This ‘plain sailing’ was, however, somewhat marred by the contradictory evidence of Lieutenant Flynn; and even that of Lieutenant Hownam was sufficient to show that the Princess, if not the most gross, was certainly the most indiscreet, of ladies. Other witnesses spoke to dresses and dances, which had been described as disgraceful in their character, being really harmless; and others again showed that certain unedifying sights could not have been seen by the witnesses who had sworn to having been spectators of them from the place in which they stood. Again, the evidence did not lack which proved the purchasing of testimony on the other side, and some excitement was raised when, on the presence of Rastelli being required, it was found that he had been permitted to leave the country. In the opinion of some, he had been conveyed away by the prosecuting party. A few thought he had disappeared with the connivance of both sides.

The entire evidence was closed on the 30th of October. Allusion has been already made to Mr. Denman’s speech, which was ably made, now, in summing up the evidence for the defence. It closed rather unaptly in terms, the remembrance of which embittered many years of the speaker’s life—for it seemed to undo all that had been previously said and done: ‘This, my Lords, is the highest tribunal on earth; it can only be exceeded by that where all the world shall be judged, and the secrets of all hearts laid open. I invoke you, my Lords, therefore, to imitate the wisdom, justice, and beneficence of that high and sacred Authority who said to the woman brought before him: “If no accuser come forward, neither will I condemn thee. Go in peace, and sin no more.”’

The Lords adjourned to the 2nd of November, from which day to the 6th the peers were engaged in debates upon the evidence, almost every member assigning reasons for the vote he intended to give. Mr. Rush describes the character of the debates as the case approached its close. It was ‘stormy’ in the extreme. ‘Earl Grey declared that, if their lordships passed the bill, it would prove the most disastrous step the House had ever taken. Earl Grosvenor said that, feeling as he did the evils which the erasure of the Queen’s name from the Liturgy (a measure taken before her trial came on) was likely to entail upon the nation, as well as its repugnance to law and justice, he would, had he been Archbishop of Canterbury, have thrown the Prayer-book in the King’s face sooner than have consented to it. On the other hand, the Duke of Montrose said, even after the ministers had abandoned the bill, that, so convinced was he of her guilt, whatever others might think to do, he, for one, would never acknowledge her as his Queen.’

The bill, however, was not yet abandoned. The House divided on the 6th of the month, on the second reading, which was carried by 123 to 95, giving ministers a majority of 28. The Queen immediately signed a protest against the nature of the proceeding. The document terminated with these words: ‘She now most deliberately, and before God, asserts that she is wholly innocent of the crime laid to her charge, and she awaits with unabated confidence the final result of this unparalleled investigation’—and as she signed the protest she exclaimed, with a dash of her pen, ‘there, “Caroline regina,” in spite of them.’

By a clever manœuvre of her friends the ministers were next cast into a minority. The House had gone into committee on the divorce clause. The clause was distasteful to some of the bishops. Dr. Howley, indeed, is said to have held that the King could do no wrong, even if he broke the seventh commandment. Others, however, thought that a man so notoriously guilty in that respect was not justified in seeking to destroy his wife, even if she were as guilty as he was. The clause was objected to by many peers, and popularly it was distasteful for something of the same reasons. The ministers, thinking to gain a point by abandoning a clause, moved the omission of this very clause of divorce. But the Queen’s friends immediately saw that, by the retaining of the clause, the bishops and others who preferred the bill without it would be less likely to vote for the passing of the bill itself. They accordingly voted that the divorce clause should be retained, and the ministers, in a minority on this point, proposed the third reading of the bill with the clause in question in the body of it. One hundred and eight voted for it, and ninety-nine against it. The ministry were thus only in a majority of nine—exactly the number of the peers who were members of the cabinet—and after a short delay Lord Liverpool made a merit of surrendering the measure as an offering to popular feeling, although they had carried the bill—with too small a majority, as he confessed, to enable ministers to act upon it.

