your health ; I beseech you also to let us hear
from you much more frequently ; we should like to
have a line by every mail, one line only, so as not to
fxtigue you too much. I rely upon you, upon your
friendship, to spare me anxieties which would be hard
to bear. Ah, mon Dieu! how many things I have to
say to you, to ask you ; and when shall we be all to-
gether again ? "
A few days afterward the good Ballanche took up
the pen : —
"June 12, 1845.
" My very dear friend," he said, " we were greatly in
need of your letter to Mme. Recamier ; we were all in
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 235
deep distress, and it is easy to understand why : we all
went about in search of news, for we knew how neces-
sary careful treatment is in these climatic maladies ;
besides, Ave were afraid that the vexation of being ban-
ished far from all your friends might still further retard
your convalescence, already so trying ; consequently the
news indirectly communicated by Mme. de Jussieu, then
that received by M. Lenormant, finally, your letter to
Mme. Recamier, were immediately circulated.
" My very dear friend, I have had experience in these
convalescences where a strict regimen is necessary. I
know how much time they require, and how much pru-
dence must be exercised before one can be again re-
stored to full health. Thus, while I encourage you, I
cannot help advising you to be extremely prudent.
We have had no spring, and we are now entering as it
were into the heart of summer all at once, without any
transition.
" Mme. Recamier is very well ; she goes out for a
little while in the morning, but generally stays at home
in the evening. You will find her in good health and
without plans ; how could she foi-m any while so many
of her friends are absent ?
"My health is good, save from time to time some
little drawbacks which are always enfeebling, but I am
old and resigned. You will find the Princess Belgiojoso
building a house for Augustin Thierry. M. de Chateau-
briand ^ has arrived at the end of his journey, conse-
1 M. de Chateaubriand had gone to Venice to see the Count de
Chambord.
236 JEAN-JACQUES AMPJ^RE
quently he will be coming back soon ; so we are
approaching gradually to the end of all these absences,
and we shall know what to do with our summer. I
might give you news of the Academy, but you already
know all that can be of interest to you. In your ab-
sence we have received Sainte-Beuve, Saint-Marc Gi-
rardin, Merimee ; we have Vigny and Vitet to receive
at your return. I do not wish for another vacancy,
because I want you to be here in good health, quietly
making your visits ; besides, I fear that the next will
be that of the venerable Royer-Collard, which would
grieve me very much ; he is eighty-three years old, and
looks all his age. I might tell you of our religious dis-
cussions, but you will arrive in time for them ; I hope
you wiU take part in them with moderation. I am
alone in my opinion, but I think the great and over-
powering interest excited by discussions of this sort is
marvellous; and so I am far from deploring them as
many peoj^le do. God grant, however, that we may
all learn moderation. Set your mind at rest; be as-
sured that the health of all in whom you are interested
is unimpaired ; and that you will find that we all love
you even better than ever, if that were possible, on ac-
count of the anxiety you have caused us.
" I embrace you warmly."
Ampere was able, finally, to rejoin his friends, but
the shock his constitution had received was great, and
for more than a year he continued in an alarming con-
dition. At that time he was living with M. Mohl, a
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 237
learned foreigner, subsequently naturalized in France,
and one of the most distinguished orientalists of our
Academy of Inscriptions. In this household, composed
of two bachelors, the phlegmatic temperament of the
one formed an amusing contrast to the impetuosity
of the other. But though outwardly very unlike, both
were men of great good sense, and the profound esteem
they had for each other led to mutual deference, and
enabled them to maintain for a long time their associ-
ation. During all Ampere's illness, M. Mohl gave him
the most assiduous care.
Among the persons who at this juncture manifested
a deep interest in Ampere, the Viscountess de Noailles
must not be forgotten. This lady was no less remark-
able for her kindness than for her brilliant wit, her per-
fect grace and elevation of character. Left a widow
in early youth, and commanding the respect of all who
knew her, she devoted herself to the care of her only
child, a daughter, upon whom she concentrated all her
affections. The Viscountess was quick at repartee, and
very animated in conversation. She talked with great
ease and naturalness, and it pleased her to meet young
people able to encounter her in a war of wit. Conse-
quently she was delighted with Ampere ; nor was this
all ; by his noble traits of character he inspired her with
a real affection.
The Viscountess de Noailles made the acquaintance
of Ampei*e at the Abbaye-aux-Bois, where, in company
with her son-in-law and daughter, the Duke and
Duchess de Mouchy, she was a frequent visitor. The
238 JEA N-JA CQ UES A MPME
Noailles had succeeded to the Montmorencies in tlie
salon and in the friendship of Mrae. Recamier. No
one,, it is true, could fill the place that the saintly friend
of her youth, Matthieu de Montmorency, had held in
her heart; but the Duke de Noailles, a much later
comer, was immediately adopted by Mrae. Recamier,
and admitted among the number, now constantly grow-
ing less, of her intimate friends. This intimacy was
shared by all who made part of the daily circle at the
Abbaye-aux-Bois, for one of the results of the ascend-
ency exercised by Mme. Recamier was the bond of
good-will which this remarkable woman knew how to
create between all whom she loved.
As soon as Ampere began to gain a little strength,
he went to pass a month with Mme. Lenormant in the
pleasant valley of the Rille; a little later he established
himself at Mouchy, the magnificent residence of the
Viscountess de Noailles : he ever held in most grateful
remembrance the delicate attention he received from
the whole family. Years afterward he still spoke of it
with emotion.
Ordered to observe a strict diet, obliged to remain
constantly in a recumbent position, his habits of study
broken up. Ampere was a very difficult patient to man-
age. No one ever needed to be amused so much as he*
and, like an obstinate child, he could hardly be made to
submit to the course of treatment prescribed. Conse-
quently his convalescence was slow. He was still con-
fined to his room at the beginning of the new term at
the College de France, and was therefore obliged to
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 239
relinquish all thought of resuming at present the chair
which he had held with such marked success. He
chose for his substitute M. de Lomenie, a clever writer,
already favorably known by his critical and biographi-
cal work, "La Galerie des Contemporains lUustres."
In these sketches, treating of the writings and conduct
of men of all nationalities, most of them still living, and
very different in genius and character, the young au-
thor, who signed himself " U)i homme de rien,''^ gave
evidence, not only of a moderation and discretion lare
at his age, but of a firm though kindly judgment. His
literary criticism was ingenious, and the event proved
that he had every qualification desirable in a professor.
Ampere rejoiced sincerely in a success which he had
predicted ; henceforward, when either ill-health or his
journeys obliged him to relinquish temporarily the
duties of his professorship, it was always M. de Lom(5nie
whom he chose as his substitute.
When we consider the severe shock given to Am-
pere's constitution by his journey to Egypt, where he had
conducted himself with so much imprudence, the ques-
tion naturally suggests itself: What use did he make
of the knowledge acquired at so great a cost? A few
learned and able memoirs read before the Academy of
Inscriptions, in which he examines with his usual acute-
ness the subject of the existence of castes in Egypt,
and makes use of inscriptions from monuments to shed
new light upon the social conditions of mankind in
those remote ages ; a series of articles published in the
" Kevue des Deux Mondes," giving an account of his
240 JEAN-JACQUES AMP£:RE
jouruey, together with interesting observations on man-
ners and customs, descriptions of monuments and nat-
ural scenery, — these were the only results.
His passion for Egyptian antiquities once satisfied,
Ampere abandoned their study to follow in other direc-
tions the promptings of his inquiring spirit. He had
done enough to prove that had he continued to give
his attention to that branch of knowledge he might
have produced a profound and original work ; but with
him it was a mere passing fancy, and he was no more
constant to the study of hieroglyphics than to the
Chinese language.
