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Memoirs of the Rev. Samuel Parr
Ch XV. 1820-1821

Ch. I. 1747-1752
Ch. II. 1752-1761
Ch. III. 1761-1765
Ch. IV. 1765-1766
Ch. V. 1767-1771
Ch. VI. 1771
Ch. VII. 1771-1776
Ch. VIII. 1771-1776
Ch. IX. 1776-1777
Ch. X. 1779-1786
Ch. XI. 1779-1786
Ch. XII. 1779-1786
Ch. XIII. 1780-1782
Ch. XIV. 1786-1789
Ch. XV. 1786-1790
Ch. XVI. 1776-1790
Ch. XVII. 1787
Ch. XVIII. 1789
Ch. XIX. 1790-1792
Ch. XX. 1791-1792
Ch. XXI. 1791-1796
Ch. XXII. 1794-1795
Ch. XXIII. 1794
Ch. XXIV. 1794-1800
Ch. XXV. 1794-1800
Ch. XXVI. 1800-1803
Ch. XXVII. 1801-1803
Ch. XXVIII. 1800-1807
Vol. II Contents
Ch I. 1800-1807
Ch II. 1807-1810
Ch III. 1809
Ch IV. 1809-1812
Ch V. 1810-1813
Ch VI. 1811-1815
Ch VII. 1812-1815
Ch VIII. 1816-1820
Ch IX. 1816-1820
Ch X. 1816-1820
Ch XI. 1816-1820
Ch XII. 1816-1820
Ch XIII. 1816-1820
Ch XIV. 1819
‣ Ch XV. 1820-1821
Ch XVI. 1816-1820
Ch XVII. 1820-1824
Ch XVIII. 1820-1824
Ch XIX. 1820-1824
Ch XX. 1820-1825
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Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
Produced by CATH
A.D. 1820—1821.
Story of Queen Caroline—Dr. Parr’s introduction to her, when Princess of Wales—Her travels abroad—Her reputation assailed by calumnious reports—Their effect on the public mind in England—Dr. Parr’s protest against the exclusion of her name from the Liturgy—Affair of St. Omer—The Queen’s arrival in London—Her cause espoused by the nation—Dr. Parr admitted to her presence and councils—Her answers to the addresses of the people—Her trial—and acquittal—Dr. Parr’s estimate of her character—Mr. Canning’s testimony in her favour—Her sufferings—and death—Dr. Parr’s reflections on the outrages at her funeral.

The year 1820 unfolds a dark and distressing page in English history; from which every reader, who honours his king, and loves his country, would gladly turn away, with an ardent wish that it could be blotted out, as a tale of falsehood or fiction, for ever. This is the amazing and melancholy story of Queen Caroline, wife of George IV., of whom posterity will be astonished to read in British annals that, though a sovereign princess, and the royal consort of England, she was brought to public trial, by the demand, not of the people, but of the court; and that on the charge, not of a state crime, but of a civil or moral offence, which, if committed at all, was committed under circumstances, usually regarded as exculpatory, in the courts of English judicature. More astonished still
will posterity be, as they read on, to learn that even this charge, on the very first touch of examination, crumbled into dust; and proved, indeed, to be the mere fabrication of a deep and dreadful conspiracy, aiming at nothing less than to deprive an innocent female of her fair fame, and a queen of her rightful crown and dignity. But most of all astonished, and no less indignant, will future ages be, to find, in pursuing farther the mournful tale, that though her Majesty’s reputation survived the rude shock which had assailed it, and even rose triumphant from the attempt to degrade and destroy it; and that though her royal dignity was, in consequence of the imperious decree of public opinion, acknowledged; yet that all its due splendour, and almost all its just rights, were, with studied purpose, denied or withheld. Nor, without sympathetic concern and grief, largely intermingled with amazement and indignation, will men of future times—following the melancholy story to its sequel—review the hard fate of an English queen, convicted of no crime, yet forsaken by almost all of royal and noble rank in the country; and left exposed to perpetual mortification and insult, from the whole tribe of court-dependants and venal writers—treatment which so preyed upon her spirits, so shook and agitated her frame, as to lay the foundation of a painful disorder, terminating in premature death.

