The victory of England in that struggle meant the dominance of modern ideas of liberty and of the imperial destiny of our race, and it seems as if the result could only have been attained in the peculiar combination of circumstances and persons then existing.  Elizabeth triumphed as much by her weakness as by her strength.  Honest Cecil kept his hand upon the helm so long because the only alternative to him was the greedy crew of councillors eager for foreign bribes.  Without Leicester as a permanent matrimonial possibility, the queen could never have held the balance between her foreign suitors; and, but for the follies of Mary Stuart, the English Catholics would not have been subjected so easily, whilst the religious dissensions in France and the character of Philip II. aided Elizabeth’s diplomacy.  Elizabeth was more than once betrothed in her childhood to aid her father’s policy, but when Henry died, in 1547, his younger daughter was unbetrothed.

During her residence with the Queen-Dowager, Catharine Parr, who soon married Thomas, Lord Seymour, the fourteen-year-old girl was exposed to peril from the designs of the ambitious Seymour.  The indecorous romping, perhaps innocent at first, that took place between her and her married host provided grave scandal which touched even the honour of the girl, and her keen wits alone saved her on this occasion from disgrace.  Her crafty reticence served her well, when the intrigues of Wyat, Courtenay, and the French party threatened Mary’s throne; but when Mary was married, the Spanish party at once became interested in securing Elizabeth to their side by her marriage.  Mary’s jealousy, and Elizabeth’s own determination not to be made a tool, frustrated Philip’s attempt to marry the princess to his cousin, the Duke of Savoy; and when the Protestant Swedes clandestinely offered her the hand of Prince Eric, her discreet wariness again protected her from the dangerous proposal.

When Mary lay dying, Feria, the Spanish ambassador, hurried to Hatfield to salute the rising sun, and hinted even thus early that Elizabeth might marry her powerful Spanish brother-in-law.  But she resented his patronage, and though she coquetted, as usual, with the proposal of marriage, she took care not to pledge herself or submit England to foreign dictation.  To Spain it was vital that England should be at her bidding.  If the queen could not marry Philip, surely she could only wed one of his Austrian cousins; or, if not, then England must be conquered by the sword.  All that Elizabeth wanted was time, and tardy Philip played into her hands.  One English noble after the other was taken up and dropped, in the intervals of foreign philandering.  Lord Arundel, foolish, old, and vain, had high hopes; Sir William Pickering’s chances looked bright, and France and Spain sought to patronise each English candidate in his turn, especially Lord Robert Dudley, the queen’s friend from childhood, though he was already married to Amy Robsart.