We must not, however, fail to recognize that if Am-
pere was often content to merely skim (though always
with a vigorous wing) the surface of studies widely
divergent, he had in all shown himself to be animated
by a genuine literary spirit. Skilful in detecting analo-
gies, he had a keen relish for the poetry of all nations ;
he had proved himself, in fine, not only a man of eru-
dition, but a bel esprit in the best sense of the word.
The French Academy had a claim upon him, and made
good that claim. Alexandre Guiraud died in 1846 ;
Ampere was elected to succeed him early in 1847.
My readers will pardon the profound emotion I ex-
perience in attempting to relate the events that followed
t
closely upon Ampere's election to the French Academy.
The last and most obscure relic of that circle which
drew around Mme. Recamier, attracted by admiration
of her intellect, grace, and goodness, my heart bleeds
in telling how, one by one, all these illustrious examples
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 241
of genius and of friendship have passed away. I have
seen thera successively descend into the tomb; Bal-
lanche, Chateaubriand, preceding her who was their
good angel, and then De Tocqueville, Lenormant, Am-
pere. I have watched the gradual inroads of physical
weakness in the man who will ever be considered the
greatest writer of his age, and whose form will seem
to our posterity to tower above the threshold of our
century, one of those colossal figures which for ever
mark an epoch. With the increasing weight of bodily
infirmities, M. de Chateaubriand became more and
more taciturn. The eagerness and curiosity which
he always excited annoyed him; obliged to be car-
ried into the salon of Mme. Recamier, the feelinsf he
had was similar to that of Royer Collard, who, when
he resigned his functions of deputy, exclaimed, " I do
not want any one to see me go crawling to my seat."
Like him, M. de Chateaubriand could not submit to
be an object of pity, mingled though it were with ad-
miration.
Dark, indeed, were the clouds now gathering over
the poor salon of the Abbaye. Mme. R6camier, over
whose eyes a cataract was slowly spreading its veil,
would have been justified in giving a little more atten-
tion to herself, but she seemed to forget, and by her
serenity sought to make others forget, the calamity
which threatened her. The faithful Ballanche, whose
health had been always very delicate, was failing day
by day: his distress at Mme. Rdcamier's almost total
blindness, and his anxiety in regard to the operation to
11 p
242 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
which she had resolved to submit, affected him most
unfavorably. Hardly had the operation been per-
formed when he was attacked by an inflammation of
the lungs, which speedily became fatal. Mrae. Re-
camier hastened to the dying bed of her friend, and
lost in tears the sight she had just recovered. Amid
these scenes of mourning and accumulated sorrow,
Ampere played the part of the most affectionate son.
In concert with M. and Mme. Lenormant, he aided
Mme. R^camier to divert M. de Chateaubriand from his
melancholy; and by his genial flow of spirits and enthu-
siastic republicanism he succeeded in the task. It was
under these circumstances that his initiatory discourse
was written, and the ceremony of his admission into
the French Academy took place.
The effort made by Mme. Recamier to conceal her
grief for Ballanche, so as not to increase M. de Cha-
teaubriand's dejDression, had, however, so exhausted her
strength that her niece, justly alarmed, insisted upon
her going into the country, and actually dragged her
away from Paris. Ampere followed them to Normandy,
It was there that he prepared the volume which, so
Mme. Recamier hoped, was to popularize the works of
Ballanche, and perpetuate his memory as well as his
talent and lofty soul. They read over the writings of
the lamented philosopher, and together selected the
passages to be quoted. To Mme. Recamier the occu-
pation was a pleasing one, as, while it served to fix
her attention, it did not divert her thoughts from the
memory of the friend she had lost.
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 243
Ballanche, as a writer, is far from having the rank
which is his due, and which will be his whenever a
well-arranged edition of his works shall bring them
within reach of the real public, by whom he is too little
known. His style is everywhere superb, pure, and
elevated, often powerful, and sometimes very pictu-
resque; though it cannot always atone for the fault
of a somewhat vague philosophy. The volume com-
posed by Ampere at the instigation and, I may say,
under the dictation of Mme. Recaraier, is not and could
not be, in the strict sense, a biography, for the career
of Ballanche was marked by no events. He took no
part in the political agitations of his time, and his
whole life was made' up of what he thought, felt, and
wrote. The aim of the book was to reveal what was
innermost both in the man and the author, and convey
to the public "an emanation from that beautiful soul
so full of hidden perfumes, by means of a few of his
letters and extracts from his works, choosing those best
fitted for extraction and indicative of the quality of
his talent." The purpose thus expressed in the be-
ginning of the work has been completely accomjDlished ;
and this volume of extracts throws the clearest light
upon the very peculiar character of Ballanche.
The private loss which had made so sad a void in
the circle of the Abbaye-aux-Bois was soon followed
by a public catastrophe. The revolution of February,
1848, swept away in three days the throne that the
revolution of July, 1830, had taken three days to
erect. Civil war stained with blood the streets of our
244 JEAN-JACQUES AMP ME
capital, and the last agonies of M. de Chateaubriand
had a sinister accompaniment in the terrible voice of
the cannon of June. It was on the 4th of July, 1848,
that the great soul of the author of the " Genius of
Christianity " took its flight toward eternity. The
noble old man fell asleep in the Lord with a placid
confidence. His eyes, as they closed for ever, were
still able to fix their gaze upon that incomparable friend
who was not long to survive him. His last anxieties
were for his country ; dying, he followed with sad in-
terest the strife of parties, of which he was eager to
hear all the particulars. The self-sacrifice of the arch-
bishop of Paris drew from him a magnificent burst of
admiration, and great was his joy at the glorious issue
of those terrible days.
M. de Chateaubriand had expressed the wish that his
mortal remains should be buried beside the sea, whose
waves had cradled his infancy, and the town of St. Malo
had prepared for him during his lifetime a tomb upon
a rocky islet not far from its walls. Upon this rock,
called the Grand Bey, and facing the town, " where life
was inflicted upon him," rests the body of the illus-
trious author. At high tide Grand Bey forms an
island, at low tide it can be reached by the beach left
bare by the receding waves. On the side looking to-
ward the open sea, the spot chosen by the deceased, is his
tomb, excavated in the solid granite rock. Above the
tomb rises a massive cross, also of granite ; and around,
nothing but the sea and sky. There, on the 19th of
July, 1848, were laid to rest the remains of M. de
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 245
Chateaubriand, amid an immense concourse of specta-
tors, and with ceremonies which lent to the occasion
all the character of a Christian apotheosis.
Ampere made it his religious duty to accompany the
remains to Brittany. He was then chancellor of the
Academy, and before his departure he intimated to
the perpetual secretary that he would consider it a
great honor if the members of that body would give
him the authority to speak for them at the approaching
obsequies. Before the time fixed for the funeral cere-
monies he received at St. Malo the following note from
M. Villemain : —
"Monsieur and dear colleague," he wrote, "the
Academy is not surprised that you sbould have antici-
pated her choice of a delegate for the pious duty which
it is yours to fulfil. In paying the last funereal honors
to the mortal remains of the illustrious man she has
lost, she cannot be better represented than by you, and
she accordingly charges you to speak in her name, both
as her chancellor and as one of her most worthy repre-
sentatives, and also as having won the friendship of
the great author who has conferred upon her so much
honor. In all that you say of the imperishable fame of
M. de Chateaubriand, and of that generous nature
which was so well known to you, our admiration and
our hearts are with you.
"Receive, Monsieur and dear colleague, the assurance
of my high esteem.
" Villemain.
"July 15, 1848."
246 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
Ampere accordingly, in the course of these imposing
obsequies, pronounced a few words, marked by deep
feeling, such as he would naturally be inspired to utter
by the religious and poetical aspect of this last scene
in the drama of a poetic life.
The Countess de Boigne, the only friend of her youth
still left to Mme. Recamier, was absent from Paris at
the time of M. de Chateaubriand's death. At the break-
ing out of the revolution of February she had sought
refuge at Tours, and had not yet returned. Sympa-
thizing deeply with the grief in which she knew Mme.