Early in 1814, it is well known, her late Majesty was induced, by no good advice, to leave the kingdom, with the intention of passing a few years abroad. It was some time before that period, that Dr. Parr had the honour of being first introduced to
her Royal Highness, then Princess of Wales, whose reception of him he always described as most gracious and gratifying. Several times he visited her at Blackheath; once or twice he accompanied her to the theatre; and once he was in the train of her attendants at the exhibition of pictures at the Royal Academy, Somerset-house.

Her Majesty continued abroad six years; during which time, she travelled through many of the principal countries of Europe, Asia, and Africa; but fixed her residence chiefly at the palace D’Este, on the lake Como, near Milan. It was here, most of all, that she was surrounded with spies, and beset with snares; that every step of her conduct was watched; and, not only little unfavourable appearances, but even the most innocent or meritorious actions, were converted into causes of suspicion, or grounds of accusation. Tales of scandal, imputing the lowest profligacy, were framed and propagated,it was said, by hired agents; and the grossest falsehoods, from frequency of repetition, and boldness of assertion, acquired at length the credit and the confidence of truth. With these tales, every Englishman visiting Italy was sure, at almost every turn, to be met. They were perpetually rung in his ears; in many cases he had not the means, or had, perhaps, no adequate motive to inquire into their truth or falsehood; and, thus deceived himself, he returned home, full-charged with such reports, as, if well-founded, would prove the Queen of England to have been one of the vilest and most abandoned of her sex. Such reports, repeated by a thousand
tongues, could not fail to produce the effect intended, by exciting a general suspicion, and even a prevailing belief, of guilty conduct, especially in the higher circles, among whom chiefly they were circulated.

On the death of the late King the royal wanderer prepared to return to England, to assume the high dignity, which now devolved upon her. The writer well remembers a conversation, which passed between Dr. Parr and some of his friends, in the library at Hatton, on the credibility of the many reports, derogatory to her honour, which were, at that moment, put into more active circulation than ever. With all his favourable prepossessions, he said, he could not help feeling the most painful apprehensions that so many reports must have their foundation, in some gross impropriety, if not criminality, of conduct. Still, however, he strenuously maintained, even in that case, that a public investigation, with a view to degradation and dethronement would be a measure, equally unwise and unconstitutional. “What!” said he, “are we going to set up the new and unheard-of principle, that private misconduct disqualifies for royal dignity?—Why, upon that principle, we should dethrone more than half the princes that ever reigned.” He loved the British monarchy far too well, he said, not to dread the effect on the public mind, of tearing down the veil which it is often prudent to draw around the private life of princes; and throwing open to the full gaze, the follies and the vices to which they, more than other persons, are ever exposed. He would admit no
distinction in the case of a profligate king or queen: and when urged with the often-alleged impropriety of allowing one of blasted, or even suspected character, to preside at the head of female society in moral Britain, he insisted that the worst which could happen in such a case would be, that a queen or a princess, finding her drawing-room deserted, and herself despised, would soon seek a refuge, either in retirement at home, or concealment abroad.

Impressed with these views, and, at the same time, by no means disposed to confound the distinction between a suspicion and a proof of guilt; when the order of council, dated Feb. 12, 1820, was issued, for the exclusion of the Queen’s name from the liturgy, Dr. Parr instantly, and strongly, and publicly expressed his disapprobation of it. He considered it as a measure at once unwise, unjust, and, after a careful consideration of the statute, illegal: and his solemn protest against it, of which the following is a copy, he has left recorded in the parish Prayer Book of Hatton:—

