Friday, 9 April 1880

There are fully forty saleswomen; nearly ten thousand francs were raised, with a thousand to my credit. So I am greatly petted by the ladies, by the duchess, the Baroness Reille, and the cashiers. But Mmes d'Hervey de Saint-Denis and de Montebello accomplished nothing and left in great displeasure.
At the end lotteries are organized and an auction. I sell thirty tickets in a quarter of an hour to all the ladies; Soutzo is always there.
Mademoiselle Delsarte comes, but I am too tired to sculpt; we talk, and Soutzo arrives bearing strawberries and little pots of cream. Now that is a charming thought — I adore strawberries and cream! I do not understand this good fellow. He no longer speaks to me of love; he is most often playing cards with my aunt, or chatting with the others while I read the newspapers or write — well, as he pleases.
I went into Mme de Brimond's apartment, which is ravishing — it has an Oriental air, with art objects and draperies. She is as amiable as possible; we talk politics. She receives both Gambetta and Prince Napoleon and the rest. (Consult the newspaper cuttings in the album for the Prince's letter.)
Madame de Brimond is one of the most charming foreign women who shone at the beginning of the Empire. They give her fifty years, and seen very close up her face bears them out. But when one sees her in the street on foot, with her slender figure and elegant bearing, her golden hair (dyed, I believe), one allows her at most thirty years.
She does use cosmetics, naturally, but not as much as I supposed, since she kissed me. M. Gavini remembers her at eighteen and says she and her mother were both ideally pretty. She is English but thoroughly Frenchified — charming and intelligent.
I have pasted in the album an article from Le Figaro entitled 'The Blunders of Prince Napoleon.' These blunders are simply a succession of acts and words from a liberal, intelligent man who is consistently true to himself. They sought to make a monster of him; they have made a great citizen. He is a true republican, and already captivated by his doctrines, his intelligence, his genuine and enduring liberalism, I am further won over by the prestige of his name, his lineage, and the future of his two handsome and charming sons. L'Estafette's reply to Le Pays is harsh for 'Popaul,' who is flatly excommunicated by the Order — a rapprochement was truly impossible; there is Cassagnac in a sorry state... he may go over to the Legitimists; he is already one in fact if not in name, for his imperialist doctrines have become quite singular. Since the death of the Prince he has said nothing but nonsense, and it would have been difficult for him to say otherwise. I was a Bonapartist by sentiment, then a republican by taste and conviction, but the radical wing repels me by its lacédémonades — its affected Spartan austerities — especially because this asceticism, this denial of God, conceals as much self-interest and cupidity as anything else. I have found my politics: they are those of the Prince, and I have rallied to them with passion. He is a true statesman; Gambetta will now find his match. He has done nothing until now, they say? But he has only existed since the death of the young Prince — and think of the position in which the Tuileries placed him. He could never agree with Napoleon III; he was always bound to rebel. The religious persecution pursued with senseless ferocity by the republicans naturally inflames devotion — thus both extremes are antipathetic to me.
My Prince has struck exactly the right note with his letter, which, it is true, will please neither the radicals nor the clericals — but I hold it finer to be as the Prince is than to make oneself a party man by flattering its obsessions.
The Prince appears there with astonishing greatness and simplicity.
They say he squandered his cousin's money. His cousin was emperor, chosen, elected, consecrated by the entire nation — moreover, his cousin; what took place was perfectly natural. As for politics, my Prince has always had his own, and while respecting his emperor and living in his country and within his family, he has never been other than he is today — and that is precisely what they reproach him for. Fools! Or men of bad faith! I am absolutely won over by his letter; I do not even know whether he himself understood how admirable it is.
One could imagine nothing simpler, more timely, or more reasonable.
And so I am passionately his — for as long as he keeps to the path that pleases me; should he stray from it, I shall abandon him, and that is all.