Never before did the hand of a woman and its possible bestowal in marriage play so important a part in the affairs of Europe as did that of Elizabeth. She contrived to delay and postpone giving an answer to Philip till his minister wrote home wrathfully, “The English queen is possessed of ten thousand devils,” but at the death of Philip’s third wife, ten years later, she was not at all displeased when the Spanish ambassador suggested pointedly that Philip was “still young enough to take a fourth wife.” When France was showing too much favor to Scotland to suit English notions, she was fully capable of discussing the possibility of a Scotch husband, and when there was a whisper that one foreign ruler meditated the rescue of the captive Mary and a marriage with her, Elizabeth at once sent an agent to him to suggest a marriage189 with herself. Whenever her fears of Spain increased, she began to think of a French alliance. There was always a French suitor ready, for Catherine de Medicis was trying her best to persuade Elizabeth to choose one of the French princes for a husband.

The English queen kept one suitor waiting in uncertainty for seven years, another for eleven. She had all sorts of absurd names for her admirers; one was her “lap-dog,” one her “tame cat,” one her “sheep,” another her “frog.” Occasionally she found a wooer who was not so ready as the others to await her royal pleasure. Three years after all negotiations with the Archduke Charles, brother of the German emperor, had been broken off, she was talking familiarly with some of the ladies of the bedchamber, and she said with some indignation:—

“The king of France is to marry one daughter of the emperor, and the king of Spain is to marry another.”

“There’s many a noble marriage, your Majesty,” said one of her ladies. “Would that there was one more,” she added slily.

“These royal brides have near of kin to promote190 their interests,” replied Elizabeth. “What can a woman alone do for herself, whether she is on a throne or on a wooden stool?”

“Your Grace has full many a faithful servant,” answered the lady, “who would be ready to give life and limb to do your will.”

“And yet with all these honorable marriages a-making, not one man in the council had the wit to remind the rest that the emperor has a brother,” said the queen and turned away abruptly. The lady understood what was expected of her, and she sent at once for the Earl of Leicester.

“Would you do aught to gratify her Majesty?” she asked.

“Is there aught that I would not do to gratify her Majesty—or yourself?” he added with a gallant bow. The lady repeated the conversation.

The next day a humble petition came from the council:—

“Far be it from the intentions of your Majesty’s servants to suggest anything displeasing to your Grace, but if it be in accordance with your will, it would be highly gratifying to your councilors, should you grant this their humble petition191 that your Highness will consider the matter of the Archduke Charles and the suit that he so recently made.”

Elizabeth replied:—

“Of my own will the thought of marriage has ever been far from me, but I cannot refuse the request of my councilors in whose judgment I have so much confidence.”

An ambassador was sent at once to the German emperor with the message:—

“The queen of England regrets deeply that her frequent illnesses, the wars in France and Flanders, and difficult matters in her own government have prevented her from returning a final answer to the suit of his imperial Majesty’s brother. If he is pleased to come to England, he will be most welcome, and she doubts not that her subjects can be persuaded to permit him the free exercise of his own religion.”

“It is a pleasure,” returned the emperor, “to send to her Majesty, the queen of England, assurances of my warmest regard. Most highly do I esteem the honor of receiving a message from a sovereign of such beauty of face and greatness of mind;” and then he continued, not without a192 little enjoyment it may be, “My brother is most grateful for her Majesty’s good intentions toward him, but he would say that after a delay of three years he had supposed that she did not wish to accept his suit, and he is now engaged to a princess of his own faith, but he earnestly hopes that the queen will ever regard him as a brother.”

The youthful envoy was presented with a silver vessel and treated with all courtesy, but these attentions to her ambassador did not soothe the rage of Elizabeth. “If I were a man,” she stormed, “and the emperor had offered me such an insult, I would have called him out to single combat.”

The last of Elizabeth’s wooers was the Duke of Alen?on. Catherine de Medicis had tried hard to win the hand of the queen for an older son who was not at all eager for the honor. When this plan failed, Catherine wrote to her minister in England: “Would she have my son Alen?on? He is turned of sixteen, though but little for his age.” She went on to say that “this youth had the understanding, visage, and demeanor of one much older than he is.” Elizabeth was thirty-eight, and when the scheme was first proposed to Cecil, he193 exclaimed, “Why, it would look like a mother with her son.”