“Numerous and weighty are the reasons which induce me deliberately and solemnly to record in the Prayer Book of my parish the particulars which follow. With deep and unfeigned sorrow, I have read a London Gazette, dated Feb. 12, 1820, ordering the exclusion of the Queen’s name from the liturgy. It is my duty as a subject and an ecclesiastic, to read what is prescribed for me, by my sovereign, as head of the Church of England. But it is not my duty to express approbation, as well as to yield obedience, when my feelings as a man,
and my principles as a Christian, compel me to disapprove and to deplore. If the person who, for many years, was prayed for, as Princess of Wales, has not ceased to be the wife of the royal personage, who was Prince of Wales, most assuredly she becomes Queen when he becomes King: and Queen she must remain, till by some judicial process her conjugal relation to her legitimate sovereign be authoritatively dissolved. Whensoever, therefore, I shall pray for all the royal family, I shall include
Queen Caroline, as a member of it. Though forbidden to pronounce her royal name, I shall, in the secret and sacred recesses of my soul, recommend her to the protection of the Deity. I shall pray that God may endue her with his holy spirit, enrich her with his heavenly grace, prosper her with all happiness, and bring her to his everlasting kingdom, through Jesus Christ our Lord.—Thursday, Feb. 17, 1820, Samuel Parr, LL.D. resident minister of Hatton for thirty-four years and eleven months.”

In another memorandum, on the same subject, inserted in the same prayer-book, are the following words:—

“I have long been convinced, from the statute, that the omission of the Queen’s name was illegal. By a strange oversight, the privy-council did not extend their regulation to what is called the bidding prayer. Not having received any order to omit the name of Queen Caroline in that prayer, I have introduced it, and shall continue to introduce it, before the sermon.—S. Parr.”

“Feb. 5. 1821.”

Early in the month of June following, it was
with an astonishment which he shared, in common with the whole country, that
Dr. Parr received intelligence of the extraordinary scene, which had passed at St. Omer. There, it is well known, her Majesty, then on her way home, was met by an offer from government of £50,000 a year for life, with an amnesty for past imputed offences, on condition of never assuming the title of queen, and never returning to England. This offer, instantly rejected with the highest indignation, was followed by a threat of instituting a legal inquiry into her conduct, on a charge of adultery; accompanied by the farther threat of regarding her first appearance on British ground, as the signal for commencing proceedings. The threats were repelled with the same cool contempt as the bribe; and without the smallest wavering in her mind, without even consulting her legal adviser, who was then at St. Omer she hastened forward to Calais, and there embarked for England.

It would be difficult to describe the great and tumultuous agitation, excited throughout the whole country, by the strange proceedings at St. Omer, followed by the arrival of the Queen herself in London; where, as if in the presence of the whole nation, she threw down the challenge to her accusers: proudly disdaining, on the one hand, their offers of a princely revenue, with a promise of impunity; and scornfully defying, on the other, their threats of exposure and punishment. Such conduct, under such circumstances, it was every where loudly asserted and reasserted, could only be accounted for on one of two suppositions—con-
scious innocence, or stark madness. From that moment, the Queen was almost universally regarded as a calumniated and injured woman, coming in collision with a tremendous power; and consigned to infamy and ruin, for no fault of her own, but from the pure misfortune of standing in the way of the views and wishes of other persons. If the court and the courtiers be excepted, it may be truly said that one common and deep-felt sentiment pervaded the whole public mind, of indignation at the wrongs, and of sympathy with the sufferings of a high-spirited, but ill-fated princess, forced into a contest for her honour and her rights, against such fearful odds. Never did scorn of supposed injustice, and abhorrence of supposed cruelty, assume an air and attitude of more determined resistance; never did generous enthusiasm, in behalf of a hapless victim, burst forth in nobler efforts, than in the conduct of the English people, on this great occasion. The whole population seemed to rise, as one man, hastening to mingle in the unequal strife; hurling defiance against the ministerial oppressors, and throwing the shield of their protection round the oppressed. Thus the most powerful combination, perhaps, ever arrayed against a single individual, was defeated, by the still mightier power of public opinion; and the cause and triumph of the Queen became the cause and triumph of the nation.

