herself taken at her word. The duke, in September, landed at Greenwich, without any previous notice, and in disguise. Notwithstanding the accounts of his ugliness, and the late ravages of the small-pox, Elizabeth was not only surprised but enchanted at his presence. He was young, lively, and showed the most devoted attention to her; and after a few days of ardent courtship he had made such an impression that he took his leave with the fullest hopes of success both as to his marriage and to his claims on the Netherlands.
On the 2nd of October, 1579, Elizabeth summoned a council, and submitted to them the question of her marriage. Such a proposition at one time would have thrown the Council and Parliament into ecstacies; but that time was long gone by. There were now no anxious and importunate prayers that she should make up her mind. The queen was nearly fifty, and there was no longer any hope of offspring. Men had pretty well settled in their own minds who would be the heir, and were in no hurry, even for the queen's life, to subject themselves to a foreign prince, and a Roman Catholic. The Council, therefore, deliberated for a week, and came to no conclusion; and Elizabeth, perceiving what was the prevailing opinion, became greatly chagrined, and shed many passionate tears. This has been considered a proof that Elizabeth was at last really in love, and vexed to see any coldness shown towards her chosen husband; but we attribute her tears to a very different cause. All her life she had been fond to distraction of flirtation with some fresh prince; but in every case, as at last in this, she dismissed her lover with some frivolous excuse. She was from her youth wedded to the love of undivided power—a love which could admit of no rival: but what mortified her now was to perceive that her councillors and subjects no longer deemed her marriage of any consequence. Their indifference implied that there was no chance of heirs from her, but that the law of succession had pointed out what she herself never would—the heir in another quarter. From that source, undoubtedly, flowed her tears.
Her ministers, to keep up some degree of appearance of interest in the affair, diligently prosecuted with Simier the particulars of the matrimonial contract.
Meantime the contest in the Netherlands went on. On March 15th, 1580, Philip published a ban, offering 25,000 crowns for the head of the Prince of Orange; and Anjou, on the other hand, prosecuted his claim to the Netherlands. Elizabeth, who probably was now looking for a plausible excuse for dismissing Anjou, professed to doubt how far, if he succeeded in making himself master of those provinces, she could keep her engagement to marry him, as it would, probably, be dangerous to the trade and independence of England; and, moreover, if she did marry Anjou, would not such a marriage be as hateful to her subjects as that of Mary with Philip? Yet, immediately afterwards, she consented to his acceptance of the government of the Netherlands, and made him a present of 100,000 crowns, by means of which he put his army in motion. In April, 1581, in consequence of this return of regard for Anjou, a distinguished embassy was sent over from France, and was received by the nobles and the City authorities with great éclat. The ambassadors persuaded themselves that this time success would attend them; but they were greatly astonished to find that the queen had now discovered a new objection to the match: that it would involve her in a war with Philip, who had lately become additionally formidable by the acquisition of Portugal, and proposed to enter, instead of marriage, into a league, offensive and defensive, with France. By the perseverance of the ambassadors, however, those scruples were also overcome, and the marriage was definitively settled to take place in six weeks, provided that the league of perpetual amity were signed within that time. The six weeks expired, and Elizabeth still continuing undetermined, Anjou, who had crossed the frontier with 10,000 men, and expelled the Prince of Parma from the siege of Cambray, hastened over to settle his wavering mistress.
Elizabeth received him with every demonstration of affection, and great rejoicings and discharge of fireworks testified that the public ceased to regard the match with aversion. Elizabeth exacted a written promise from the duke, and gave him a similar one in return, to look on each other's enemies as their own, to assist each other in all emergencies, and that neither of them should make a treaty with the King of Spain without the consent of the other. This being done, she took a ring from her finger, and placing it on that of Anjou, in the presence of the foreign ambassadors and of the English Court, she pledged herself by that ceremony to become his wife, and ordered Walsingham, Bedford, Leicester, Hatton, the Bishop of Lincoln, and the Earl of Sussex, to draw up a programme of the rites to be observed, and the contract to be signed on the occasion. Anybody would have deemed the matter settled at last; and so satisfied were the foreign ambassadors, that Castelnau posted a despatch to France, and St. Aldegonde to the Netherlands, that all was finally arranged; and at Brussels the marriage was celebrated as if already accomplished, by the discharge of artillery, by fireworks, and all the usual demonstrations of rejoicing.
Nothing, however, was farther from completion. The next day the duke received a message from the queen, requesting him to go to her, when he found her pale and drowned in tears. She declared that she had passed the night in the greatest anguish from the determined opposition of her ministers and the grief and alarm of her ladies; that she found the prejudices of her people against her marriage insuperable, and that, much as she loved him, she must give it up. Hatton, who was present—showing that this was not meant for a private interview—supported her view of the case with various arguments; and the duke, returning to his apartment in high dudgeon, flung the ring from him, and swore that the Englishwomen were as fickle and capricious as their climate.
This breach was still, however, kept private. Elizabeth, who probably really liked the duke, though she could not find in her heart to marry him, still entreated him to remain, as she might prevail over her difficulties, and effect the marriage. She displayed every sign of the warmest attachment in public and in private, and did everything possible to amuse him. Three months went over in this extraordinary manner, the public out of doors all the time deeming the matter a settled one, and venting its dislike in all manner of ways. The people asked how