Recamier must be plunged, she wrote to her, August
12th, 1848: —
" Very dear Friend, — I have heard simultaneously
of your severe sufferings and of your recovery. I had
no need of this additional anxiety about your poor dear
life ; but I do not recognize your usual strength of mind
or your tender heart in the way you are giving up,-to
the despair of the faithful friends still remaining to you,
and who have the right to beg you to help them in
their efforts to sustain you in this painful event. I
know that it is accompanied and has been preceded by
much that is calculated to impair your strength and
shake your courage ; but, dear friend, you must get
back a little of both, so that you may cherish and clothe
anew in all its old strength and beauty that image of
your friend which the past few months had somewhat
defaced. I can understand — who better than I ? — that
your affectionate heart must bitterly regret what was
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 247
still left you to cherish, love, nurse, and husband, of a
life so precious ; I can understand that you must feel a
sort of irritation, when you have reason to suspect that
others think your grief out of proportion with what in
these last days there was yet to lose of that illustrious
existence ; and yet, dear friend, I must say to you that
you will finally admit yourself that it was not desirable
that that life should be prolonged ; for the hour of
physical suffering had arrived, accompanied by no com-
pensations, since the strength to support pain was
gone. His mighty genius had worn itself out before
wearins: out its mortal frame. All that now remains
of him is your love and his fame ; it will not be diffi-
cult for you to confound the two together and make
them one. You will by that means find greater com-
fort in your recollections. Alas ! for a long time you
have been living only in these recollections through a
sad and painful present; for I have seen how cruelly
you have suffered from the sight of infirmities which,
in spite of the zeal and ingenuity of your affection,
you could neither disguise to yourself nor conceal from
others.
" Dear friend, I conjure you let your mind bridge
over this arid desert, and beyond you will find pleas-
anter thoughts and more cheerful views. It is there,
among images of the past, that you must pitch your
tent, and allow your friends to rally around you. 3Ion
Dieu ! in this the whole world will help you, by bring-
ing to you the tributes of admiration so long merited
by him whom you weep. Do not make it a religious
248 JEAN-JACQUES AMPi^RE
duty to picture him to your heart such as he was in his
last days ; it is unworthy both of him and of you.
Replace him upon the pedestal where he once stood,
bear thither your loving suffrages ; herein you will find
the only possible consolation. Consider also that
though his reputation has no need of extraneous sup-
port, the care of it has fallen into hands that are neither
very well informed nor loving, and that you should not
allow yourself to be so overcome as to lose all influ-
ence in the matter. M. de Girardin's position will prob-
ably render him very exacting. He is adroit and not
over-scrupulous, and it is essential that in this direction
no false steps should be risked. Your instinctive tact
will be of more avail than all the quibbles of the law.
I beg Amelie to accept this as an answer to her letter,
thanking her for writing and for the pamphlet, which
has interested me very much. I am soriy that you
are unwilling to leave the poor Abbaye, which is be-
coming so sadly depopulated. No doubt you will carry
with you everywhere the arrow which transpierces you,
but it would be at least a change of air, which would
give you a little more strength to bear your pain. I
wish that you might decide to come to Tours."
M. de Chateaubriand's death was, alas ! a mortal blow
to Mme. Recamier. The sources of life seemed, as it
were, dried up within her. We watched her languish
for ten months, without one rebellious murmur, retain-
ing her sweetness, her perfect grace, her angelic good-
ness ; more loving thaii ever, perhaps, toward those
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 249
from whom she felt she would soon be obliged to part.
It caused her a sort of melancholy joy to learn that
the Duke de Noailles, who had been chosen for AI. de
Chateaubriand's successor at the Academy, was to pro-
nounce his eulogy.
The cholera had reappeared. It was the only malady
Mme. Recamier was ever known to really fear. She
resolved to fly from the pestilence, which was raging
in the neighborhood of the Abbaye-aux-Bois, and
which had even penetrated within its walls, and took
up her abode with her niece at the National Library,
for the infection had up to that time spared the Rue
Richelieu. But Mme. Recamier's state of depression
and debility probably made her peculiarly susceptible
to the terrible influence. She had only been a month
at the Library when she was attacked by the disorder
she so much dreaded, and to which she succumbed,
after a few hours of frightful agony, on the 11th of
May, 1849.
It is needless to recapitulate here the anguish of that
terrible night, still less to try to paint the grief of her
family and friends, who saw their guiding-star, their
centre of life, disappear with this adorable woman.
They scattered far and wide as people do who fly from
a falling thunderbolt.
Ampere immediately left Paris ; without a home,
without relations, stricken in his dearest affections, he
felt once more the urgent need to travel, thinking by
this means to escape from the isolation, the void that
had been made around him. But before going he re-
11*
250 JEAN-JACQUES AMPi:RE
signed his position as conservator of the "Bibliotheque
Mazarine." It was during the Republic of 1848 that
this position had become vacant, and M. de Falloux,
Minister of Public Instruction, had, unsolicited, ap-
pointed Ampere to fill it. A spacious and convenient
apartment was attached to the place, and great had
been the satisfaction of Mme. Recamier and her circle
of friends at this comfortable provision for a man whose
generosity often reached the verge of improvidence,
and whose money seemed to belong to everybody else
rather than to himself.
On her death, however, without taking counsel of
any one, Ampere immediately sent in his resignation.
He said nothing about it to M. and Mme. Lenormant
until the deed was done, and he came to bid tliem
good-by. Then he departed on his journey, hoping
amid new scenes to foi-get himself.
He had never been in Spain. M. Roulin, the present
librarian of the French Institute, who had long been
his kind and faithful friend, the friend, too, of M. Le-
normant, and with whom Ampere knew that he could
talk of Mme. Recamier, was about setting out for that
country. This circumstance determined his course.
Wishing to see M. Barante, an old friend of Mme. Re-
camier, and share with him his grief, he went by way
of Auvergne, where he made a short stay, joining M.
Roulin subsequently on the frontier, whence they
visited in company the Spanish peninsula. After his
friend had returned to Paris, Ampere completed his
trip by a tour through Portugal.
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 251
"When Ampere left Paris, — June, 1849, — Alexis de
Toequeville had just been appointed by the President
of the Republic Minister of Foreign Affairs. This office
he held only until the following October, when he left
Paris and proceeded to Sorrento, whither he had been
imperatively ordered for the benefit of his health,
seriously impaired in his country's service. He wrote
to Ampere, who had meanwhile returned to Paris,
begging him to join him and share his retreat. To be
again with the best friend left to him on earth, to live
in a sunny climate, where alone he could breathe freely,
away from Paris, now become hateful to him, was an
iiTCsistible temptation to Ampere, and he accordingly
joined De Toequeville in the environs of Naples. Here
was passed another happy period of his life. Long
afterward he took jjleasure in recalling and describing
the terrace, with its orange trees, where, looking out in
company with his friend upon that beautiful bay, that
azure sea, he laid bare his heart to the man he both
loved and honored. How many generous thoughts
were there interchanged; of what noble sorrow was
Ampere made the confidant ; and how these conversa-
tions reanimated and restored his drooping courage !
It was at Sorrento that he conceived the idea of visit-
ing America, — a plan which he carried into effect the
following year.
The winter of 1850-51, which Alexis de Toequeville
passed at Tours, brought back Ampere to Paris. He
resumed his lectures at the College de France, and
eagerly but sadly renewed his intimacy with the few
252 JEAN~,TACQUES AMPERE
persons still remaining of the circle of the Abbaye-aux-
Bois, — Paul David, M. and Mme. Lenormant and their
children, whom he had known from their earliest in-
fancy, and who were now in the bloom of youth ;
Ozanam, de Lomenie, Leonce de Lavergne, M. Pas-
quier, Mme. de Boigne, the Duke and Duchess de
Noailles, the Viscountess de ISToailles and her daughtei-,
the Duchess de Mouchy, M. Guizot, Mme. d'Hausson-
ville, the Duke and the Prince de Broglie. "Alas!"
he wrote to Mme. Lenormant, " all that was the pres-
ent is becoming the past, and we must cling to what
remains that we may be able to bear the loss of that
which is no more."
