An account of Simier—His mission to the Queen—Her strange relations with him—Leicester’s jealousy—Simier’s negotiations on behalf of AlenÇon—RochetaillÉ’s mission—Leicester’s attempts to have Simier murdered—AlenÇon’s first visit to England—Elizabeth’s infatuation for him—His departure and letters to the Queen—Exhaustive discussion of the marriage negotiations by the English Council—The Queen announces her determination to marry AlenÇon—Philip Sidney’s remonstrance.

Jean de Simier, AlenÇon’s Master of the Wardrobe, and one of his firmest friends, was a consummate courtier steeped in the dissolute gallantry of the French Court, and, above all, a persona grata of Catharine de Medici. He arrived in London on January 5, 1579, having gone through Paris on his way to England, and presumably can hardly have been at the moment in a very happy frame of mind. During his absence with AlenÇon his wife had been guilty of infidelity with his young brother, and on Simier’s arrival home the intrigue was divulged to him. He sent his men ahead to kill his brother at the gate of the chÂteau before his arrival, and his wife died, probably of poison, perhaps of grief, soon afterwards, and the avenged husband then went his way and came on his mission to England. He was lodged and entertained at the Queen’s cost, and brought with him twelve thousand crowns’ worth of jewels to win over the courtiers to his master’s cause. At his first interview with the Queen on the 11th of January she was not very cordial, and said that AlenÇon could not have been very eager, as Simier had tarried three months on his way since his coming was first announced, but she soon melted under the influence of the envoy’s dulcet words and the casket of jewels he handed her from his master. After the interview Leicester entertained him at supper, and the same night a grand ball was given by the Queen in his honour, at which we are told there was an entertainment in imitation of a tournament between six ladies and a like number of gentlemen who surrendered to them. Young La Mole had charmed Elizabeth with his language of French gallantry, but Simier was a much more experienced hand at the game, and artfully made violent love to the Queen under shelter of his master’s name. The sober ambassador, Castelnau de la MauvissiÈre, even could not avoid seeing the effect upon Elizabeth, and wrote to the Queen-mother: “This discourse rejuvenates the Queen; she has become more beautiful and bonny than she was fifteen years ago. Not a woman or a physician who knows her who does not hold that there is no lady in the realm more fit for bearing children than she is.”103

On the 16th of January, only a few days after her first interview with Simier, the Queen wrote a letter to AlenÇon, in which her delight at his envoy is clearly indicated. She says that she is so pleased with him that no other advocate is necessary to make his peace with her. AlenÇon’s own words, she tells him, are worthy not of being written on parchment, but graven on marble. She bids him consult his wisest friends about coming over, but if he thinks his honour will suffer the least thereby she would not have him come for untold gold. She assures him of her eternal friendship. She has never, she says, broken her word in her life, so that as constancy is rare amongst princes she is offering no common thing. She ends by hoping that he will reach the years of Nestor, and that all his foes may be confounded.104