From the moment that intelligence of the affair at St. Omer reached him, Dr. Parr considered it almost, if not quite, decisive of the point at issue between the royal person accused and her accu-
sers. “Yes!” said he to the writer, “in that affair, I can see the clearest indications, on the one side, of treachery, scared at its own purpose, and distrustful of its own grounds; and, on the other, the calm consciousness of innocence, true to itself, fearless of inquiry, and confident of coming safely and honourably out of it.” This first impression soon gathered strength, not only from the recurrence of his former good opinion, founded on some personal knowledge of her Majesty, when Princess of Wales; but, also, from the recollection of a similar attempt, in 1806, over which she had completely triumphed; and, in no long time, the conviction, firmly fixed itself in his mind, that this was a second plot, more deeply laid than the first, concerted with the same view of abrogating her Majesty’s conjugal and regal claims, by the only possible means, that of defaming and destroying her character. Under that conviction, which the occurrences of almost every day tended to confirm, Dr. Parr instantly resolved upon the line of conduct which he thought it became him to adopt, with an utter disregard of every possible or probable consequence to himself.1

In pursuance of this resolution, soon after her Majesty’s return to England, Dr. Parr hastened to London, to offer his congratulations on her safe arrival in this country, and to tender his assurances of continued and devoted attachment to her person and dignity. He was received with all the respectful and grateful regard, due to one of his high

1 “Ille autem sui judicii, potius, quid se facere pavesset, intuebatur, quam quid illi laudaturi forent.”—Corn. Nep.

consideration, as a divine and a scholar, coming forward so promptly, and taking the part so courageously of a persecuted female, of elevated rank, indeed, but to whom was fearfully opposed all the powers of the state, and from whom stood aloof almost all that was great and noble in the land. He was from this time admitted into her Majesty’s confidence: he was consulted by her on several important occasions; and was always proud and happy to offer his best advice, on every subject connected with her honour and her interest.

It was in consequence of his recommendation, that the Rev. Robert Fellowes, then so well known to the public by his many excellent publications on the great subjects of religion and morals, and, since his accession to the fortune of the late Cursitor-Baron Maseres, by his public spirit and generosity in the cause of learning and science, was appointed to the office of domestic chaplain and private secretary to the Queen. In this latter capacity, the arduous task devolved upon him of enditing the answers to the numerous congratulatory addresses presented to the Queen, from all parts of the kingdom, and from all classes of the community, on her first arrival, in the midst of her loyal subjects; and afterwards, on the happy occasion of the compulsory abandonment of the charges against her. Though in some of these answers, it was generally considered that the topics were not very wisely chosen, and that expressions were, in a few instances, introduced, not well-accordant with the sober dignity of a royal person; yet they were most of them greatly and
justly admired for their high and ardent tone of thought, for their beauty and energy of language, and for their noble spirit of liberty and philanthropy, so worthy of the enlightened sovereign of a free people. These answers have been often attributed, in part at least, to
Dr. Parr: but, in a letter, now lying before the writer, Dr. Fellowes distinctly states that they were all composed by himself; and that though some were previously read to Dr. Parr, yet in no instance was a word of alteration proposed or suggested by him.

But there was one extraordinary publication—“the letter addressed by her Majesty to the King”—so much applauded by some, and censured by others, in which both Dr. Fellowes and Dr. Parr declared that they had no participation whatever. It was, indeed, shown in manuscript to her private secretary by the Queen; but it was not submitted to his revision; nor did she think proper to reveal the writer’s name to him. The letter, whoever may be its author, is powerfully written, in a strain of very bold and very bitter invective; and yet is it possible to say, that there was nothing in the wrongs and provocations of the royal person, whose name it bears, which might be fairly urged to excuse, if not to justify it?

