* * * *

 Though tyrant hatred still denies
 Each right that fits thy station,
 To thee a people’s love supplies
 A nobler coronation;
 A coronation all unknown
 To Europe’s royal vermin;
 For England’s heart shall be thy throne,
 And purity thine ermine;
 Thy Proclamation our applause,
 Applause denied to some;
 Thy crown our love; thy shield our laws. 
 Thank Heaven, our Queen is come!

Early in November, warned by growing excitement outside the House of Lords, and by dwindling majorities within, Lord Liverpool announced that the King’s Ministers had come to the determination not to proceed further with the Bill of Pains and Penalties.  The joy which this declaration spread through the country has been described as “beyond the scope of record.”

Cambridge:  November 13, 1820.

My dear Father,—­All here is ecstasy.  “Thank God, the country is saved,” were my first words when I caught a glimpse of the papers of Friday night.  “Thank God, the country is saved,” is written on every face and echoed by every voice.  Even the symptoms of popular violence, three days ago so terrific, are now displayed with good humour and received with cheerfulness.  Instead of curses on the Lords, on every post and every wall is written, “All is as it should be;” “Justice done at last;” and similar mottoes expressive of the sudden turn of public feeling.  How the case may stand in London I do not know; but here the public danger, like all dangers which depend merely on human opinions and feelings, has disappeared from our sight almost in the twinkling of an eye.  I hope that the result of these changes may be the secure reestablishment of our commerce, which I suppose political apprehension must have contributed to depress.  I hope, at least, that there is no danger to our own fortunes of the kind at which you seem to hint.  Be assured however, my dear Father, that, be our circumstances what they may, I feel firmly prepared to encounter the worst with fortitude, and to do my utmost to retrieve it by exertion.  The best inheritance you have already secured to me,—­an unblemished name and a good education.  And for the rest, whatever calamities befall us, I would not, to speak without affectation, exchange adversity consoled, as with us it must ever be, by mutual affection and domestic happiness, for anything which can be possessed by those who are destitute of the kindness of parents and sisters like mine.  But I think, on referring to your letter, that I insist too much upon the signification of a few words.  I hope so, and trust that everything will go well.  But it is chapel time, and I must conclude.

Ever most affectionately yours,

T.B.  Macaulay.

Trin.  Coll.:  March 25, 1821.