After six years' absence from England Queen Caroline had come back on the
death of George III. to demand her rights. She had landed at Dover and
been welcomed by applauding crowds. She had been escorted through Kent by
uproarious partisans, who removed the horses from her carriage and dragged
her in triumph through the towns. London, in its middle and lower classes,
had poured out to meet her and come back in her train, till she was safely
lodged in South Audley Street, in the house of her champion, Alderman Wood.

The King had instructed his ministers to lay before the House of Lords a
bill of Pains and Penalties against the Queen which, if sustained, would
deprive her of every claim to share his rank and would annul the marriage.
The Queen was prepared with her defence, and furnished with two of the
ablest advocates in the kingdom, Mr. Brougham and Mr. Denman. In the
earlier stages of the proceedings she was present almost every day in the
House of Lords. She entered in her puce or black sarcenet pelisse and
black velvet hat, a large, not uncomely woman, a little over fifty, and
took the chair of State provided for her, the House rising to receive the
Queen whom it was trying. The trial, in its miserable details of gross
folly well-nigh incredible, lasted from July to November--four months of
burning excitement--when it collapsed from the smallness of the majority
(nine) that voted for the second reading of the bill. The animus of the
prosecution and the unworthy means taken to accomplish its purpose,
defeated the end in view. It is said that had it been otherwise the
country would have broken out into widespread insurrection.

The Queen's supporters, of all classes, sects, and shades, indulged in a
perfect frenzy of rejoicing. Festivals, illuminations, every token of
triumph for her and condemnation for him accompanied what was equivalent
to her acquittal. She went in something like State, with her queer, motley
household--Bohemian, English and Italians--and her great ally, Alderman