“The people were cajoled into consent,” exclaimed Lord Gustavus; “but if the Queen be so mad as to intend to marry the prince, she must lose her throne and suffer death, for the laws against foreigners remain inexorable.”
“Yes, the laws are inexorable!” echoed the Lords Noodle and Doodle.
“Good Heaven!” cried Sir Ambrose, “is it possible I am in England, and yet hear such barbarous sentiments openly avowed? No one has more right to feel anger at the folly of Elvira than myself; but even I cannot bear such cruelty. What! is a young and beautiful woman, in the very flower of her age, to be doomed to destruction merely for having shown a susceptible heart? Forbid it, Heaven! And what are we, that we should dare to judge so harshly and refuse mercy to a fellow-creature? Are we not all feeble? Do we not all err? And if we show such cruelty in judging a trifling offence, how shall we expect mercy for our own more weighty ones? Have mercy, then. Let us show ourselves men! Let us dare to exert our reason and throw off the shackles of prejudice. We boast that the law in this case makes us free, and arms us with power against our Sovereign. Let us use that power, then, and show that we are really free by daring to act justly. If we do not, we are slaves!”
“It cannot be,” said Lord Gustavus; “you talk well, Sir Ambrose, but words are nothing against facts. If the Queen intend to marry Prince Ferdinand, she must either be insane or intend to subvert the constitution; and, in either case, thinking as I think, and as I am sure every reasonable person in the kingdom must think, or at least ought to think, she is no longer competent to reign, and is no longer worthy to live. Eloquence is a fine thing, and I do not deny that the worthy baronet speaks fluently; yet, notwithstanding all he can say, or indeed all that can be said upon the subject, law is law.”
“Yes, law is law!” echoed the repeating lords.
“Sir Ambrose, I thank you from my soul!” cried the old Duke of Cornwall, starting from the midst of the crowd. “You have, indeed, proved yourself my friend: but I should blush to think that my daughter was slandered in my presence, and that I left it to another to undertake her defence. Yes, gentlemen, Elvira is slandered—I will venture my life upon her innocence. Her heart is English, my lords, thoroughly English; she will marry no German; no—no, my poor, dear Elvira never dreamed of such a thing; she is innocent.” And here the poor old man, overpowered by his emotions, could not proceed, but, leaning upon the shoulder of his friend Sir Ambrose, wept bitterly. It is hard to see the tears of aged men; and everyone was affected: they had started at the sudden appearance of the Duke amongst them; for his gaunt looks and wasted form, aided by the belief of his serious illness, gave him more the aspect of a spectre than a man: and now his trembling voice, and grey hairs, as he attempted to vindicate his child, came home to the hearts of his auditors.
“Alas! why is not Edmund here?” sighed Sir Ambrose; “he would not have left the cause of Elvira to such feeble hands. But he is gone, and, wretched father that I am! I may soon no longer possess my darling boy. Six months ago, two brave sons were the pride of my heart, and the admiration of every eye. Where are they now? the one wandering in foreign climes, exposed to every misery of want, and the other confined in a prison and doomed to suffer an ignominious death. Alas! alas why has my life been spared to endure such misery?”
Whilst the old man thus lamented, a bustle was heard amongst the crowd, and the noble lords of whom it was composed, dividing, made way for Elvira! With glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes, the Queen walked proudly along the lane made for her, having a roll of parchment in her hand, and with dignity took her seat upon the vacant throne. A solemn silence prevailed: the conspirators were awed by the sudden appearance of their Sovereign; and those who had hitherto remained neutral, surprised, stood hesitating, unknowing how to act. Elvira paused a few seconds, sternly surveying the crowd, and finding that no one attempted to speak, she exclaimed, “How, now, my Lords! what means this silence? I came to assist your councils, not to interrupt them. Go on, I pray you; for surely such enlightened senators can have no sentiments they fear to breathe before their Queen.”
“We were surprised at the sudden appearance of your Majesty,” said the Duke of Exeter, “as, from the report of your Majesty’s physicians, we had feared your Majesty’s illness—”
“My illness was of the mind, my Lord Duke!” said Elvira, “and this is the medicine that has cured it. Look, my lords,” continued she, unrolling the parchment she carried, and suddenly flashing it before their eyes—“behold my panacea! Now I am, indeed, a Queen; for my people have made me absolute, and, abolishing all laws, have placed their lives and fortunes at my feet.”
Lord Gustavus and his adherents stood aghast, gazing upon the Queen and the parchment she held so triumphantly, without the power of uttering a word.
“Ere this,” continued the Queen, “the purport of this parchment has received some thousand signatures; yet I do not wish to abuse my power. Go, my lords: I have no longer occasion for your counsels; when I have, I will summon you.”
The dignified manner in which Elvira waved her hand as she said this, prevented reply; and the lords of the council dispersed, without daring to utter a single syllable. The Duke and Sir Ambrose alone remained. “My dear father,”
