heard, and which I have always answered by a recollection of this scene.
I never saw so many handsome women together, before or since. All were
not Venuses, it is true; but there was an expression, almost a mould of
feature, universal, which struck the eye more than beauty. It was
impossible to doubt that I was among a high _caste_; there was a general
look of nobleness, a lofty yet feminine grace of countenance, a stately
sweetness, which are involuntarily connected with high birth, high
manners, and high history.

There were some whose fine regularity of feature might have served as
the model for a Greek sculptor. Yet those were not the faces on which
the eye rested with the long and deep delight that "drinks in beauty." I
saw some worthy or the sublime spell of Vandyke, more with the
magnificence of style which Reynolds loved, and still more with the
subdued dignity and touching elegance of which Lawrence was so charming
a master.

On my return to French society in after years, I was absolutely
astonished at the change which seemed to me to have taken place in the
beauty of high life. I shall not hazard my reputation for gallantry, by
tracing the contrast more closely. But evil times had singularly acted
upon the physiognomy even of the nobles. The age of the _roturier_ had
been the climacteric of France. Generals from the ranks, countesses from
the canaille, legislators from the dregs of the populace, and
proprietors from the mingled stock of the parasite and the plunderer,
naturally gave the countenance, formed by their habits, to the nation
formed by their example.

Still there were, and are, examples of this original beauty to be found
among the _élite_ of the noble families; but they are rare, and to be