It was not in Ampere's nature to be long despondent ;
he could feel, and had felt, the transj)orts of violent
grief; but for him, so long as life lasted, there was
always something to do, something to be investigated,
something to be thought out. In the month of August,
1851, he went to England with Ozanam (already in a
state of decline) and his charming wife ; it was their
purpose to visit together the first Universal Exi^osition.
Let us leave Ampere to relate this episode of his
wandering life, which forms, in fact, the opening chap-
ter of his book entitled "Promenade en Amerique."
From this introduction the reader will be able to
judge of the lively and easy style of the book, which is
one of the most solid as well as one of the most charm-
ing of the author's works.
AND THE ABBA YE-AUX-BOIS. 253
" SoDTHAMrTON, August 27, 1851.
" Yesterday I was in the Crystal Palace in London.
I have just seen the Universal Exhibition, the first
really universal achievement in the history of mankind.
Yes, it is the first time since the world began that men
have done something in common ; that all nations,
without distinction of country, race, or belief, have
come together in the unanimity of one and the same
enterprise; a memorable and prophetic event, for it
proclaims and inaugurates, so to speak, the future unity
of the human race.
" To-day I leave England for the United States,
where I shall see, in the fullest freedom of active
operation, those industrial forces whose world-wide re-
sults I have admired in London. But, before leaving
behind me the shores of Europe, I beg permission to
relate an incident which gave me a piquant and pleas-
ant foretaste of America.
" In the railway carriage which took me fi'om London
to Southampton, in company with an eminent American
— Mr. Theodore Sedgwick — who is to sail with me,
was an English lady, who made immediately an impres-
sion upon me by her decision of speech and the original
turn of her mind. It was Fanny Kemble, whose fanciful
and romantic volume on the United States, a true girl's
book, had delighted me ; and, albeit it was somewhat
severe on American manners, had first inspired me
with a longing to undertake the voyage upon which I
stai't to-day. The brow, the glance, the whole person
of the niece of Mrs. Siddons glows with a light caught
254 JEAN-JACQUES AMP£RE
from the Tragic Muse. Much has happened since she
wrote what she now calls her ' impertinences ' on Amer-
ican manners, since she talked of her horseback rides
on the banks of the Hudson, and penned the charm-
ing verses suggested by those scerbes. Although she
brought back sad recollections from her adopted country,
she appreciates better than she did the social advan-
tages of a land where, she tells me, you feel that there
is no one about you suffering from want. Her enthu-
siasm, however, for its natural beauties seems to have
cooled. For my part, I prefer in that respect to trust
to her youthful impressions."
Ampere remained eight months in the New "World.
He visited all parts of North America, Canada, New
Orleans, the Island of Cuba, and completed this in-
teresting tour of observation by a trip to Mexico. A
passionate admirer of the gi-and in nature, a no less
enthusiastic obsex'ver of the mighty results of human
industry, in which, as in all the productions of man's
genius, he did not fail to discover a lofty and poetic
side. Ampere was well suited to enjoy the happiness
of living under free institutions. Everywhere received
as befitted a man of his merit, the inheritor of a name
famous in science, heralded and accredited as the friend
of Alexis de Tocqueville, Ampere saw not only the
country of America but the people. His book, ani-
mated by the most genuine good feeling, is marked by
no exaggerations ; the frankest, perhaps, of all the trav-
ellers who have written of the Americans, his account
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 255
of them leaves upon the mind the most favorable im-
pression of their country and its society. Nothing,
moreover, could be more entertaining tlian this "Prome-
nade in the New World," in the course of which Ampere
dines with the President of the United States, in com-
pany with Kossuth ; is charmed at Philadelphia by
the accents of Jenny Lind ; and as he listens to the
" Swedish Nightingale," is reminded that twenty-five
years before, in another hemisphere, he had heard
another nightingale, Mme, Catalani, sing at Stockholm.
Entering Vii'ginia, our critic on his travels sleeps at
Petersburg, then an obscure town, since made sadly
famous by the vast hecatombs of dead now sleeping in
its neighboring fields. To come upon that name there
is a shock to the imagination, " though," he adds, " one
must get accustomed in this country to the most ex-
traordinary surprises. ' Memphis,' ' Palmyra,' ' Rome,'
' London,' ' Paris,' lie along the route of the traveller in
the United States, — a plain indication that this New
World is the child of the Old, and proudly desirous to
imitate her."
At Charleston, Ampere witnessed a hideous specta-
cle: —
"I have just seen in broad daylight in the public
square a family of negroes sold at auction. They were
mounted on a cart, as for an execution ; on one side
was displayed a red flag, — worthy emblem of crime
and slavery. The negi'oes and negresses wore as un-
concerned an air as the crowd of by-standers. Tlie
256 JEAN-JACQUES AMP£!RE
auctioneer, in a playful style, set forth the capabilities
of a very intelligent negro, a gardener, of the first class.
The purchasers inspected the men, women, and chil-
dren, opened their mouths, looked at their teeth ; and
then the bidding began. Near by, at the same time
and in just the same way, a horse was sold, and
people were bidding for an ass. The price of the man
was sixty-nine dollars, the horse cost two dollars more.
I make no comments upon the scene I have described.
I finished the day, begun under such distressing au-
spices, on a slave plantation. It was the farce that fol-
lows the tragedy. The owner of the plantation is a
German, and evidently the least cruel and least tyran-
nical of men. He seemed to me to be literally tyran-
nized over by his negroes. Mr. , who is a humane
man, is unwilling to whip his slaves ; the slaves, little
moved to gratitude, work without energy, and with
great negligence. He entered a cabin where some ne-
gresses were busy cleaning cotton ; he merely pointed
out to them how badly their work was done, and ex-
plained to us the serious loss he should suffer through
their indolence. The only effect of his reproof was a
pout and low grunt. No old bachelor's housekeeper
ever took reproofs with a worse grace. The wrong of
which he complained was still another argument against
slavery ; paid servants can be forced to do their work
well by threatening to turn them away ; with slaves
there are only two things to be done, — whip them, or
be the victim of their laziness. Deplorable situation,
in which one must be either cruel or ill-obeyed."
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 257
Ampere, it is plain, was not nn advocate of slavery.
While doing ample justice to the inestimable advan-
tages of American institutions, he was under no illusion
in regai'd to the dangers which threatened the great
democratic confederacy. The difficulty of maintaining
the union between the Northern and Southern States,
so different in character, so opposed in interests; the
formidable question of slavery ; and, finally, the undue
acquisition of territory, toward which the Americans
are incessantly impelled, by the spirit of enterprise, and
the temptation of their supremacy, — all these grave and
almost insolvable difficulties, which very few statesmen
recognized at the time Ampere visited America, were
clearly seen by him, and his book prophetically pointed
them out ten years before they led to the fratricidal
strife of which we have been the witnesses.
After visiting Havana, Ampere proceeded to Mexico.
This country, since watered with the blood of our
soldiers, the object of so much anxiety, speculation,
hope, and fear to France, the scene of so many blun-
ders, is not, like the United States, without a past, or
destitute of historic monuments.
The Aztec civilization has left deep traces behind it.
Ampere did scarcely more than pass through the an-
cient empire of Montezuma, but the glance of the expe-
rienced traveller was so quick and sure that he was able
to make observations, as novel as they were ingenious,
upon the antiquities, the history, and especially the
dialects of the country.
On the 10th of May, 1852, the indefatigable explorer,
Q
258 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
having returned to Paris, resumed his duties at the
College de France, where, during the first term of that
year, M. de Lomenie had supplied his place.