This was a pretty good beginning, but the correspondence thereafter daily becomes more affectionate. On the 8th of February the Queen writes a long letter to her lover, in which she says: “Je voy clair la constance rare rÉsider en vostre coeur qui ne se diminue par quelque ombre d’ingratitude, qu’est asses de preuve pour m’assurer de vostre affection sincÈre.” She then goes on to point out to her tres cher that her people are strongly opposed to the match, and it will be best for AlenÇon and herself to settle the conditions before commissioners are sent. The meaning of this was that Simier, to whom even thus early she had given the punning pet name of her monkey (singe), was trying to get better terms for his master, especially in the matter of religion. In vain the young Prince flatters her by saying that he should sink under his troubles but for “l’imagination de vos beautÉs, et lesperance que j’ai de vos bonnes grases”; in vain he says he will leave every other point to her sole discretion, but cannot give up his religion, and so offend God; but Elizabeth and her advisers were firm, and things dragged on month after month. In the meanwhile AlenÇon was obliged to cross the border and re-enter France, and in March made a voyage of semi-reconciliation to see his brother in Paris. Simier at the same time was pressing him warmly to come over to England at once, strike the iron whilst it was hot, and marry the Queen offhand; but the Queen’s own letters persistently threw cold water on this proposal, as did Castelnau, the French ambassador, who was bitterly jealous of Simier; and AlenÇon, for the present contented himself with staying at his town of Dreux awaiting her favourable decision as to the conditions “for which hope alone he lives.” But he was more loving than ever in his letters, and writes on the 22nd of March: “Je garde vostre belle pinture, qui ne se separara james de moi que par la fin de mes os. C’est ou je fes mes auresons et pase la pluspart du tans en ladoration des divintÉs qui y sont. Je supplie tres humblement vostre majestÉ pardonner a mes pations (i.e., passions) si trop presontuheuzement je dis se qui est dans mon ame.” It is evident that the Queen was playing with him again, but she must have deceived many of her ministers as well, for in the Hatfield Papers there exists a whole series of documents, mostly in Burleigh’s hand, discussing the advantages and disadvantages of the match from every conceivable point of view at prodigious length, at which grave State papers doubtless her Majesty and Leicester laughed heartily in their sleeves. The Queen told the Spanish ambassador that it “was a fine idea for an old woman like her to talk about marriage,” and more than hinted to him that the negotiations had only been undertaken for the purpose of getting the French out of the Netherlands, as she did not want them there. She assured him that nothing would be arranged about the marriage unless AlenÇon came. All through March the negotiations for AlenÇon’s visit continued, whilst the Puritan pulpits rang with denunciations of the proposed popish match, and London was in a fever of apprehension of the coming of a French King consort. At last it was settled that the Prince should come over in April; and it was then considered necessary to secure Leicester’s neutrality at least. He and Hatton had very soon got jealous of the bewitching “monkey,” who rarely left the Queen’s side now, so Castelnau, the ambassador, had to be the intermediary. Some letters signed by the King of France, but really concocted by Castelnau in London, were delivered to the Queen and Leicester, saying that AlenÇon would come in May, and assuring Leicester on the King’s word that the marriage should in no way injure his honour or position. Leicester urged that AlenÇon should come whilst Parliament was sitting, even though the conditions were not agreed upon beforehand, and said he would move the House to demand the marriage. As the match was extremely unpopular in London, this was about the very worst advice that could be given, and was meant to be so. Whilst the proposed conditions were being discussed with AlenÇon’s special envoy, RochetaillÉ, in April, and the marriage was looked upon in London as inevitable, some persons told the Queen that papers had been found in the late Chancellor Sir Nicholas Bacon’s office, proving that when the affair was under discussion before, the object of the French was only to ruin the country, kill the Queen, and place Mary of Scotland on the throne. If Elizabeth had been in earnest she would have taken fright at this; but she only smiled and passed it over. Both she and Leicester, however, were now ostentatiously in favour of the match, as also were Leicester’s enemies, with a very different end in view. Great preparations were made at Court for the Prince’s coming; new clothes as fine as money could buy them were brought from far and near. Leicester himself wrote to his “cousin,” Davison, in Flanders, to send him 4,000 crowns’ worth of crimson, black, and coloured velvet, satin, and silk, and £400 worth of gold and silver tissue “or such-like pretty stuffs”105; but Philip II. was still incredulous, and continued to assure his ambassador that it was “a mere invention.” During the billing and cooing personally with Simier, and in writing with his master, an occasional cloud of distrust passed over. Once, late in April, 1579, news came of a possible French naval expedition to Scotland in the interest of Mary, and the dispatch of a papal expedition from Spain to the Catholic insurgents in Ireland; and the Queen was in a panic for a day or two and even turned her back on Simier. On such occasions as these bribes found their way from Mendoza to the Queen’s ministers to large amounts, to induce them to impede the marriage; Burleigh, Sussex, Crofts, Leicester, and Hatton, all got their share, but seem to have given very little value for it, for they were just as heavily bribed by the French on the other side.

