CHAPTER II.

FROM 1830 TO HER MARRIAGE IN 1847.

Acquaintance with Madame Récamier-Apartments in the Abbaye-au-Bois— Madame Récamier's circle-Ampère's account of it-M. Mohl in EnglandFriendship with Sir Graves Haughton-Letter on the queen's coronationThe Clarkes settle in the Rue du Bac-Miss Haughton's and Lady Verney's description of their life-Appointment given to M. Mohl on his returnHe stimulates the Nineveh discoveries, and fights Botta's battles-Is naturalized a Frenchman-Visits Germany-Becomes a member of the Academy-Death of Fauriel-Grief of M. Mohl and Miss Clarke-Death of Mrs. Clarke-Her daughter returns to Paris-Letter to M. Mohl-Marriage. IN a letter to Lady William Russell, written in 1868, Madame Mohl describes her first introduction to the charmed circle of the Abbaye-au-Bois:

Madame Récamier inhabited three apartments in the Abbaye-auBois at three different times. Accuracy is lengthy and a bore, yet I will be as accurate as I can. I think it was about 1817, at her husband's second failure, that her father bought her, for her life, an apartment on the first floor, sur la rue, the handsomest in the whole building, and paid down 30,000 francs. The convent wanted ready money, and sold several of the exterior apartments to get it, but it was still inhabited by an old, old lady; and meantime she had a very shabby, three-cornered thing, au troisième, for two or three years, after which she hired one on the first floor, entre cour et jardin, not so handsome as her own bought one, which she let, because being over the street it was noisy. The abbaye was all the fashion from 1815 to 1830. The fine ladies with écorné reputations went to it to mend them; the ex-beauties retired to it, like Madame de Sablé, " on avait tout de suite de l'esprit ;" but, in 1830, all priests, convents, devotion, fell a hundred per cent. In 1831 my mother had been plagued by landlords' cheating, one had taken away the staircase,

and people could only see us for three weeks by coming up a ladder. (I was edified at Cousin's agility; he was thirty-five years younger than now so was I, even I.) I did not manage landlords in those days, so I said to my mother, "Let us try to lodge in a convent; perhaps we shall be less plagued." Two or three gentlemenAmpère was one, who came very often to see us in the evening-were habitués of Madame Récamier's. She was always curious about the haunts of her habitués, and they had told her of this one. My mother had lost part of her lungs, was an habitual invalid, and scarcely ever went out in the evening, she was very fond of politicsa great Liberal; abhorred la Branche aînée. So my youth was spent at home, instead of evening amusements, balls, etc. The Young France liked an evening haunt of their own opinions, where they found also a lively young lady; besides, they were not spoiled by the fine society, who despised them. And this is the source of my intimacy with so many who are now no longer the Jeune France, and some older-such as Benjamin Constant, Lafayette, Thiers, Mignet, Cousin, Scheffer, Augustin Thierry, Carrel, Victor Hugo, Ampère, and many others, were glad to come to talk politics with my mother and nonsense with me. When two of these mentioned my mother's idea to Madame Récamier, whose apartment was at a discount now that religion was out of fashion, she said to them, “I should like to have these ladies pour locataires; tell them so." The rent was somewhat higher than we could afford. She sent us word that she would let it at the price we could give, so we went there in 1831. She had quite a passion for me, and used to come for the first two or three years every night, bringing all those who came to her; and, as the salon was large, she invited her company there, and I made tea.

Madame Récamier's health declined, and she wanted her large salon; so, after living at the abbaye seven years, we left it. Madame Récamier's part joined our apartment, and she joined the two together, and occupied them for the last ten years of her life. The salon is large, with four windows, two on the Rue de Sèvres, two on a terrace, well proportioned, with the east and south sun.

In a conversation with Mr. Senior, Madame Mohl saidOne of the most wonderful of Madame Récamier's powers was the devotion which she excited among her friends--a devotion which

did not end with herself, but could be turned at her will towards third persons. Ampère was her slave-that was little; but she made him the slave of M. de Châteaubriand, whom he disliked. For love of Madame Récamier he visited his own rival, and his preferred rival, M. de Châteaubriand, at his own hotel every day; wrote articles for him in the papers, and learned stories to amuse him. Paul David, her husband's nephew, dined with her every day for thirty years. During the last four years of her life her eyes would not permit her to read. David was a bad reader at the best, and loss of teeth-for he was of about her own age-had not improved him. David read to her every day for hours, and when he found that his bad reading annoyed her, he took lessons. It was to him that she confided the letters which she wished to be burned.

I should like to tell you a story of Ampère, only I am afraid that you will put it into your journal.

