Pandora’s box contained not more evils than the crown of France would inflict on him on whose brow a revolution would place it.  From that hour let him bid adieu to peaceful slumber, to domestic happiness, to well-merited confidence and esteem, all of which are now his own.  Popularity, never a stable possession in any country, is infinitely less so in France, where the vivacity of perception of the people leads them to discover grave faults where only slight errors exist, and where a natural inconstancy, love of change, and a reckless impatience under aught that offends them, prompt them to hurl down from the pedestal the idol of yesterday to replace it by the idol of to-day.

I hear so much good of the Duc and Duchesse d’O——­ that I feel a lively interest in them, and heartily wish they may never be elevated (unless by the natural demise of the legitimate heirs) to the dangerous height to which ——­ and others assert they will ultimately ascend.  Even in the contingency of a legitimate inheritance of the crown, the Tuileries would offer a less peaceful couch to them than they find in the blissful domestic circle at N——.

A long visit from the Duc de T——.  I never meet him without being reminded of the truth of an observation of a French writer, who says—­“On a vu des gens se passer d’esprit en sachant meler la politesse avec des manieres nobles et elegantes.”  The Duc de T——­ passes off perfectly well without esprit, the absence of which his noble manners perfectly conceal; while ——­, who is so very clever, makes one continually conscious of his want of good breeding and bon ton.

Finished reading Sayings and Doings, by Mr. Theodore Hook.  Every page teems with wit, humour, or pathos, and reveals a knowledge of the world under all the various phases of the ever-moving scene that gives a lively interest to all he writes.  This profound acquaintance with human life, which stamps the impress of truth on every character portrayed by his graphic pen, has not soured his feelings or produced that cynical disposition so frequently engendered by it.

Mr. Hook is no misanthrope, and while he exposes the ridiculous with a rare wit and humour he evinces a natural and warm sympathy with the good.  He is a very original thinker and writer, hits off characters with a facility and felicity that few authors possess, and makes them invariably act in accordance with the peculiar characteristics with which he has endowed them.  The vraisemblance is never for a moment violated, which makes the reader imagine he is perusing a true narration instead of a fiction.

House-hunting to-day.  Went again over the Hotel Monaco, but its dilapidated state somewhat alarms us.  The suite of reception rooms are magnificent, but the garden into which they open pleases me still more, for it is vast and umbrageous.  The line old hotels in the Faubourg St.-Germain, and this is one of the finest, give one a good idea of the splendour of the noblesse de l’ancien regime.  The number and spaciousness of the apartments, the richness of the decorations, though no longer retaining their pristine beauty, and above all, the terraces and gardens, have a grand effect.