as now
appointed her Majesty's Attorney-General, on which occasion he
was admitted within the bar, and assumed the silk gown, which was
subsequently taken from him, but restored.

The Queen having arrived at St. Omer, on her way to England, Lord
Hutchinson, on the part of the King, was despatched to prevent, by a
liberal offer, her leaving the continent. Mr. Brougham consented to
accompany his lordship, willing to co-operate in the purpose yet bound
by office and by friendship to secure for the queen the best possible
terms. The Queen, however, was resolved, and while the deputies were
exchanging notes, her Majesty sailed for England, and proceeded to
London amidst all the demonstrations of popular triumph. Mr. Brougham,
with Mr. Denman, on behalf of the Queen, next met the Duke of
Wellington and Lord Castlereagh, on behalf of the King, to propose
measures for an amicable arrangement, but the insertion of her
Majesty's name in the Liturgy being refused, the negotiation failed.
The struggle was now fast approaching. The notable green bag was laid
on the table of the House of Commons, and Mr. Brougham commenced by
deprecating a hasty discussion. The next day the minister developed
the projected prosecutions of the government; Mr. Brougham replied,
and concluded by demanding for the Queen a speedy and open trial.
We need only advert to his subsequent reply to the note of Lord
Liverpool, to the speech of Mr. Canning, and to the conciliatory
proposition of Mr. Wilberforce. Then followed his speech at the bar
of the House of Lords against the intended mode of investigation--his
speech against the bill of Pains and Penalties--his reply to the
crown counsel, and afterwards to the Lord Chancellor--and finally his
defence of the Queen against the several charges. His _defence_, it
will be remembered, lasted nearly two days, and Mr. Brougham, amidst
profound silence, concluded one of the most eloquent speeches ever
heard within the walls of parliament--with this pathetic appeal:--

"My lords, I call upon you to pause. You stand on the brink of a
precipice. You may go on in your precipitate career--you may pronounce
against your Queen, but it will be the last judgment you ever will
pronounce. Her persecutors will fail in their objects, and the ruin
with which they seek to cover the Queen, will return to overwhelm
themselves. Rescue the country; save the people, of whom you are
the ornaments; but severed from whom, you can no more