It was between this remarkable man and Madame Recamier that the most memorable friendship of modern times took place.  It began in the year 1817 at the bedside of Madame de Stael, but did not ripen into intimacy until 1818, when he was fifty and she was forty-one.  His genius and accomplishments soon conquered the first place in her heart; and he kept that place until his death in 1848,—­thirty years of ardent and reproachless friendship.  Her other friends felt great inquietude in view of this friendship, fearing that the incurable melancholy and fitful moods of the Viscount would have a depressing influence on her; but she could not resist his fascinations any easier than he could resist hers.  The Viscount visited her every day, generally in the afternoon; and when absent on his diplomatic missions to the various foreign courts, he wrote her, every day, all the details of his life, as well as sentiments.  He constantly complained that she did not write as often as he did.  His attachment was not prompted by that unselfish devotion which marked Ballanche, who sought no return, only the privilege of adoration.  Chateaubriand was exacting, and sought a warmer and still increasing affection, which it seems was returned.  Madame Recamier’s nature was not passionate; it was simply affectionate.  She sought to have the wants of her soul met.  She rarely went to parties or assemblies, and seldom to the theatre.  She craved friendship, and of the purest and loftiest kind.  She was tired of the dissipation of society and even of flatteries, of which the Viscount was equally weary.  The delusions of life were dispelled, in her case, at forty; in his, at fifty.

This intimacy reminds us of that of Louis XIV. and Madame de Maintenon.  Neither could live without the other.  But their correspondence does not reveal any improper intimacy.  It was purely spiritual and affectionate; it was based on mutual admiration; it was strengthened by mutual respect for each other’s moral qualities.  And the friendship gave rise to no scandal; nor was it in any way misrepresented.  Every day the statesman, when immersed even in the cares of a great office, was seen at her modest dwelling, at the same hour,—­about four o’clock,—­and no other visitors were received at that hour.  After unbending his burdened soul, or communicating his political plans, or detailing the gossip of the day, all to the end of securing sympathy and encouragement from a great woman, he retired to his own hotel, and spent the evening with his sick wife.  One might suppose that his wife would have been jealous.  The wife of Carlyle never would have permitted her husband to visit on such intimate terms the woman he most admired,—­Lady Ashburton,—­without a separation.  But Chateaubriand’s wife favored rather than discouraged the intimacy, knowing that it was necessary to his happiness.  Nor did the friendship between Madame Recamier and the Due de Montmorency, the political rival of Chateaubriand, weaken the love of the latter or create jealousy, a proof of his noble character.  And when the pious Duke died, both friends gave way to the most sincere grief.