An absence need not be long for us to find upon our
return that death has been making sad havoc in the
ranks of our friends. Ampere was never to see again
the brilliant Viscountess de Noailles, of whom Mme.
de Boigne wrote to Mme. Recamier: "She has a re-
markable wit that she often wastes, that she does not
scruple to bestow upon the stupid, but there is so much
of it, that enough still remains for fit occasions."
The friendship that the Viscountess de Noailles felt
for Ampere reverted as a part of her heritage to her
daughter, and the memory of it became a cherished
bond of union between the two. At the time of Mme.
R^camier's death, the Viscountess offered Ampere an
apartment in a detached wing of her house in Paris,
which he refused. The Duchess de Mouchy, with
affectionate persistence, now renewed the offer. The
following is Ampere's reply to this friendly proposal : — •
" Saturday, August 30,
" How kind and generous you are to me, madame! I
cannot tell you how much I am touched, nay, almost
overcome, by your proposal to take me under your roof,
— in that house, too, in the Rue d'Astorg, which has
for me so many associations. Do not be offended if I
cannot profit by it: aside from a rascally disposition of
mine, which makes it impossible for me to cast anchor
anywhere, such is my wild-cat nature that I am never
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 259
at home except in the i-egion of the roofs and gutters,
with no stationary domicile, and ever on the move (by
the way, I brought in a thief guilty the other day ^
on charge of vagrancy ; it was very mean of me not to
have claimed for him the benefit of extenuating cir-
cumstances). I am, you see, a wild-cat, and for such
worthless creatures nothing can be done; besides, the
Rue d'Astorg is too far from my work, that is to say,
from the Institute and its library. I am now lodging
just opposite the other library, close by the room where
my books and manuscripts are."^ I must be near them.
I hoped that in coming here I had drawn nearer to
you, and now you are to be at Versailles this winter ;
it is you who run away from me. However, journeys
have no terrors for me. I would willingly undertake
much longer ones, provided you were at the end of
them. I have to sit again on that tiresome jury. You
can have no idea how much experience I have gained
in the last week with regard to crimes. There is one
class which has fallen considerably in my estimation, —
that is, the witnesses ; but I cannot say that the aver-
age juror has risen very high in my opinion.
" Day before yesterday, after punishing crime at the
Palais de Justice, I went to reward virtue at the French
Academy. Some time ago I had>an interview with a
candidate for this prize ; but virtue, it seemed to me,
was a matter which she knew very little about. Adieu,
1 Ampere had been on a jury.
2 His books and MSS. were stored with M. Lenormant at the
National Library.
260 JEAN-JA CQ UES A MP£RE
raadame ; I would fain make you smile, at least amuse
you, as a return, however slight, for that charming kind-
ness of which you have just given me another proof
never to be forgotten."
At the close of the college term. Ampere set out for
Tocqueville. He was impatient to communicate to his
friend his vivid impressions of America. He announced
his departure to the Duchess de Mouchy in the follow-
ing letter : —
"Paeis, July 14.
"I am unwilling, madanie, to leave Paris without
saying good-by to you. Your own departure was
somewhat hasty, and I found only the kind note for
which I have to thank you. My lectures have at last
come to an end, much to the satisfaction of ray hearers,
who would soon have come to an end themselves,
melted by the heat. I intend to go to Tocqueville and
write my "America" there. I shall stop a little while
with Mme. Lenormant, then I have Mouchy in prospect,
— a prospect both sad and pleasant, which dismays me,
and yet invites. I think of it often, — of those whom
I shall see there no more, and those who still remain.
It is a spot painful for me to revisit, but never to see it
again would be still more so.
" You must be congratulating yourself, madame, that
you are just now at Dieppe ; it is, perhaps, the only
place where it is not too hot. I remember to have
passed a summer there, which was scorching every-
where else, but very agreeable there. Dieppe for me
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 261
is also a place of sweet and bitter memories. There
have I strolled in company with M. de Chateaubriand,
M. Ballanche, Mme. Recamier ; it was there I first saw
the Duchess de Mouchy, and heard her sing. I am be-
ginning, I feel, to grow old, for I am constantly recur-
ring to the past. But to consign it to oblivion would
be to annihilate it ; and, moreover, the present does Bot
intei-est the imagination much ; after having been un-
duly excited, we have now fallen into a state of languor
which has also its drawbacks : first of all, it is tiresome ;
Paris, too, which its always odious in summer, is now
more disagreeable than ever. Building is going on every-
where, consequently every thing is in disorder ; nothing
to be seen but stones and mortar, excavations, barred
streets. It is like being in a city of the United States.
For onoe it is permitted me to leave Paris without re-
gret, for it is hot, disagreeable, and empty. I am going
to plunge into my reminiscences of travel with Mouchy
in perspective. I shall try to make you like America a
little. As for the Duke de Mouchy, he and I are per-
fectly agreed on that point."
When the Duchess de Mouchy made her kind propo-
sition to Ampere, the possibility of forming any alliance
other than a closer one with De Tocqueville had never
entered his mind, for he was still a stranger to the
sentiment which was to determine all the rest of his life.
M. de Tocqueville, on his part, earnestly hoped that the
similarity of their tastes and pursuits would in the
end fix at his side his erratic friend. Fate ordered
262 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
it otherwise. During liis stay at Sorrento, in 1850,
Ampere met a French family with whom he had some
pleasant intercourse, that did not, however, at that
time ripen into intimacy. Subsequently, the health
of a beloved dauGjhter ^ brouGjht M. and Mme. de
Cheuvreux back every winter to Italy, where they
finally took up their abode permanently. Ampere,
drawn to Rome by his historical and archaeological
studies, met them again in this his favorite city. In-
vincibly subjugated by a person of angelic nature, he
attached himself to her devotedly, as was always his
wont, and gave himself up wholly to her family, —
sharing, first, their long, unceasing anxiety, then the an-
guish of their grief, and finally their worship of a sainted
memory. Henceforward he divided his life very un-
equally between Rome, Tocqueville, and Paris, giving
to the latter city the smallest j^ossible share consistent
with the fulfilment of his duties at the Collesre de
France. The distaste Ampere had for Paris was further
increased by the memory of the many bereavements he
had suflfered there. Thus, during the year following
his voyage to America, when he seemed to be recruit-
ing his energies and recovering his former cheerfulness,
he met again with two heavy blows. One was the
death of Adrien de Jussieu, " my earliest and one of
ray best friends," he wrote ; the other that of Ozanam.
In the bitterness of his grief he exclaimed, " One more
void in my life, another great sorrow. We have need,
1 Mme. Guillemin. — Tk.
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 263
indeed, of courage to stiniggle on when we see our
loved ones fiilling around us. Truly it is not worth
while to live."
No sooner, therefore, had he completed the twentieth
ye.ar of his professorship, which entitled him, according
to rule, to appoint his successor, than he gladly re-
linquished his chair to M. de Lomenie, who had already
shown himself so well calculated to fill it.
From Rome, Ampere wrote to the Duchess de
Mouchy, February 14, 1855 : —
" Imagine, madame, with what gratitude and emo-
tion I received your precious parcel, and read over
again that charming and noble production ! ^ I have
read the simple and touching lines with which you ac-
company it ; and then the portrait and the view of dear
and desolate Mouchy! I have recognized the window
of that room where I was so kindly nursed in my ill-
ness. Many memories, both sweet and sad, came crowd-
ing upon me. Each line, each word struck me with
new force. I seemed to hear, to see her who penned
them. I thank you also for the article (on his " Prom-
enade en Amerique ") which you have sent me ; while it
is kindly as all the others which I have seen, it blames
me for not being liberal enough. I think I never de-
1 " The Life of the Prmcess de Poix, «ee Beauvau," by the Vis-
countess de Noailles, a very delightful book, wliicli gives a cliarm-
ing picture of the most refined society of the last century. The
Duchess de Mouchy had a few copies of this book printed for
private circulation after the death of her mother. It is a 2hef
d'ceuvrc of typography.
