Friday, 22 August 1879

The races, but I would not even take up my pen, it all went off so flatly for me, if I did not have to record that I saw the Princess de Sagan, née Seillère, up close. Finance married to aristocracy. But rarely has a Princess by birth looked better. People do not find her pretty, but they grant her an air of breeding astonishing in a woman who is not well born. She has had great success, and the Prince of Wales is said to be her lover whenever they meet; recently the Prince took the Princess his wife to call on Mme de Sagan. I always wondered at her successes when I heard the descriptions people gave of her:
Tall, spare, long, a large nose, blonde and infinitely distinguished. It is true, put brutally.
To me she is one of the most ravishing women I have seen. Much less beautiful than Mme de Pourtalès or Mme de Mouchy but more agreeable.
Tall, high-shouldered, thin but graceful. Her hair, real or dyed, a golden chestnut blonde that looks natural.
A pale, sallowish complexion, but of an agreeable tone. No rouge. Grey eyes, gracefully shaped, with a gentle, calm expression. A nose strongly aquiline at first and then descending, a nose of royal nobility and character; the nostrils and the mouth are adorably drawn. I do not understand how people can say her nose is large; it looks as if it were starting out as a nose that will go far, but by an unexpected flaw, which forms a kind of angle, it comes back, very gracefully, to the face. I was told she was ugly. How is it possible? This woman is forty, perhaps more, and she is adorable.
The foot is enormous and amply shod: either it is exquisite and she is afraid of spoiling it, or it is ailing... and then farewell to her charms! The Marquise de Galliffet is her intimate and inseparable friend; they say she was beautiful, I do not believe it, and I dislike her. Badly built and badly dressed. The Princess de Sagan does not dress well either.
O sublime Balzac, you are the greatest genius in the world. Whichever way one goes one always finds oneself in his sublime Comedy, it is as if he had always been there and copied from life. These two women especially, by their provenance, their faces, their lives, make me think of Balzac, that great, that inexhaustible, that incredible genius.
My family returned from the theatre. They find Mme de Sagan ugly. That, moreover, is what everyone says. How is it, then, that I find her so charming? I grant that she is not pretty, but with my artist’s eye I am won over by certain qualities in the drawing of the lips and of the nose, with its clean-cut lines. Her cheeks are not withered, she has no bags under her eyes, and then her manners are exquisite.