After a residence for several months in London, occasionally, in attendance upon the Queen, towards the end of August, Dr. Parr returned to Hatton; and resumed the laborious task, in which he had been for some time engaged; and of which he thus speaks, in writing to a friend: “I am busied night and day, preparing such a catalogue
of my numerous books, as may guide my executors, when I am no more: nor can any consideration easily draw me away from this business.” His attention, however, was, at the same time, almost incessantly directed towards the critical state of her Majesty’s affairs, who was then in the very midst of the fiery ordeal, through which she was made to pass. Though remaining at a distance from the extraordinary scene, his presence not being then required; yet he marked, with intense anxiety, the whole course of the strange and anomalous proceedings, in which British justice and common equity seemed to be alike disregarded.

Their very commencement in “a bill of pains and penalties” he reprobated, as having in it all the iniquity of an ex post facto law. The charges, as set forth with so much art and effort, though with so little power, in the opening speech of the attorney-general, some of which were never even attempted to be proved, seemed to him so monstrous, as to outrage all probability, to belie our common nature, and, by their own incredibility, to stab, and almost to destroy themselves. But when the evidence was actually produced, which, in order to sustain for a moment such charges, ought to have been the best and most unexceptionable, he largely participated in the general astonishment to find that it was the worst possible; in itself the most suspicious and unsatisfactory that could be; and in many of its material circumstances afterwards completely rebutted. Improbable, however, in the extreme, as the charges,
and contemptible as the evidence, appeared to him; yet he was always deeply impressed with the apprehension that the mighty power of the ministerial prosecutors would ultimately prevail. But after a long and severe struggle, it is well known, the “bill of pains and penalties” was carried by so small a majority in the House of Lords, that it was thought necessary to abandon it; and then, with exultation, proportioned to the previous depression of hope, Dr. Parr shared in the high-bounding joy of the whole country, on the great occasion of a magnanimous queen, discomfiting all her enemies, and breaking triumphantly away from all the snares drawn so closely round her,—from which it seemed at one time hardly possible she could escape.

Contrasted with the wrongs and the sufferings of Queen Caroline, Dr. Parr often talked with delight of her personal merits and attractions, which he represented as extraordinary. He thought that impartial posterity would place her high in the rank of eminent women, and still higher in the rank of illustrious princesses. He described her as possessed of a good understanding, of a noble and lofty spirit, of a warm and benevolent heart; gay, lively, open, unsuspicious in her temper; pleasing, though not strikingly beautiful in her person; amiable and engaging in her manners, in which, however, ease and frankness, he owned, prevailed more than dignity. He often, with great satisfaction, referred to the fair and honourable testimony borne to her character by the late Foreign Secretary of State; and that,
too, at the very moment, when the flood-gates were ready to be drawn, and the whole torrent of calumnious abuse, long accumulating, to be poured in, with overwhelming fury upon her. Nothing, indeed, could be more finely turned, or more delicately touched, than the praise which
Mr. Canning bestowed upon the powers of her mind and the fascination of her manners: “such,” he said, “as would render her the grace, the life, and the ornament of any court in Europe, in which she might choose to appear.” Equally remarkable was the generous warmth, with which that distinguished orator, previous to the commencement of the investigation, declared his wish and his hope, and even his confident expectation, “that she would come out of all her trials and difficulties with a pure conscience and unsullied fame.” Public declarations so favourable to the Queen, and, as uttered by a leading member of administration, so important to her interests, could not fail of attracting the admiring attention of Dr. Parr; and almost unbounded was his applause, when they were followed by Mr. Canning’s resignation of office. That minister chose rather to retire from his share in the administration of government, than to act inconsistently with his honest convictions, or to violate the pledge he had given in the following words: “So help me God! I will never place myself in the situation of an accuser towards this illustrious individual.” Previous to his resignation, he also declared, “that if he had stood in any other situation than that which he occupied, he should have been ready to fly to
her aid; and then he should have been all ardour and affection, if he might use the expression, in her service.”1