264 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
served the reproach so little, and there is some merit
in it, as the opposite principle is certainly now trium-
phant ; but I am too old and too obstinate to change.
" I have seen the Abbe Roux, and have enjoyed very
much talking with him about his uncle ; he intends to
pass three years in Rome : I scarcely regard him as an
object of pity : if I could transport hither certain per-
sons that I know, I sliould regret Paris and its leace
celebrations but little.
" Meantime, I am doing my best to get away, hunt-
ing up antiquities by day and writing by night. But I
am not yet at the end of my task, and as tlie longer it
is the longer I shall have to stay here, you will permit
me to be of the opinion that there are too many Moman
Emperors.
" Adieu, madame ; many, very many affectionate
respects. You know the friends to whom I should like
to be remembered."
In October of this year, the last of his professorship,
Ampere was present at the marriage of his friend and
successor, M. de Lomenie, with the great-niece of Mme.
Recamier. Writing from Rome, May 6, 1856, to his
amiable and spirituelle correspondent, the Duchess de
Mouchy, to whom he delighted to give an account of
his labors, he says : —
" After having officiated as a witness on this to me
very pleasant occasion, I took passage by the direct
line of steamers Avhich sail three times a week, and in
a wonderfully short time found myself in Rome.
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 265
" I have been working for a year as I never worked
before in my life, and shall have heaps of prose and
verse to bring away with me.
" Madame, your mother, whom I love to talk of with
you, of whom I so often think, and whose delightful
book I have just read over again, was kind enough to
think, and often told me, that I ought not to study
quite so much what has been done by others, but de-
vote myself somewhat more to original composition.
So I have undertaken to produce something of my
own ; I have written a comedy, an historical play, and
a novel. This is not bad for a beginning, and I look
upon myself as a very promising youth of fifty-six.
" * Dans ma tete un beau jour ce talent se trouva,
Et j'avais cinquante ans quand cela m'arriva.'
" I can apply to myself these lines of ' La Metro-
manie,' and so make myself still younger. Roman
history has suffered somewhat from these poetical and
romantic infidelities ; nevertheless, I do not mean to be
divorced from her ; and if for a time I have neglected
her, and yielded to the fascinations of other loves, I
have now repented of my errors and returned to my
allegiance."
At no time, indeed, had Ampere accomplished more
work than during these last nine years of his life. Sus-
tained and stimulated as it were by the devoted friend-
ship which engrossed him wholly, no sooner had he
seen his " Promenade en Amerique " through the press
than he set to work with ardor to collect materials and
12
266 JEAN-JACQUES AMPJ^RE
write his " Histoire Romaine a Rome." While engaged
in making the extensive researches required for that
work, he also composed a long poem on the life of
Caesar, another upon Alexander, and, finally, a third
epic, of which St. Paul was the hero. All this did not
prevent him paying a short Aasit to his friends in France ;
he passed a few days in Paris, whence he announced
to M. de Tocqueville his intention to join him in Nor-
mandy. The latter replied, August 3, 1856 : —
" Dear Friend, — Your approaching arrival fills us
with a joy too great for words. Do you know that it
is almost a year since we have seen you? In truth,
it is not well that you and I, who are advancing in
life, should give one another so rarely the pleasure of
each other's society. Your arrangement to stay three
weeks adds much to our satisfaction, for we shall thus
have you alone with us for more than a week. We
feel extremely grateful to you for consenting to come
and help us entertain our guests ; but what we really
enjoy when you are here is the coming together of
three persons between whom there exists such entire
freedom of intercourse, united to so mutual but uncon-
strained a desire to please. And so we look forward
with especial pleasure to your long visit at the end of
the autumn.
" My wife has taken particular pains to make your
room more endurable ; and while she has let it remain a
garret, she has made it, I think, a warm and commodi-
ous garret. How I long to see you installed in it for a
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 267
long time ! You say nothing of Cousin : he sent me
word through Beaumont that he thought of coining to
see me on his way to Broglie. Thereupon, in order to
persuade him to come at the same time with you, I
sent him a beautiful letter, to which he has not replied.
Please let me know what he means to do.
" What you tell me of the sale of my book seems so
fine and astonishing, that I can only think that you
must have made a mistake in the number — 1,800 — of
copies sold. Before giving myself up to the joy of so
great a success, I must have your assurance that you
heard and have remembered rightly, and that it is not
800 instead of 1,800. I still constantly receive letters
of congratulation and sympathy. I should not be tell-
ing the truth if I did not own that the whole thing has
given me great delight, and my wife still greater. The
fact is, that if the book had fallen flat, it would, with
my natural inclination to despondency, have had a very
serious effect upon all the rest of my life. I had made
an immense effort, and if it had been absolutely in vain,
it would have been very difficult for me to begin any
thing again. Now, on the contrary, I am eager to be
at work once more, even though I foresee that in this
part of my woi-k I shall have far more difliculties of all
kinds to overcome than I had in that just finished. I
have notes, already a great many ideas, on this part of
my work, which, as you know, is the one which first
occurred to my mind. IsTot with standing my eagerness,
I do not wish to begin again until a certain time has
elapsed ; it has always been my intention to wait until
268 JEAN-JACQUES AMPi:RE
you should be fairly settled here, for I depend upon the
benefit of your advice, and the charm which even your
presence throws over our whole life, for putting me
into a favorable condition to labor. Until then I have
a little leisure time on my hands, which I should like
to devote to Buloz ; ^ I promised him something long
ago. But here again I have great need of your advice.
I have written to Buloz that I should ask you to talk
with him about a subject for me : do not leave Paris,
I beg of you, until you have had this conversation ; but,
above all, give the matter some little thought yourself.
I wrote to Buloz that the life of Stein (the celebrated
enemy of the French at the close of the Empire), and
that of Frederick Perthes, written by his son, might, per-
haps, afford scope for an interesting article. They are
both eminent men, each in his way ; both lived in stir-
ring times, and played a prominent part in them.
There are, moreover, in the private lives of these men
many features generally characteristic of Germany. I
think they have these two books (they are very volu-
minous) either in the library of the Institute or in the
National Library. You would oblige me very much if
you would bring them with you, even if you have a
better subject to propose to me, for the books are inter-
esting in themselves, and, at all events, would serve to
brush up my Gorman.
" What you tell me of the Lomenies' friendship for
us gives us pleasure ; we cordially reciprocate it. I
1 Buloz was editor of the " Revue des Deux Mondes."
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 269
oannot tell you how much we are interested in that
young household. The friendship between you and
them does not, you may be sure, lessen our regard. I
have no time to say more on this subject, but only to
embrace you."
The winter found the historian of Rome back again
in Rome. The state of the dear invalid, the object of
so much solicitude, was seemingly no worse ; and in the
spring following she was taken to Lake Como, where
Ampere rejoined the Cheuvreux family. A letter
addressed to Mme. de Mouchy from that place appears
written with a much lighter heart than usual. It seems,
as it were, to breathe of hope : —
" BORGOVICO, NEAR COMO,
" July 27, 1857.
