And this hour came for Elizabeth. After twenty years of splendor, of
absolute, unlimited power, of infallibility, of likeness to the gods,
came the depressing hour in which Elizabeth ceased to be an empress, and
became only a trembling earth-worm, imploring mercy, aid, amelioration
of her sufferings from her Creator!
She suffered much, this poor empress, dethroned by death; she suffered,
although reposing upon silken cushions, with a gold-embroidered covering
for her shaking limbs.
And she was yet so young, hardly fifty, and she loved life so intensely!
Oh, she would have given half of her empire for a few more years of life
and enjoyment. But what cares Death for the wishes of an empress?
Here ends her earthly supremacy! Groaning and writhing, the earth-worm
tremblingly submits.
Where, now, were all her favorites--those high lords of the court, those
grand noblemen, created from soldiers, grooms, lackeys, and serfs--where
were they now? Why stood they not around the death-bed of their empress?
Why were they not there, that the remembrance of the benefits conferred
upon them might drive away those terrible reminiscences of the torments
she had inflicted upon others? Where were they, her counts, barons,
field-marshals, and privy councillors, whom she had raised from nothing
to the first positions in the realm?
None were with her! They had all hastened thence for the preservation
of their ill-gotten wealth, to crawl in the dust before Peter, to be the
first to pay him homage, that he might pardon their greatness and their
possessions! From the death-bed they had fled to Peter, and kneeling
before him, they praised God for at length bestowing upon the happy
realm the noblest and best ruler, Peter III.
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