On the strength of these, and of gossip generally, the Milan Commission," as it has come to be called, was appointed. It began operations at Milan in September 1818, and collected evidence, which was not always too carefully sifted. It was presided over by Sir John Leach, Vice-Chancellor of England. The enquiry cost £30,000, an amount which would be truly amazing, if it were not borne in mind that large sums of money were expended on securing perjured evidence. The whole business was so evidently disgraceful that, when the report of the Commission was placed in the hands of the Government, it was decided, after consideration, to take no action on it.

In the middle of February 1820 information reached the Princess at Leghorn that George III had died on January 29, and that she was now Queen of England. She was not then, or indeed ever, informed officially of the change in her state. Foreign Governments were, of course, notified of the accession of George IV, but they were particularly requested by the Ambassadors and Ministers accredited to their Court not to recognise his Consort. Thus, when at Rome, after hearing the tidings, she asked Cardinal Consalvi, Secretary of State, for a guard to be placed at the doors of her palace, only to receive the following reply:

"The royal person, who has now come to Rome, is not announced as the Princess of Wales, but as the Queen of England, and for this the guard is requested. But as no communication has been made to His Holiness's Government by the Government of His Majesty the King of England and Hanover upon the change that has taken place, nor the rank of the said royal person, the Papal Government does not know that the Queen of England is in Rome, and in consequence cannot grant a guard to

the same. Whenever the Government of His Holiness may receive from that of His Majesty the King of England and Hanover the usual notification upon the change that has taken place with the royal person in question he will consider it an imperious duty to pay to the Queen of England all the honours due to her.'

Everywhere in England the question was being asked, Will the Queen return? The matter was debated everywhere; and heavy bets were made at the clubs as to what would happen if she did come. Walter Scott was in no two minds about it. "I say, then, as to the King and Queen, I venture to think, that whichever strikes the first blow will lose the battle," he wrote to Lord Montagu. "The sound, well-judging, wellprincipled body of the people will be much shocked at the stirring of such a hateful and disgraceful question. If the King urges it unprovoked, the public feeling will put him in the wrong; if he lets her alone, her own imprudence, and that of her hot-headed adviser, Harry Brougham, will push on the discussion; and take a fool's word for it, as Sancho says, the country will never bear her coming back foul with the various kinds of infamy she has been stained with, to force herself into the throne. On the whole, it is a discussion most devoutly to be deprecated by those who wish well to the royal family."

The King struck the first blow. Almost his first step after succeeding to the throne was to insist that divorce proceedings against his Consort should be instituted without delay. Ministers were entirely opposed to any such step. They were far from satisfied with the evidence that had been collected at Milan. They remembered the scandal of the "Delicate Investigation," and the perjury with which it had been associated. And now,

as they pointed out to his Majesty, the testimony against the Queen upon which they would have to rely was almost exclusively of the evidence of foreigners, most of them not above the rank of menial servants, or that of master and attendants in hotels, wholly unacquainted with the English language, and some of the former class standing in the questionable situation of having been dismissed from Her Royal Highness's service.”

The King was adamant. If, he said, in effect, Lord Liverpool was not prepared to advise him to proceed by way of divorce, then his determination was taken; he would change his Government; and, further, so resolved was he on this course, that, if he could not form a Government that would so advise him, it was his intention to go to Hanover, and stay there.

After nine or ten days of acute controversy, a compromise was effected. Lord Liverpool undertook to bring in a Bill of Pains and Penalties, but only if, and when, the Queen returned to England. He did consent however, to the omission of her name from the Liturgywhereby hangs an amusing story. Many clergymen resented the omission, and among them Dr. Parr, who found a way out. "If you were a parson I should raise a laugh by telling you that our most loyal Archbishop of Canterbury and Bishop of London were guilty of a strange oversight when they countersigned the order for omitting the name of the Queen in the Liturgy," he wrote to his friend, "Coke of Norfolk." "We have in the Church what is called a Bidding Prayer, and you may learn from any Cantab or any Oxonian that it is used in the University Church before sermon. It was prepared for the use of all churches when I was a boy : my orthodox pastor used it in his pulpit at Harrow. Our orthodox wiseacres somehow or other forgot this

prayer when the King and Royal Family made a figure; and, therefore, having no directions to the contrary, I boldly pray for our Gracious Queen Caroline-and by strict construction of law I should be guilty of censure if I did not pray for her."

The omission of the name of the Queen from the Liturgy was a folly that had far-reaching consequences, for it brought about just those happenings that the Government were so anxious to avoid: Caroline, very naturally, regarded it as branding her, without trial, as guilty. Her fighting spirit was aroused. But for that she might have been induced to remain abroad, and the washing in public of all the dirty linen might have been avoided, for even Brougham, now her AttorneyGeneral, begged her to stay out of the country.

"If she can venture to come here, she is the most courageous lady I ever heard of," said Lord Chancellor Eldon; but Caroline's courage was never at any time in doubt. She arrived at Dover on June 6, 1820, and her progress to London was in the nature of a triumphal procession. The love of fair play manifested itself everywhere, and the Court and the Government were thoroughly alarmed. Even the Guards showed signs of insubordination-which caused Henry Luttrell to remark drily, "The extinguisher is taking fire." "Peter Pindar" indited some of his most venomous lampoons upon the King, and a young Cambridge undergraduate, Thomas Babington Macaulay, wrote a sorry song of welcome, which concluded,

"Thank Heaven, our Queen is come."

As no royal palace in London had been placed at her disposal, Caroline stayed a few days at Alderman Wood's home, No. 77, South Audley Street, and then went to

Lady Anne Hamilton's, No. 22 Portman Street. Addresses from the City of London and other corporations rained in on her, and crowds waited patiently for her to appear, when they burst out into uproarious cheering. If young Macaulay was delighted by the return of Her Most Gracious Majesty, the Government were far from happy, for it had now to redeem its pledge to the King. On the day the Queen landed in England Lord Liverpool, in the House of Lords, and Lord Castlereagh, in the House of Commons, presented a message from the King inviting Parliament to adopt that course of proceeding which the justice of the case, and the honour and dignity of his Majesty's crown, may require." Papers relating to the conduct of the Queen since her departure were laid upon the table in green bags.

In the Commons there was an acrimonious debate. The Hon. H. G. Bennet voiced the general view when he declared that he could scarcely credit the statement that "a British Ministry, without the authority and consent of Parliament, had dared to call upon the Queen of Great Britain to divest herself of the title she holds by the same right as the King himself hold his title, for a bribe of £50,000 a year-a bribe to be given to a person against whom, if the statements circulated against her are true, is not only unworthy of being the Queen of England, but of being allowed to place her foot upon its shores." "There are no words," he added, strong enough to convey an adequate impression of such a proposition." "We are now," said Creevey, "to have a prosecution founded on the result of an unsuccessful menace and an unaccepted bribe."

The country divided itself into two camps. The popular feeling was almost solid for the Queen. William Cobbett, who was still a great power in the land, hearing