It is stated in some published “Recollections” of one of his friends and pupils, that “when hard pressed upon the subject, Dr. Parr acknowledged that the late Queen had, in a few instances, justly incurred the imputation of levity.” To the present writer, he has often, without the slightest hesitation, made the same admission: but it should be understood, that he meant no more than such instances of levity, as transgress the little rules of reserve and propriety, which are thought in this country, and justly thought, to become female decorum, or to befit princely dignity; and by no means such as offend against moral purity. So indeed the Recollector himself rightly puts it. “If Dr. Parr admitted,” says he, “that the Queen, in some few instances, turned aside from the sober austerities and the strict decorums of an English matron, it was only in lesser matters; and even from these she might,” he insisted, “have been recalled by mild remonstrance.”—“But this lady,” said Dr. Parr, “was beset with spies, and surrounded by enemies, whose malignant penetration virtue itself could not escape.”2

Standing conspicuously forward to maintain the cause of an oppressed individual against the designs of her formidable foes, consisting of his Majesty’s ministers, their numerous dependants, and their faithful allies, the clergy, Dr. Parr became, as

1 Dodsley’s Annual Register, 1820, p. 150, &c.

2 New Monthly Mag. Dec. 1826.

might have been expected, the object of much public animadversion. But in the proud consciousness of his own upright intentions, he suffered the censorious remarks of others to pass unheeded. “I set at defiance,” said he, writing to a friend, “the invectives of party-scribblers, and the taunts of courtiers, and the frowns of nobles and princes.” It was always with evident feelings of self-gratulation, that he spoke of the independence which he had secured for himself, by never courting, for their favour, the great, and never cringing, for their patronage, to the men in power. Thus he gained, as he often remarked, “the advantage of entire freedom from restraint, in adopting those views of a momentous public question, which best approve themselves to his own honest conviction.”—“I feel the comfort of that now,” said he. In one of the public journals, distinguished by the frequency and the severity of its attacks upon him, some offensive and injurious observations had been inserted, during his late residence in London, which concluded, insolently enough, with advising him “to go back to his parishioners, and to resume his official duties, in that church, of which he might be, but was not, the ornament.” When some of his friends represented that these observations called for a reply from him, he spurned indignantly at the thought, exclaiming, “Let the asses bray!” and when the same point was a second time urged upon him, by some other of his friends, he still persisted in his determination. On this last occasion, he observed that he knew who the writer was; upon whom he good-humouredly bestowed
some praise; and he even acknowledged that the article in question was well written. Then emphatically repeating the words—“The church, of which he might be, but was not, the ornament”—he resumed, with a complacent smile, the pipe, which he had just laid down.

When the vast power of a government, like that of England, ruling by influence, is considered; and when, also, the difficulty is fairly estimated, of obliterating unfavourable impressions of another, which strong suspicion of guilty conduct has once fixed in the mind, even though the suspicion prove to be unfounded; it will excite no great surprise to find that, of all the nobility and the higher order of gentry, convinced of her Majesty’s innocence, there were few who had the firmness of courage, and the independence of spirit, to appear amongst her friends and adherents. But if almost all who were elevated in rank or station shrunk away from the presence of an acknowledged, though not a crowned, queen: some, however, there were, who remained faithfully attached to her person and her interests even to the last. Among these, none have established for themselves a stronger claim to the grateful and respectful regards of their contemporaries, or to the honourable and reverential remembrance of posterity, than Lady Ann Hamilton and Lord and Lady Hood. To them will indisputably belong a share of the same high and hallowed plaudits, which, for ages to come, will follow the names of Bishop Juxton and the Abbé Edgeworth; who, regardless of hazard or obloquy to themselves, consoled the sorrows of two
fallen princes; and with firm and affectionate fidelity accompanied, the one
Charles I., and the other Louis XVI., to the scaffold. The loyal and generous devotion of the noble lord, and of the two noble ladies, just named, to their royal mistress, sinking down under the weight of accumulated sufferings, was, it may easily be believed, the object of admiration, and the theme of frequent and fervent praise, to Dr. Parr; and he has recorded the sense he entertained of their merits and their services, in the following clauses of his Last Will:—“I bequeath a ring to the Right Honourable Lady Ann Hamilton, whose dignified manners, whose discriminating judgment, and whose heroic fidelity in the cause of her majesty, Queen Caroline, are worthy of her Ladyship’s elevated rank, and of her descent from the ancient and most noble family, of which she bears the name.”—“I bequeath rings to the Right Honourable Lord and Lady Hood, as a mark of my respect, generally, for their virtues in private life, as well known in my neighbourhood; and, particularly, for their fidelity and kindness in the cause of their most injured Queen.”