" I might, and perhaps I should, madame la duchesse^
fill a page or two with excuses for having so long neg-
lected to write and thank you for the kind and enter-
taining letter which I received at Rome. But you
would find it very tedious reading, and would be sorry
that I had broken silence. So I will spare you the
enumeration of the causes which led to that silence, —
my work at Rome, then ray removal hither, my indo-
lence on the shores of this enchanted lake, you may
ascribe it to what you will except to forgetfulness and
insrratitude. So we have lost that kind and excellent
M. Brifliut ! although I had long apprehended it ; this
loss has been a painful one to me. You, too, must have
mourned his death ; his memory, which I shall ever
270 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
cherish, is for me linked with many recollections, and
especially with days passed at Mouchy, when I had
not yet recovered from my illness, and was the object
of such affectionate and delicate care, and used to
rebel against your mother when, for my good, she tried
to keep me from eating, for her intellectual gifts never
detracted from her goodness of heart or prevented her
from attending to the smallest details. You are now,
I suppose, at that same Mouchy, of which I so often
think. You must suffer from the heat there, as we are
suffering from it everywhere, and you have no lake to
give you night breezes, — this lake whose natural curi-
osities only I explore, but upon whose happy shores all
sorts of curious things are to be seen. Mme. S off,
who has just gone, sailed upon it every day in company
with the same Austrian uniform, if not with the same
officer. Mme. Pasta, who is much liked here, no longer
girds on the sword of Tancred, but plifes the spade in
her garden at four in the morning, and has had a trap-
door arranged in her bedroom through which she can see
her rabbits. Mme. de V , a fugitive from the villa
Pliniana, has changed shores in changing friends.^ The
Prince of Belgiojoso is in his dotage. Mme. de Bo-
carme, whose son has had a misfortune, has taken the
strang-e notion of cominsj here to hide her grief close
beside the chalet of Mme. Taglioni, in a house which
she has had painted black. The Taglioni house is
itself i-ather peculiar ; but all this is on the right shore,
1 " Mme. de V , fugitive de la Pliniana, a change de rive en
changeant d'ami."
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 271
and I live on the left, where the company is more moral
and more to my taste. In constantly scribbling, I tiy
to forget the sorrows of my country, and not to think
too much about those of the country I am in. We see
by " Les Debats," whenever we are allowed to get it,
that they are all still quarrelling about parties and
religion, as though politics were not dead, and religion
very sick. As for literature, I do not hear much about
it : there is nothing thoroughly alive except Mme. La
Bourse.^ This does not make Paris very interesting,
and you did not lose much, I think, in quitting it as
you did last winter. I mean, however, to return ; but
at this season I should find nobody there, and shall
remain for the present beside my lake, but on the Left
bank. Should your generosity ever incline you to write
to me, I shall be all the more grateful, because I con-
fess I do not deserve it. But a letter from you, ma-
dame, would be a great kindness, and a great delight to
the emigre. I should be glad to know how you do,
and to have news of your son, of the Duke and Duchess
de Noailles, of M. de Verac, and particularly of Mme.
Standish. I would like also to be remembered to all
the above-named persons, to whom I beg permission to
express, through you, my respectful attachment."
The following letter from M. de Tocqueville will end
the selections from Ampere's correspondence, — a cor-
respondence that death, alas ! was soon to interrupt,
for it was not long before he was bereft of the Duchess
1 The Stock-Exchange.
272 JEAN-JACQUES AMPME
de Mouchy and M. de Tocqueville, as well as other
friends : —
" Paris, April 11, 1858.
" I arrived here ten days ago, my dear friend, and I
leave you to judge how often I have spoken of you to
the large number of people who, in various degrees,
have for you a regard you so well deserve. Of course
they are sorry not to have seen you, but they can easily
understand why you remain absent; and, above all,
they hope not to be wholly deprived of the pleasure
of seeing you in the course of the summer. You know
that there are at least two persons in the world who
ai-e most warmly and sincerely devoted to you. I think
I can answer for that in my wife's name as well as my
own, although she is not with me here ; I have left her
at Tocqueville for another fortnight, and you will for-
give her for letting me come away without her, when
you know what is keeping her there. She is having
built under her own eyes that famous gallery in which
we are to take our walks sheltered from the ' down
channel wind,' as they say here ; and at the same time
is arranging some little papers.^ Alas ! when shall we
see again those little papers of yours? I dare not
flatter myself that it will be soon, nor, indeed, that
1 By these little papers is meant the series of satirical verses
in which, during the continuance of the Empire and until his
death, Ampere was in the habit of giving vent to his patriotic in-
dignation and his hatred of the Bonapartes. He wrote them upon
small loose sheets, and as he was very careless he often lost them
out of his pockets.
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 273
when the time comes, it will be for long. At all events,
I assure you that in the mean time your place will be
kept warm for you. I found the Lomenies well, and full
of the warmest affection for you. I wish that our good
Lomenie might succeed in producing a new book which
would draw attention to him. I think we should have
no great difficulty in getting the doors of the Academy
opened to him ; great men are beginning to be terribly
scarce ; and among the men of talent there is no one
who, by his life and character, better deserves to be
chosen than he.
" I saw Levy yesterday. The printing of your
' CoBsar ' is getting on. More than two-thirds of my
third edition are exhausted, and the book continues to
sell well. This encourages me to go on with my work ;
and indeed I came here with no other purpose than
to work. I perform my task conscientiously. I pass
my time at the archives or in the libraries. But thus far
the effort has been greater than the result. I brought
quite a number of chapters with me from Tocqueville,
but in such a rough-draught and sketchy state that it
would be useless for me to read them to any one,
even to you ; they are too shapeless. 1 try to console
myself for your absence by this reflection. I saw at
the Lomenies your portrait, a copy of which you intend
for me : thank you for this remembrance. The poR
trait looks like you, but, like all your portraits, it gives
the features but not the expression. I do not know
whether, all things considered, the medallion which is
at Tocqueville, in the billiard-room, is not the best
12* s
274 JEA N-JA CQ UES AMP£:RE
thing that has been done of you. No news to tell you
that is not in the newspapers. It is hard to say wliat
is passing in men's minds; the only thing we can see
with any certainty is that there is a disposition to find
fault, great embarrassment in industrial affairs, and,
above all, a feeling of instability which appears strange
in view of such apparent strength. It is my opinion,
however, that nothing important of any sort is to be
expected for some time to come. We can hardly quar-
rel with England, since we give up to her in every
thing, I know from good authority that the news-
papers have been warned to say no more about the
island of Perim, I can understand that the English
may sometimes think that there are some good things
in our constitution after all. Adieu ', I embrace you
with all my heart."
In another letter of some weeks' earlier date, which
also found Ampere in Italy, Tocqueville says to him : —
" Happy mortal that you are, to be able to produce,
off-hand, works which first satisfy yourself and then de-
light the public ! It is a real pleasure for me to see
you at work, to watch that active and clear-sighted
mind, prompt, and, at the same time, sure, turning from
one subject to another, finding at once the right thing
to say on each, and how to say it agreeably. As I read
your letter, I fancied I could see you visiting your
friends, looking for a lodging, beginning a chapter of
the * Ilistoire Romaine a Rome ' at a table in a cafe,
and finishing it out on the Roman Campagna; in the
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 275
morning writing pi'ose about the great rascals of an-
tiquity, and in the afternoon poetry on the little rascals
of our day."
At the close of the year 1858, Alexis de Tocqueville,
warned too late of his danger by an attack of bleeding
at the lungs, set out for the South of France, whither he
should have gone to reside permanently years before.
He passed the winter at Cannes, alternating between
better and worse until every one but himself had
given up all hope. Misled by the sick man's letters,
Ampere shared his delusion to the last : he was, more-
over, detained in Rome by other painful anxieties, to
which I have already alluded ; but in the spring of
1859 he resolved to go and pass a few weeks with his
friend. Full of pleasant anticipations at the thought
of again seeing De Tocqueville, he went to Provence as
confidently as in former years he had gone to Tocque-
ville. The terrible news of the death of the man he
was going to see met him at Marseilles, and he reached
Cannes barely in time to be present at the funeral.
He had at least the consolation of bringing Mme. de
Tocqueville back to Paris, and accompanying to Nor-
mandy the remains of his dear and deeply lamented
Alexis. In the month of September following, he was
called upon to bear another and, perhaps, a still more
poignant grief, — a grief jDcnetrating and profound,
which riveted the chains that bound him to the deso-
late hearth-stone of his friends the Cheuvreux.
