8th, 1832 {p.306}

[Page Head: CHARACTER OF WILLIAM IV.]

Breakfasted on Thursday with Rogers, and yesterday at the
Athenaeum with Henry Taylor, and met Mr. Charles Austin, a
lawyer, clever man, and Radical. The Bills are jogging on and
there is a comparative calm. The Whigs swear that the Reformed
Parliament will be the most aristocratic we have ever seen, and
Ellice told me that they cannot hear of a single improper person
likely to be elected for any of the new places. [Their choice did
not correspond with this statement of their disposition.] The
metropolitan districts want rank and talent. The Government and
their people have now found out what a fool the King is, and it
is very amusing to hear them on the subject. Formerly, when they
thought they had him fast, he was very honest and rather wise;
now they find him rather shuffling and exceedingly silly. When
Normanby went to take leave of him on going to Jamaica, he
pronounced a harangue in favour of the slave trade, of which he
has always been a great admirer, and expressed sentiments for
which his subjects would tear him to pieces if they heard them.
It is one of the great evils of the recent convulsion that the
King's imbecility has been exposed to the world, and in his
person the regal authority has fallen into contempt; his own
personal unpopularity is not of much consequence as long as it
does not degrade his office; that of George IV. never did, so
little so that he could always as King cancel the bad impressions
which he made in his individual capacity, and he frequently did
so. Walter Scott is arrived here, dying. A great mortality among
great men; Goethe, Perier, Champollion, Cuvier, Scott, Grant,
Mackintosh, all died within a few weeks of each other.

June 25th, 1832 {p.307}

At Fern Hill all last week; a great party, nothing but racing and
gambling; then to Shepperton, and to town on Saturday. The event
of the races was the King's having his head knocked with a stone.
It made very little sensation on the spot, for he was not hurt,
and the fellow was a miserable-looking ragamuffin. It, however,
produced a great burst of loyalty in both Houses, and their
Majesties were loudly cheered at Ascot. The Duke of Wellington,
who had been the day before mobbed in London, also reaped a
little harvest of returning popularity from the assault, and so
far the outrages have done rather good than harm.

July 12th, 1832 {p.307}

The suttee case was decided