The new conditions demanded by Simier and RochetaillÉ in the interest of AlenÇon were, first his coronation immediately after marriage, secondly the association of him with the Queen in the government, and thirdly the granting to him of a life pension of £60,000 per annum. These new demands had been strenuously resisted by Cecil and Sussex and the other councillors, but at length Simier began to get restive and threatened to leave unless a decided reply were given within two days. Representations were being made to the Queen from all quarters, and especially from the Spanish ambassador and his creatures as to the danger she would incur if the match were effected, but, says Mendoza, “she expresses to Simier such a strong desire to marry that not a councillor, whatever his real opinion may be, dares to say a word against it.” At length she could procrastinate no longer, and started for a short stay at Leicester’s house at Wanstead, in the last days of April, taking Simier and Castelnau with her for the purpose of giving them an answer. As usual she desired to free herself from personal blame, and ordered each member of her Council to give her his opinion on the match in writing. This they all refused to do, and confined themselves to stating the arguments on both sides, leaving her to draw the conclusion. During the stay at Wanstead, almost day and night, Sussex, Leicester, Burleigh, and Walsingham remained in conference, but could come to no conclusion; and the Court had to return with the Queen to London still without an answer being given. At Whitehall on the 3rd of May, a full meeting of the Council was held to finally discuss the conditions, and Simier was invited to be present. The second demand of the association of AlenÇon with the Queen in the government and distribution of offices was at once declared to be impossible, and was abandoned by Simier after some demur; but the other two conditions were insisted upon by him. Simier then retired to an adjoining room whilst the Council discussed these points. The first councillor to speak was the new Lord Chancellor Bromley, who set forth the danger of the match, in admitting Frenchmen, their traditional enemies, into the country, its unpopularity and the improbability of there being any issue, and ended by declaring uncompromisingly against the marriage. In the end the whole of the Council except Sussex agreed with him, and word was privately sent to the Queen that the Council was well-nigh unanimously unfavourable. Then Simier was called in and told that his new demands were such as had never been made before, and were absolutely inadmissible. The Frenchman’s suavity suddenly left him, and he flew into a great rage, flinging out of the room before Sussex could reach him, banged the door after him in a fury, and went straight to the Queen, who was in the garden.106 She professed great sorrow at her Council’s decision, swore to Simier that she would marry in spite of them all, assumed an appearance of settled melancholy in his presence, and sent a loving letter to the Prince by his secretary, de Vray, who was despatched the same night to his master with the Council’s reply. But AlenÇon was not lightly put off. RochetaillÉ was already on his way back to England with handsome presents for Leicester and the rest of them, and de Vray returned at the end of May with his master’s answer. He would, he said, marry her on her own terms, and only timidly stipulated that he should be allowed the private exercise of the mass in his own apartments, concluding by announcing his approaching visit to the Queen to press his suit in person. This was by no means welcome news to Elizabeth, who at the time certainly had no intention of marrying him, and who feared the visit might either force her hand or throw upon her personally the responsibility of breaking off the match. The Council, however, decided unanimously that the Duke should not be affronted by a refusal to receive him, and that the Queen could not decently draw back now without at all events seeing her suitor. So it was settled with Simier that his master should come to England in the middle of August, and the Queen’s ships and safe-conduct should await him at Calais. When this was decided the Queen desired to be left alone with Simier, and Leicester was obliged, however unwillingly, to take Castelnau out hunting. When they returned three hours afterwards Simier and the Queen were still together, and whilst Castelnau supped with Leicester Simier took his evening repast at the Queen’s table.

