_March 16th._--I dined with Madame de Lieven _tÍte-‡-tÍte_ the day before yesterday. Our talk, of course, was almost entirely about French affairs. I asked her whether she thought, as many here do, that if the _Èmeute_ had been put down by violence, the throne must have fallen, as the King could not have reigned in the midst of bloodshed. She said the Ministers would have gone out, but the throne would have been safe. She told me Guizot was not indisposed to give some _parliamentary_ reform (not electoral), and was sensible that the great number of functionaries in the Chamber was shocking to public opinion. He proposed to begin with his own department, and render all diplomatic agents incapable of sitting--a very small concession! She said something to me (as Lord Campbell did) about writing memoirs, and that my curious position--so intimate with so many persons of all parties and descriptions, and being so much in the confidence of all--gave me peculiar advantages for doing so. She knew I had written Journals, and I told her it was so, but in a very loose and casual way, and I asked her if she had not written. She said, 'Beaucoup.' Lord John Russell had a great success the other night, and his speech got many votes. It was one of the best he ever made, and in all respects judicious and becoming his position. _March 20th._--There has been all sorts of botheration about Louis Philippe and his affairs, particularly about his remaining at Claremont. Soon after he came, a notification was made to him _by Palmerston_ that he was not to remain there permanently.[40] He complained of this to all the people he saw (talking very loosely and foolishly), and it got wind and made a noise. Soon after, the Duke of Wellington went to see him, and told him that Claremont was the fit place for him, and the other day a letter arrived from Leopold telling him he might stay there as long as he liked; he is therefore to stay. So many different versions have been put forth of the details of what passed concerning this matter, that it is next to impossible to ascertain the exact truth. Everything in France gets more serious and alarming every day. The clubs of Paris are omnipotent, the National Guards are _ÈcrasÈs_, the Provisional Government makes a show of independence, and Lamartine makes fine speeches; but they are at the mercy of the Parisian mob, whose organisation is wonderful. The playing out of the game will be very curious. At present, this mob of the capital seems resolved to dictate to the provinces, and to set aside the army.