London, November 8th, 1830

Went from Buckenham to Euston, and then back to Newmarket, where I never have time or inclination to write or read. Parliament met, and a great clamour was raised against the King’s Speech, without much reason; but it was immediately evident that the Government was in a very tottering condition, and the first night of this session the Duke of Wellington made a violent and uncalled-for declaration against Reform, which has without doubt sealed his fate. Never was there an act of more egregious folly, or one so universally condemned by friends and foes. The Chancellor said to Lady Lyndhurst after the first night’s debate in the House of Lords, ‘You have often asked me why the Duke did not take in Lord Grey; read these two speeches (Lord Grey’s and the Duke’s), and then you will see why. Do you think he would like to have a colleague under him, who should get up and make such a speech after such another as his?’

The effect produced by this declaration exceeds anything I ever saw, and it has at once destroyed what little popularity the Duke had left, and lowered him in public estimation so much that when he does go out of office, as most assuredly he must, he will leave it without any of the dignity and credit which might have accompanied his retirement. The sensation produced in the country has not yet been ascertained, but it is sure to be immense. I came to town last night, and found the town ringing with his imprudence and everybody expecting that a few days would produce his resignation.

The King’s visit to the City was regarded with great apprehension, as it was suspected that attempts would be made to produce riot and confusion at night, and consequently all the troops that could be mustered were prepared, together with thousands of special constables, new police, volunteers, sailors, and marines; but last night a Cabinet Council was held, when it was definitively arranged to put it off altogether, and this morning the announcement has appeared in the newspapers. Every sort of ridicule and abuse was heaped upon the Government, the Lord Mayor, and all who had any share in putting off the King’s visit to the City; very droll caricatures were circulated.

I met Matuscewitz last night, who was full of the Duke and his speech, and of regrets at his approaching fall, which he considers as the signal for fresh encroachments in France by the Liberal party, and a general impulse to the revolutionary factions throughout Europe. I hear that nothing can exceed the general excitement and terror that prevails, everybody feeling they hardly know what.

November 9th, 1830

Yesterday morning I sallied forth and called on Arbuthnot, whom I did not find at home, but Mrs. Arbuthnot was. I had previously called on the Villiers, and had a long conversation about the state of everything. They did not apprise me of anything new, but Hyde,[12] who ought to be informed, gave me an account of the resolutions which Brougham means to propose, very different from what I heard elsewhere. He said that they were very strong, whereas all other accounts agree that they are very moderate. I walked with Mrs. Arbuthnot down to Downing Street, and, as she utters the Duke’s sentiments, was anxious to hear what she would say about their present condition. I said, ‘Well, you are in a fine state; what do you mean to do?’ ‘Oh, are you alarmed? Well, I am not; everybody says we are to go DISTURBANCES IN LONDON. out, and I don’t believe a word of it. They will be beat on the question of Reform; people will return to the Government, and we shall go on very well. You will see this will be the end of it.’ I told her I did not believe they could stay in, and attacked the Duke’s speech, which at last she owned she was sorry he had made. She complained that they had no support, and that everybody they took in became useless as soon as they were in office—Ellenborough, Rosslyn, Murray. It was evident, however, that she did contemplate their loss of office as a very probable event, though they do not mean to resign, and think they may stave off the evil day. In Downing Street we met George Dawson, who told us the funds had fallen three per cent., and that the panic was tremendous, so much so that they were not without alarm lest there should be a run on the Bank for gold. Later in the day, however, the funds improved. In the House of Lords I heard the Duke’s explanation of putting off the dinner in the City. On the whole they seem to have done well to put it off, but the case did not sound a strong one; it rested on a letter from the Lord Mayor telling the Duke an attempt would be made on his life. Still it is a hundred to one that there would have been a riot, and possibly all its worst evils and crimes. The King is said to be very low, hating Reform, desirous of supporting the Duke, but feeling that he can do nothing. However, in the House of Lords last night the speakers vied with each other in praising his Majesty and extolling his popularity. Lady Jersey told me that the Duke had said to her, ‘Lord, I shall not go out; you will see we shall go on very well.’

[12] [Thomas Hyde Villiers, brother of George, afterwards fourth Earl of Clarendon, died in 1832.]

November 10th, 1830

It was expected last night that there would be a great riot, and preparations were made to meet it. Troops were called up to London, and a large body of civil power put in motion. People had come in from the country in the morning, and everything indicated a disturbance. After dinner I walked out to see how things were going on. There was little mob in the west end of the town, and in New Street, Spring Gardens, a large body of the new police was drawn up in three divisions, ready to be employed if wanted. The Duke of Wellington expected Apsley House to be attacked, and made preparations accordingly. He desired my brother to go and dine there, to assist in making any arrangements that might be necessary. In Pall Mall I met Mr. Glyn, the banker, who had been up to Lombard Street to see how matters looked about his house, and he told us (Sir T. Farquhar and me) that everything was quiet in the City. One of the policemen said that there had been a smart brush near Temple Bar, where a body of weavers with iron crows and a banner had been dispersed by the police, and the banner taken. The police, who are a magnificent set of fellows, behave very well, and it seems pretty evident that these troubles are not very serious, and will soon be put an end to. The attack in Downing Street the night before last, of which they made a great affair, turned out to be nothing at all. The mob came there from Carlile’s lecture, but the sentry stopped them near the Foreign Office; the police took them in flank, and they all ran away.