Castelnau, writing an account of affairs to the Queen-mother,107 says that all was now going as smoothly as ever: “Not a day passes that she fails to send for him (Simier). On one occasion she came in her barge to my lodging to fetch him before he had read his despatches, and when he was not dressed. He was obliged to come out to see her with only his doublet on, and she took him with her. Those who are against it are cursing him, and declare that Simier will cheat her, and has bewitched her.” Castelnau now quite believed in the marriage. The Queen told him she really was convinced that the Duke was seeking her for herself alone, and not for her crown, but she feared that, however much he might esteem her, he would only love her for a year or two. She would, however, promise before God that if he was a good husband to her she would be the best wife in the world.

It is probable that by this time the Queen’s feelings were really getting the better of her judgment, and that the satisfied vanity of having a young prince at her feet was carrying all before it. The whole country was ringing with the strange news of her close intimacy with Simier, who had, it was said, bewitched her with a love philtre; and afterwards Mary Stuart, in her prison, imprudently made herself the echo of the scandal by writing to the Queen the outrageous letter published by Labanoff, accusing her of immorality with both Simier and AlenÇon. The murmurs were industriously fostered (and paid for) by the Spanish ambassador, who did his best to stir up trouble and make the match unpopular. He writes to his King at the end of June: “Although there is no binding undertaking about the marriage, the Queen gives every sign of being most anxious for it, and affirms that she will never marry a man whom she has not previously seen. She is burning with impatience for his (AlenÇon’s) coming, although her councillors have laid before her the difficulties which may arise, the other side having her support, has carried the day. She herself is largely influenced by the idea that it should be known that her talents and beauty are so great that they have sufficed to cause him to come and visit her without any assurance that he will be her husband.”108

Leicester, who knew her better than any one, was quick to see whither she was drifting, and became violently jealous. When the time came for signing the passport for AlenÇon, at the end of June, he made a fervent appeal to the Queen not to sign it; but Simier was too strong for him, and the passport was sent, whereupon Leicester went and sulked at Wanstead, feigning illness, and refused to be comforted, although the Queen herself went there secretly and stayed two days to console him. Shortly afterwards a desperate attempt was made by one of the Queen’s guard to assassinate Simier, and it was at once concluded, doubtless correctly, that it had been done at the instance of Leicester and Hatton. The Queen was in a red-hot rage, and so was Simier himself, who determined to strike a blow at his rival, which no other had yet dared to do. Leicester had been secretly married some time before to the widowed Countess of Essex, the daughter of Elizabeth’s cousin, and Vice-Chamberlain Sir Francis Knollys: it was a secret de polichinelle to every one but the Queen, but no one had ventured to tell her until Simier, choosing the propitious moment, did so. Her fury passed all bounds of decency and decorum; she raged and swore against the “she-wolf,” as she called her cousin, who had thus been instrumental in wounding her vanity; but Simier was victorious, for she became more inseparable from him than ever, and for a time kept Leicester under lock and key in a fort in Greenwich Park. Soon afterwards another attempt was made upon Simier’s life, this time by a shot whilst he was on the river with the Queen. He had previously lived with Castelnau at the French embassy, but now, in order to avoid the risk of his going backwards and forwards daily by water, the Queen brought him to her palace at Greenwich, and there lodged him, to the dismay and disgust of the English courtiers.

The way seemed now clear. The King of France and his mother had been convinced by Simier and Castelnau that AlenÇon had only to appear before the Queen for her to marry him, and they were willing to run the risk of his going secretly on the chance, in order, if possible, to get rid of so troublesome an element as AlenÇon was in France. In England the match was looked upon as settled; but still gloomy, patient Philip, in his cell, was incredulous. “Whatever may be said,” he wrote to Mendoza, early in August, “I do not believe the marriage will take place, as there can be on either side no great desire for it, but a large amount of pretence.” The only thing he left out of the calculation was Elizabeth’s passion and vanity, which for a time were overmastering her judgment.

