Dined with Mrs. Coutts.  Tragi-comic distress of my good friend on the marriage of her presumptive heir with a daughter of Lucien Bonaparte.

October 20.—­Commanded down to pass a day at Windsor.  This is very kind of His Majesty.

At breakfast, Crofton Croker, author of the Irish Fairy Tales—­little as a dwarf, keen-eyed as a hawk, and of very prepossessing manners.  Something like Tom Moore.  There were also Terry, Allan Cunningham, Newton, and others.  Now I must go to work.

Went down to Windsor, or rather to the Lodge in the Forest, which, though ridiculed by connoisseurs, seems to be no bad specimen of a royal retirement, and is delightfully situated.  A kind of cottage ornee—­too large perhaps for the style—­but yet so managed that in the walks you only see parts of it at once, and these well composed and grouping with immense trees.  His Majesty received me with the same mixture of kindness and courtesy which has always distinguished his conduct towards me.  There was no company beside the royal retinue—­Lady C[onyngham], her daughter, and two or three other ladies.  After we left table, there was excellent music by the Royal Band, who lay ambushed in a green-house adjoining the apartment.  The King made me sit beside him and talk a great deal—­too much, perhaps—­for he has the art of raising one’s spirits, and making you forget the retenue which is prudent everywhere, especially at court.  But he converses himself with so much ease and elegance, that you lose thoughts of the prince in admiring the well-bred and accomplished gentleman.  He is, in many respects, the model of a British monarch—­has little inclination to try experiments on government otherwise than through his ministers—­sincerely, I believe, desires the good of his subjects, is kind toward the distressed, and moves and speaks “every inch a king."[371] I am sure such a man is fitter for us than one who would long to head armies, or be perpetually intermeddling with la grande politique.  A sort of reserve, which creeps on him daily, and prevents his going to places of public resort, is a disadvantage, and prevents his being so generally popular as is earnestly to be desired.  This, I think, was much increased by the behaviour of the rabble in the brutal insanity of the Queen’s trial, when John Bull, meaning the best in the world, made such a beastly figure.

October 21.—­Walked in the morning with Sir William Knighton, and had much confidential chat, not fit to be here set down, in case of accidents.  He undertook most kindly to recommend Charles, when he has taken his degree, to be attached to some of the diplomatic missions, which I think is best for the lad after all.  After breakfast went to Windsor Castle, met by appointment my daughters and Lockhart, and examined the improvements going on there under Mr. Wyattville, who appears to possess a great deal of taste and feeling for Gothic architecture.