As I was to dine at Holland House, I did not partake in the magnificent repast which was offered to us, and took myself off about five o’clock.  I contrived to make a demi-toilette at Holland House rather than drive all the way to London.  Rogers came to dinner, which was very entertaining.  The Duke of Manchester was there, whom I remember having seen long ago.  He had left a part of his brain in Jamaica by a terrible fracture, yet, notwithstanding the accident and the bad climate, was still a fine-looking man.  Lady Holland[204] pressed me to stay all night, which I did accordingly.

May 18.—­The freshness of the air, the singing of the birds, the beautiful aspect of nature, the size of the venerable trees, all gave me a delightful feeling this morning.  It seemed there was pleasure even in living and breathing, without anything else.  We (i.e. Rogers and I) wandered into a green lane bordered with fine trees, which might have been twenty miles from a town.  It will be a great pity when this ancient house must come down and give way to brick works and brick-houses.  It is not that Holland House is fine as a building; on the contrary, it has a tumble-down look; and, although decorated with the bastard Gothic of James I.’s time, the front is heavy.  But it resembles many respectable matrons, who, having been absolutely ugly during youth, acquire by age an air of dignity;—­though one is chiefly affected by the air of deep seclusion which is spread around the domain.  I called on Mr. Peel as I returned home, and after that on Lord Melville.  The latter undertook for Allan Cunningham’s son’s cadetship, for which I am right glad.

Dined at Mr. and Lady Sarah Ponsonby’s, who called on us last year at Abbotsford.  The party was very pleasant, having Lord and Lady Gower, whom I like, Mr. and Lady Georgiana Ellis, and other persons of distinction.  Saw Wordsworth too, and learned that Tom Moore was come to town.

May 19.—­A morning of business.  Breakfasted with Dumergue and one or two friends.  Dined by command with the Duchess of Kent.  I was very kindly recognised by Prince Leopold.  I was presented to the little Princess Victoria,—­I hope they will change her name,—­the heir apparent to the Crown as things now stand.  How strange that so large and fine a family as that of his late Majesty should have died off and decayed into old age with so few descendants!  Prince George of Cumberland is, they say, a fine boy about nine years old—­a bit of a pickle, swears and romps like a brat that has been bred in a barrack yard.  This little lady is educated with much care, and watched so closely by the Duchess and the principal governess, that no busy maid has a moment to whisper, “You are heir of England.”  I suspect if we could dissect the little head, we should find that some pigeon or other bird of the air had carried the matter.  She is fair, like the Royal Family, but does not look as if she would be pretty.  The Duchess herself is very pleasing and affable in her manners.  I sat by Mr. Spring Rice, a very agreeable man.  He is a great leader among the Pro-Catholics.  I saw also Charles Wynn and his lady—­and the evening, for a Court evening, went agreeably off.  I am commanded for two days by Prince Leopold, but will send excuses.