After giving a far from flattering description of the remaining members of the cabinet, Junius adds an argument, which certainly is forcible:—
"In private life the honour of a sister is deemed an affair of infinite consequence to a brother. A man of sentiment is anxious to convince his friends and neighbours that the breath of slander has traduced her virtue: and he seizes with avidity every extenuating circumstance that can contribute to alleviate her offence or demonstrate her innocence, beyond the possibility of cavil.
"Is our pious Majesty cast in a different mould from one of his people? or is he taught to believe that the opinion of his subjects has no manner of relation to his own felicity? Are you, my lord, quite devoid of feeling? Have you no warm blood that flows round your heart, that gives your frame a thrilling soft sensation, and makes your bosom flow with affections ornamental to man as a social creation? For shame, my lord, however wrong you act, you must know better; you must be conscious that the people have a right to be informed of every transaction which concerns the welfare of the state. They are part of a mighty empire, which flourishes only as their happiness is promoted; they have a kind of claim in every person belonging to the royal lineage. How, then, can they possibly remain neuter, and see their princess imprisoned by a banditti of northern Vandals?"
After an historical survey of Denmark, not particularly pertinent, Junius informs us that:—
"There is a barbarous ferocity which still clings to the inhabitants of the north, and renders their government subject to perpetual convulsions; but the Danes, I fancy, will be found the only people in our times who have dared to proceed to extremities that alarm all Europe, nay, dared to imprison an English princess, without giving even the shadow of a public reason for their conduct."
After an allusion to the conduct of the Empress Catharine in justifying the murder of her husband, Junius concludes with one of his most impassioned declamations against the sluggish minister, who is so careless of British honour:—
"The present Machiavellian Dowager Julia may send the young queen's soul to Heaven in a night, and through the shameful remissness of you, Lord North, as prime minister of this unhappy country, the public may remain ignorant of every circumstance relative to the murder. Be not, however, deceived: the blood of our sovereign's sister shall not be suffered to cry in vain for vengeance: it shall be heard; it shall be revenged; and what is still more, it shall besprinkle Lord North, and thus affix a stigma on his forehead, which shall make him wander like another Cain, accursed through the world."[59]
This vigorous appeal for Caroline Matilda was followed shortly after by a temperate letter in the Public Advertiser, signed Q. Q. This writer has the merit of seeing further through a millstone than his fellows. He was of opinion that the Danish revolution, far from being general, was merely the effect of a court faction, and that a squadron of British ships sent to Copenhagen would "inspire the queen's friends with confidence and courage, and will check and dispirit those who are her opponents, so that she may either expect to have her conduct cleared up by a fair and impartial trial, or, if it is thought an indignity to submit to that, she may at once be restored to that rank and authority which I am well persuaded she never deserved to lose."
It must not be supposed, however, that Caroline Matilda's defenders were allowed to have it all their own way. A fellow, writing under the name of Atticus, befouled the columns of the Public Advertiser with one of the most scandalous libels on an unoffending woman which ever appeared in those unhappy days, when liberty was confounded with licence of the press.