The panic had another effect, which was the removal of the Duke of Wellington from office, at the same time that Sir Robert Peel offered his resignation in the House of Commons. This meant a complete change in the ministry. Throughout the troubled and unsettled state of affairs the king behaved admirably, and proved that, although he had ignored court etiquette at the opening of his reign, he had much more real dignity than his predecessor, whose mind was ever bent on theatrical effect, and who never yielded one jot where a display of ceremony could be made. William treated his ministers with great kindness and consideration, supporting them while it was possible, and parting with them in sorrow when it became a necessity.
Lord Grey was requested not only to form a new ministry, but even to make the necessary changes in the royal household. No wiser selection could have been made; for Lord Grey was popular, and people saw in the parliamentary reform a noble beginning of a great work. Brougham, now Lord Brougham, who so warmly defended Queen Caroline of Brunswick, was appointed Lord High Chancellor, and this also gave general satisfaction. Lord John Russell, whose name appears often in the cabinet during the present century, was appointed paymaster-general.
The year closed with a report that Asiatic cholera was spreading over Europe, and making rapid strides towards England. Great anxiety was felt; but honest-hearted, unselfish King William took prompt measures towards the establishment of a proper quarantine, and so held the plague at bay.
A.D. 1831. All through the January nights of the new year the heavens were lit up by burning barns and ricks; and in the manufacturing districts men formed into organizations called trades-unions, because representatives of certain trades bound themselves to stand by one another in the maintenance of what they believed to be their rights. But they were merciless to those who dared to act independently, and murder was committed at Manchester out of revenge in consequence of a quarrel about the trades-union.
While discussions on the reform bill were engaging the attention of parliament, trades-unions were growing, and the arrest of O'Connell was agitating the Irish, the queen lived quietly, and took no part in public affairs. She was called a prude because she would not allow her ladies to wear low-neck dresses, while during the previous reign no others had been permitted.
One night in February the king and queen went to the theatre. They were well received on entering; but on returning home they were hooted at, and their carriage was pelted with stones, one of which broke the window and fell in the lap of Prince George of Cumberland. The king told one of his officers "that the queen was terrified, and it was very disagreeable, because they should always be going about somewhere." The queen had no influence whatever with her husband in public affairs; but she was interested in the elections, knew the king's weak points, and felt unhappy at his being so completely under the influence of his ministry. At her balls and drawing-rooms, scarcely anything was talked of but the doings of parliament, and the elections continued to cause great excitement. When the Lord Mayor unwisely had the city illuminated after certain of them had been decided, there was a great uproar and a general breaking of windows. A few nights later the queen attended a concert, and as she was returning the mob surrounded her carriage, and her footmen were obliged to beat the people off with their canes to keep them from poking their heads into the coach. Her majesty was dreadfully alarmed, and the king, who was not well enough to accompany her to the concert, had heard something of the tumult, and was anxiously pacing backwards and forwards in his room when Lord Howe, the chamberlain, who always preceded the queen, entered. "How is her majesty?" eagerly demanded William as he went down to meet her. "Very much frightened, sir," was the reply of the chamberlain; who, being an anti-Reformer, at once proceeded to give a most graphic and rather exaggerated account of the attack. The king was so angry that he declared neither he nor the queen should again enter the city, and the latter felt as distressed and disgusted as possible.
In June the royal family attended the Ascot races. They arrived at the course with a cortège of eight coaches, each drawn by four horses, phaetons, pony chaises, and led horses. Their reception was strikingly cold and indifferent, and the king looked bored to death. After the races there was a dinner at the castle each day, when the king invited a crowd of people. The queen was led to the dining-room by the Duke of Richmond, and the king followed with the Duchess of Saxe-Weimar, the queen's sister. He drank wine with everybody, and after dinner dropped asleep from the effect of it. That did not interfere with the concert by a very good band, that was going on all through dinner, and continued for a couple of hours afterwards.
At this period a deputation waited upon Prince Leopold, the widower of Princess Charlotte, mentioned in the last reign, to invite him to become their king. As he had been expecting this for a long time, he did not hesitate to accept.
The next event of interest was the coronation. A council was held at St. James's to consider it, when the king made a request that the ceremonies might be short, and that all those not connected with the church might be dispensed with. His object was to make it less tedious and less expensive than the last, which had occupied the whole day, and cost two hundred and forty thousand pounds.
Greville, who occupied a position in the council, gives an account of the queen's decision with regard to her crown. He says: "I rode to Windsor to settle with the queen what sort of a crown she would have. I was ushered into the king's presence; he was sitting at a red table in the sitting-room of George IV. looking over the flower-garden. He sent for the queen, who came with two ladies. She tried to be civil to me in her ungracious way, and said she would have none of our crowns, and asked me if I thought it was right that she should. I said, 'Madam, I can only say that the late king wore one at his coronation.' However, she said, 'I do not like it, and I have got jewels enough, so I will have them made up myself.' The king said to me, 'Very well; then you will have to pay for the setting?' 'Oh, no,' replied the queen, 'I shall pay for it all myself.'" When the estimates for the coronation were presented, they amounted to less than thirty-one thousand pounds, which was a moderate sum compared with similar preceding ceremonies. The king objected very seriously to being kissed on the cheek, as an act of homage, by the bishops, and ordered that part of the ceremony to be struck out; but it had been the custom for ages, and he had to give in, whether he liked it or no.