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Updated: May 22, 2025
He has been held to occupy a middle ground between De Musset and Chenier, but he has also something suggestive of Madame de Stael, and, artistically, he has much in common with Chateaubriand, though he is more coldly impersonal and probably much more sincere in his philosophy.
Clarke; Tasso; Volney; Henniker; Mosque of Omar described; Mysterious Stone; Church of Holy Sepulchre; Ceremonies of Good Friday; Easter; The Sacred Fire; Grounds for Skepticism; Folly of the Priests; Emotion upon entering the Holy Tomb; Description of Chateaubriand; Holy Places in the City; On Mount Zion; Pool of Siloam; Fountain of the Virgin; Valley of Jehoshaphat; Mount of Offence; The Tombs of Zechariah, of Jehoshaphat, and of Absalom; Jewish Architecture; Dr.
Gerfaut had at last made a place for himself among that baker's dozen of writers who call themselves, and justly, too, the field-marshals of French literature, of which Chateaubriand was then commander-in-chief. What was it that had brought such a person a hundred leagues from the opera balcony, to put on a pretty woman's slipper?
Châteaubriand asserts that Madame Récamier felt this slight severely, but Madame Lenormant makes no allusion to the circumstance. At Lyons Madame Récamier met the author, Monsieur Ballanche. He was presented to her by Camille Jordan, and, in the words of her biographer, "from that moment Monsieur Ballanche belonged to Madame Récamier." He was the least exacting of any of her friends.
Translated By Ellen Marriage To Monsieur Victor Hugo, It was your birthright to be, like a Rafael or a Pitt, a great poet at an age when other men are children; it was your fate, the fate of Chateaubriand and of every man of genius, to struggle against jealousy skulking behind the columns of a newspaper, or crouching in the subterranean places of journalism.
But while we find the frenetic romanticism of a Delacroix, for instance, attractive, even, because of the virtue of his painting, and forgive that of a Berlioz and a Chateaubriand because of the many beauties, the veritable grandeurs of their styles, we cannot quite learn to love yours.
Probably, also, there is no artist in French prose more seductive in his eloquence than René de Chateaubriand; but his fiction is no longer read, because the world has found that his sentimentalism was to this extent a sham it was false to the nature of normal human beings.
He used to stroke his tail when he desired Madame Recamier to know that he was tired. "I love in the cat," said Chateaubriand to M. de Marcellus, "that independent and almost ungrateful temper which prevents it from attaching itself to any one: the indifference with which it passes from the salon to the house-top.
Châteaubriand is not quite so ostentatious in his egotism as the Prince de Ligne, who headed the chapters in his "Mémoires et Mélanges," "De moi pendant le jour," "De moi pendant la nuit," "De moi encore," "Mémoirs pour mon coeur"; still he parades himself on every possible occasion, and not always to his own advantage.
It was a strange march past, of people of all sorts, who came to take notes, see how the wind blew, and give in an adhesion which might be more or less disinterested. Some of them, inspired by real devotion, came to try if they might even yet serve a cause that was so dear to them. Thus I saw M. de Chateaubriand led into my mother's drawing-room by Anatole de Montesquiou.
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