She first appealed to the gratitude of her people; and, after alluding to all she had done to secure peace and plenty to their domestic firesides, she reverted to the misery of her own situation, before the laws had been revoked which condemned her to celibacy. She powerfully painted the harshness of the destiny that debarred her from the blessings she had so lavishly bestowed upon others. She alone, of all her subjects, had been destined to the wretchedness of a solitary life, unsoothed by the tender cares of a husband, uncheered by the affection of children. She alone had been doomed to wither away her youth in cheerless widowhood. Their fiat had changed her destiny; but was it the part of a noble and generous people, whilst they conferred a benefit to encumber it with restrictions? No; she was confident the liberal spirit of the English would spurn the sordid thought, and shrink from such a manner of obliging. “Make me free!” said she, “really, absolutely free, and I promise solemnly you shall never have occasion to blush for your Queen.”
As she spoke, her cheeks glowed, and her eyes sparkled with unwonted fire; whilst the people, struck by the suddenness of her appearance, and her enthusiasm, and carried away by the force of the sentiment that could metamorphose the tender, gentle Elvira into the exalted being before them, shouted applause; whilst cries rang loudly through the air of “Long live Elvira!” “Marry whom you list, we will be your slaves! Still be our Queen, and let your children and children’s children reign over us, when you shall be no more.”
Delight danced in the bright eyes of Elvira, and a blush of pleasure mantled on her cheek, as she gracefully thanked them. “And yet, my friends,” continued she, in a fainter voice, “there is another privilege I would demand at your hands. I am called free and absolute, yet I am chained by the laws. Unloose these bands; give me at least the power to pardon. I know, that if I wished it, I might reverse these laws at my will, as the power of the Queen who made them was not greater than that which you have bestowed upon me. But I wish not to do so: I would rather accept that from your hands as a favour which I might exact as a right. Give me then, my people, the most blessed attribute of royalty. Let me pardon. Can you refuse me this?”
“No, no!” shouted the people with enthusiasm; “we are your slaves! Do with us as you list. The laws are yours; and though you change them at your pleasure, we will obey! Long live Elvira! Elvira forever! From henceforth we own no law but her will!”
Elvira’s rapture was unbounded; she forgot the unstable nature of the vox populi, and triumphed in the devotion of her people; whilst they, in return, as she warmly expressed her gratitude, shouted forth her praise in tumultuous transports. The air rang with acclamations; and Elvira, looking proudly round upon her obsequious subjects, felt herself indeed a Queen. There is perhaps no sensation in the world more delightful than thus to feel oneself the idol of the multitude, to see every eye beaming with admiration, to hear every voice resounding praise, and to know every heart is devoted to one object. The human mind cannot enjoy a higher gratification than in the consciousness of power; whilst the man thus exalted, seems raised to the level of a divinity, and triumphs in the worship of his fellow-creatures: but, alas! such glory is too much for mortals, and nothing can be more evanescent, or rather, nothing a more certain prelude to disgrace.
Elvira, however, knew not that her popularity was too great to be lasting. She implicitly believed her people would continue to feel what they now expressed, and, catching the spirit of the moment, she persuaded them to sign an abolition of the laws, and a confirmation of her absolute power. The people obeyed with rapture; the enthusiasm which animated them had not yet abated; and even if Elvira had desired their lives, they would have obeyed. They considered her inspired, and it seemed sacrilege even to hesitate to comply with her commands.
So powerful was the energy of a woman’s will, and so sure it is that a determined spirit may overcome any difficulties when once roused resolutely to exert itself. Such also is the influence of beauty and eloquence upon the human mind, and so weak is judgment when attacked through the medium of the senses.
In the meantime, the council of Elvira had met in their usual apartment, and were holding a solemn consultation, previous to going to receive the petitions, on the propriety of addressing the people whom they might find assembled in the Square, respecting the illness and consequent incapacity for reigning of the Queen.
“Thinking as I think, and as I am confident everyone here must think,” said Lord Gustavus de Montfort, “there is no middle course to be pursued: a regency must be appointed, or the government will be overturned.”
“Oh! there is no doubt, we cannot exist without a regency,” said Lord Noodle.
“Yes, yes! we must have a regency!” cried Lord Doodle.
“It appears to me, to say the least of it, premature,” observed the Duke of Exeter, who, from his regard for Edmund, had hitherto observed a cautious neutrality; “I think, before deciding upon so important a question, we should at least examine her Majesty’s physicians, and be guided by their report.”
“His Grace is quite right,” said Lord Noodle.
“We ought to examine the physicians,” said Lord Doodle.
“One of them has just entered the council-chamber,” observed Lord Gustavus; “I presume he brings the