Extreme distress in the present world is never very lasting; and all excruciating pains, whether of body or mind, soon make an end of themselves or of the sufferer. The acquittal of the Queen, though it dispersed the clouds of suspicion and calumny which had gathered over her fair fame, was yet followed with nearly all the consequences to herself, which would have attended degradation. “I have, indeed, the empty name,” she truly said,
“but I have none of the privileges or the dignities of a queen.” Instead of befitting honour, studied insult was her portion. Even after her acquittal, she was still “scandal’s choicest mark;” and, in hostility to her, the flatterers of power, and the hunters after preferment, found the greatest advantages to themselves. Added to other mortifications, she seems to have keenly felt her exclusion even from the sight of the splendid pageantry of the coronation, in which she ought to have been a principal figure; and it was within less than a fortnight after that time that she was seized with the fatal distemper, which hurried her to the grave.

Her death was peaceful and pious. There was evidently a deep sense of the injuries she had suffered; but no trace of that guilt, with which she was charged; and which, if it existed, must have been felt; and if felt, could not well have been wholly concealed. No! there was all the peace of a good conscience, and serene hope leaning on divine favour, and looking to heavenly felicity. Till the last chill touch of death, hers was a heart glowing with all the best and the kindliest feelings of our nature; affection to her friends, gratitude to “her faithful English,” and generous forbearance towards her enemies. “They have destroyed me,” were almost her last expiring words, “but I forgive them.” On several most trying and difficult occasions, she exhibited, all must allow, the high spirit and dignity of conscious integrity and virtue. But if ever she was magnanimous in life; in death she was heroic. Rarely has dying behav-
iour appeared clothed with higher degrees of religious and moral grandeur than hers. It gives a direct contradiction to the calumnious reports raised and propagated against her. The wretch, who lived, as she is said to have lived, could never die as she died.1

The writer will not trust himself to describe the horrible outrages, which attended the last mournful ceremony of conveying her remains from England, according to her own desire, for interment near those of her family at Brunswick. They are besides too deeply impressed on the remembrance of every reader, to need repetition here. But the feelings on the sad occasion, high-beating in every bosom, not closed up by party prejudice against all sense of common decency and humanity, were forcibly expressed by Dr. Parr, in the following language, which, in communication with his friend, Dr. Wade, burst from his torn and indignant spirit:—

“Even if this unfortunate and injured Queen had violated her duty; the Scriptures furnish us with an instance of the compassion and respect, due to royal persons, upon whom the grave has closed. For when Jehu was on the point of gratifying his vengeance against the wife of Ahab, and had commanded her to be thrown down from the wall, he yet remembered her illustrious birth, and exclaimed, “Go, see now what is become of this unhappy woman, and bury her—for she is a king’s daughter.”—But here, when, on the contrary, the innocence of the accused person has

1 See the New Annual Register, 1821, p. 304, &c.

been established after two severe investigations; and once, too, be it observed, in the judgment of those, who have notoriously taken an active part with her persecutors;—when the feelings of an enlightened and generous people have been strongly excited in her favour;—when her reiterated and aggravated sufferings have procured for her a lively. sentiment of pity;—when her patience and magnanimity, under the sharpest trials, had made her an object of universal admiration;—under these circumstances, surely the hearts even of her fiercest adversaries might have been melted to some degree of the same pity, if not raised to some pitch of the same admiration, by her recent death, and the greatness of spirit with which she met it.”