During my schooldays, until our family went to live at Brixton, my holidays were for the most part spent in London. I came up to town, too, on other occasions, and remember the great political excitement subsisting at this period (1830), the Reform frenzy being then at its height. The death of George IV. had inspired the partisans of Reform with hope, and the subsequent revolution in France had rendered them daring. The mob orators and the more reckless scribes of the party, in denouncing the tory government, excitedly pointed out that the Parisians had shewn what could be accomplished by pikes and barricades, and how troops might be worsted in street fights, and they covertly suggested to the distressed and discontented masses that they should profit by the example lately set them.

The new king was immensely popular, though no one knew exactly why. It was scarcely because of his bluff sailor-like manners, for, as Greville insists, he had much of the blackguard and more of the buffoon about him. Still, there is no doubt that the idea of a sailor-king had a strong fascination for the populace, with whom recent stage presentments had exalted the British tar into a favourite hero, and the new sovereign was frantically cheered whenever he stirred abroad. This popularity was taken advantage of to arrange a State visit to the city on the ensuing lord mayor's day; and I obtained permission from home to come up and see the royal procession, which was expected to be a very grand one, pass along Fleet-street, where we then lived. Great preparations had been made for the king's reception, and the multitude of flags, evergreens, devices, and transparencies gave the dingy houses along the line of route quite a gay look in the gloomy November weather.