The dignity of these exalted personages, the importance and consequences of the affair, the zealous wish to do my duty, and a reasonable apprehension that I shall not be able to do so properly, sufficiently justify my sorrow at being compelled to see the queen lay off her purple, descend from the throne, and, like the most wretched of women, seek protection from the law. Can there possibly be a more affecting example of the insecurity of human happiness? She, in whose person we do homage to the blood of so many kings, is suspected of having dishonoured it. She who gave the king her hand and heart, is accused by the man who, at that time, promised to be her lord and protector. She, who by the unanimous verdict of the nation, received the name of mother of the country, is tried by those men who at that day would have joyfully shed their blood for her. So unhappy is Queen Caroline Matilda, and she alone among all the Queens of Denmark! At an age, and gifted with all the qualities, which seemed to determine her felicity, she finds herself on the verge of an abyss, in which her honour, her dignity, and her peace may be lost. What a thought to lose her husband, her children, her throne, on the same day, and to survive the loss! Suspected, accused, in danger of leading the most wretched life for a long course of years: can there be anything more cruel for hearts that are capable of thinking and feeling? Thus the queen regards her fate, and she described it to me, when I had the honour of waiting upon her, in the following words: "I must despair, had my intentions been other than the welfare of the king and the country. If I have possibly acted incautiously, my age, my sex, and my rank must excuse me. I never believed myself exposed to a suspicion, and even, though my confession appears to confirm my guilt, I know myself to be perfectly innocent. The law requires me to be convicted: my consort has granted me this, and I hope he will, through the mouth of his commissioners, acknowledge that I have not rendered myself unworthy of him." I quote her Majesty's words exactly as she uttered them, but how much do I wish that I could reproduce the emotion with which they were spoken, the frankness that gave them increased weight, and the trembling voice, which justly claimed compassion. The latter, no one can refuse her without insulting humanity.