Senior. I dare say that I shall.

Madame Mohl. Well, I will run my chance. When Ampère was twenty-one and Mademoiselle Amélie was about eighteen, he used to come every day to the abbaye. Some one suggested to Madame Récamier that something might be growing up between the two young people. Madame Récamier one evening hinted to M. Ampère this suggestion. He hid his face in his hands and burst into tears. At last he said, "Ce n'est pas elle." Madame Récamier told me the story; she was forty-four years old when this occurred.

In Mr. Senior's journal at Tocqueville, in 1861, we find Ampère's account of the Abbaye.

"I suppose," I said to Ampère, "that nothing has ever been better than the salon of Madame Récamier ?"

"We must distinguish," said Ampère. "As great painters have many manners, so Madame Récamier had many salons. When I first knew her, in 1820, her habitual dinner-party consisted of her father, her husband, Ballanche, and myself. Both her father, M. Bernard, and her husband were agreeable men. Ballanche was charming.

"Perhaps the most agreeable period was at that time of Châteaubriand's reign, when he had ceased to exact a tête-à-tête, and Ballanche and I were admitted at four o'clock. The most illustrious of the

partie carrée was Châteaubriand; the most amusing, Ballanche. My merit was that I was the youngest. Later in the evening Madame Mohl-Miss Clarke, as she then was-was a great resource. She is a charming mixture of French vivacity and English originality, but I think that the French element predominates. Châteaubriand, always subject to ennui, delighted in her. He has adopted in his books some of the words which she coined. Her French is as original as the character of her mind, very good, but more of the last than of the present century."

"Was Châteaubriand himself," I said, "agreeable?"

"Delightful," said Ampère. "Très entrain, très facile à vivre, beaucoup d'imagination et de connaissances."

"Facile à vivre?" I said. "I thought that his vanity had been difficile et exigeante."

"As a public man," said Ampère, "yes; and to a certain degree in general society. But in intimate society, when he was no longer posing, he was charming. The charm, however, was rather intellectual than moral.

"I remember his reading to us a part of his memoirs, in which he describes his early attachment to an English girl, his separation from her, and their meeting many years after, when she asked his protection for her son. Miss Clarke was absorbed by the story. She wanted to know what became of the young man, what Châteaubriand had been able to do for him. Châteaubriand could answer only in generals that he had done all he could, that he had spoken to the minister. But it was evident that, even if he had really attempted to do anything for the son of his old love, he had totally forgotten the result. I do not think that he was pleased at Miss Clarke's attention and sympathy being diverted from himself.

"Later still in Madame Récamier's life, when she had become blind, and Châteaubriand deaf, and Ballanche very infirm, I had to try to amuse persons who had become almost unamusable."

"What has Ballanche written ?" I asked.

"A dozen volumes," he answered. "Poetry, metaphysics-on all sorts of subjects, with pages of remarkable vigour and finesse, containing some of the best writing in the language, but too unequal and desultory to be worth going through."

"How wonderfully extensive," I said, "is French literature! Here is a voluminous author, some of whose writings, you say, are

among the best in the French language, yet his name, at least as an author, is scarcely known. He shines only by reflected light, and will live only because he attached himself to a remarkable man and to a remarkable woman."

M. Mohl did not share in the general admiration for Madame Récamier. His niece tells me that he thought the lady "artificial and sophisticated, and her salon a Vanity Fair." Everything in the nature of affectation and ostentation being so intolerable to him, one can quite understand the charm which Miss Clarke's perfect naturalness of mind and manner exercised over him from the first.

While she and her mother were settling into the Abbayeau-Bois, Julius Mohl was in England, there was some question of his going with Sir John Malcolm to Persia; and half a century later, when I was sitting alone one evening with Madame Mohl in the Rue du Bac, she showed me the original of the picture which has been chosen as a frontispiece to this volume.* "I gave this, my dear," she said to me, "to M. Mohl when I thought he was going to the East, and I found it last autumn in his desk." She was much touched by the fidelity with which he had, unknown to her, treasured it. It is in pastels, the complexion pink and white, the eyes a light brown; it was still like her-the same innocent, childlike, yet piquant expression, the same brightness. There was no regular beauty in the features. The upper lip was long, and it was a minois chiffonné; but it was a very interesting face. The little ringlets were there which had now turned from brown to grey, and from grey to white. Her niece, Miss Martin, tells me that she had not been able to open the desk. She brought it to Cold Overton, at last a locksmith succeeded; and there lay the little portrait, to

*It is now among M. Fauriel's papers at the Institut, where I have just seen it, and was again struck by its attractiveness.