AlenÇon started from Paris on the 2nd of August, sending a confidential messenger ahead of him to announce his coming to the Queen and Simier. The latter had previously lodged in apartments adjoining those of the Queen, to which he had a key giving him private access, but now, for the sake of appearances, he was transferred to a pavilion in the garden at Greenwich, where rooms were also prepared for the Prince. Various attempts at mystification were made to prevent the knowledge of his arrival becoming public and to throw people off the scent, but as he was delayed by bad weather at Boulogne for some days, the news spread and his arrival was after all an open secret. The Queen coyly told the Spanish ambassador that her lover had not come, but her hints and her simpers clearly implied that he had. The courtiers, to keep up an appearance of innocence, stayed away as much as possible, and they were prudent in doing so, for the Countess of Derby and the Earl of Bedford’s daughter, who were caught gossiping about the Prince’s arrival, were incontinently placed under arrest until after he had gone.

From a letter from Simier to the Queen109 it would appear that the Prince’s approach was first made known to her early in the morning, and that she instantly sent word to Simier, who was in bed. Simier says that as her messenger left his room the Prince himself entered it so effectively disguised that he hardly knew him. He had, he said, been met in the street by many persons, but had not been recognised. He was, says Simier, tired to death, but notwithstanding that, entreated Simier to go at once to the Queen and beg her to let him go and salute her, all travel-stained and weary as he was. “But I showed him how impossible this was, as he would have to pass through a dozen chambers before he got to yours, and that you were still asleep. At last I persuaded him to take some rest, and soon got him between the sheets, and I wish to God you were with him there, as he could then with greater facility convey his thoughts to you, for I well know that 'mal si riposa chi non la contentezza.’”

Leicester in the meanwhile was furious, and the Spanish ambassador was missing no opportunity of fanning the flame of discontent against the marriage. The Queen dined alone with AlenÇon in Simier’s room on the 17th of August, the day after his arrival, and although the young Prince was no beauty, with his swart, pocked-marked face, Elizabeth at once fell in love with him. He became from the first day her “frog” (grenouille), and the little endearments of the two young lovers went on ceaselessly all day, and often far into the night. “The Queen,” writes Mendoza on the 25th of August, “is delighted with AlenÇon, and he with her, as she has let out to some of her courtiers, saying that she was pleased to have known him, was much taken with his good parts, and admired him more than any man. She says that for her part she will not stand in the way of his being her husband.”110 Castelnau, the French ambassador, writing at the same time, says to the Queen-mother: “These loving conferences have lasted eight days. The lady has with difficulty been able to entertain the Duke, being captivated, overcome with love: she told me she had never found a man whose nature and actions suited her better. She begs me to write to your Majesty asking you not to punish him too much for the great folly of risking so much in coming to see a woman so unworthy as she is.” The young Prince had been brought up in a Court where love-making was the great business of life, and flattered and languished as successfully as La Mole and Simier had done, and Elizabeth’s overweening vanity had probably never been so satisfied before. She gave a ball on Sunday, the 23rd of August, 1579, at Greenwich, AlenÇon, being only half hidden behind the arras. The Queen danced and posed even more than usual, and ever and anon made signals to her guest, of whose presence all the courtiers pretended to be ignorant. On the same night news came to the Duke that his staunch friend, Bussy d’Amboise, had at last been killed in a duel, and on the 27th AlenÇon started by coach to Dover to take the ship which was awaiting to carry him to Calais. Castelnau said after he went that he wrote letters “ardent enough to set fire to water,” and to judge from the curious letters sent by him and Simier from Dover before he embarked, the ambassador was not very wide of the mark. These letters are in the Hatfield collection, and are worth transcribing as a specimen of the love-letters of the time, although that of the Prince seems to our eyes a perfect burlesque, considering that it was written by a lover of twenty-four to a mature beauty of nearly double his age. He is, he says, envious of his letter which will reach her hand. He dare not commit himself to a long discourse, knowing well that he is not himself, as he is continually occupied in stanching the tears which flow from his eyes without intermission. He swears that his affection for her will last for ever, and that he is and will remain the most faithful and affectionate slave who can exist on earth. “As such,” he says, “on the brink of this troublesome sea I kiss your feet.”

