Sunday, 17 August 1879

Last evening there were yearnings, prayers... such that I almost expected to read this morning in the papers of the death of Cassagnac's wife... Why not say things bluntly?
On the beach with the Princes Karageorgevitch. MM. Colonna and de Plancy. In the evening a concert, on leaving which we see M. Lachaud fils with Prince Victor. Naturally we are very gracious with Lachaud in order to better see the Prince who is very tall and who has an extraordinary gaze. At seventeen years beauty cannot yet be formed but I believe he will be very handsome, especially handsome with that grave and gentle majesty which is already his principal trait and which clashes a little with his seventeen years. The nose is a bit short, a little more and it would be too short. I do not know how to explain here, how to launch into a quantity of philosophical, metaphysical, and even mystical reflections;
but as much as the anxious, frail and almost suffering air of the Saint Louis of the Imperial family said: he will not reign! So much the calm gravity and the absolutely extraordinary eye of the one I saw this evening say: He will reign! Never has a ruffian or a bourgeois had that gaze, profound and troubling like the sea when one looks at it from the deck of a ship. [But] when I thus fix my eyes upon the water I am fascinated and I want to throw myself in. The eyes of the future Emperor finally make me understand what the poets mean when they compare eyes with the waves. Only I believe that one makes a furious abuse of this comparison for until now I have only seen the eyes of the Prince that are thus. They say these eyes are black, they seemed to me without definite color but literally profound and fascinating like the sea.
Cassagnac's eyes are black and adorable but it is entirely different and even I could not find in them anything predestined or fatal as in the eyes of Napoleon I. Cassagnac has a magnetic gaze under which one feels oneself melt and under which one would want to die... I do not say this from love but simply because I think it would be an agreeable sensation.
Cassagnac is very handsome. There are women who find M. de Janze handsome. M. de Janze is of medium height, well-built, blond, with blue eyes, rosy cheeks a little brick-colored; dressed to perfection. But you see from here the difference. Cassagnac is a knight of the Middle Ages or a lord of the League or of the Fronde, yet again. He is also an Imperialist deputy, defender of the Bonaparte family and of the Imperial regime and his struggles and scandals will perhaps seem interesting to those who will live in three hundred years just as the distant epochs of which I have just spoken charm us, we modern bourgeois. I regret having spoken of him in vulgar terms in this journal but I always put myself from the point of view of his detractors and I tried to find merits in him even when thinking as they do. The heroes who charm us reach us summed up in history or in novels and stripped of all that real life has of the bourgeois in every epoch. Yes, but there is Mother Couvelet and the Acard girl and the little brother-in-law.