Possibly the rarest phenomenon in the history of the illustrious women of France is Mme. Recamier, who, by force of her beauty and social fascination, and without intellectual gifts or even wit, won for herself the position of queen of French society, which she held for nearly half a century.  The very name of Recamier has come to evoke a vision of beauty, a beauty so well known to every lover of art who has visited the Luxembourg and gazed upon the figure “so flexible and elegant, with head well poised, brilliant complexion, little rosy mouth with pearly teeth, black curling hair, soft expressive eyes, and a bearing indicative of indolence and pride, yet with a face beaming with good nature and sympathy.”  Her beauty has been considered perfect, but a recent writer has proved this to be an error.  M.J.  Turquan, in a new volume on Mme. Recamier, is everything but sympathetic to the woman at whom criticism has rarely been pointed.  “Quite a contrast to her extraordinary beauty of face,” he declares, “were her hands, with big fingers square at the end and having flat nails.  The same may be said of her feet, which were not only big, but were without the slightest trace of finesse in their lines.”  But though Turquan has raised numerous points in her disfavor, they are not at all likely to detract from her unrivalled reputation for beauty.

Critics have made of her a sort of enigmatic figure, supernatural and having only the form of the human.  Thus, in Lamartine we find the following description:  “The young girl was, they say, a sous-entendu of nature:  she could be a wife, she could not be a mother.  These are the two mysteries we must respect, but which we must know to have been the secret of the entire life of Mme. Recamier—­a mournful and eternal enigma which will never have its words divined,...  All her looks produced an intoxication, but brought hope to no heart.  The divine statue had not descended from its pedestal for anyone, as though such a performance would have been too divine for a mortal.”  Her beauty was so marked, so singular, that wherever she appeared—­at the ball, the theatre—­it caused a sensation; all turned to look at her and admire in subdued astonishment.  Her form was said to be marvellously elegant and supple, her neck of an exquisite perfection, her mouth “deliciously small and pink, her teeth veritable pearls set in coral, her arms splendidly moulded, her eyes full of sweetness and admiration, her nose most attractive in its regularity, her physiognomy candid and spiritual, her air indolent and haughty, and her attitude reserved.  Before this ensemble, you remained in ecstasy.”  All this beauty was particularly well set off by an exquisite white dress adorned with pearls—­a style she affected the year around.