Madame Recamier, whose birth, though respectable, gave her none of
the advantages of rank or opulence, was bred up at the abbey of the
_Desert_, near the confluence of the Rhone and the Saone at Lyons.
Her parents, however, resided at Paris; and they having brought
her home at the age of twelve years, she was at that tender age
married to M. Recamier, a rich banker, almost four times her own
age, whose immense transactions, which entirely absorbed his time
and attention, left him no leisure to attend either to the education
or occupations of his infantine and beautiful wife. But though thus
left to herself, surrounded by admirers, and with every luxury which
wealth could purchase at her command, she was never led astray.
Benjamin Constant, who knew her well from her earliest years, has
left the following interesting portrait of what may be called her
infantine married life:--
"She whom I paint emerged pure and brilliant from that corrupted
atmosphere, which elsewhere withered where it did not actually
corrupt. Infancy was at first her safeguard. Libertinism shrunk
from approaching the asylum of so much innocence. Removed from
the world in a solitude embellished by the arts, she spent her
time in the sweet occupation of those charming and poetical
studies which usually constitute the delight of a more advanced
age.
"Often, also, surrounded by her young companions, she abandoned
herself to the amusements suited to her tender years. 'Swift as
Atalanta in the race,' she outran all her companions: often,
in playing Hide-and-seek, she bandaged those eyes which were
destined one day to fascinate every beholder. Her look, now
so expressive and penetrating, and which seems to indicate
mysteries of which she herself is unconscious, then shone only
with the animated and playful gaiety of childhood. Her beautiful
hair, which could not be undone without causing emotion, fell
in natural curls on her shoulders. A hearty and prolonged laugh
often burst from these infantine circles, but already you
could perceive in her that fine and rapid observation which
seizes the salient points of ridicule--that sportive raillery
which diverted itself without injuring any one: above all,
that exquisite sense of elegance and propriety, of purity and
taste, that true nobility of mind, which are given only to a few
privileged beings.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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