She turned on them angrily. She dismissed Pembroke as a swaggering soldier. Let him get back to the battlefield, for it was all that he was fit for. As for Norfolk—he was a little too proud. It would be well for him to remember how her father had dealt with some of his family. Then she turned to Robert.
“And you, my lord of Leicester, you too have abandoned me! If all the world did that, I should not have expected it from you.”
Robert knelt before her and tried to take her hand. “Madam,” he said, “I would die for you this minute if you were to command it.”
She pushed him away with her foot. “Much good would that do me!” she cried. “And it has nothing to do with the matter.”
Her eyes went to the Marquis of Northampton, who was recently divorced and had married a new young wife.
“It is a marvelous thing, my lord, that you dare talk to me of marriage with your mincing mumping words. As if I did not know that you have just most scandalously divorced one wife and taken another.”
And with that she turned and left them all staring after her.
Uncertain how to act, the Lords and Commons began to concoct a petition. They were determined that the Queen should either marry or fix the succession; but when Elizabeth heard that they were doing this, she summoned certain leaders from both Houses to appear before her. There she harangued them with fury.
“You and your accomplices tell me you are Englishmen and bound to your country, which you think will perish unless the succession is fixed. We have heard the Bishops make their long speeches telling us what we did not know before!” Her eyes flashed scorn at them and she said with an air of great wisdom: “That when my breath fails me I shall be dead!” She laughed. “That would be a danger to the state, they think. It is easy for me to see their object. It is to take up some cause against me.
“Was I not born in this realm? And were not my parents born in this realm? Is not my Kingdom here? Whom have I oppressed? Whom have I enriched to other’s harm? What turmoil have I made in this commonwealth that I should be suspected of having no regard for the same? How have I governed since my reign? I will be tried by envy itself! I need not use too many words, for my deeds do try me.”
She glared at them and continued: “This petition you prepare is, I understand, to consist of two points: my marriage and the succession. My marriage you noble lords put first—for manners’ sake! I have said I will marry. I hope to have children, otherwise I would never marry. I suspect you will be as ready to mislike my husband as you are now ready to urge me to marriage; and then it will appear that you never meant it at all. Well, there never was so great a treason but might be covered under as fair a pretense.
“You prate of succession, my lords. None of you has been a second person in this realm as I have and tasted of the practices against my sister. Would to God she were alive! When friends fall out the truth appears; there are some gentlemen in the Commons now who, in my sister’s reign, tried to involve me in conspiracy. I would never place my successor in the position I once endured. The succession is a baffling question, full of peril to the country, though, my lords, in your simplicity you imagine the matter must needs go very trim and pleasantly. I would honor as angels any who, when they were second in this realm, did not seek to be first, and when third, second.
“As for myself, I care nothing for death, for all men are mortal, and though I be a woman, yet I have as good a courage as ever my father had. I am your anointed Queen. I will never be by violence constrained to do anything. I thank God I am endued with such qualities that if I were turned out of my realm in my petticoat, I were able to live in any place in Christendom.”
She was invincible at such times, in every respect a ruler. Those who had spoken with her were for stopping the petition, but other members of the Commons insisted that they should proceed with it.
Elizabeth recklessly forbade them to discuss the matter. Then members of the Commons talked of privilege. There were now three questions demanding discussion instead of two: the Queen’s marriage, the succession, and the privilege of the House.
Elizabeth knew when she had gone too far. Cautious Cecil was at her elbow advising her, and once again she recognized his wisdom. She lifted the veto on free discussion. She could be gracious when she knew herself at fault. Not only were they at liberty to discuss, she said, but she had decided to remit a third of the money for which she had first asked. Thus she came safely through a difficult situation; but the questions of her marriage and the succession were still open. She had given her word to marry, and she would marry the Archduke, she said, if she could be assured that he was not ill-formed, and ugly of person.
Exasperation filled the minds of those about her. Such feminine views should be suppressed. But it was well known that she could not endure ugly people near her. Only a few days earlier a lackey had been taken from her immediate service because he had lost a front tooth.
The Archduke was the best match available, she was reminded. The Earl of Sussex was sent to Austria to report on him, and sent back the news that his personal appearance left nothing to be desired, and that even his hands and feet were well-shaped.
“There is,” said Elizabeth, “the question of religion.”
The statesmen about her had now divided into two parties—one under the Duke of Norfolk, the other under Leicester. They could not agree as to the proposed marriage. Norfolk and his followers were for it. Robert, sensing her reluctance, which meant a rebirth of his own hopes, was against it. The Queen was still cool to him, but he knew her well enough to realize that she was not eager to marry the Archduke, and wished for this division between her statesmen.
It was characteristic of her that while she worried about her suitor’s personal appearance, while she became again coquettish and entirely feminine, she suddenly should put the matter so clearly before them that they were astounded by her insight and the truth of what she said.
“You talk of my marriage!” she cried. “You talk of the succession. My friends, look at France. There the succession is happily fixed, you would say. Yet that country has been torn by civil war. Look at Scotland! There is a Queen who married as you, my lords, would have wished. She has produced a fine son and that, my lords, is what you would say is a good thing. And here, in this country, there rules a barren woman. Yet, my lords, in this poor country under this poor woman, you have enjoyed peace and growing prosperity. What this country—what any country needs—is not an heir to the crown, but peace … peace from wars which torment it and suck away its riches. A week ago a man went to an altar while the service was in progress and he cast down the candlesticks and stamped upon them. There are many to support that man. In this country religious differences have not made wars. But what if your King were of the Catholic Faith, my lords? What if he wished to lead your Church back to Rome? We should have troubles such as you now see in France between Catholic and Huguenot. Nay! It is not a husband for your Queen that you need. It is not even an heir to your crown. It is peace. Think of my sister who made a foreign marriage. Think of these things, gentlemen, and see whether I am wrong to hesitate.”