Not long after, as if to comjDlete the list of blows
276 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
death was to inflict during that pitiless year, Charles
Lenorraant died at Athens, a victim to his ardor in the
pursuit of knowledge, stricken down in the land he
had loved so well, and where Ampere had been his
sympathizing companion. Crushed and stunned as it
were by all these successive catastrophes, Ampere, as
he afterward declai-ed, thought that his mind would
give way. He recovered, nevertheless, from the shock :
two things helped him to live on, — his love of work,
and the sublime hopes of religion. He returned to
France in company with the friends from whom he
never again separated, passing the winters with them
in Paris and the summers at the chateau de Stors,
near He- Adam. He did not altogether abandon Rome ;
the historical labors which he bravely continued would
have obliged him to return thither, even if his old love
for that noble city had not made him wish to do so.
But they were only visits of a few weeks at a time.
The son of an ardent Catholic, Ampere had from his
childhood learned to respect the faith of his illustrious
father ; but, as with most men of the present century,
his youth had been assailed by doubt ; his soul no
longer found repose in faith, still less could it reconcile
itself to unbelief. His was the state of mind described
by a great poet in immortal lines : —
..." Malgrd moi I'infini me tourmente ;
Je ii'y saurais songer sans crainte et sans espoir,
Et quoi qu'on en ait dit, ma raison s'epouvante
De ne pas le comprendre et pourtant de le voir." ^
1 Alfred de Musset, L' Espoir en Dieu.
AND THE ABBA YE-A UX-BOIS. 277
This yearning after the infinite long tormented Am-
pere, and during the first j^art of his life he was a prey
to the most painful spiritual anxieties. In a letter ad-
dressed to him at Bonn by Mme. Recamier, in reply to
one wherein the young sceptic of twenty-five spoke of
the impression made upon him by the German exegeti-
cal works, the reader may have noticed this passage :
" Since you can no longer believe with the simple be-
lieve with the learned ; thus by different ways we shall
reach the same result." The mind of our friend drifted
long amid the perplexities of doubt, but he ever sought
the truth with ardor and good faith. The chosen con-
fidants of these mental diflSculties were Mme. Recamier
and Ballanche ; the faith of the latter in the super-
natural was so firm that he was wont to say, " As for
me, I am more sure of the other life than I am of this."
One of Ampere's letters from Dieppe, in 1854, contains
the following passage, which testifies to his strong aspi-
rations after complete certitude : —
" I still pursue my readings, and continue to be in
the same well-disposed frame of mind, but I have not
at all times the same fervor. There are moments when
what I thought I held fast seems to fly from me and
hide itself. As Fenelon says : ' This is the greatest
trial ; this, too, we must endure, and turn constantly
in the direction whence the light has shone so brightly,
although for the moment it may be pale or even hid-
den. He who waits with faith and hope will see it
shining again upon the hill.' The beacon which I see
278 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
to-night gleaming in the distance is also not a fixed
light ; by turns it shines and then seems to go out.
But the mariner keeps his eye fixed upon the point
where the light apjDears at intervals, and which at
times an intervening wave conceals. The wave sub-
sides, the light-house still stands ; its light, an instant
obscured, reappears, seemingly more brilliant than be-
fore, and reveals the harbor to the little bark bewildered
amid the waves. I am the seaman in the little bark,
and you are its patron saint."
In another letter of the same period, we read : —
" There is service in the church here every evening.
I go and ensconce myself in a dark seat in the beauti-
ful, dimly-lighted church; there I sit, I listen to the
chants, with my head bowed in sincere humility I re-
ceive the benediction ; then I go out and listen by the
sea-shore to another harmony and another prayer, —
the concert of the winds, the waves, the stars, the
night."
Thus we see Ampere exclaiming, like the man
in the Gospel : " Lord, I believe ; help thou mine
unbelief" Nothing* so prepares the mind for the re-
ception of religious faith as a great sorrow. More
forcibly than the most eloquent pages of philosophers,
the voices of the friends we mourn bring home to our
souls the conviction that there is a God and a life be-
yond the grave. The death of Mme. Recamier marked
a great step in Amp6re's religious progress ; the loss of
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 279
the object of his latest alFections, — of one who had
captivated alike his imagination and his heart, — a still
greater one. Ampere loved to confound in one regret
the two memories. On the 1st of January, 1862, he
wrote to one who had been the friend of his youth : —
" Deak, vert dear Mme. Lenobmant, — I was
going to write to you — for I was unwilling that the
first day of the year should go by without communi-
cating with you, sole relic of the friends of other days
— when the letter came which you, moved by a feeling
similar to my own, were happily impelled to write to
me. It has touched, it has moved me ; I thank you
from the bottom of my heai*t for having written it.
Like yon, I thank God for having given me what he
has given me and for what he has taken away. I have
known and loved very beautiful souls here below, — your
adorable aunt and another person worthy to be named
with her, who was as obscure as she was famous, but
not unlike her ; also my dear Tocqueville, he, too, was
kneaded of that finer clay, and cast in a mould which
God apparently has seen fit to break."
All who have known Ampere will bear witness that
his ever-growing interest in the hopes and concerns of
another life went hand-in-hand with his moral develop-
ment. Little faults of temper disappeared ; his interest
in others became more constant, more afiectionate ; his
generosity, always admirable, grew greater and greater,
until he had no thought of himself. As flowers at the
280 JEAN-JACQUES AMPERE
coming on of night fill the air with a more pei-vading
fragrance, a sweeter charm, so his fine nature toward
the end of his earthly career poured forth its treasures
in greater profusion.
For several years Ampere had sufiered, if not from
an affection of the throat, at least from an excessive
delicacy of that organ, — and the craving he had to pass
all his winters at the South was only the instinct of a
constitution fatally susceptible to cold. He would not
allow himself sufiicient sleep, working usually until
four and five o'clock in the morning, in spite of the
urgent remonstrances of his friends. His mental vital-
ity blinded himself and others to the rapid decline of
his physical strength ; nevertheless, we thought him
veiy much changed when he started for Pau to join
Monsieur and Madame Cheuvreux in December, 1863.
But far from taking any rest, he continued with fever-
ish activity the publication of his "Roman History,"
writing the last chapters of the fourth volume while
correcting the proofs of the third ; and it was only by
dint of unexampled labor that he succeeded in com-
pleting this monument of his genius.
Early in March, 1864, believing himself in full health,
and without any presentiment of his approaching end,
he made his will, recommending himself, in terms wholly
Christian and with a touching confidence, to the Divine
mercy, and concluding with the following words ad-
dressed to the friends with whom he was living ; —
"In conclusion, I bless them tenderly for their friend-
AND THE ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS. 281
ship, which has been the charm and consolation of my
life. I firmly trust that we shall meet again by the side
of her whom we have all loved, and who gave us to one
another."
Only a week after, a sudden death, which gave him
no time even to say farewell, cast its pall over the last
earthly aspirations of his spirit, and hid the secrets of
that mercy to which no sincere suppliant has ever ap-
pealed in vain.
The friends to whom Ampere bequeathed his very
small fortune, together with the copyright of his works,
and the care of publishing them, have applied it to a
pui'pose which reflects honor upon him as well as them-
selves. M. Cheuvreux has created a fund, the income
of which, two thousand francs, is to be at the disposal
for two years of any young artist, writer, or student of
science, a native of Lyons, to whom it shall be awarded
by the Academy of that city.
This prize bears the name of Ampere.
THE END.
Cambridge: Press of John Wilson and Son.
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES
THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY
This book is DUE on the last date stamped "below
iUK
JUN 4 1948
OCT 2 1941
m
,REC'D LD-URL
OCT 2 4 197?
Form L-0
SOm-12, '30(3380)
V^''
XtM
^3 11
58 00388 8939
.,ESOUTHER(V RfGIOf^AL LIBRARY
FACILITY
AA 000 285 310