in an agreeable state, but England is in a still worse.' The King, however, is of a different opinion, and appears better to understand the nature of our system. She described him (Molé) as not the cleverest and most brilliant, but by far the most sensible, sound, and well-judging man of them all. [2] [M. Molé was then Prime Minister. The overthrow of M. Thiers on the Spanish question had been regarded as a check by the English Government, and Mr. Ellice was a cordial friend and supporter of Thiers. The resentment of Lord Palmerston at the refusal of the King to support the cause of the Queen in Spain by a direct intervention, was the commencement of that coolness which is noticed further on, and which led eventually to most important results.] Peel's Glasgow speeches arrived yesterday, that is, were in general circulation, for the King received on the 16th a newspaper containing the speech made there on the 13th, an instance (as it seems to me) of unexampled rapidity. Lord Granville, who praises anything against his own party very reluctantly, told me he thought Peel's speech at the dinner very dexterous, and Ellice said, though there was nothing new in it, he thought it would produce a great effect. January 20th, 1837 {p.380} [Page Head: DISLIKE OF PARIS.] Yesterday went about visiting, found Montrond ill. Sat a long time with Lady Granville, who was very amusing, and told me a great deal about the characters of the people and the _tracasseries_ in society; dined at the Club, and at night to Madame de Lieven's, where I found Berryer, a remarkable-looking man, but not like what I expected: dark, stout, countenance very intelligent, with a cheerful, cunning, and rather leering look, such as a clever Irish priest might have, neither in look nor manner very refined. He soon went away, so I heard nothing of his conversation. Everybody I have met has been very civil and obliging, and I ought to be and am grateful for my reception, but I wish myself back again, and ask myself a hundred times why I came. It is tiresome to go through introductions to a parcel of people whom I shall probably never see again, whose names I can scarcely remember, and with whom, be they ever so agreeable, I have not time to form any intimacy. They all ask the same question, 'Do you make a long stay here?' to which I universally reply, 'As long as I can,' which, being interpreted, means, I shall be off as soon as I can find a decent pretext. It may be a very delightful place to _live at_, but for a flying visit (as at present inclined), I don't think it answers. January 21st and 22nd, 1837 {p.381}