I am quite overcome by so different a mode of life from that of the last six months.
Paris, January 14, 1838.—Yesterday I had a very long and very kind visit from the Prince Royal, who was quite calm and in a placid frame of mind.
I then called upon the Princesse de Lieven, who gave me full details of her domestic situation, which excluded conversation upon any other topic and reduced me to the position of audience. She thinks she will certainly be able to stay here ad vitam æternam without molestation. I hope she may. In the evening I went to the Tuileries, to pay my respects to the Queen.
Paris, January 15, 1838.—Great fires are becoming quite fashionable. The burning of the London Stock Exchange will form a counterpart to the destruction of the Winter Palace at St. Petersburg, with the difference that a hundred persons perished in Russia, while no loss of life took place in England. Paul Medem told me that the Winter Palace was three times as large as the Louvre, and that six thousand persons lived there; that the Imperial pharmacy was situated in the middle of the castle, and that an explosion resulting from a chemical experiment had caused the conflagration.
I did not go out yesterday. M. de Sainte-Aulaire came to lunch with my sister and myself, after which I had a call from M. Royer-Collard, who is much better this year. I saw MM. Thiers and Guizot with M. de Talleyrand. We had a long and tiresome family dinner, after which my sister and myself found nothing better to do than to go to bed at half-past nine. I have not entirely recovered my strength. A conversation with Dr. Cruveilhier, only too similar to that which I had at Tours with Dr. Bretonneau, has done much to bring back my despondency and listlessness.
Paris, January 16, 1838.—Yesterday when I was writing I had heard nothing of the conflagration which destroyed the Théâtre Italien the preceding night. The under-manager and four firemen lost their lives. It is a great catastrophe, and disastrous for poor people like myself whose only pleasure was the Italian Opera. I feel it quite deeply.
Lady Clanricarde came to lunch with me yesterday, and it was a great pleasure to see her again. She is very nice, and we talked over "dear, ever dear England," an inexhaustible subject for me.
In the evening I took Pauline to a ball given by the Duc d'Orléans; it was charming and delightfully arranged. We went away after supper at two o'clock in the morning, which was late for me. However, apart from a bad headache I need not complain of the way in which I got through my task. Unfortunately there are many others of the kind, and the prospect of their multiplicity frightens me. I saw nothing noticeable at the ball except the delicate appearance of the Duchesse d'Orléans, which unfortunately is not to be explained by any prospect of a child. I think our excellent Queen looks older, and the Duc de Nemours is terribly thin. He has grown a beard in the modern style, but so fair that it is frightful to behold.
Paris, January 17, 1838.—Yesterday I spent the morning with my sister in doing what I detest more than anything else—making a full round of indispensable calls. In the evening I took her to the Tuileries. The arrangements were most noble and magnificent. She was a little astonished at the forms of presentation here, and I was more than usually struck by them.
Paris, January 23, 1838.—I have caught a cold as a result of sitting in a draught which blew straight upon my back at a concert yesterday at the residence of the Duc d'Orléans; this was the only thing of which to complain at an evening's entertainment where there was no crowd and where the music was delightful, well chosen, and not too long.