Certain it is
that no such prince then lived. But while the _queen_ resolutely excluded
all human participation in the lonely eminence on which she stood, the
_woman_ was constantly claiming the tribute of sympathy and admiration.
Her eager desire was to be a heroine, a beauty, the queen of hearts,
cynosure of gallants' eyes; to reign supreme in the court of love and
chivalry; to be the watchword and war-cry of the knight and the theme of
the troubadour.
Here was the source of the unbounded flattery which was lavished upon
her by courtiers, even to the latest years of her life, and which
appears to have at times actually deceived her, in spite of her
extraordinary penetration. To this sentiment are owing nearly all of the
few instances of disaster and disappointment which occurred during her
splendid reign. She preferred to risk the safety of her allies, and the
cause of Protestantism on the Continent, rather than to refuse the
command of her troops to her favorite, who had entreated it. To gratify
another favorite and insure his glory she forgot her habitual economy,
levied an army larger than she had ever supported, except at the time of
the invasion, and sent it to Ireland under the command of a man who was
utterly unfit for the place. And when, beset by enemies, harassed by
defeat, and overwhelmed with shame, the impetuous and noble-hearted
Essex rushed into the presence of majesty as a lover would have sought
his mistress, her woman's heart forgave him all.
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