This was accompanied by a letter from Simier in the quaint French of the time, which the reader may well be spared. It runs as follows: “Madame: I must tell you how little rest your frog had last night, he having done nothing but sigh and weep. At eight o’clock he made me get up to discourse to him of your divine beauty and of his great grief at leaving your Majesty, the jailor of his heart, the mistress of his liberty. Only his hope that he will soon see you again gives him some consolation. He has sworn to me a thousand times, but for that he would not wish to live another quarter of an hour. Do not then be cruel to him as he desires only to preserve his life so long as you are kind. Before he was out of bed he seized the pen and has ordered me to send off Captain Bourg with this, pending my own return to you, which will be as soon as I see him (AlenÇon) at sea with his sails spread. The weather is beautiful and the sea calm and I expect he will have a fair passage unless he swell the waves with the abundance of his tears. The monkey takes the liberty of humbly kissing your lovely hands.”111 These letters were sent on the 28th of August, and on the two following days similar extravagant missives were sent by the Prince, by Castelnau, and Simier; and then, on his arrival at Boulogne, more lovelorn epistles followed, by the hands of Admiral Howard and Edward Stafford, who had escorted the Prince so far. The Queen could only talk of her ardent young lover, who, by the way, had scattered liberally amongst the courtiers the rich jewels his mother had provided for the occasion, the Queen herself receiving a splendid diamond ring worth 10,000 crowns; and in conversation with the Spanish ambassador she could find no words of praise strong enough for Catharine de Medici, “whom she had formerly abominated.” The circumstances indeed again rendered a close alliance between England and France desirable either by marriage or otherwise. Catharine had managed to disarm Henry of Navarre, and the signing of the treaty of Nerac in February, 1579, had for a time brought harmony to France, and when France was united it was always necessary for Elizabeth to be in cordial agreement with that country or Spain. Her undisguised help to the revolted Flemings and her depredations on Spanish shipping had alienated her more and more from Philip, and now another circumstance had arisen which must drive both her and Catharine de Medici into more pronounced antagonism to Spain. The King of Portugal was old, ailing, and childless, and intrigues were ripe as to the succession of the crown. The strongest claimant was Philip himself, and it was felt that a further addition to his power and the acquisition of so fine a seaboard as that of Portugal would gravely prejudice the interest of France and England. Catharine had a shadowy claim to the crown herself for form’s sake, but she and Elizabeth were quite agreed that, whoever got the prize, they would do their best to prevent Philip from gaining it, by stirring up war elsewhere and aiding the other pretenders.