Elizabeth never refused a suitor at once, and she demanded full information about the Duke of Alen?on. “How tall is he?” she asked. The duke was really so stunted as to be almost dwarfed; he had an enormous nose, a wide mouth, and a face scarred by the smallpox.

“I have waited a long time,” said the queen, “and if I should now marry a man so much younger than myself and so badly marked with the pox, indeed I know not what they would say.”

“The duke is growing older every day,” replied the French ambassador, “and in London there is a learned physician who declares that in two or three days he can remove all traces of the disease. The duke’s heart is full of love and admiration for your Majesty. If I might venture, but no——” and he thrust back into his pocket a paper that he had partly drawn forth.

“What is that?” demanded Elizabeth.

“Pardon, your Majesty, but it is a paper that I have no right to show. This is but the private letter of the duke, and was not meant to fall under the eyes of your Grace.” Finally he was prevailed194 upon to give her the paper, which proved to be a note—written expressly for the purpose—from Alen?on to a friend in France. She read and reread.

“That is a fair penmanship,” said she. “That is marvelously well done.”

“And the matter of the letter,” asked the ambassador, “is not that, too, well done? It is but the outpourings of an honest heart and of its longings to win your Grace for himself.”

“It is very fairly written,” said Elizabeth, and she ended the audience, but she did not return the note.

The duke wrote many letters to the queen, and they do have an air of sincerity and earnestness that is different from the writings of some of Elizabeth’s suitors. Catherine sent word that the learned doctor from London was doing much to improve the appearance of her son’s face, but she wished to be sure that the medicines were harmless. “He can easily practise on a page,” she wrote, “and if it does well, he can use his remedies on my son.” The French ambassador hastened to tell the good news to Elizabeth, but this disappointing sovereign replied coolly, “I am195 really surprised that so loving a mother did not attempt sooner to remove so great a disfigurement.”

One June day a young man with two servants appeared at Elizabeth’s gates and demanded to see the queen. It was Alen?on himself, and she was delighted. Of all her wooers not one before had ever dared to come to England and run the risk of a refusal, but “Monsieur,” as the English called him, had shown himself so bold that the queen was charmed. He was homely, there was no denying it, but he was brave and gallant, quick and sprightly, and one of the best flatterers that had ever been at the English court. His reception and entertainment were most cordial, and he went home in full expectation of marrying the queen.

Not long after this visit Elizabeth called her council to consider the marriage. Cecil in his usual methodical fashion drew up a paper with the advantages on the left and the disadvantages on the right. Finally the council reported to the sovereign that they would try to “conform themselves” to whatever she wished. Then the queen was angry, for she had expected them to urge her196 to marry. She cried and she stormed. She told her councilors that they cared nothing at all for her safety and the welfare of the kingdom. They bore her wrath with the utmost humility, but they did not change their report. Neither did the queen change her mind, and the marriage treaty was drawn up. The councilors did not despair even then, and one evening a well-arranged scene took place after the queen had retired to her chamber. Her ladies fell on their knees around her. They sobbed and groaned.

“Oh, your Majesty,” said one, “such a step cannot bring you happiness.”

“The duke is so young,” lamented another. “He knows not how to conceive of your greatness. He will despise you and scorn you because he cannot appreciate such rare excellence of mind. Only a king should be your husband.”

“Your Majesty, do not forget Queen Mary,” one wailed. “Think of her misery, and do not bring another foreigner into the land.”

“How can a queen be governor of the Protestant church and promise to obey a Catholic spouse?” asked one.

197 Elizabeth turned sharply away without a word, but in the morning she sent for the duke.

“Your Grace,” said he with great concern, “it grieves me to the heart to see you pale and tearful.”

“Good reason have I for pallor,” said she, “for two more nights like the last would bring me to the grave. The woman who lives in a cottage may wed whom she will; the queen of England must wed to please her subjects.”

The duke dashed away to his own apartment. “England may well be an island,” he exclaimed, “for the women are as changeable as the waves that encircle it.” The queen had given him a ring, and now he threw it into the farthest corner of the room. He would have left England at once, but Elizabeth would not permit him to go, and when after three months he declared that he would stay no longer, she persisted in going to Canterbury with him, much against his will. He left her weeping, and while he was crossing the Channel, she was wri............