However fond Elizabeth was of Leicester, she would never allow him to presume upon her favor. A friend of his one day demanded to see the queen, and the usher, or “gentleman of the black rod,” as he was called, refused to permit him to enter. Leicester threatened the usher with the loss of his position, but that gentleman went straightway to the queen, fell at her feet, and told the whole story.

“Your Grace,” said he, “I have but obeyed your commands, and all that I crave is to know the pleasure of your Majesty. Shall I obey yourself or my Lord Leicester?”

Leicester had also attempted to tell his side of the story, but a wave of the queen’s hand had silenced him. Now she turned upon him haughtily and said:—

151 “I have wished you well, my lord, but know you that my favor is not so locked up in you that others can have no share. I will have here but one mistress and no master.”

Leicester tried to take revenge on the queen’s vanity by asking her for an appointment in France.

“Do you really wish to go?” she demanded.

“It is one of the things that I most desire,” answered the earl. Elizabeth pondered a moment, she glanced at Leicester, and then turned to the Spanish ambassador, who stood near, and said laughingly:—

“I can’t live without seeing him. Why, he is my lap-dog, and wherever I go, people expect that he will follow.” Leicester did not go to France.

Elizabeth’s old suitor, King Philip, was giving her more trouble than Leicester. The Low Countries, as Holland and Belgium were then called, formed part of his domain. Most of the inhabitants of these lands were Protestants, and they were making a determined resistance to the rule of the Spanish king. Elizabeth believed that if Philip was successful he might attack England.152 The course decided upon by the English council was to send money secretly to the revolters in the Low Countries. This would not make open war with Spain, but would enable the king’s opponents to oppose him more strongly, and would keep him too busy to think of invading England.

Even before Elizabeth came to the throne, the English Channel and the neighboring seas were swarming with bold sailors who attacked any vessel that they believed might be carrying gold or any other cargo of value. To-day this would be called piracy, it was then looked upon as brave seamanship. These pirates cared little for the nationality of a vessel, but Spain had more ships at sea than any other country, and these ships were loaded with gold from America or with valuable goods from India, therefore, Spain was the greatest sufferer; and as the English sailors were generally more bold and more successful than others in making these attacks, the wrath of Spain toward England grew more and more bitter. Whenever a Spanish ship captured an English ship, the sailors were hanged, or imprisoned, or perhaps tortured, or even burned at the stake as heretics.153 “It is only fair,” said Elizabeth, “to get our reprisal in whatever way we can;” and whoever had taken a Spanish vessel, be he English or belonging to some other nation, was allowed to bring his prize into an English port and there dispose of it.

The slave-trade, too, was looked upon as an honorable business and a valuable source of wealth for England. Spain forbade all nations to trade with her American colonies, but these bold Englishmen kidnapped negroes on the African coast, carried them to America, and found ready purchasers in the Spanish colonists of the West Indies. One of these English fleets was attacked by the Spanish in the Gulf of Mexico, and three of the vessels were captured. Elizabeth raged and declared that she would have vengeance. It is possible that her indignation was no less from the fact that two of the vessels of this fleet belonged to the queen herself.

It was not long before the opportunity for revenge appeared. Four Spanish vessels loaded with money for the payment of Philip’s army were chased by French pirates and took refuge in an154 English harbor. Under the pretence of securing the safety of this money, it was quietly transferred to the royal treasury.

The Spanish ambassador protested, but there was much delay before he was permitted to see the queen. He presented a letter from Duke Alva, who commanded the Spanish forces in the Low Countries, claiming the treasure.

“I am not wholly without reason,” declared Elizabeth coolly, “for believing that this gold does not belong to the king of Spain.”

“This is the duke’s own writing, your Highness,” said the ambassador.

“Not willingly or with intent to deal unjustly would I seize upon aught that with propriety belongs to his Majesty,” said the queen, “but certain rumors have reached me that divers persons of Genoa are sending this money to the Low Countries to make profit by loaning it to the duke.”