Matters were therefore again ripe for an attempt to bring about a binding offensive and defensive alliance between the two countries: and as soon as the lovelorn swain had gone home, serious and exhaustive discussions of the pros and cons of the projected match was undertaken by the Council at Greenwich. They appear to have sat continuously from the 2nd to the 8th of October, and the minutes of their proceedings in great detail, written by Burleigh, exist in the Hatfield Papers.112 No phase or eventuality seems to have been lost sight of, and a sort of debit and credit account of advantages and disadvantages is carefully drawn up. The main result of the well-nigh interminable discussions was that the possible dangers of the match outbalanced the benefits, and an address to the Queen was drawn up and signed by the whole Council, dated the 8th of October, 1579, which, however, carefully avoided the expression of a decided opinion, and cast the onus of the final resolution on to the Queen. They say that they “have not proceeded to a full resolution as is usual in such consultations, feeling that inasmuch as her Majesty’s own wishes and dispositions are principally to be regarded, it was their duty first to offer to her Majesty all their services and counsel to do what best shall please her.” They beg her to show them the inclination of her mind, and if she pleases each councillor will state his opinion to her and bear the responsibility she might lay upon them.” This message was taken to her by Burleigh, Leicester, Sussex, and Lincoln in the forenoon, and, as may be supposed, did not please their mistress. She wept and railed at them in no measured terms that their tedious disputations should seem to imply a doubt as to the wisdom of her marrying and “having a child of her own body to inherit and continue the line of Henry VIII.; and condemned herself of simplicity in committing this matter to be argued by them, for that she thought to have rather had a universal request made to her to proceed in this marriage than to have made a doubt of it, and being much troubled thereby she requested them to forbear her till the afternoon.” When they went to her again they found her even more indignant, “and shewed her mislike of such as she thought would not proffer her marriage before any device of surety.” She complained very bitterly that they should think so “slenderly” of her as to assume that she would not be as careful to safeguard religion as they were, and that they should begrudge her marriage and child-bearing for that reason. We are told (in Burleigh’s own hand) that “her answers were very sharp in reprehending all such as she thought would make argument against her marriage, and though she thought it not meet to declare to them whether she would marry or not, yet she looked from their hands that they should with one accord have made special suit to her for the same.”113 This meant, of course, that the responsibility should rest on other shoulders than her own whilst she had her way. Stubbs’s famous book, “The discovery of a gaping gulf wherein England is like to be swallowed by another French marriage,” had recently been published, and a fierce proclamation had just been issued by the Queen denouncing such publications as “lewde and seditious.” Stubbs himself had his right hand chopped off and was exposed to public contumely, but with his left hand he raised his bonnet the moment after the blow was struck, and cried, “God save the Queen!” Nearly all London shared his opposition to the match and his personal loyalty to the Queen; and Elizabeth, who clung to her popularity above all things, was desirous of avoiding the blame for the marriage and yet to bring it about. In the meanwhile almost daily couriers sped backwards and forwards with exchanges of presents and loving missives between the Queen and AlenÇon, who had had another quarrel with his brother, and had retired to his own town of AlenÇon. He cannot imagine, he says, how her people can ever gainsay “une si bell royne qui les a tousjours tant bien gouvernÉs qu’il ne se peut mieus en monarchie du monde“: and her Majesty was determined they should not gainsay her if she could help it. Once Walsingham, in conversation with her, expressed an unfavourable opinion, whereupon she turned upon him in a fury, and told him to be gone for a shielder of heretics; and when Sir Francis Knollys, presuming upon his relationship, asked her how she could think of marrying a Catholic, she threatened that he should suffer for his zeal. His was a fine way, she said, of showing attachment to his sovereign. Why should not she marry and have children like any other woman? Even her faithful “sheep” Hatton had a squabble with her about it, and was rusticated for a week.114

Philip Sidney’s bold and nobly-worded letter of remonstrance with the Queen against the match was accepted in a better spirit. The virtues and talents of the writer, coupled with the disinterested patriotism which evidently inspired his protest, secured him against the vituperation which Elizabeth lavished on Walsingham and other Protestant champions who timidly ventured to offer not a tithe of Sidney’s outspoken opinions. “These” (the Protestants), said Sidney—“how will their hearts be galled, if not alienated, when they shall see you take a husband, a Frenchman and a papist, in whom, howsoever fine wits may find further dealings or painted excuses, the very common people well know this: that he is the son of a Jezebel of our age; that his brother made oblation of his sister’s marriage, the easier to make massacres of our brethren in belief. That he himself, contrary to his promise and all gratefulness, having his liberty and principal estate by the Huguenot’s means did sack La CharitÉ and utterly spoil them with fire and sword! This I say, even at first sight gives occasion to all truly religious to abhor such a master, and consequently to diminish much of the hopeful love they long held to you.” The Queen wept over this, as well she might, but to her credit it may be said that she did not visit the writer with her displeasure as she would have done in the case of a less high-minded adviser.