As an explanation of these singular relations, Madame Moehl states that it was the general belief of Madame Recamier’s contemporaries that she was the own daughter of Monsieur Recamier, whom the unsettled state of the times had induced him to marry; but there is not a shadow of evidence in support of this hypothesis,—­though, to make it more probable, Madame Moehl adds, that “Madame Lenormant rather confirms than contradicts this rumor.”  In this she is strangely mistaken.  Madame Lenormant does not allude to the report at all.  Still she tacitly contradicts it.  Her account of Monsieur Recamier’s course with regard to the divorce proposed between him and his wife is of itself a sufficient refutation of this idle story.

Monsieur Recamier was a tall, vigorous, handsome man, of easy, agreeable manners.  Perfectly polite, he was deficient in dignity, and preferred the society of his inferiors to that of his equals.  He wrote and spoke Spanish with fluency, had some knowledge of Latin, and was fond of quoting Horace and Virgil.  “It would be difficult to find,” says his niece, “a heart more generous than his, more easily moved, and yet more volatile.  Let a friend need his time, his money, his advice, it was immediately at his service; but let that same friend be taken away by death, he would scarcely give two days to regret:  ’Encore un tiroir ferme’, he would say, and there would end his sensibility.  Always ready to give and willing to serve, he was a good companion, and benevolent and gay in his temper.  He carried his optimism to excess, and was always content with everybody and everything.  He had fine natural abilities, and the gift of expression, being a good story-teller.”  He was married in 1793, the most gloomy period of the Reign of Terror, and went every day to see the executions, wishing, he said, to familiarize himself with the fate he had every reason to fear would be his own.

The first four years of her marriage were passed by Madame Recamier in retirement, but when the government was settled under the Consulate she mingled freely and gayly in society.  This was probably the happiest period of her life.  Her husband was at the height of financial prosperity, and lavished every luxury upon his beautiful wife.  Both their country-seat at Clichy and their town-house in the Rue Mont Blanc were models of elegant taste.  Large dinner-parties and balls were given at the latter, but all the intimate friends went to Clichy, where Madame Recamier chiefly resided with her mother.  Her husband only dined there, driving in to Paris every night.  She was very fond of flowers, and filled her rooms with them.  At that time floral decorations were a novelty, and another attraction was added to the charms of Clichy.  Not only there, but in society, Madame Recamier reigned a queen.  She had been pronounced by acclamation “the most beautiful,” and she enjoyed her triumphs with all the gayety and freshness of youth.  Madame Lenormant asserts that she was unconscious