“Your Majesty, I give you most solemn assurance that such is not the case,” declared the helpless ambassador.

“A few days will determine whether your informants or mine be correct,” said the queen155 haughtily. “If the king of Spain can prove that the gold is his, I will restore it to him. Otherwise, I will pay the usual rate of interest to its true owners, and keep it for good service in my own kingdom.”

Elizabeth was right in her belief that Philip would not wish to have another war on his hands, and so would made no attack upon her kingdom. He seized Englishmen and English property in Antwerp, but this was small loss to England, for Elizabeth retaliated by imprisoning the Spaniards who were doing business in her kingdom and whose possessions were of far more value than those of the English in Antwerp.

Duke Alva was annoyed and delayed in his plans by the loss of the money, but the fighting went on most bitterly. In France there was a kind of peace between the court and the Huguenots, as the French Protestants were called, but on neither side was there forgiveness or forgetfulness. The leader of the Huguenots was wounded in Paris by an assassin. Catherine de Medicis, mother of the French king, alarmed her son by declaring that the Huguenots would take a fearful vengeance for this attack, and induced him to156 consent to a terrible slaughter in which thousands of Protestants were slain. This was the massacre of St. Bartholomew’s Day.

The English were then thoroughly aroused. Thousands were ready to take up arms and avenge the wicked murders. To the French ambassador fell the unwelcome task of telling the dreadful story to the queen of England. He asked for an audience, but she refused it. For three days she hesitated; at length he was admitted. The queen and all her attendants were dressed in the deepest mourning. The unhappy ambassador entered the room and advanced through the lines of lords and ladies. Little return was made to his respectful salutations, there was dead silence. Finally the queen with grave, stern face, came a few steps toward him, greeted him with politeness, and motioned him to follow her to one side.

“I have no wish to show discourtesy to your sovereign,” she said, “but it was impossible that I should bring my mind sooner to speak of a matter so grievous to me and to my realm.” The ambassador bowed silently, and the queen went on. “Can it be that this strange news of the157 prince whom I have so loved and honored has been correctly reported to me?”

“In truth,” answered the ambassador gravely, “it is for this very thing that I am come to lament with your Majesty over the sad accident.”

“An accident?” questioned Elizabeth.

“Surely, your Majesty, for is not that an accident which is forced upon a sovereign by no will of his own, but by the plots and treasons of those whom he would gladly have befriended?”

“How may that be?” asked Elizabeth.

“The evening before the sad event the king was horrified to learn that in revenge for the attempt at assassination, a terrible deed had been planned. It was no less than the imprisonment of himself and his family and the murder of the Catholic leaders.”

“How was this known?”

“One whose conscience could no longer bear the burden revealed the wicked plot. The words and looks of several of the conspirators gave gloomy confirmation to the story.”

“Why not imprison the traitors? Is there no dungeon in France and no executioner?”

158 “Your Majesty, not all rulers have your keen judgment and your control of even the strongest sentiments of your heart. The king has not yet learned to govern his feelings by moderation. He had but a few short hours to decide what was best. Many were urging him on to inflict the most severe penalties, and at last he yielded, and allowed that to be done which he will ever regret. Especially does he lament that with a populace so wildly excited and so indignant at the plot against the king, it is all but impossible that some who are innocent should not have perished with the guilty. This is his chief cause of grief.” The ambassador had made as smooth a story as possible, but how would the queen receive it?

She was silent for several minutes, then she said:—

“Although I could not accept his Majesty, the king of France, for a husband, yet shall I always revere him as if I were his wife, and ever feel jealous for his honor. I will believe that from some strange accident, which time will perhaps more fully explain, these murders have come to pass. I recommend the Protestants among his159 people as especially entitled to his Highness’s loving care and protection.”

When this speech was reported to Catherine de Medicis, she smiled grimly and said, “The queen of England can hardly ask greater protection than she herself grants; namely, to force no man’s conscience, but to permit no other worship in the land than that which the ruler hi............