ore passionate sentiment to be an altogether impartial
critic, but it was a high tribute to her gifts that a man of such
conspicuous talents thought her capable of work so exacting. Her
qualities were those of taste and a delicate imagination rather than of
reason. Her musical accomplishments were always a resource. She sang,
played the harp and piano, and we hear of her during a summer at Albano
playing the organ at vespers and high mass. She danced exquisitely, and
it was her ravishing grace that suggested the shawl dance of "Corinne"
to Mme. de Stael and of "Valerie" to Mme. de Krudener. One can fancy
her, too, at Coppet, playing the role of the angel to Mme. de Stael's
Hagar--a spirit of love and consolation to the stormy and despairing
soul of her friend.

But her real power lay in the wonderful harmony of her nature, in the
subtle penetration that divined the chagrins and weaknesses of others,
only to administer a healing balm; in the delicate tact that put people
always on the best terms with themselves, and gave the finest play to
whatever talents they possessed. Add to this a quality of beauty which
cannot be caught by pen or pencil, and one can understand the singular
sway she held over men and women alike. Mme. de Krudener, whose salon
so curiously united fashion and piety, worldliness and mysticism, was
troubled by the distraction which the entrance of Mme. Recamier was sure
to cause, and begged Benjamin Constant to write and entreat her to make
herself as little charming as possible. His note is certainly unique,
though it loses much of its piquancy in translation:

"I acquit myself with a little embarrassment of a commission which Mme.
de Krudener has just given me. She begs you to come as little
beautiful as you can. She says that you dazzle all the world, and that
consequently every soul is troubled and attention is impossible. You
cannot lay aside your charms, but do not add to them."

In her youth she dressed with great simplicity and was fond of wearing
white with pearls, which accorded well with the dazzling purity of her
complexion.

Mme. Recamier was not without vanity, and this is the reverse side of
her peculiar gifts. She would have been more than mortal if she had been
quite unconscious of attractions so rare that even the children in the
street paid tribute to them. But one finds small trace of the petty
jealousies and exactions that are so apt to accompany them. She liked to
please, she w