The Queen was in her own apartment in the House of Lords when the intelligence was brought her by her excited counsel that the bill of Pains and Penalties had been abandoned. She received the intimation in perfect silence, hardly seeming to comprehend the fact, or perhaps scarcely knowing how it should be appreciated. The ministers had carried their bill, but even their withdrawing of it would not prove her guiltless. ‘I shall never forget,’ says one present, ‘what was my emotion when it was announced to me that the bill of Pains and Penalties was to be abandoned. I was walking towards the west end of the long corridor of the House of Lords, wrapt in reverie, when one of the door-keepers touched me on the shoulder and told me the news. I turned instantly to go back into the House, when I met the Queen coming out alone from her waiting-room, preceded by an usher. She had been there unknown to me. I stopped involuntarily. I could not, indeed, proceed, for she had a dazed look, more tragical than consternation: she passed me. The usher pushed open the folding doors of the great staircase; she began to descend, and I followed instinctively two or three steps behind her. She was evidently all shuddering, and she took hold of the bannisters, pausing for a moment. Oh, that sudden clutch with which she caught the railing! Never say again to me that any actor can feel like a principal. It was a visible manifestation of unspeakable grief—an echoing of the voice of the soul. Four or five persons came in from below before she reached the bottom of the stairs. I think Alderman Wood was one of them, but I was in indescribable confusion.... I rushed past, and out into the hastily-assembling crowd.... I knew not where I was; but in a moment a shouting in the balcony above, on which a number of gentlemen from the interior of the House were gathering, roused me. The multitude then began to cheer, but at first there was a kind of stupor. The sympathy, however, soon became general, and, winged by the voice, soon spread up the street. Every one instantly, between Charing Cross and Whitehall, turned and came rushing down, filling Old and New Palace Yards as if a deluge was unsluiced.’[19]

It was asked by many why Bergami himself had not been summoned to deny upon oath any charge of guilt with the Queen, but Mr. Denman had given sufficient reason in his speech. ‘If,’ he said, ‘any man guilty of the charge was examined he would deny it. I firmly believe the feeling among mankind in such a case would triumph over morality. It would be found better to violate the oath than betray the victim.’ This is, doubtless, true; but like the concluding sentence of Denman’s speech, already quoted, it seemed to some persons to damage as much as defend. The Queen had said, in her fear of her attorney-general, ‘If my head is placed on Temple Bar, it will be through Mr. Brougham.’ She stood in greater peril from the studied words of Denman than from the unpremeditated and impetuous utterances of Brougham. The Queen’s own utterances did not want for boldness. It is reported of her having said at the time of the trial that she was, perhaps, not altogether blameless, since she had certainly lived with Mrs. Fitzherbert’s husband!

CHAPTER XI.
‘TRISTIS GLORIA.’

The result of the Queen’s trial advantageous to neither party—The Queen’s application to Parliament for a residence—Lord Liverpool’s reply—Royal message from the Queen to Parliament, and its discourteous reception—The Queen goes to St. Paul’s to return thanks—Uncharitable conduct of the Cathedral authorities—Their unseemly behaviour rebuked by the Lord Mayor—Revenue for the Queen recommended by the King—Accepted by her—The Coronation of George IV.—The Queen claims a right to take part in the ceremony—Her right discussed—Not allowed—Determines to be present—The Queen appears at the Abbey, and is refused admittance—With a broken spirit retires—Her sense of degradation—The King labours to give éclat to his Coronation—The Coronation-festival in Westminster Hall described—Appearance of the Duke of Wellington—His banquet to the King—The King’s speech on the occasion—True greatness of the Duke—Anecdote of Louis XIV. and Lord Stair—Regal banquet to the foreign ministers—The Duke of Wellington appears as an Austrian general—Incident of the Coronation—Lord Londonderry’s banquet to the minister of Louis Napoleon.

The Queen was in tears when the ‘people’ were rejoicing, less certainly for her sake than for the popular victory which had been achieved. There was nothing in the issue of the trial for any party to rejoice at. The ministry could not exult, for although they had carried the bill which declared the Queen worthy of degradation from her rights and privileges, rank and station, yet they refrained from acting upon it, because the popular voice was hoarse with menace, so unfairly had the case of the two antagonists been tried before the august tribunal of the peers.